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Chapter Nineteen
The sound of shouting outside had drawn Jacqueline to the window almost the minute she entered the salon to take position for the first watch. Pulling back the curtain, she saw three men struggling in the street below. The sun had already set, and it was getting dark, but she could clearly tell two of them were attempting to wrestle a third to the ground.
A shot rang out almost the same instant the window in front of her exploded. Screaming, Jacqueline leaped back and tripped, sending a table laden with figurines crashing to the floor. Moments later, muffled shouts sounded, and footsteps pounded the boards beneath her ear. Gentle hands lifted her, pulling her up and away from the debris.
Slowly, she focused her senses. “I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding!” Mrs. Orson pointed to her neck.
Jacqueline pressed a palm against the smarting flesh. It came away smeared with red. “It’s not a grave injury,” she insisted. Just then, several more people came running into the room. “Stay back!” she shouted, flinging out her hands to ward them off. “Keep away from the window!”
A gasp of dismay broke from Mrs. Wicklen, and Jacqueline remembered the blood on her hand. “It’s only a cut.” Rising, she wiped it on her skirt, leaving a dark streak on the fabric. It didn’t matter. “The children and the other staff need to be warned. We must follow the plan we discussed earlier today.”
No one budged.
“Move!” Ignoring the stinging along the left side of her face and neck, Jacqueline herded everyone out. More shouts echoed outside in the street and she paused, tempted to go back and see what was happening. Good sense prevailed, however. Whatever was going on out there, she had a duty to her girls in here, and that must come first.
As her folk scattered, she made her way to the far hall. I must see to the youngest… On the way, she spied Agnes sitting in front of the door to Sally’s makeshift jail cell. “It’s just a few scratches,” she said in response to the other woman’s shocked exclamation. “Someone shot the window by which I was keeping vigil. We are under attack.”
“Bloody hell,” muttered the woman, startling her. “I’ll come and help you with the wee ones.”
“No.” Jacqueline jerked her chin at the door. “You must get Sally downstairs to safety and see that she does not escape or cause trouble.”
A black look crossed the cook’s face. “She deserves to reap the fruit of her traitorous labors. I say we tie her up and leave her.”
“Though she deserv
es it not, we will show her the same care as we would anyone else here.”
Grumbling, Agnes opened the door. “Get up, slattern!” she bellowed.
Sally emerged, bleary-eyed and squinting against the lamplight. “What’s happened?”
The cook grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out into the hall. “Someone’s just tried to kill the headmistress. We must go downstairs with the others. I’d as soon have left you, but she won’t allow it. You’ve her to thank for the kindness.”
Jacqueline stared at the girl’s chalk-white face and round, terrified eyes. “Go with Cook and cause no trouble or I will let her lock you away someplace where you cannot do any harm.”
“Oh, ma’am!” wailed Sally. “Lord have mercy upon us all. If they are here, it’s too late.”
A chill ran through Jacqueline. “What do you mean?”
“They’ll get in,” said Sally, her voice rising to hysteria pitch. She turned watery eyes on Agnes. “I picked your lock and pressed your keys in clay while you were asleep.” Her gaze swung back to Jacqueline. “I gave the molds to a man at market the next morning. She could have had dozens of keys made. They’ll get inside and kill us all.”
“How long ago was this?”
“More than a fortnight ago,” answered the weeping girl.
Jacqueline breathed deeply as the tightness in her midsection eased. “Then we are safe.” She smiled at the look of consternation on the traitor’s face. “I recently took the precaution of having all the outer doors fitted with new locks.”
The girl’s relief was evident, but it was also short-lived. “It won’t stop them. Not forever. She’ll send a picklock or have her men simply batter their way in.”
“We will be ready for them,” Jacqueline replied. “Agnes, take her down. I’m going to fetch the little ones.” She didn’t wait for a response. The children were already awake when she came in, in spite of their bedtime having been more than an hour ago.
“We heard noises upstairs,” said Angela.
“Don’t worry, darling. All is well. We just need to go downstairs for a little while.”
“I’m afraid.”
