Miss Peterson & The Colonel

by Fenella J Miller

  'Miss Peterson, let us get one thing quite clear between us. In the absence of my brother, I am responsible for your well-being It is not a duty that I relish I can assure you, but I am in control of everything taking place here tonight.'

  Her bravado was rapidly dissipating. This man was a stranger. She had placed herself in a different kind of danger by falling in love with him. A broken heart was not so easily mended as a broken limb.

  'Thank you for making that clear to me, Colonel Wescott. I am, as you have so rightly pointed out, nothing to you but an unpleasant burden. I apologize for causing you extra distress. Now, if you have quite finished scolding me I would like to continue with my duties—the welfare of my staff and my livestock.' Her voice was commendably firm, not reflecting the misery she was feeling at the ruination of her expectations.

  'I have not finished. I wish to know why you disobeyed me and accompanied your brother upstairs. Did you think that risking your life was acceptable? Can you not imagine the distress it would have caused your sister if anything had happened to you?'

  'I believe, sir, she would have been equally distressed if my brother had perished. I have no wish to bandy words with you. You have made your displeasure more than apparent. I consider myself suitably chastised.'

  'Why must you constantly be at odds with me? I have only your best interests at heart. I thought I made it clear to you earlier…'

  'What took place between us was nothing but a reaction to the danger we were in. Whatever you might think, I have never given any indication that I wish to be betrothed to you.'

  Good grief! What could have possessed her to say such a thing?

  'That is fortunate, Miss Peterson, as I was not aware that I had made you an offer.' He stepped aside, allowing her free passage.

  She had nothing further to add, indeed could not have spoken even if she wished to. Her throat was clogged with tears. Tonight she had lost something far more valuable than her home.

  Her hopes of happiness were in tatters. The man she loved was not who she had thought him to be.

  *

  Simon watched her stalk into the red-tinged darkness, cursing his maladroit handling of the situation. Why had he not taken her in his arms, told her that if anything had happened to her he would have been distraught? Instead he'd barked at her, told her he felt nothing for her. He'd made a complete mull of things and had no excuse for behaving like a nincompoop.

  Although, it was true: his initial intention had been to make sure she understood her position, that she knew he was in command and would not brook any disobedience from anyone, he had calmed down by the time he'd discovered her. His anger was a natural consequence of his relief that she was unhurt. All he'd wanted to do then was reprimand her for risking her life and explain that there would be chaos if someone didn't have overall control of matters.

  What he had done was alienate the woman he loved. He grinned; he might have lost the skirmish but he'd never lost a battle and did not intend to do so now. Somehow he'd put things right between them, however long it took.

  *

  David was closing the door to the barn which was far enough from the conflagration to be in no danger. 'Is all well in there? The young stock are fine. We have no cause for concern with them so far,' Lydia said.

  'They are equally well settled here.' Holding a lantern close to her face, he touched her wet cheeks with his fingers. 'What's wrong, Lydia? If that man has upset you I'll call him out.'

  'There's nothing for you to concern yourself with. I'm not weeping; like you, my eyes are watering from the smoke. No doubt we shall all be suffering the after-effects of tonight for some time.'

  He appeared satisfied with her explanation, which was a relief. The last thing she wanted was for her brother to become embroiled in fisticuffs with Simon. She blinked back fresh tears. She must desist from thinking of him in that intimate way. From now on he would be Colonel Wescott once again.

  Swallowing hard, she stepped aside to allow a groom to run past, leading two horses. 'How many more are there to get out, David?'

  'There can't be many more to come. They have been moving from the danger area to the home paddock since you left to check the youngsters.'

  Pandemonium greeted her in the main yard. Too many boxes were still occupied. She must put aside her misery and help. Ignoring the clanking of buckets and the sound of the yard pump being worked hard, she raced to the nearest loose-box. Jenkins staggered past with Sam, a ladder resting on their shoulders. What was going on? Surely it was far too late to attempt to save the hall? The night sky was red from the ferocity of the blaze.

