Miss Peterson & The Colonel (11 page)

'Let me look at your injury, my love.' With gentle hands, he raised her head and with a soft, wet cloth wiped away the blood from her cheek. 'It's not a serious cut. You won't need stitches.'

'I know. I just felt a little faint. I expect it was the shock. I shall be quite well in a moment or two.'

'Good girl, I never doubted your resilience for a moment.' He sprang to his feet and moved to the centre of the room where David and the rest of the men were gathered.

Whilst she'd been recovering, the candles had been placed around the room. The men were subdued, no one talking over much. She smiled, apart from the three head injuries to herself, Sam and Simon, the rest of the intrepid band was unharmed. Suddenly her hands clenched. How could they be sitting around so casually when the very future of the country was at risk?

'Simon, they have the book.'

'They do not, my love. I gave them a facsimile. David scribbled nonsense in a similar volume. They've escaped with a useless copy.'

Relief almost overwhelmed her. She drew a deep breath to calm her nerves. Wait – was that smoke? She sniffed again, she was not mistaken. 'Simon, David. Smoke! I can smell smoke.'

They copied her example. 'You're right, Lydia. They must have started it upstairs. the smoke would have travelled up first.' Simon took command. 'This table is heavy, we can use it as a battering ram. If we do not release the ladies they will perish in the flames.'

Chapter Eleven

Lydia positioned herself in the far corner of the room, pressing her back against the wall whilst Simon organized his men.

'We need to get this table swung round so that it's end on to the doors. On my count, we'll smash it forwards.'

It was a great shame the windows in this room had not been replaced when her father had renovated the building. These still had small leaded panes. It would be impossible to knock them out and affect an escape that way. With much grunting and effort, the table was eventually in position. She sniffed the air; the smell of smoke was still not overwhelming. The fire had not reached this part of the house.

'Right. Ready, men…one…two…three.' The men ran forward, hurling the heavy piece of furniture at the locked doors. The impact caused the men behind to cannon into those in the front. If the matter had not been so serious, she would have found it funny. They sorted themselves out and prepared to have a second attempt.

On the fourth assault, the door splintered and gave way. Once again Simon was obliged to restore order. 'Moderate your language; ladies present. Get this object back into the hall at once.'

As the door swung open, the aroma of smoke was more evident. 'David, escort your sister from the premises immediately. Jenkins and Sam – come with me, we must recover the book. Billy and Fred – go up and fetch the ladies.' Not waiting to see if his orders would be carried out, he vanished into the passageway.

'David, I'm not leaving without the staff. There's no point in Billy and Fred being sent up to find them; they don't know the inside of the property like I do.'

'I shall go; you have done enough for tonight. Lydia. I insist that you get yourself to safety, leave matters to me.'

She ignored him. 'Billy, we don't know how bad the fire is. Maybe we can put it out. Take Fred and the other two and find the stable hands. Get pails of water and see what you can do between you to douse the flames.' Dodging around her brother, who was attempting to block her passage, she dashed across the passageway and into the back staircase. He could follow her or not; she knew where her duty lay just as Simon did.

She was barely halfway up when she became aware that the hand resting on the wall was hot. The panels were creaking and crackling as if alive. She put her ear to the wall and could hear the hideous sound of flames devouring the interior of her home. She feared it was far too late to save the building, but if all of them escaped unharmed that would be enough for her.

Why hadn't Dorcas led the women to safety? Surely the smell of smoke must have reached the first floor by now? She could hear footsteps right behind her and knew her brother was following. Excellent. His strength might well be needed before this night was over.

*

Simon reached the head of the servants' stairs. The smoke was thick here, not enough to suffocate but sufficient to give him pause. He removed his neckcloth and hastily tied it around his nose and mouth, indicating to his men that they do the same. He wished he'd had the sense to douse his clothes with water before attempting to recover the book. Should he waste precious time and do so now? Jenkins decided the matter for him.

'We'll not get through that lot safely, sir, not unless we're wet.'

