Moments later she had found the tinderbox and lit a candle. Reaching her bed-chamber door she paused, something was not right. She sniffed. What was it she could smell? She opened the door that led into the corridor and reeled back in shock. Smoke drifted along the passageway and filled the air. The house was on fire.
****
Alexander's stallion sailed over another five barred gate. This would save him a precious mile or two; the bullocks in the field eyed him with disfavour, but he ignored them. His horse was tiring, when he reached the lane he would slow his pace and let the poor beast recover, but first he must gallop across this final meadow.
His horse lurched and suddenly he was somersaulting through the air to land on his back with a thud, the breath knocked from his lungs. For a moment he was too winded to move, then slowly he pushed himself up onto his elbows. His throat closed. Poor Rufus was standing with his right foreleg raised.
He knew with a sickening certainty that his mount had broken his leg. The animal must have put his hoof into a rabbit hole— travelling at the speed they were, the result was inevitable. God's teeth! Why had he not slowed down? This disaster was his fault and now his horse must be put out of its misery.
Reaching into his inside pocket he removed his pistol. This was already loaded and primed, he only had to cock and fire. He walked across keeping the gun behind him, all the time talking soothingly to the dejected beast. 'All right, old fellow, stand firm, the pain will soon be gone.'
He raised his gun and fired point-blank, Rufus buckled at the knees and toppled over. A shuffling behind him made him glance over his shoulder. The bullocks had come across to investigate the fallen animal. Angrily he rubbed his eyes— this was no time to be grieving for the loss of his horse. There were still fifteen miles to Newcomb and he would have to walk the rest.
Pulling out his watch, he flicked it open and saw the hands pointed to just past seven o'clock. It would be dark by nine so he must complete his journey before then. He shoved his discharged weapon into his pocket. He would make sure it was reloaded before he reached home.
As he strode across the field towards the gate that led into a narrow lane, he cursed his impetuosity. Why had he not brought men with him? The death of his horse would then be tragic and inconvenient but not an unmitigated disaster.
Too late to repine, he must concentrate his efforts on covering the ground as quickly as possible. He could no longer cross the fields because on foot this would be foolhardy, for the remainder of his journey he would be obliged to stick to the lanes. This would take far longer than travelling as the crow flies.
There was bound to be a farm or dwelling of some sort, maybe a roadside inn, where he could hire a nag of some sort to continue the journey. As he jogged he checked his pockets; he had several flimsies in his wallet and a purse full of coins. Hopefully this would be enough.
A further hour passed before he saw a substantial manor house in the distance. Increasing his pace he headed in that direction, certain he would find the assistance he needed. He could barely see his way by the time he approached the front door. He was frantically thinking of a reasonable explanation for his urgent need to return home that night. He would have to invent an emergency without actually mentioning his fear that Farnham and Bentley might be intending to murder his wife.
****
Isobel coughed; the smoke was not yet dense enough to prove a serious hazard. She thanked God the nursery was on this floor. If Lucinda had been in the attics there might not have been the time to reach her. The sound of crackling, of flames taking hold on the other side of the wall, filled her with terror. Her courage almost failed her. The house had thick panelled walls, with luck this would give the fire something to burn through before it could reach them.
The air was becoming hotter. Delaying even for a second night prove fatal to them all. Bursting into the room in which Lucinda slept, she snatched her from the crib. With the baby in one arm, the candlestick in the other, she ran to the first chamber and shouted. 'Quickly, the house is on fire. Get up at once, there's little time.'
The sound of movement indicated Nanny was up; they must have more candles alight. The three nursery staff appeared moments later in various states of disarray but fortunately all had had the sense to put on clogs and cloaks.
'Nanny, take Lucinda downstairs. Jenny, go with her to unbolt the door and carry the candlestick. If you have time, bang the dinner gong. Anna, you must come with me to make sure everyone else is awake.'
Nanny hastened across and carefully removed the baby from her arms, Jenny and Anna picked up candlesticks and were ready to leave. Was there time to return to her room and put on something more substantial? No— every second counted. Leading the way to the corridor, she opened the door. Already the air was more polluted; she prayed there would be time for everyone to escape without harm.
'Don't touch the walls, they are far too hot. The fire must have started in the kitchens and will be burning up the back stairwells and corridors. I'm hoping the main part of the house won't be aflame.'
'I reckon them panels will take a while to burn through, my lady, so there'll be plenty of time for everyone to get out.' Anna hesitated in the passageway as if not sure the best way to go to wake the female staff.
'We must use the main staircase; with luck it will still be possible to reach the bedrooms that way.' Now was not the time to remind the girl the servants' quarters might already be cut off from the main part of the house. She had to try. She couldn't allow her staff to perish without making an effort to save them.
At least Mary and Sam were safe in their new home. The sudden clang of the dinner gong being banged furiously told her Nanny was safely downstairs. The air was clearer at the top of the house and she breathed deeply, clearing the smoke from her lungs.
'Through this way, Anna, I shall knock on all the doors this side. Go through and make sure the men are awake as well.' Isobel knew Anna was courting one of the footmen, so would be eager to make sure he was safe.