  The colonel strode past, acknowledging the men who were industriously filling buckets. 'Excellent – the wind could veer this way at any time. If it does, we're ready to protect the stables. God willing we can hold the fire until all the horses are safe.' The words were scarcely spoken when the yard was engulfed in choking smoke and burning cinders floated to the cobbles at her feet.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Not only was the wind fanning the flames, it was sending sparks and cinders swirling over the stable roof.. Two large pieces of debris hit the stable roof and vanished into the tiles.

  Lydia could smell the acrid smoke. The remaining horses began to stamp and circle nervously. Thank God the buckets and ladders were ready.

  'I must get Peg out first; she'll not budge for anyone else,' she called across to David. There were a few panicking horses to deal with, but her priority was her own mare. Her mount was plunging and kicking wildly.

  'I suppose there's no point in asking you to leave this to me?'

  'No, Colonel Wescott, there isn't. My horse will not come out for anyone else. David and I can move the horses whilst you organize the fire fight.' She'd done it again. She was issuing orders to him when it should be the other way round.

  'I'll leave the animals in your capable hands. I'll get the women out of the loft – it's the first place that will catch if we don't find the cinders quickly.'

  He took charge of the yard. He was more than capable of dislodging the cinders that were burning under the tiles. Leaving him to his task, she turned to the loosebox, yanking the bolts back in order to fling open the doors.

  'Steady girl, steady. I'm here now. I'm going to take you out of this horrid smoke.' She slipped around her mare's plunging hindquarters and reached her head. She grabbed the trailing end of her head collar and held on, all the time murmuring soft words of reassurance to the frightened animal.

  The horse pulled her off her feet twice more before registering her presence. Shivering with terror, the mare finally lowered her head and buried her nose in Lydia's shoulder. 'Good girl. Come along, quickly now, Peg.'

  Slowly she turned the animal around, not an easy task in the confined space of a loose box, and led her out into the darkness. Smoke was billowing from the roof. She could not hear the ominous crackle and roar of flames that would indicate that it had taken hold as it had in the house.

  Several ladders were leaning against the roof and the men had formed a human chain, transporting buckets of water to the site of the blaze. She did not stop to see if they were succeeding. She dashed past, taking her horse down to the paddock well away from the smoke.

  She turned and raced back to remove another horse from the danger zone. She flew past David as he led a plunging carriage horse, but had no time to do more than exchange a worried smile.

  'Young Jim has taken the last one, miss. We have them all out safe and sound, thanks to you and Mr Peterson,' Fred said as he ran an exhausted hand through his hair.

  Lydia could barely stand. 'Thank God for that.' The ominous crackling of the stable roof drew her attention. 'We have been lucky tonight, Fred. The men have kept the flames damped down just long enough; another five minutes and we might not have saved them all.'

  'I reckon we might well lose the roof, miss, but with luck the rain will put it out before it spreads any further.'

  She had been unaware she had
been working in a steady, drenching downpour. 'Good heavens, I am soaked through,' she said to no one in particular, and swayed a little as fatigue caught up with her.

  A steadying arm slipped around her waist. 'Indeed, my dear, you are. The tack room is undamaged. The fire didn't get a hold on the loft before the rain doused it. Let me assist you there. I wish you had something dry to put on.'

  Too tired to argue, she let the colonel guide her back. She noticed the women were gathered there as well, there was nowhere else to go for shelter. The exhausted men were propped against the walls, seemingly unbothered by the freezing rain. No one had any dry garments. Everything at the hall had been incinerated and the clothes belonging to the outside workers were ruined by water and smoke.

  Martha greeted her, her face almost unrecognizable beneath the smuts. 'The rain's a blessing, miss. Without it, I reckon the stables and the hall would have burnt to the ground.'

  Lydia glanced toward her home, astonished to see the sky was no longer lit by orange and that the hideous sound of burning was gone. Ignoring the rain – after all she was already wet to the bone – she ran back along the path to join her brother and the colonel who were staring at the roof. It was now necessary to have a lantern in order to see.

