The Wrong Girl(47)

Tommy and Jack raced off to join the male servants fighting the fire. Smoke billowed out of the windows and rose into the wet night. I heard Jack give orders to protect the rest of the house, and I closed my eyes and prayed for the first time in a long time. I just hoped God remembered me and listened.

"Sylvia?" said Langley. He was still in Bollard's arms. The servant held him as if he weighed nothing and seemed in no mind to put him down. "Sylvia, are you harmed?"

She shook her head and wiped her cheeks. "I'm all right, Uncle. I'd gone to bed early, but Tommy rescued me. If he hadn't..." She sobbed again and I circled her shoulders with my arm. "He's so brave."

"It will all be over soon," I said, eyeing the top floor of the house. "Perhaps I should go and help."

"No!" Sylvia and Langley cried.

"Stay here with me," Sylvia said. "Let the men do it."

"But I ought to help."

"It's not your fault," Langley said. He sounded surprisingly humble and kind. There was none of the anger and taunting of earlier. The fire must have shocked him into sensitivity. It must certainly be a shocking thing to watch as one's house went up in flames.

"I know that," I said. "But I don't like to do nothing when I'm needed."

"There's a well out the back and a pump and hoses stored in the service area for just such an emergency. They'll cope without you."

It was a long way from the service area to the well and up to Langley's rooms, but I didn't say so.

Sylvia held my hand and snuggled closer. Her body shook. She must have been freezing in her nightshift and shawl. I tried to keep her warm by rubbing her arms and feet, but her shaking didn't subside even when one of the maids brought her a blanket.

It seemed to take all night for the fire to die down completely, but in truth it was probably less than an hour. From where we sat on the front lawn, it was clear that Langley's room had been destroyed, but beyond that, we couldn't tell.

When Jack joined us, Sylvia was half asleep against me. She leapt to her feet as he approached and ran to him. "Where's Tommy? Is he all right?"

"Everyone's fine." Jack wiped the back of his hand across his brow, smearing it with soot.

"The house?" Langley said. Bollard had held him the entire time and still did not look as if he wanted to put him down.

"The eastern wing may be unstable, but the service area and rest of the house are fine."

"But our rooms are on the eastern side," Sylvia said, pulling the blanket to her chin. "Where shall we go?"

"We'll open up the southern wing," Langley said. "Come, before we freeze to death."

Bollard led the way with Langley in his arms. Sylvia and I followed, Jack behind us. I heard him question each of the servants, asking if they were all right, reassuring the frightened maids that the fire would not flare again.

"Boil as much water as you can as quickly as you can," Jack told the housekeeper, Mrs. Moore. "Bring water bottles and hot tea to the parlor in the southern wing then see to your own comfort. Everyone is to avoid the eastern wing until further notice."

"But none of the rooms are ready in the southern wing, sir," said Mrs. Moore.

"Prepare rooms for the ladies and Mr. Langley. I'll remain in the parlor until the morning."

We skirted the front of the house and the housekeeper unlocked a side door with one of the keys hanging at her waist. We followed Bollard and Langley into a small room that smelled musty and stale, with only a hint of lingering smokiness. Pale mounds loomed out of the darkness, but as my eyes adjusted, I realized they were dust sheets covering the furniture. Nothing hung on the wood-paneled walls, not even wallpaper. It was a cheerless, bland room.

Jack lit two candles on the mantel with a single touch of his forefinger, while Sylvia and I whipped off the sheets. Bollard finally lowered Langley onto one of the chairs and stretched the muscles in his arms. Tommy entered carrying wood and a box of kindling. A maid trailed behind, laden with hot water bottles. Sylvia grabbed one and cuddled it to her chest. He watched as Tommy set the wood box down.

"You're a savior," she said to him. Tommy smiled sheepishly and dipped his head. Sylvia appeared not to see him blush as she blew on her bare hands. "It's freezing in here."

Tommy placed the wood in the grate and Jack lit the fire. Sylvia sighed and spread her fingers in front of the flickering flames. "That's better," she muttered.

"Go get some rest, Tommy," Jack said. "You deserve it."

"But you need—"

"Never mind us," Langley said. "Mrs. Moore will bring in the tea and we can serve ourselves."