When she reached the women's quarters there was pandemonium. Girls screaming, coughing and general panic. 'Enough of this, be silent and listen if you wish to survive.' Her authoritative tone was sufficient to halt the hub-bub and get their attention. 'As you can see from the smoke, the house is well alight. Put on your clogs and cloak and follow me; the only way out will be through the original nursery wing and down the main staircase.'
Two of the girls, it was hard to see who they were in the smoke-filled darkness, ran from door to door to check everyone was out. She heard a call, 'All the rooms are empty, my lady, we can go now.'
Anna had disappeared with her candlestick to the far side of the attics where she hammered on the wall and screamed for everyone to get up. There were no communicating doors ( chastity must be preserved) but the racket she was making should be sufficient to rouse anyone still asleep.
A male voice shouted back that everyone was awake. Isobel prayed the second staircase was not burning as fiercely as the one that led to the women's quarters. Anna returned to her side.
'They must use the school-room stairs, my lady, as their own are well alight.'
Isobel turned to the terrified group of forty or more women waiting for instructions. 'Quickly, cover your faces with your cloaks, I fear the smoke will be much thicker as we descend.'
The two flights of stairs converged in a lower passageway and Isobel was relieved to see the men emerging as her party arrived. The atmosphere was thick, the heat stifling, and most of them were coughing, their eyes streaming, but none complained or cried. They stood waiting for her to tell them what to do next. It could only be a matter of minutes before the stairs behind them became too hot and smoke filled for safety. She had to lead them down, through the choking smoke, or else they would all die, trapped inside the house.
Holding her hand over her nose, she plunged forward, terrified she would pitch headfirst down the stairs before she found the banister of the main staircase. She gripped th
e smooth wood and began to descend. The candles were useless and the feeble flicker of the flames not enough to light the way.
****
Alexander had no need to hammer on the door as this was flung open as he leapt up the steps.
'My dear Rochester, what mishap has brought you here on foot?' Sir Frederick Campion greeted him. 'I spied you from the terrace where my dear wife and I were taking supper.'
'Campion, good God! I'd no idea this was your abode— approaching it from the rear like this has quite disconcerted me. I was riding across country and my mount broke its leg and I was forced to shoot it.' Sir Frederick looked even more bewildered, if that were possible.
'Come in, come in, my lord. I shall find you refreshments. Do you wish to stay here overnight, or shall I loan you a fresh mount?'
Alexander followed him in trying to think of a reasonable explanation for his extraordinary appearance and his lack of a groom. 'Thank you, sir, I should be grateful for both. As you have no doubt observed I'm travelling alone. I received disturbing news from home. You might recall that many years ago I failed to arrive in time.'
This was a masterstroke. Immediately the man's face changed to one of sympathy, the whole neighbourhood would recall the death of his first wife and children.
'I see, of course, of course. I shall send word to the stables for them to saddle up my best horse. I'll not delay you any longer than it takes for you to take a bite and a drink before you continue your journey.'
A short while later Alexander was away, mounted on a magnificent bay gelding. It would be foolhardy to attempt to go across country in the dark, he must stick to the lanes and hope the moon was enough to light him. He'd heard the tall clock in the entrance hall strike ten when he’d arrived, it would be midnight before he arrived at Newcomb.
He was still several miles away when his eyes were drawn to an orange glow. He almost fell from the saddle. There was only one thing that could light the sky in that way— a massive fire. Newcomb was ablaze. Those snivelling bastards had set light to his home. He dug in his heels and regardless of the danger, galloped headlong towards the conflagration.
****
As Isobel reached the halfway point she heard a horrible groan, like a giant in pain, then the ceiling in front of her collapsed, spewing flames and searing heat in her direction.
'Back, back, into the master suite, we shall be burnt to a cinder if we continue.'
Everyone turned and fled back the way they'd come, leaving her to stumble along behind them. Then Ellie was beside her and took her arm dragging her through the press of people on the stairs. They parted willingly, urging her ahead of them, more concerned for her safety than their own.
George and Duncan had already taken the men through into Alexander's apartment. This was uncomfortably overcrowded with everyone inside. Men and women were mingling together, some spilling into the bed chamber, others obliged to hide in the dressing room itself.
Duncan seemed to know what to do and she was relieved to leave the decision-making to him. He had organised some of the men to soak bedcovers and press them along the bottom of all external doors. This would prevent the smoke from entering, at least for a while. Should she open
the windows and let some fresh air in?
She was walking towards them when George called out. 'No, my lady, leave them be.'
Surprised she paused. 'Why is that, I thought with so many people inside …'
'When I were a little'un I remember a fire in a neighbouring cottage. The family, trapped in their house, opened a window and were consumed by the flames what came into the room.'
'How dreadful! I shall certainly leave it closed for the moment.'
The room was oppressive, for by blocking off the smoke Duncan had prevented any fresh air from entering. There must be more than ninety people huddled in these two rooms. They would not suffocate, but one or two of the older women were already suffering from the foetid atmosphere.
