Page 60 of The Bride Wore White

“Never mind,” he said. “It’s not important. Good night.”

She disappeared out into the hall. A moment later he heard her footsteps on the stairs. A door closed. The house settled for the night.

Chapter 27

The muffled sound of shattering glass brought Prudence out of a restless, dream-ridden sleep. A second explosion followed before she could get oriented.

No, not a second explosion. Someone had just slammed open the door of the suite.

She came fully alert on a wave of nervy energy, opened her eyes, and saw the figure of a man looming over the bed. He was silhouetted in the pale glow of the light she had left burning in the bathroom. He ripped the covers aside.

She opened her mouth to scream but her throat was too tight. No sound emerged. Frantic now, she tried to roll away to the opposite side of the bed. Jack stopped her.

“Prudence, it’s me,” he said. He yanked back the quilt and hauled her out of bed. “The house is on fire. We have to get out now.”

She struggled to focus on the wordfire.

“Slippers,” he ordered. “Protect your feet.”

“Right,” she said. “Slippers.”

The command steadied her, enabling her to concentrate. He released her hand and went toward the door. She hopped down from the high bed and shoved her feet into the slippers.

“My robe,” she said. “It’s in the bathroom.”

“No time,” he said. “The main staircase is already blocked. We’ll take the back stairs. Follow me.”

He went out into the hall. Prudence realized she could smell smoke now. She grabbed the stack of manuscript pages off the bedside table and rushed after him.

She followed him along the corridor. When they reached the landing, she looked down and saw the flames leaping out of the library, starting up the main staircase. The fire moved with terrifying speed, consuming everything it touched.

There was no time to take in the horror of what was happening. Clutching the manuscript with one hand, she hoisted the long skirts of her nightgown and ran after Jack. He had reached the end of the hall and was opening a stairwell door.

“Good,” he said. “No smoke in here.”

He moved inside and toggled the light switch. Wall sconces came on, illuminating the two flights of steps.

“Go,” he ordered, standing aside.

She grabbed the railing with her free hand and plunged downward. Jack closed the door, briefly blocking the smoke, and followed her.

The rear stairs ended in the utility room off the kitchen. Jack got the back door open and together they raced out into the firelit night.

“The car,” Jack said. “We need to get to a phone to report the fire.”

She hurried after him. When she felt the gravel under her feet, she was suddenly grateful for the slippers.

The Packard was in the detached garage behind the house. Jackbacked it out into the driveway. Prudence yanked open the passenger side door and jumped into the front seat. Jack turned on the headlights but paused before he put the car in gear.

“Listen,” he said.

She heard it, too—the sound of a heavy car engine accelerating away into the night.

“We’ll never catch him,” Jack said.

He put the vehicle in gear and went around the side of the burning house, heading toward the lane that would take them to Cliff Road.

An apparition appeared in the headlights. A ghostly figure in a long white robe. Her shoulder-length gray hair was a chaotic mane around her face. Her eyes were stark and wild.

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