  'Is the fire really out? I can't believe such a fierce blaze could be extinguished so quickly.'

  David turned to her, his teeth white in his blackened face. 'It's a miracle. Whilst we were saving the horses, the good Lord was saving our home.'

  'Hardly saved – the kitchens and other offices are totally destroyed. And the fire was fierce in the library as well. How can you be so sanguine? We have lost everything we possess. We are all but destitute.'

  The colonel smiled down at her and she could not help responding, her former animosity forgotten for the moment. 'I doubt that it's as bad as you fear; the upper floors at the front of the building appear to be undamaged and the main rooms on the ground floor might not be severely burnt.'

  'Does that mean we can go inside and retrieve some clothes? We are likely to catch cold if we remain in wet garments. Good heavens, only a few hours ago you were apparently on your deathbed. I cannot comprehend how you have the strength to remain upright and to be so cheerful.'

  All she wanted to do was find somewhere warm and cosy and fall asleep.

  'We can't go inside until daylight; it would be far too dangerous. We must make the best of what we have. Billy is making tea and I instructed the others to gather up all the horse blankets that are not in use. A trifle pungent, but in the circumstances I do not believe we can quibble.'

  'Leaving the two of them to walk around the perimeter of the building, Lydia stumbled back to join the others. The thought of a hot drink and a warm blanket was enough to keep her moving in the right direction. She was at the archway that led into the yard when the sound of carriage wheels approaching on the gravel drive made her pause.

  She held up her lantern and saw the bobbing lights of at least two vehicles bowling toward her. The night was becoming more extraordinary by the minute; they had few visitors during the daytime at Bracken Hall so to receive them now was incomprehensible.

  Too fatigued to greet whoever it might be, she turned and continued her journey to the welcome warmth of the tack room. 'Billy, someone's coming. Could you alert Mr Peterson and the colonel that we have visitors arriving? I really cannot deal with anything else tonight.'

  Martha clucked around her like a worried hen over a lost chick. Lydia was enveloped in a thick horse blanket and gently led to a stool near to the glowing brazier. A hot mug was placed in her fist and she took several delicious mouthfuls. Nothing had ever tasted so good as that over-stewed, over-sweet tea. She drained it to the last drop and then slumped back against the wall, closed her eyes and was asleep in seconds.

  *

  'See? Up there, the windows are not broken and there's no smoke coming from that part of the roof. I think it might be possible to find some usable accommodation when it's light. Your problem, David, is going to be that you have no kitchen.'

  'I shall be inordinately grateful if I have anything at all. There's a suitable fireplace in the breakfast parlour. I'm sure Cook will manage with that until we can rebuild.' He paused tilting his head to one side. 'I can hear someone coming. I hope there's not further bad news.'

  Simon hurried to meet the person who was running toward them. Billy burst around the corner. 'Sir, Miss Peterson says to tell you there's two carriages arriving.'

  For a moment, Simon was mystified, then it was obvious who the occupants of the coaches must be. 'David, I believe some of your neighbours have come to the rescue. At the height of the fire it would have been visible for miles.'

  'The Bentleys are no more than three miles away as the crow flies. But the ford will be flooded and it would have taken them far longer to get here; they will have had to make a detour to the bridge.'

  The carriages were pulling up by the time Simon got there. He should really let David greet his guests – it was his house – but the young man hung back, giving him no option but to step forward.

  The door swung open and a portly gentleman, much muffled in a caped driving coat, descended with remarkable agility for a man of his size. 'What a tragedy! We saw the flames and I've come to offer my assistance. I must apologise for being so tardy; the roads are all but impassable after all the rain.'

  Simon attempted to wipe the worst of the filth from his jacket before offering his hand. 'You are most welcome, sir. Simon Westcott, brother-in-law to the Petersons, at your service. I take it I am addressing Squire Bentley?'