'Back to the kitchen. Let's do it, but we must be fast. From the sound of it, the fire has taken a real hold upstairs.'

There was sufficient water in the scullery for his purpose. Snatching up a basin, he scooped it in the bucket and tipped it over his head. He did it a second time and ran out, leaving his men to follow when they were ready. He grabbed a blanket from the back of the chair.

'Here, Jenkins. Soak this and any other similar items you can find. But be quick, man. We're running out of time.'

Pounding back up the short flight of steps leading to the main part of the house, he stopped at the top. What he heard sent chills down his spine. He'd had dealings with house fires in the past. They were unpredictable, but one thing he did know: when anyone opened a door the rush of fresh air seemed to fan the flames.

The door was too hot to touch. He wrapped a cloth around his hands and gripped the latch. He was about to put his shoulder against it when he hesitated. Should he go through first and leave his men to follow, or would it be safer if they went together? They thundered up behind him.

'Here, take this, Colonel. Drape it over your head. It sounds mighty fierce out there.'

Seconds later, they were all three cocooned in dripping material and ready to brave the fire. He thanked God that Lydia was safe and already outside and in no danger.

*

Lydia could find her way through these narrow passageways blindfolded, unlike the ones leading to where Simon had been sleeping. She'd been taking this route to the stable yard for many years. She doubted that her brother would have been able to lead them directly to her bedchamber. The smoke was thicker up there and the heat was becoming unbearable.

Arriving at the entrance to her dressing room, she hammered on the door shouting as she did so. There was no sign of movement, no response. Surely the women were not already overcome by the smoke? David arrived, panting, at her side.

'Out of the way. Let me see if I can push it open.'

He threw himself at the door and it opened a fraction. Lydia added her weight and together they charged the door shouting for someone to come and assist them.

'The house is on fire! Get up – you must get up or will you'll perish in the flames! Dorcas, Martha, where are you?'

'If they're all in your sitting room they won't hear us banging.'

'But I would think they
must
smell the smoke? It's suffocating in here. If they don't come soon we must try and get in another way.'

It was impossible to shift the heavy piece of furniture the women had moved across the entrance. After a few more futile efforts, Lydia said, 'David, let's try the door in one of the guest rooms. Did Simon get the men to block all the entrances up here?'

'No, there was no time. But he did tell Dorcas to block
all
the doors. She might have interpreted that as meaning everything on this floor.'

She led the way at a run, not needing the flickering candle to guide her. She turned the last corner and rushed at the door, expecting it to be shut in the same way as the other had been. This door swung open and she tumbled headlong into the dressing room. David was too close behind her and tripped over her. They wasted valuable seconds while they untangled themselves and scrambled up.

'I can't believe they haven't smelt the smoke; it's becoming more pungent by the minute.'

'It will take time to creep in under the bedchamber doors, Lydia.' By this time they were in the wide corridor that led to the main apartments. The guest suites were at the rear of the house, while both her rooms and David's were on either side of the main staircase. David hammered on the parlour door and Lydia shouted for attention. Hurrying footsteps greeted her call and the door was pulled open. There was no need for her to tell Martha the house was on fire. Smoke suddenly billowed up the central staircase, making them all cough.

'Quickly, everyone, we must get out of the house. The main hall is still undamaged. We must exit through the front since the back of the house is already well ablaze.'

Within five minutes Dorcas, Cook, Martha and the four maids were heading for safety. Lydia led the party whilst David chivvied from the rear. He had just guided the last two girls on to the hall tiles when a hideous roar, like an animal in pain, echoed around them. The girls screamed and clutched each other, refusing to budge another inch.

The fire was approaching at a frightening speed. Lydia and Martha frantically drew back the bolts to the front door and lifted the heavy latch but it remained firmly closed. The key. They needed the key as well.

'Dorcas! The front door key!'

The housekeeper clutched her throat and wailed in anguish. 'I don't have it, ma'am. It's hanging on the hook in my bedroom. I never thought to bring it with me.'

David shoved the screaming girls in front of him toward the drawing room. 'We must get out through the window in here. Hurry up! There's not a moment to lose—the flames might well be upon us at any moment. The smoke is getting thicker.'