They could not remain incarcerated here indefinitely. If none of the outside staff arrived to help them, they were surely doomed to die a horrible death. Alexander's sitting room had a substantial balcony overlooking the garden. Surely they could manufacture some sort of rope from the remaining bed linen and escape that way?
'Duncan, how long do you think the doors will hold if we opened the windows?'
'Long enough for yourself and the women to escape, but I doubt we'd all get out in time. But we have no choice. I'll start making a rope.' They had been conversing quietly, she was sure no one had overheard.
'I doubt all the women will be able to shin down a rope, it must be thirty feet to the terrace below.'
'I thought of that, my lady. If we attach something around their waists as well as providing a rope of sorts for them to hold onto, I think we’ll be successful.'
Isobel walked through the assembled crowd reassuring and comforting where necessary. She told them what was planned and asked Ellie to explain to those she couldn't get to. The older women would be taken first, then the youngest and after that by seniority. She was determined to remain until all the females had gone.
Remarkably swiftly the two ropes of knotted linen were ready. Somehow the staff had been grouped appropriately, but she had resisted every suggestion that she go ahead of everyone else. 'If you think we are ready, Duncan, then George must open the windows.'
'Right, my lady, but you must go first. Nobody is leaving here until you're safe outside. Ain't that right?'
A chorus of assent rippled round the room. She had no choice. If her staying meant more people would perish than she would do as they asked. It felt as if she'd swallowed a stone. She remembered the hideous collapse of the ceiling— she'd sent Nanny Cooper that way. If anything had happened to her baby — She must not think of this. The Almighty could not be so unkind us to take away something so precious.
Chapter Twenty-four
Alexander thundered up the drive expecting to see the outside staff organising a bucket chain in an attempt to douse the flames. The place was deserted but he could hear shouting and banging coming from the lofts in which the men slept.
Swearing volubly, he vaulted from the saddle and raced to release them. 'Raise the alarm, someone ring the stable bell, bring ladders and as many horse blankets as you can find.'
Not waiting to see if they followed his orders, he raced round to the front of the house where the seat of the fire appeared to be. As he arrived the front door opened and three women stumbled out coughing and spluttering, one carrying his daughter in her arms.
Thank the good Lord. Lucinda was safe— now he must pray he could get to Isobel in time. Two black shapes hurtled round the corner to greet him. He paused to scratch their heads; glad Isobel's pets had survived.
'Nanny Cooper, is Lady Lucinda unharmed?
The woman wiped her streaming eyes with one hand. 'She is, your grace, but we got out in the nick of time. I fear opening the front door has increased the ferocity of the flames. Her grace was intending to lead the servants down that way but she will have been driven back.'
'Let me see my daughter.' She handed him the sleeping bundle, gently he pulled back the
damp shawl which covered the infant and lightly kissed her face. 'Sleep on, little one; I must fetch your mama.' He gave his daughter back with a smile of thanks. 'Do you know where Mr and Mrs Watkins are living? '
Nanny Cooper was about to answer when two figures ran forward to greet him. 'Your grace, we have only just seen the flames or we should have been here sooner. Has her grace not come out yet?'
'No, Watkins, these are the only three. Mrs Watkins, take my daughter and her attendants, back to your cottage and take care of them. I shall bring my wife to you when I rescue her.'
'I shall be waiting, your grace. Come along, Nanny. It's a mild night, but you've had a nasty shock and would be all the better for a hot drink.' Mrs Watkins stopped, turning back a horrified expression on her face. 'Peggy Simpson, the wet nurse, did she not come o
ut with you?'
'She prefers to sleep in the attic and will be with the other women. Since her man and her own baby died she doesn't like to be alone at night.'
Damnation! If the baby woke there would be no food for her. He must make sure the Simpson woman was the second one to come out from the fire. 'Please don't worry, Mrs Watkins, I shall have her grace and the wet nurse with you shortly.'
The flames had taken a good hold and the windows on the first floor were as bright as if a thousand candles glowed inside. Where could a hundred souls hide safely with such a furnace burning all around them?
With two dozen men behind him he raced round to the south side. Thank God! Here the windows were black; the fire had not reached these chambers. 'Up there— do you see, Watkins? There's light in my apartment, they must be in there. Get the ladders up against one set of windows, the rest of you divide yourselves into groups and take hold of the edges of a blanket. The only way we're going to get everybody out safely is if the ladies jump.'
'I can organise that for you, my lord. Two blankets at a time, the others waiting to replace them when they're full.'
'Good man. I'm going up a ladder to get things started. I'm hoping the men can come down these quickly, leaving the blankets for the women. The wind's getting up. I fear we don't have a moment to lose before the whole place is engulfed.'
There was a small forest of lanterns on poles to light his way. A sudden gust of wind almost knocked him off the ladder, and an ominous roar from the front of the house sent him climbing even quicker. There could not be more than a quarter of an hour before the people inside perished.
He tipped headlong over the stone balustrade landing inelegantly on his face on the balcony. As he sprang to his feet the French windows flew open and Isobel fell into his arms.
The Duke's Reform Page 23
