Page 47 of Ashes and Understanding
“I know—I… I read the news articles afterwards.”
Her voice broke slightly, remembering the chaos of that night—the screams, the suffocating heat, the press of bodies desperate to escape. Even now, she could recall the acrid scent of burning timber and the eerie glow of the flames consuming everything in their path.
And yet we survived.Instead of relief, Elizabeth felt nothing but guilt.Why were we so blessed? What made us so special?
Smithson, however, seemed utterly unaffected. He simply nodded, his pencil scratching across the paper. “Did you encounter anyone on your way to the park?”
Elizabeth took a steadying breath. “Many people. The streets were crowded with those attempting to flee.”
“But did you speak to anyone in particular?”
She frowned. “There was a young woman. She had a baby with her.”
Smithson’s pencil stopped moving. He slowly lifted his head, his gaze pinning her with an intensity that sent a flicker of unease down her spine.
“A woman with a baby,” he repeated. “Tell me everything about her.”
Elizabeth hesitated, glancing at Darcy. He had been silent throughout most of the interview, but now he sat upright, watching the agent closely.
Her cheeks warmed. “Her name was Meg. She was… she was a lady of the night.”
Smithson showed no reaction, but she could feel his attention sharpen.
“Describe her.”
“She was young. Perhaps no older than I. I did not quite realize what her profession was until later… she was simply standing in the middle of the street, a dazed expression on her face, a baby crying in his arms. She was in shock.”
“And her baby? Describe her baby.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “He was very small, perhaps only a few months old. Dark hair, pale skin. He was dressed in a simple gown, nothing particularly fine, but clean. But he was not her baby… that is, she said she was watching him for her neighbor, who had run away.”
Smithson’s pencil moved rapidly over the page. “Who was his mother, then? How did the women get him?”
She frowned.Why is he so interested? What does this have to do with my uncle’s house burning?
“I took the baby from her and told her to come with us. She followed us to the park, and then a man came. I think…” Her cheeks grew hot. “I think he was her… protector.”
“But the baby? Who was the mother?”
“If you would let me finish.” Her words were clipped and angry. “Meg told the man—she called him Sam—that she was trying to find Deena to give her the baby back, but Sam said that Deena was dead.”
“Deena? You are certain?” Smithson was now scribbling furiously in his notebook. “What happened to her?”
“I do not understand,” Elizabeth said in annoyance. “I was under the impression that you would be asking me questions about the fire and how we knew to leave early. What do these women and the baby have to do with anything? How is it relevant?”
Smithson glowered at her down his long nose. “I will be the one to judge whether or not information is pertinent to our investigation, Miss Elizabeth—not you. Now, what became of the baby?”
Elizabeth hesitated. Smithson’s expression sharpened and he repeated, “What became of the child, Miss Elizabeth?”
Her lips parted. “My aunt and uncle offered to care for the baby—”
“I think that is enough.”
Darcy’s voice cut through the room, low and firm.
Elizabeth turned to him in surprise. He was watching Smithson with narrowed eyes, his body taut with tension.
Smithson’s own expression hardened. “Everything is important. I need to know exactly—”
