Always Emily (23 page)

Hannah appeared, holding Rachel's shoes. She and Emily knelt at Rachel's bare feet and began lacing.

From below, they heard Charlotte cry out a desperate warning. It was too late. Robert Heaton stormed up the stairs and filled the doorway. Harry leaped up to stand between Robert and Rachel. Emily was struck by the resemblance between the furious men.

“So you've come crawling back,” Robert said. “I suppose it's been you sneaking around Ponden Hall like a thief?”

“I'm not here to fight with you,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “I'm here to take my mother away.”

“I think not. She's unwell,” Robert said, an immovable object. “Hannah, tell him.”

Tying Rachel's laces, Hannah said, “It's true. Mr. Heaton has a doctor come to see her every week.”

“Another Mason, no doubt,” Harry spat out.

“You're not needed here, nephew,” Robert said. “I'll have the law on you for trespassing.”

“You've betrayed us all for money,” Harry said with a snarl. “I wouldn't be surprised if you had a hand in Grandfather's death. Not that I cared for the old man. But to kill him? For what? Money?”

“That's a lie!” Robert jabbed a finger at Harry's chest. As though Robert had burst a blister of anger and hate, Harry pulled back his right arm and landed a punch on his uncle's chin. Robert stumbled back, then, like a bull, dropped his shoulder and charged Harry. His momentum carried them both into the wall.

Emily shouted, “Watch out, Harry!”

Rachel began screaming, a high-pitched, terrified noise.

“Mr. Robert, Mr. Harry! Oh, stop!” Hannah cried. “You're upsetting Miss Rachel!” She covered her own eyes and began to sob.

Harry pushed back from the wall and clawed at Robert's coat, pulling it over his uncle's shoulders and pinning his arms for just long enough for Harry to slip out from Robert's grip. To Emily, Harry shouted, “Take my mother!”

“What about you?” she cried.

“I have unsettled business. Go!”

Emily pulled Rachel toward the door; she couldn't take her eyes from the two men fighting. Robert ripped off his coat
and began pummeling Harry in the stomach. Winded, Harry slumped against the wall.

Moving more quickly than Emily anticipated, Heaton lunged for Rachel. He grabbed Rachel's arm and tried to pull her away from Emily and the safety of the door.

“No!” cried Emily. “Harry, help!”

Emily struggled to hold on to Rachel in this life-or-death tug-of-war, but Robert was too strong for her. Instinctively she let go entirely and Rachel fell forward into his arms.

Emily took her father's pistol from her pocket. She leveled it at the exact center of Robert's chest. “Release her, Mr. Heaton. Now.” If Emily's voice trembled, her shooting hand did not.

Heaton's eyebrows lifted high as he saw the gun. “You don't have the nerve.”

Emily took aim at a mirror hanging on the wall behind him. He turned around to see the scene reflected in the cloudy surface. Emily squeezed the trigger and shot his reflection dead in the center of his forehead. Splinters of glass flew everywhere. A tiny shard cut Harry's cheek. Rachel and Hannah shrieked with terror. Heaton was made of sterner stuff, but he paled.

Harry pushed himself away from the wall and pulled the glass from his face. “She has more than enough nerve,” he panted.

“Let Mrs. Casson go,” Emily repeated. “Or your leg will be next. Or perhaps your head. I'm a good shot.”

Robert slowly unhanded his sister.

“Thank you,” Emily said. She pulled Rachel behind her. Walking backward, Emily's pistol unwaveringly aimed at Robert's heart, they moved toward the doorway. “Hannah,” Emily said. “Come help us with Mrs. Casson.”

“My shawl,” Rachel said, reaching for where it had fallen to the floor. For a split second, Emily took her attention from Heaton, who lunged at Rachel, pulling her out of Emily's grasp. Harry shouted and dove at his uncle's legs, loosening his uncle's grip.

Emily pulled Rachel out of harm's way, but Harry and Robert, fighting as if their lives were at stake, blocked the doorway. The women backed into the corner.