Lydia abandoned the front door and bundled the remaining women after her brother. She could barely see; they were all coughing and struggling to breathe. She slammed the doors behind her, praying they would act as a temporary barrier to the ferocious monster pursuing them. Dorcas took charge of the panicking girls and her sharp words were enough to calm them.

'Help me remove the bar. I fear there's little time left,' David shouted.

'Dorcas, you must all come over here away from the doors. The smoke is less thick on this side of the room.' As Lydia called her instructions she grasped the other end of the heavy bar that held the shutters. Together, she and David removed it and tossed it to one side. This window would push up sufficiently to allow them to scramble through.

'Martha, take the girls through first, then you, Dorcas, and we shall follow. Run straight to the stable yard. You can shelter in the barn until something better can be arranged.'

With a final jerk David achieved his objective. An icy gust of wind blew in, sending the curtains horizontal. The sill was high and was a considerable drop to the terrace below. He hoisted each woman up, one by one, and lowered her to the ground. As Dorcas reached safety David turned to assist Lydia.

'I can't leave until I know Simon and the others are safe. They went to the library to fetch the book. They had to go through the worst of the flames, we must…'

'I gave my word to him that I would keep you safe. He can look after himself. He would not want you to risk your life.'

She drew breath to protest but he gripped her arms and all but threw her out into the night. She landed painfully on her knees, adding injury to her indignation. She was on her feet and prepared to climb back in when he slammed the window shut again. 'We can do nothing here. Your responsibility is to see that the female staff are safe and comfortable. I shall go around to the back of the building and see if I can be of any assistance.'

It was cold outside after the heat of the fire, but at least she was fully dressed unlike the other women. David was right to chide her; she must tend to her charges and leave him to find Simon and his men. She refused to contemplate the awful possibility that the man she loved might perish in the blaze.

*

As Simon stepped into the conflagration, the heat seared his skin making him recoil. He waited until Jenkins and Sam were beside him and gestured that they take hold of his coat flaps; if the three of them became separated they would perish. He closed his eyes as he had done in the darkness of the servants' hall and trusted his innate ability to visualize his surroundings. Thank God they'd stopped to collect the blankets for without these all three of them would already be severely burnt.

The fire had increased its ferocity, but believing they were safe gave him the courage to continue. A lesser man might have abandoned the search. No one would have thought the worse of him, but the lives of hundreds of military personnel might well be saved from the knowledge contained within the covers of the missing book.

In order to reach the library he would have to go out into the vestibule and then take the first corridor on the left. His lungs were burning. If they didn't get into fresh air soon they would all suffocate. Smoke could kill as quickly as the flames in such a blaze.

Putting his head down, he trusted to his instincts as they all ran for their lives. He erupted into the vestibule as his beloved whisked into the drawing room. What was she doing inside? There was no time to consider that now. She could escape through a window in the drawing room. He must take his chances in the library.

He gulped a few sweet breaths of cleaner air and headed down the passage that led to the room he needed. The walls were red hot, the panelling creaking and groaning as if a living creature. How long did he have before it burst into flames?

The library was at the far end of the house. When they reached it he could feel the soles of his boots burning. The fire was travelling beneath the floorboards, devouring the basements and storerooms. Only the thick carpet was preventing them from being consumed themselves. The smell of burning wool was enough to tell him their time was almost up.

He groped for the door handle and on his third attempt found it. With a desperate heave he threw his shoulder at the door which had already buckled under the heat. It moved an inch. Jenkins and Sam added their weight and the panels, already brittle and smouldering, gave way.

'Get to the French doors, open the shutters and unlock them. Whatever you do, don't open them until I tell you to. When I give you the signal get out – fast.'

There was no need for a candle. The room was lit by a rosy glow from the fire raging at the rear of the house. David had put the book away; Simon prayed he would discover it in the same place as the original volume. He ran his hands along the leather covers. The volume he sought was slimmer and shorter than the ones it had been shelved with.