Chapter Forty-four
“I’ve got a fitting at the dressmaker in Wells; it’s two hours away and Father is busy with customers,” Sarah said. “I hoped you wouldn’t mind watching Jacob. The wedding’s just two weeks off.”
“Of course,” I said. I was letting myself get swept up in the wedding preparations. Being busy was a tonic for me, and, while still grieving, I was determined not to let my personal misery ruin Sarah and Louis’s special day. But more than that, Sarah needed my help. Watching Jacob was at the top of her list, since at just over a year old, he was beginning to feel the need to explore his world, taking his first tentative walking adventures.
Mr. Roy had created a carrier for Jacob out of a miner’s rucksack. I strapped it to my back, so that we could walk to the stagecoach to wave goodbye. I knew the adventure would help to calm his fussing over Sarah’s leaving. He was just tall enough to see over my shoulders, and the rucksack afforded him a princely view of all he surveyed.
He was getting almost too big and heavy for the carrier. Children grow so fast, I thought with some regret. I’d dearly miss not seeing him regularly once I moved to my ranch. I had held him almost every day over the past year, and his gurgling laugh had become one of my favourite sounds. My heart had been broken and scarred in many ways, but the memory of his birth always flooded me with warmth.
On the way back, we sauntered lazily along, enjoying the warm September day. By the time we reached home, his eyes were drooping, and we were both ready for a midday snooze, me on my bed and Jacob in his little crib next to me. I threw a shawl over myself and drifted off into a deep slumber.
I didn’t know how much time had passed, but I awoke with a start at the high-pitched clang of the Theatre Royal’s bell. Fire! My heart leapt to life, thumping in my chest. Jumping to my feet, I ran to the window and saw men in the back lane drop what they were doing and run in the direction of the fire hall.
Mr. Roy called upstairs to me. “Pack a bag, Miss Charlotte, for you and Jacob, just in case,” he said. “I’ll be back to check on you if things get bad.” Then I heard the sharp bang of the front door of the Wake Up Jake, and in less than a minute, I caught a glimpse of him racing up the street through a gap in the buildings.
Miraculously the commotion had not woken Jacob. I went to the small attic window and leaned out. While I had been asleep, the weather had changed. A hot, dry wind had picked up, and with it came a restless feel to the air—edgy, unstable, with sudden wind gusts swirling dust and grit. I didn’t smell a fire, but one slender plume of white smoke hung in the air about two blocks away. I knew that with the wind, things could move fast.
I quickly but quietly sorted Jacob’s things, filling a satchel with them, then went to Sarah’s room and filled the bag with things I knew she’d want saved—her wedding shoes, gloves, and the red silk corsage she had made for Louis. Then I checked the window once more.
The smoke had ceased to be a slender plume. It had turned black and thickened, billowing and rising to higher and higher heights. The breeze stiffened, blowing the unmistakable smell of burning wood into the courtyard below and then up to my room.
I grabbed the bag and took it outside, hiding it in Sarah’s garden. I had just started back upstairs when a loud explosion stopped me in my tracks. Jacob awoke with a cry, and I raced up the attic stairs. My chest heaving, I scanned the horizon once more. A great, thick black cloud of smoke blocked much of my view. I took a reflexive step backwards as red fingers of flames sliced skywards, dissecting the angry cloud. It was time to go. I filled another bag with my few valuables and precious papers—the deed to my property, my bankbook, my saved letters—and John’s vaccination equipment. I threw Hari’s and my jewellery boxes in as well. Then went to Jacob.
Jacob was fussy, protesting my attempts to dress him. He kicked his legs as I struggled to pin his fresh nappy, hitting my hand and plunging the pin painfully deep into my thumb. I sucked the oozing wound to stop the bleeding and tried to push away my growing anxiety. I talked to myself to settle my unease. There’s plenty of time—no need to panic. Mr. Roy will be here to help us soon. But my fingers became thick and sloppy, struggling to slide buttons through holes and attach hooks to eyes.
I reached for Jacob’s sweater, then thought better of it. He was dressed well enough to ward off any chill, and I didn’t want to take any more time. A quick check out the open window told me that the building on the far corner of our block was on fire. Oh my God. Florence’s theatre must have gone up. Sharp hissing and crackling noises filled the air as grey and black bits of ash floated through the open window. I grabbed my bag in one hand and scooped Jacob up with the other and made for the door, only to stop at the silhouette of a tall, slim man,
