“The only place you are going is to the bucket brigade,” I said through clenched teeth as I tied a knot around his head. “You can help save her by putting out the flames.”
I knew the words were hollow, though. What was it Father always said? A mill fire is the most dangerous of all things. Kiln-dried wood construction, several floors vulnerable to collapse. It was a miracle so many had already got out safely, and that, no doubt, only because Father had used those steel beams.
I kept on, moving through the thick of injured workers and stopping up blood, cleaning wounds as I could. There was almost nothing left of my petticoat, but what did that matter when so many were burned? Gradually, the trickle of bleeding millhands and bystanders steadied to waiting ranks of less critical injuries. I straightened from binding yet another weeping mother’s slashed arm when terrified screams cut through dense smoke. “He’s trapped! Lord save, Joey’s still inside!”
My horrified glance met Uncle Gardiner’s. One distraught woman was pounding anguished fists against Fitzwilliam’s broad chest. Far from being offended for his person, he was trying to comfort her, and asking where the lad was. The woman said something, and then…
And then my whole world collapsed when Fitzwilliam turned and ran into the smoking mill.Why, in Heaven’s name? My heart shattered into ash when another section of the upper floor caved, sending embers flying. Oh, where was he? He could not have been under that section when it fell! Providence could not be so cruel as to rob me of him again!
I ran blindly for the fiery doorway. What if he was trapped? A beam collapsed on his leg, or something knocking him unconscious? But iron bands fastened around my waist, holding me back. I fought wildly against Uncle Gardiner’s unyielding clasp.
“He’s still inside!” Raw, anguished screams tore from my throat. “I must reach Fitzwilliam!”
Uncle’s gruff voice rasped in my ear, firm as the unmoving arms holding me. “Rushing heedless to your doom helps no one!” He grunted against my frenzied struggles. “Keep hope, child! Darcy is no fool. He knows how that mill was constructed.”
I slumped, quivering into Uncle’s grip, the truth of his words striking home. Grotesque shadows danced as my imagination conjured Fitzwilliam’s beloved form already lost, sprawled, and lifeless where boards collapsed to consume all. “Please, heaven’s mercy...” Prayers mingled with Jane’s muffled weeping nearby.
Each agonized moment passed with excruciating slowness as human chains passed buckets unceasing—though with a rapidly fading effect against the hellish flames. But then Harris’ shout heralded three ghostly figures emerging. One was a youth, his face so black with soot that I could not guess at his age. He was dragging his leg, but others ran to help him at once.
Another was a woman—at first, I thought her unconscious, but her head rolled, and she spasmed into a cough as the man carrying her eased her onto the grass. He checked her breathing, summoned someone to tend her, and then he looked up… directly at me.
Fitzwilliam!
I screamed wild joy, wrenching free and running desperately toward that blessedly familiar, battered form. His coat was gone, his shirt so black with smoke, he could have been anyone, but it washim. I flung myself into Fitzwilliam’s arms just as he staggered clear, my legs giving way to sink us both earthward. Pressing fiercely close, I felt him suppress racking spasms even while cradling me gently. My overflowing tears mingled joy and relief.
Smoke-reddened eyes found mine, dirty fingers tracing my cheek tenderly. “Never fear, my love.” His voice was raspy and broken by coughs, but his heart beat strong against my chest.
What else was I to do? My gown was already ruined, my face already smeared with soot. What did it matter if I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him breathless? Fortunately, he did not seem to mind.
Thirty-Two
Darcy
Reliefdrownedouteventhe crackling flames as I clung to Elizabeth, uncaring of prying eyes. Her blistering kisses against my scorched lips lit my battered spirit aflame, distilling us to vibrant essence impervious now to mortal trials. I cared not who was offended, who was disadvantaged. For once, I was going to do what was right, and what was right was holding Elizabeth. For the rest of my life.
A subtle cough interrupted us. My cheeks flamed as we sprang apart, and I saw Gardiner waiting.
“Pardon...” I rasped, mortified at my wanton recklessness before her guardian.
Gardiner slowly shook his head, his sharp gaze moving between us. “Love makes great fools of wiser men before now.” His eyes pierced me through. “And I’ll not pretend blindness to its formidable power.”
My breath caught, hesitant longing dawning. “Then… might some chance remain? Surely, there must be a way!”
He held up a hand. “I have told you all I know. But I’ll not force asunder what Providence itself has so obviously brought together.” His rough smile turned tender toward Elizabeth. “I suppose I could just advise the trustee that she has received an offer she is inclined to accept. What can he say?”
What could be said, indeed? Perhaps Elizabeth’s removal to Hertfordshire and her coming of age with the name Bennet could prove the difference. I could only hope. For a future with Elizabeth, anything was worth a chance. But for now, we could spare little thought for ourselves.
I clung protectively to Elizabeth’s hand as we peered anxiously around for any other wounded amidst the chaos. Thank Providence, no lives had been lost, though the mill was utterly destroyed. I turned my soot-blackened face upward with exhausted relief. My father’s dream was turned to ash, but… well, I never wanted this bother, anyway! Perhaps now, something new could take its place.
Just then, wild shouting heralded new riders approaching at a gallop. And in the lead, of course, was George, on that ridiculously expensive former racehorse of his. He flung himself recklessly from the saddle almost before his mount fully halted—hat gone again, fair hair flying wildly. Would he ever be able to ride without losing his hat? The man could keep every haberdasher from here to London gainfully employed.
“Fitz! Thank God we spotted the flames and came straightaway!”
“Spotted them from where? I thought you were at Matlock. Impossible to come so quickly from that distance.”
“Oh, well, you see, we were out hunting, and… oh, good day, Lizzy! Anyway, we were out in the southern fields you see just there, and—”
“Hunting?” I interrupted. “Rather the wrong season for grouse, do you not think?”
