Page 57 of Walk on the Wildsyde

Clara felt her father’s hands pulling her to safety, saw Hamilton register the fact she was safe, and then the two men disappeared.

“Hamilton!” Clara screamed, attempting to run for the front door, but her father and Mrs Cameron held her back.

“Nae lassie, dinnae be a fool. Hamilton can handle that bampot with one arm tied behind his back. Ye just wait with me and yer da, he’ll be down presently.”

The sound of fighting and furniture breaking was almost drowned out by the sound of the fire and those trying to douse the flames had to fall back as the smoke and heat grew in intensity.

“Hamilton!” Clara cried, increasingly afraid as he failed to appear.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice hoarse as he appeared at the window. “Reverend, I have another parcel for ye,” he added, hauling a battered Malcolm Stewart upright. He’d already tied the rope in place and now lifted the half-conscious man onto the ledge.

“Ye would do better to leave him there,” shouted a woman Clara recognised as Mrs Macdonald.

Hamilton gave a weary huff of laughter. “Tempting though that may be, Janet, Angus would never forgive me.” With that, he gave Malcolm a slap to rouse him. “Wake up, ye wee clipe. Ye will help or I’ll drop ye and have done,” he warned.

Malcolm blinked hazily and then woke fully as he saw he was being hung out of the window.

“Argh!” he exclaimed, panic in his eyes.

“There ye go,” Hamilton said with a snort, and began lowering the fellow with a deal less care than he’d shown Jimmy or Clara, but he got the man to the ground safely.

“Hamilton, hurry up!” Clara shouted, hugging her arms about herself with terror as she saw the way the smoke billowed around him. Hamilton whipped his head round at the sound of a crash close to him in the room, and whatever it was, it seemed to galvanise him into action. There was no one to lower him on a rope, however, and his burned hands felt as if they were on fire as he climbed out onto the ledge.

“Oh!” Clara exclaimed, unable to take her eyes from him as he tried to find a foothold to make his way down.

There were none, and the flames licked faster from the lower windows now, the heat appalling. Those throwing water at the fire moved faster, but it only made the choking smoke worse. Unable to do a thing to help him, Clara watched helplessly as the fumes momentarily hid him from view, and then Hamilton let go of the ledge, falling heavily to the ground with a thud.

“Hamilton! Hamilton!” she cried, uncaring of who saw as she ran to him, throwing herself down beside him and taking his face in her hands. She wiped his filthy face with her skirts as he led out a groan of pain. He muttered a few obscenities to which Clara thought him quite entitled.

“Dammit, that stings,” he grumbled irritably, looking at his hands.

Clara took them in her own hands, kissing his knuckles. “Oh, my love,” she said, and Hamilton grinned as he looked around the crowd who had gathered around them.

“Ye heard that, I hope. She called me my love. Ye are all invited to the wedding, by the way,” he added.

Clara blushed, belatedly looking around to see the women of her father’s temperance army standing about them.

“Aye, laddie. We heard. Ye must marry him now, lassie, or he’ll pine away. Sore in love with ye he is.”

“He’ll die of it!” added another woman, chortling with laughter.

“He nearly did!” said another.

“Aye, I will,” Hamilton said, sounding as if he might mean it too. He took her hand between his fingers and brought it to his lips. “I dinnae care about buildings burning, or even if I lost everything I own, but I’ll nae lose ye, Clara Halliday. The thought of it makes me feart more than anything else in this life. Say ye will make me the happiest of men and marry me.”

Clara looked at him, the disreputable rogue, sooty and scorched, his clothes all torn, his eye swelling shut, and bleeding in more places than she could count. He looked dreadful and wonderful, and so very, very dear.

“Yes, Hamilton, I’ll marry you,” she said, to which whoops of laughter were swiftly accompanied by the suggestion they fall back. The men of the town had come out to help the effort to put out the fire, and one hurried up to Hamilton belatedly carrying the requested ladder.

“A wee bit late, Jock, but I appreciate the thought,” he said dryly. “Just save what ye can, aye? It looks like I may have a bit more work to do.”

“Ye will be doing nae work with yer hands in that state,” Mrs Macready said fiercely. “Ye will come with me this minute so I can get ye patched up. You too, Jimmy. Lord, but I’ve had frights enough this night to send me to my grave. Ye are turning me grey, laddie, and I’m nae letting ye out of my sight again, d’ye hear me?”

“I do,” Jimmy said with a sigh, though Clara thought he did not look entirely displeased about the situation.

Her father was harder to read. He was standing stock still, regarding her as though he had never seen her before.

“Come along, Clara,” Mrs Macready said, her voice firm but softer now. “You must come too. Ye can speak to yer da later, when he’s calmed down and returned to his senses.”