Page 16 of Haunted
To his relief, she did not argue. Mark had to be her first concern. Already starting toward the front door, she cried out over her shoulder, “Be careful, George!”
The desperate concern in her voice spurred him on through the baize door. Here, the smoke almost choked him. No wonder. The kitchen was ablaze, especially to the right, blocking the way to the back door into the yard.
Ignoring that for now, he located the room off the kitchen’s left-hand side. Noticing a towel, he dunked it in the pail ofwater he passed, and burst into the old couple’s bedchamber. He peered through the thick smoke, raising his lamp and holding the wet towel over his nose and mouth.
They lay side by side, perfectly still.
*
Francesca threw backthe bolts of the front door. They felt warm, as though the whole house was heated by direct sunshine. She wrenched open the door, still grasping the silent Mark by one hand, and all but staggered into the open.
Even the outside air stank of smoke, and she could see at once that one side of the house was in flames.
“Oh dear God,” she whispered. She grasped Mark’s hand more tightly and ran down the path toward the garden.
“There! Undressed!” a gleeful voice cried out of nowhere.
Startled—could it be help arrived from neighbors?—she halted and peered at the two men on either side of the old oak tree, behind which they had apparently been hiding.
“What d’you expect?” the second man said derisively. “It’s the middle of the night. The question is, ishein his nightclothes too? And you must admit, he ain’t with her.”
Francesca stared at them, her jaw dropping. It was Jack Forest and Bill Kell. “You are betting on the fire in my house? Instead of helping?” she said in disbelief. “My son could have died! My servants, whom you have known all your lives, still might.”George. Oh God, George…
And then, seeing Jack’s forceful nudge before they backed away, another, even uglier suspicion hit her.
They had started the fire.
As a bet to see if she and George emerged together as lovers. And no doubt as revenge for the thwarting of their well trick this afternoon.
“Dear God,” she whispered with utter contempt.
*
Martin sat boltupright like a stage ghost, without using his hands. And coughed.
Flooded with relief, George could hardly speak. “Fire, Martin. We have to get out. Wake Ada.”
The room was already unbearably hot and the old couple all but overcome. There was no time or strength to search for other exits. George made a swift decision and broke the window, battering the glass out, so that it would not cut them to ribbons.
“Hello!” shouted a voice outside. “Anyone in there?”
“The Martins!” George gasped back as loudly as he could while struggling to breathe. “I’ll pass them out to you!”
Only Ada’s choking sounds told him she was still alive. He picked her bodily from the bed and passed her through the window. Somewhere, he registered that it was the innkeeper from the village who took her at the other side. Martin staggered toward him in his nightshirt, and George hefted him over the sill. Eager hands took the old man from his grip. Hastily, George dragged the covers off the bed and pushed them through, too. They would be needed.
The fire was spreading rapidly toward him, licking under the bedchamber door. From long-ingrained habit, George doused the lamp he had earlier set on the dressing table, and laughed at himself as he jumped and threw himself through the window.
Helping hands caught him, dragging him away from the heat of the building. He could see the old couple, wrapped in blankets, and several local people, including the innkeeper and the blacksmith. Desperately, he sought Francesca and Mark, but he could not speak to ask.
And then, like a whirlwind, she landed in his arms, sobbing, “Oh, thank God, thank God!” And for one blissful moment, her lips pressed to his cheek, his mouth, and his arms closed hard around her.
It was only an instant before he realized the innkeeper and his wife were subtly sheltering them from view. Which at least brought enough sense back to George to draw her away from him.
“Mark?” he said urgently.
“Safe with Mrs. Gates. You brought the Martins out alive, George, thank you!”
And then she fled toward the Martins, who might have been alive but were still struggling to breathe.
