Page 8 of Ashes and Understanding
Darcy’s sharp gaze swept over the area. He had done a study the evening before on the Great London Fire of 1666, including Thomas Vincent’s analysis of the non-deistic causes included in his book “God’s Terrible Voice in the City.” While much of the tome focused on God’s punishments, it also included several reasons why the fire burned as long as it did.
As he surveyed the scene with a critical eye, Darcy was dismayed to see much to alarm him. The ramshackle, wooden warehouses were cramped, their wooden structures blackened with soot. Barrels of oil and other flammable materials sat precariously close to stacks of crates, and the passageways between the warehouses themselves were primarily narrow and filled with all sorts of lumber.
“What measures are in place to prevent fires?” Darcy asked, his tone measured but firm.
Cartwright’s smile tightened. “We have arrangements with the local fire brigades.” He directed the investors’ attention towards a dilapidated wagon—sans wheels—bearing a water pump. “And as we wait for them, we have items on site that can be used.”
“Thisis what you plan to use to put out a fire?” Darcy asked incredulously.
Cartwright hesitated. “Yes, it was purchased from another insurance company when they upgraded their fleet for residential properties in the city.”
Darcy’s lips thinned. “Secondhand equipment for an area as critical as this? And how far is your nearest brigade?”
Cartwright shifted uncomfortably. “About a quarter of a mile, but they are highly trained.”
“Distance and training mean little when fire can consume these warehouses in minutes,” Darcy said, his tone sharp. He gestured toward the barrels and timber crates. “These materials are highly flammable, yet they are stored with no regard for containment. One spark, and the fire would spread unchecked. Do you have firebreaks in place?”
“We rely on the fire brigades,” Cartwright replied, his voice tightening. “Gentlemen, this is not the time to nitpick operational details. The broader system—”
“The broader system will collapse if you neglect the details,” Darcy interrupted. “Your equipment is outdated, your inspections insufficient, and your reliance on proximity to fire brigades assumes a speed they cannot achieve.”
The murmurs among the other investors grew louder, and Cartwright’s polished demeanor began to crack. “Mr. Darcy, we are here to discuss investment opportunities, not to endure a lecture on logistics.”
“And yet,” Darcy said, gesturing to a nearby warehouse, “those barrels of oil are positioned next to timber crates. Should onespark occur, the entire building would be consumed before a brigade could arrive.”
The other investors murmured among themselves, and Cartwright’s demeanor shifted. “Mr. Darcy, these are operational details. The broader picture is what matters—the resilience of the system, the strength of our partnerships.”
Bingley, who had been quiet, now stepped forward. “Forgive me, but are not the operational details precisely what ensures that resilience? If one fire could destroy half the docks, would not that undermine the entire system? How can we consider backing this venture without assurances of safety measures?”
Cartwright’s expression darkened. “Gentlemen, this meeting was not intended to be an inquisition. “I believe you misunderstand the scope of what we do here. This is not about nitpicking individual flaws. It is about supporting progress.”
Darcy’s lips pressed into a thin line, the defensiveness grating against his sense of reason. It reminded him too sharply of Wickham’s deflections—evasive answers dressed up as charm. “It is not an inquisition to ask how you propose to safeguard the assets you insure.” He folded his arms and looked at Bingley. “As they cannot provide satisfactory answers, I see no reason to continue.”
Bingley nodded his agreement, and the two men left the group, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestones as they walked away from the docks towards their carriage. Once inside, Bingley exhaled sharply. “Well, that was… less reassuring than I had hoped. What do you think?”
Darcy’s face was grim. “Their defensiveness is quite troubling, and I am concerned about their lack of accountability. The waythey resorted to evasion rather than substance when the risks were evident for all to see…”
“Well, foryouto see.”
“I did stay up half the night reading Maitland’sHistory of London, as well as some folios I found in the library… but even without that knowledge, it should be clear to any Englishman what they are doing bears a repeat of 1666.”
“You do not trust them?”
“No,” Darcy said flatly. “Their infrastructure is fragile, their plans reactionary. Investing in such a venture would be folly.”
Bingley frowned. “I thought perhaps you were being overly cautious at first— you know how much I detest confrontation— but… yes, you are right. It felt wrong. Their priorities seem misplaced, and the way they bristled against your questions does not sit right with me.”
“You are right to trust your instincts,” Darcy said. “They speak of resilience, yet they neglect the foundation. Without that, the entire structure is vulnerable.”
“Then we will not invest.”
“No.” Darcy shook his head firmly. “We most definitely will not.”
As the carriage jolted along the uneven cobblestones, Darcy turned his gaze to the frost-laden window. The city beyond was muted, the bustling energy of the docks replaced by snow-covered streets and the flicker of distant lamplight.
The muffled sounds of the city—calls of street vendors, the distant clip of hooves—created an eerie serenity. Yet, his mind was anything but calm. The images of the cramped docks, thetimber warehouses, and the outdated equipment lingered like shadows in his thoughts.
A sense of foreboding crept over him, tightening his chest. All it would take was one spark—one careless act or unforeseen accident—and the docks could become an inferno. The narrow passages, the flammable materials, the woefully inadequate response infrastructure: it was a perfect storm waiting to ignite. Darcy pressed a gloved hand against the glass, his reflection staring back at him.
