Charles put a hand on Hardy’s shoulder, seeing his butler was near to tears. “It must have been. I just wish we had been here and then this would never have happened.”
“I am so sorry about Lady Delia, Your Grace. She was in quite a bad way. Her face is all cut up and she was barely conscious, not only from the smoke, but I think Mr. Barrie had hit her … knocked her out.”
“Oh, Lord,” Charles uttered. “Let’s all go inside and see what’s what. Then I’ll ring the hospital. I take it your part of the top floor is okay, Hardy?”
“Yes, Your Grace. The only rooms affected up there are the few above Lady Delia’s bedroom but as they are empty and it’s only smoke, it’s nothing too disastrous. The fire doors between them and the rest of the floor prevented the smoke penetrating any further. The worst of the damage is on the first floor. Lady Delia’s bedroom is gutted, being the seat of the fire, and there’s smoke and water damage in the adjoining sitting room and guestroom. Lady Victoria’s bedroom and sitting room and two further guest rooms have smoke damage.”
“Great,” muttered Vicky. “Trust Delia to ruin my rooms.”
“You can have one of the guest rooms on the north wing, darling … until we can restore yours,” said Charles, giving her a hug. He was worried about her. She looked drawn and ill and if Barrie hadn’t already been dead, he would have happily killed him himself. Vicky was such a lovely girl and didn’t deserve any of what that man had put her through. She was well rid of him.
Charles turned back to Hardy. “And downstairs,” he asked anxiously, “the crimson state rooms beneath Lady Delia’s bedroom? I do hope they aren’t ….”
“Unfortunately, they have water damage, Your Grace … from the fire engines. The silk on the walls and the carpet are in a terrible mess and as for the state bed …”
“Blast,” swore Charles. “My mother loved those rooms. Have the fire brigade investigated and decided what caused it yet?” he asked.
“Yes, Your Grace. They want to speak to you as soon as you’re ready but apparently, it was a discarded cigarette in the bed sheets.”
Charles cursed under his breath as they all entered the Hall.
“Hardy, what’s the nursery like?” asked Ruth. “Can we use it?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Again, the fire doors prevented anything getting through.”
“I can’t thank the insurance company enough for recommending we have them fitted last year. It looks like they were a sound investment,” muttered Charles, striding up the steps into the entrance hall.
“Let’s go upstairs and settle Stephen into the nursery,” said Ruth to Tina.
“Let’s all go upstairs,” said Charles. “I need to see exactly what my delinquent daughter has done to the house she professes to love so much.”
* * *
After a quick glance to make sure the nursery and adjoining rooms on the top floor of the east wing were safe for Stephen, Ruth left him and Tina, sped down the stairs and joined Charles and Vicky on the first floor of the west wing. The smell of smoke hit them with force as Charles held open the fire door for them to go through, but there was little else to indicate how near to disaster Canleigh had been until he opened Delia’s bedroom door. The room was a complete mess and smelt simply awful. The ebony four-poster bed was a charred wreck and the ceiling and window were blackened. Fire damage, followed by a good soaking from Anderson’s fire extinguisher and then gallons of water from the fire brigade’s efforts to dampen it all down, had destroyed the curtains and furnishings but as bad as it all was, as far as Charles and Ruth could see there was no structural damage.
“Thank goodness Anderson reacted so quickly,” Charles said quietly. “If it hadn’t have been for him … it just doesn’t bear thinking about.”
They quickly surveyed the adjoining guestrooms, Delia’s sitting room, and Vicky’s two rooms. Thankfully, there was no serious damage. Everything would have to be cleaned thoroughly and redecorated but that was all. Canleigh Hall had been very lucky indeed.
Charles continued on down the corridor, closely followed by Ruth and Vicky. They passed the lovely room at the end of the west corridor Ruth had used on her first visit to Canleigh as Richard’s guest and turned left through another fire door into the south corridor. They passed two more guest rooms and then Charles paused to stare at Richard’s bedroom door. Vicky and Ruth stopped behind him, waiting for him to open it.
“You don’t have to go in there yet, if you don’t want to,” said Ruth, feeling his pain.
“I’ll have to at some time. There are all his things. They will have to be sorted. Actually, Ruth. I hadn’t thought. What about all his belongings at his flat in Oxford … and his car?”
“All
