The scene before him was nothing short of unprecedented chaos.
People ran in every direction, clutching bundles and leading frightened children. Wagons piled high with belongings creaked noisily as they rolled past, their owners shouting instructions over the din.
And above all, a tremendous cloud of thick, black smoke billowed up from the east, casting an ominous shadow throughout the city as the rising sun struggled to shine through.
For the first time, Darcy realized the enormity of the disaster. He drew in a deep breath, and his lungs immediately protested the foul air’s entry into his body. His breath rattled in his chest as he choked. Struggling to regain control, he steadied himself against the doorframe.
“Sir?” the footman asked in alarm.
Darcy waved the man away, then hailed a man who was walking quickly past. “What is happening?” he rasped.
“The bridge is blocked, so everyone is being told to gather to Hyde Park.”
Darcy nodded curtly, then retreated back into the house as another bout of coughing overtook him. His chest burned, and his hands shook slightly as he made his way to his study. Collapsing into his large chair behind the desk, he rang the small bell to summon the butler and housekeeper.
The fits left him fighting for air. Between gasps, Darcy issued instructions. “I doubt the fires will actually reach here, but we should prepare just in case. Mr. Harcourt, you shall oversee the arrangements. You know what to do.”
Harcourt gave a curt nod. Darcy turned his attention to his housekeeper. “Mrs. Porter, we will provide aid to those who need it. The kitchens are to prepare as much bread and sustenance as possible to distribute in Hyde Park.”
“Sir, with the price of flour—” she began.
“I will cover the expense; it will not come from the household budget,” Darcy said a reassuring smile. Her relaxed shoulders told him he had guessed her hesitation correctly. “I imagine there will also be a great need for clothing and blankets.”
She nodded and stood up straight. “We will do our best, sir.”
“Are there any of the staff who needs to check on the welfare of their families?”
Harcourt and Mrs. Porter exchanged a glance. “I can make inquiries, sir,” Harcourt finally said. “I am sorry that I do not know right now.”
Darcy waved a hand and coughed before speaking. “Let me know if anyone needs to be excused from their duties. If there areseveral who wish to leave, set them up in rotation schedules so we can still render aid to as many in the Park as necessary.”
As the two begin to leave, Darcy called out, “Harcourt? Send footmen to the Park and surrounding streets. I want to know what is being done, who is organizing relief efforts, and where the greatest need lies.”
Harcourt bowed his acknowledgment and followed Mrs. Porter from the room. Darcy frowned and turned his attention to his desk, pulling out a sheet of paper. The housekeeper’s mention of the rising cost of food due to the war with France and tensions in America had sparked a concern. He quickly penned a note to his uncle, Lord Matlock; the docks burning would have repercussions far beyond London.
As he pressed his signet ring into the hot wax to seal the letter, Georgiana entered with wide eyes. “Brother, what is happening? Is Aunt Catherine coming?”
He gaped at her, prompting another coughing fit. “Why on earth would you think that?”
“Well, the servants are rushing about the house as if the devil were chasing them. It only made sense.”
Biting back a chuckle so as not to irritate his lungs further, he reached out a hand and motioned for her to sit. “There is a fire spreading rapidly from the docks. From what I can tell, it will not actually come all this way, but there are hundreds fleeing to Hyde Park.”
She gasped. “Oh, those poor people.”
“I want you to stay in your rooms with Mrs. Annesley until I personally come to get you.”
“Surely it is not so dangerous—”
“It is,” he said sharply. She flinched, and he groaned internally, softening his voice. “If the situation does worsen, the house could be overrun by desperate people. I will not risk your safety.”
Her face paled, and she nodded reluctantly. “Very well.”
“I have assigned footmen to guard your door,” he added, “and a maid will attend to anything you need. Stay there, Georgiana. Promise me?”
“I promise,” she whispered, leaving the room with a fearful glance towards the smoke-filled windows.
By late morning, Darcy’s voice was nearly gone, the smoky air exacerbating his childhood weakness that typically only emerged in the coldest months or when he overexerted himself.