Robert threw Harry against the table. With a crack, the rickety table collapsed, sending the oil lamp crashing to the floor. Within seconds, oil pooled all around. A lick of flame touched the oil briefly, then suddenly the flame was everywhere. The fire leapt to the curtains and began to travel, quick as lightning, around the room. In moments, the room was filled with smoke.

Harry and his uncle were still rolling about the floor, pummeling each other, oblivious to the flames around them. Rachel and Hannah cowered on the floor, shrieking, while Emily thought furiously.

“For God's sake, stop screaming!” Emily shouted. She stuck the pistol back in her pocket and wrapped the pale shawl about Rachel's head, leaving some fabric to cover her mouth. She did the same with Hannah's apron. “Breathe through the fabric.”
She took a strong grip on Rachel's waist with one hand and grabbed Hannah with the other and held her breath. She propelled them both through the fire to the now open doorway. Emily spared a fleeting moment to wish she had more time to fix the sensation of passing through flame in her memory.

“Harry, save yourself!” Emily shouted. “I'll take care of your mother!” Half carrying, half pushing Rachel, Emily made it down the stairs. Hannah, shaking, recalled herself to her duties and began to minister to her mistress. At that moment, Charlotte stumbled into the kitchen, her eyes glassy and a cut bleeding profusely across her forehead.

“Charlotte!” Emily took one look at her sister and grabbed a clean cloth from the table.

“Where's Harry?” Charlotte asked.

“Upstairs, fighting with Robert.” Emily wadded up the cloth and pressed it to Charlotte's cut. “There's a fire. Get Rachel and Hannah somewhere safe.” She paused. “Can you do that?”

The moment Charlotte nodded, Emily grabbed a ewer full of water.

“Emily! Where are you going?

“To save Harry!”

Robert was unconscious in the hallway. Harry must have dragged him out. In the bedroom, Harry had pulled the burning curtains to the center of the room and was stomping out the flames. Emily poured the water over the smoldering mattress.

“My mother?” Harry asked, his back to Emily, his voice strained.

“She's fine,” Emily assured him. “Charlotte is with her.” When he didn't turn around, she touched him on the shoulder. “Harry?”

He turned slowly and she gasped. His face was a ruin of blisters and burns. She had escaped with Rachel, but Harry had paid the price.

He held out his hands to her and she saw that they were blackened. Emily let herself recognize the unmistakable odor of burnt flesh. Harry saw the reflection of his injuries in her eyes and his legs gave out beneath him. She caught him, stumbling under the dead weight. She wrapped his arm around her shoulder and somehow got him into the fresher air in the hallway. Turning her head, she shouted, “Charlotte! I need you. But don't let Rachel come up!”

Charlotte came running, compelled by the urgency in Emily's voice. “What is it?” Her voice trailed off. “Oh my goodness,” she gasped.

“He needs to lie down.”

Charlotte opened a door and found another bedroom. Together they lowered Harry onto a cotton mattress without blankets or bedding.

“We have to get a doctor,” Charlotte said. “These burns need bandaging. And as soon as the shock wears off, he's going to be in terrible pain.”

Harry mumbled something incomprehensible. Steeling herself, Emily came in close to his raw lips to listen.

“He wants us to get his mother to safety,” she said.

“But what about Heaton?” Charlotte pointed to Robert's body in the hall.

Emily perched on the edge of the bed and put her head in her hands. After a moment, she looked up at her sister. “Our first duty is to Rachel. It's what we agreed, and it's what Harry wants.”

“And Harry?”

“Wait.” Emily ran down the stairs and found Hannah soothing Rachel on the stone steps outside the kitchen. “Her tonic. Where is it?”

“What? I don't understand!” Hannah moaned.

“Look, old woman,” Emily said harshly. “That boy you raised is half burned to death.”

“What happened to my son?” Rachel began to scream and sob at the same time.

Hannah too began to cry, but Emily was relentless. “Where's the tonic? He's going to be in horrendous pain without it.”

“But Miss Rachel's tonic is harmless,” Hannah protested.

