Page 56 of Walk on the Wildsyde

“Is there another way out?” he asked. “Servants’ stairs?”

Clara turned around on the landing. A corridor stretched on either side of them with doors off it leading to bedrooms, and another staircase ran up to the servants' quarters, but there was no visible route down other than this one. All the same, they ran along the corridor, snatching open doors in case a hidden staircase lay behind one.

“What do we do?” Jimmy asked, panic in his voice. “I don’t want to burn, Clara.”

“We’re not going to burn,” she told him firmly, though her heart was thrashing madly in her chest. Keep calm, keep calm, she told herself. If they couldn’t take the stairs, then it was out the window they must go. “Come along now, my brave lad. You must keep your head and make sure we both get out safely. Yes?”

Mutely, Jimmy nodded, but his shoulders firmed, a determined look in his eyes. “Right ho, Clara. Out the window then?” he guessed.

“That’s the way,” Clara said, and then gave a shriek as something crashed against the wall beneath them, and then careened up the stairs.

It was a shapeless lump, smoking and steaming, and Clara gave a shout of surprise as the scorched, sodden blanket was thrown to one side and Hamilton revealed himself. He was black with smoke and soot, his hands burned, and his hair singed on one side. He carried a small axe, and grinned at Clara, breathing hard.

“Hamilton!” she cried, throwing herself at him. “Oh, you foolish man, you could have been killed,” she exclaimed, hugging him with both relief and terror.

Hamilton coughed, wiping his eyes, which were streaming. “Scold me later, eh? Jimmy, ye wee devil. I might have known it. Come on, the pair of ye. We are in the proper fix, I’m afraid, but we’ll right it all before morning, if we can get out of here.”

Ushering them all back into the bedroom, Hamilton closed the door behind them to keep the worst of the smoke out and flung open the windows. Clara now saw he carried a big coil of rope over his shoulder which he dropped to floor, taking one end and grimacing with pain as he tied it tightly around Jimmy’s waist.

‘Jimmy, hold the axe a moment,” Clara said, handing it to him and reaching for her petticoats. Using the sharp edge she tore the fabric, ripping long strips off. “Give me your hands,” she said to Hamilton, and quickly wrapped the makeshift bandage about his palms.

“Thank ye, love,” he said, smiling at her before turning back to a white faced but resolute Jimmy. “I’ve sent someone to fetch a ladder but I dinnae ken how long that will take. So, I’ll lower ye down, laddie, Just hold on to the rope and dinnae look down.”

“Clara!”

Clara saw her father’s face, wreathed in horror as he looked up at her. He held a bucket of water, a chain having been formed to put out the fire. Clara froze, knowing that her father would be ashamed of her for what she had done. Perhaps he would never forgive her and throw her out of doors.

“Don’t fret now, lassie,” Hamilton told her firmly, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “Keep yer heid. I’ll make everything right, just trust me. Right, Jimmy, out ye go.”

“Oh, but… I don’t reckon—” Jimmy protested, looking deathly pale as Hamilton picked him up and set him on the ledge.

“I’ve got ye and I will nae let ye fall,” he promised the boy, giving Jimmy a push before he could object and bracing himself as he took the boy’s weight. “Halliday, help the lad,” he called down, and Clara watched with relief as her father ran forward, his arms held aloft as he waited for Jimmy to come low enough to get hold of. Clara viewed the scene with her heart in her mouth as her father took Jimmy in his arms and lowered him carefully to the floor.

“The rope! Hurry!” Hamilton called, as her father fumbled with the knot and released Jimmy so Hamilton could pull the rope back up.

“Jimmy, oh, Jimmy!”

Clara saw Mrs Macready running across the street as Jimmy staggered to his feet and ran to meet her, throwing his arms about her and holding on tight. With a sigh of relief that Jimmy was safe, Clara turned back to Hamilton, whose face was impassive.

“Thank you for coming for me,” she said as he tied the rope securely about her. “I admit was rather frightened and—”

The words died as Hamilton hauled her into his arms and kissed her hard, much to the appreciation of the crowd beneath who whooped and added encouraging words.

Muttering curses, Hamilton broke off, his voice almost angry as he checked the knots he’d tied.

“Clara Halliday, if ye think I have gone to the trouble of falling in love with ye only to let ye go up in smoke, ye dinnae ken the least thing about me. Now get out the damned window and tell yer father I’ll be marrying ye before the month is out, whether he likes it or no.”

“Yes, Hamilton,” Clara said obediently, gazing at him in wonder as he helped her onto the ledge.

Hamilton Anderson had fallen in love with her!Suddenly she was not as terribly afraid as she might have been with this marvellous piece of information to hold close to her heart.

“Don’t look down, lassie. Keep yer feet against the wall as I lower ye, like ye are walking,” he told her, his tone gentler now. “I’ll nae let ye fall. Not now, not ever.”

“I know,” she whispered, smiling at him as she braced her feet as he instructed, watching his powerful frame bear her weight as he lowered her, hand over hand. The strain on his face was obvious, and she winced inwardly as she understood the pain he endured despite her bindings as he held her steady.

“No! I was the one! I was going to save her! You’ve ruined everything, you bloody brute!”

The enraged voice came from inside the building and Hamilton’s head whipped around as someone else came into the room. Clara screamed as she saw Malcolm, blackened and enraged, shove Hamilton aside. Clara fell two feet before Hamilton steadied himself again, lowering her quicker but no less carefully as Malcolm put his arm about Hamilton’s neck and began to squeeze.