Page 12 of Ashes and Understanding
Opening the bedroom door cautiously, she peered out into the hallway, which was dim and still. Her pulse raced as the scent grew stronger, though it was still faint enough that she doubted herself. Stepping through, Elizabeth closed the door softly behind her and moved through the shadows, her ears straining for any sound that might alleviate her fears.
The darkened staircase loomed ahead, and she descended it slowly, the air became more frigid with every step. By the time she reached the ground floor, the smoky scent was undeniably sharper, especially given that she was now fully alert. It swirled through her nostrils with each inhale, curling into her lungs like an unseen specter, lingering and oppressive.
Perhaps it is coming from the kitchens? Maybe the fire there was not extinguished properly?
She made her way down the servant’s corridor, past the housekeeper’s office, and into the cook’s domain. To her dismay, she found the hearth cold— no sign of flame, ash, or smoke.
Nothing.
The unease in her chest tightened, and she returned to the main corridor, walking quickly towards the front of the house.It is possible there is still a fire burning in my uncle’s study or another room.
As she passed the drawing room, a faint orange glow caught her eye. It spilled into the hallway through the window far window, casting long, flickering shadows across the wall. Her breath caught as she pushed her way through the door and look southward out of the glass towards Gracechurch Street and the docks beyond.
Her heart dropped, and she gasped for breath.
Not far in the distance, past Gracechurch Street and down towards the river, the horizon was swallowed up in an inferno.
The flickering light she had prayed was the sunrise was, in fact, the ominous, jagged movement of tremendous flames licking upward. The sky above was streaked with thick, curling smoke that sought to swallow the stars. A thick haze was spreading, made all the more malevolent with the eerie glow of the roaring blaze.
Panic prickled at the edges of her mind, but she fought them back as she turned and bolted up the stairs towards her uncle’s room. She began to pound on the door, her voice urgent. “Uncle Gardiner! Please, wake up!”
After a moment, the door opened, and Mr. Gardiner— his hair tousled and his expression groggy— blinked at her in confusion. “Lizzy? What on earth is the matter?”
“Uncle, please, you must come,” she urged, tugging at his sleeve. “There is a fire— I saw it from the window. It is down at the docks.”
His expression darkened, the last vestiges of sleep falling away as he ran down the stairs after her to the closest window facing the flames. One look was enough to send him into action. “Gather your things, then wake the nurse and the children. They need to dress— quickly! Help them collect what they can, butonly what can be carried. Then go to the servants and tell them the same.”
Elizabeth nodded and hurried off as Mr. Gardiner disappeared back into his chamber to rouse his wife. Moments later, Elizabeth could hear his voice giving calm but urgent instructions. Elizabeth returned to her room, grabbing her small carpet bag and stuffing it with what little she could think to take— her writing case that was a gift from Jane, a spare gown, and a few other sentimental trinkets.
Pausing for a moment to steady herself, she drew in a sharp breath. There was no time to waste, but she could not help the cold fear that spread through her veins.
Please, God, keep us safe.
Chapter 3
The servants!
Elizabeth bolted from her room, bag in hand, her heart racing as she ran down the hall towards the servants’ quarters, which were near the kitchens.
“Wake up! Fire!” She ran from room to room, pounding on the closed doors.
“What on earth?” Mrs. Batson, the housekeeper, sleepily poked her head out of her room, nightcap askew. “Miss Lizzy? What is going on, child?”
“There is no time to delay,” Elizabeth said, her voice steady despite the chaos churning in in her mind. “The docks appear to be on fire, and the wind is blowing the flames towards us. We must all leave—immediately!”
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the hallway as other servants began to emerge, their expressions a mix of confusion and alarm.
Elizabeth turned to face the growing group, her tone calm but commanding. “Gather only what you can carry—valuables, warm clothing, and nothing more. The Gardiners and I will be leaving within minutes, but I understand if any of you wish to seek out your loved ones instead. No one will be punished for abandoning their posts.”
One of the footmen hesitated, his brow furrowed. “Miss Bennet, my brother is on the night shift at the docks. If the fire started there…”
“I know,” Elizabeth interrupted gently, meeting his worried gaze. “You must do what you feel is right. But be careful—these streets will soon be crowded, and it will be much more dangerous for those on their own. If you choose to stay with us, we will do all we can to keep you safe, but I cannot make any promises about anything.”
Mrs. Batson straightened her cap, determination lighting her face. “I will come with you, miss. Someone will need to help Nurse keep the little ones calm.”
Others nodded, clutching bags or hastily dressing. A few cast lingering looks back toward the servants’ stairwell, as though still weighing their decisions. Elizabeth offered each of them a brief, encouraging nod.
“Five minutes,” she said firmly. “Be ready, and meet us at the front door.”