“It's full of opiates,” Emily snapped.

Rachel moaned and began to frantically pull at her hair and clothes.

“Harry needs it
now,”
Emily said. “Where is it?”

Hannah pointed to the kitchen table. Emily grabbed the bottle and a wooden spoon and hurriedly gave Rachel a large dose. Hannah's eyes were wide. Emily raced back upstairs to Harry and Charlotte.

“Will that help him?” Charlotte asked. “Are you certain?”

“Laudanum will keep the pain at bay until we can return with a doctor.” She poured a dose into the spoon and gently, ever so gently, pried open his mouth and tipped the spoon empty. She did it again until his breathing slowed and his body sought the oblivion of sleep.

“Have you told his mother?”

“She's practically in a stupor,” Emily retorted without explaining how Rachel got that way. “Time enough to tell her when we have better news.”

“Perhaps we should give Heaton some tonic, too,” Charlotte suggested in a low voice. “To keep him unconscious and no trouble to anybody.”

Emily shot Charlotte an amused look. “We need to keep it in case Harry needs more.”

Charlotte nodded and they returned to the kitchen. Charlotte beckoned to Hannah and explained she needed to stay with Harry until the doctor arrived. “Lock the door. Heaton may wake and I don't want him to hurt Harry any more.”

“Miss, will there never be an end to the boy's suffering?” Hannah asked. “His childhood was full of pain. And now this!”

“He's sleeping now; just keep watch,” Charlotte instructed.

“We'll send a doctor as soon as we can. We're taking Rachel to our father at the parsonage,” Emily said. Hannah nodded mutely. “I don't know if Robert will ever wake, but I intend to be home before he does.” She turned to her sister. “Let's go.”

Charlotte pointed to Rachel. “She's in no condition to walk across the moor.”

“You're right. And I don't like that cut on your forehead; I don't want you to walk either,” Emily said, gnawing on a fingernail. “We need a horse and cart or buggy.”

“I know there's at least one horse,” Charlotte said. “Robert rode in on one.”

“There's bound to be a cart we can hitch it to,” Emily said.

“We don't have much time before Robert awakes,” Charlotte warned.

“Then we'll have to hurry.”

Self-abandoned, relaxed, and effortless, I seemed to
have laid me down in the dried-up bed of a great
river; I heard a flood loosened in remote mountains,
and felt the torrent come; to rise I had no will, to flee
I had no strength. I lay faint, longing to be dead
.

W
hat are you doing?” It was the dour farmhand, holding a pitchfork aimed at Emily. “Who are you?”

Emily pointed her pistol at him and said, “I'm borrowing this cart. Please harness a horse for me.” Staring at the pistol, the man did as she asked.

“Thank you,” Emily said sweetly. “Your employer may have use for you in the house. There's been a fire.” He backed out of the barn and made himself scarce.

Outside, Charlotte was watching the clouds nervously as she sat on the step, propping Rachel against her as best she could.
Top Withins had an excellent view across the moors, and she could see a massive rainstorm moving quickly across the land. A look of relief appeared on her face when she saw the cart.

“Why not Robert's horse?” Charlotte asked. “Wouldn't it be quicker?”

“That one isn't for a cart. He's never been trained to it,” Emily said confidently. “We wouldn't get a mile before he'd rear up and kick the traces.”

“You're never wrong about animals,” Charlotte said. “We'll need a lantern, too. Take Rachel.” When she returned with a lantern, Emily was settling a sleepy Rachel into the back of the cart. Emily had arranged a layer of horse blankets for Rachel's bed, with another blanket on top to keep her warm.

Within minutes, Charlotte had the reins while Emily steadied Rachel. The cart lurched along the rutted road. Large raindrops splattered on the already sodden road in front of them.

“Charlotte, could you possibly hit any more mud holes in the road?” Emily called out. “Rachel will bounce onto the road if you keep driving like this.”

“Do you want to drive?” Charlotte, hunched over the reins, peered into the twilight. “This is hard enough without quarreling.” The rain had picked up and their dresses were soaked through.