  The older man grasped it and pumped as if drawing water from a well. 'Indeed you are, sir. I've read much about your bravery in the papers. It's an honour to meet you.' He paused to draw breath. 'Miss Peterson? I pray that she's unharmed?'

  'No one has been injured. The horses are safe also. However, there is not one amongst us who is not suffering from the elements. The female staff had no time to dress before leaving the premises and the rest of us are soaked to the bone.'

  'I have come to transport as many as possible back to my abode. My dear lady wife is at this very moment having a bedchamber prepared for Miss Peterson. The housekeeper has accommodation ready for as many of your staff as you care to send. Simon looked to David. 'How many men do you need here to tend to the horses?'

  'It would be best to have them all here, Colonel Westcott. They'll soon dry out once the ladies have vacated the tack room. It's not only the stock. I want to get started on the repairs to the roof of the stables as soon as it's light enough.'

  Squire Bentley beamed. 'A wise decision, young man. I have room in my carriages for all the ladies and yourselves, gentlemen. It's wretched weather; the sooner I get you back home the better it will be.'

  'Thank you, Squire, but I shall not be returning with you. I must oversee what is happening here. I shall fetch my sister and the female staff directly.' The young man hurried away.

  Simon had no intention of deserting his post either. Whatever his personal circumstances it was imperative he was here when Major Dawkins eventually arrived. The sooner the book was transferred, the happier he'd be. 'I must remain behind also; there's more to this matter than you know. If you would care to accompany me whilst I complete my inspection of the damage, I shall tell you what has transpired here.'

  *

  Lydia peeled her eyes apart and stared blearily at her brother. 'Did you say that Squire Bentley is here with carriages?'

  He reached down and pulled her to her feet. 'I did indeed. He's to take you all back with him.'

  'But what about you and the colonel? The men are worn out and soaked as well.'

  Martha bustled forward, closely followed by the other female staff. 'Come along, miss. As soon as we get out of here, the others can come in and get dry.'

  Of course. Her brain was woolly or she would have worked that out for herself. Still wrapped in the horse blanket, she followed David through the dripping yard and
out to the waiting vehicles. There was no sign of the colonel, which was probably a good thing. She was bound to say something to provoke him and make matters even worse.

  Somehow she climbed into the first carriage; Martha, Dorcas and Cook joined her. The remaining girls scrambled into the second vehicle behind Lydia. The door slammed and the coachman snapped his whip. She roused herself from her lethargy.

  'Wait! We must take three of the men as well. Lord Grayson's coachman is an elderly man, as are Jethro and Jed. Quickly, Martha, tell the driver to stop. I'm going to fetch them. I should never forgive myself if they caught congestion of the lungs from this experience.'

  The coach rocked to a standstill. It had only moved a few yards. Not waiting for the groom to scramble down and lower the steps, Lydia jumped to the ground, her own fatigue temporarily forgotten. How could David have not considered this? It was not like him to be so thoughtless. Without a lantern to guide her, she ran toward the flickering lights in the stable yard.

  She was on the flagstone path when two shapes emerged from the gloom. She ran headlong into the taller of the two, unable to stop herself. The impact sent them both staggering backward. Two iron hard arms shot out to grasp her elbows and the situation was retrieved. She had no need to enquire as to the identity of her saviour.

  'Good grief! My dear girl, I thought I was finally safe from your impetuousness. Why are you not in the carriage with the other ladies?'

  Recovering her breath, she stared up at him. She expected to see irritation but his expression was more amused than anything else. 'We must take the coachman and Jethro and Jed with us. They are too old to remain here drenched to the bone. I'm sure you can manage without them.'

  He had not released her arms. He must do so or Squire Bentley might misconstrue the situation. Her instinct was to topple forward into his embrace. He represented security, safety – but she must not give in. He'd made it perfectly plain that he had no time for her, that unless she was prepared to sacrifice her principles and become a submissive wife she would not do for him.