Fanny entered the parlor with a tea tray and placed it on the side table. Pouring herself a cup of her special blend, Ruby placed several digestives on the saucer and returned to her window. When she noticed Mrs. Ashbrook moving briskly down the sidewalk, Ruby returned her teacup to the tray and raised a hand in greeting. The lady broke into a grin and nodded in return, veering towards their front door. Moments later, the elder Mrs. Ashbrook bustled into the parlor.
“You are looking quite well,” she said, shifting a basket to the side so she could buss Ruby’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“Well enough, Mother,” said Ruby, motioning for the lady to join her on the sofa. But the lady paused at the sight of the sewing table standing beside the proffered seat.
“My dear, that is lovely,” she said, setting her basket on the sofa and running a hand over the polished surface.
It had taken some arranging to get the additional piece to work with the rest of the furniture, but it now sat in the perfect situation to be both admired and used. Perhaps there were some that might scoff at the simple design, for it lacked any intricate inlay that so many ladies’ sewing tables displayed, but Ruby had not seen a finer table. The wood was of high quality, the rich color being a mix of dark and light grains blending into a warm brown, and the legs displayed beautifully carved scrollwork.
“Conrad surprised me with it the other day,” said Ruby. Though she did not wish to look like a grinning fool, her lips pulled into a wide smile despite her efforts.
Mother slid a sparkling gaze in Ruby’s direction, her knowing smile brightening as she moved the basket over on the sofa and took its place. “I have brought you a gift as well.”
Ruby eased down onto the armchair beside the sofa and blushed. “You didn’t need—”
“Nonsense,” said Mother, pulling back the linen covering the bundle. “I was organizing the attic and found these.”
Mother lifted a christening dress from the basket and laid it across Ruby’s lap; the fabric smelled of age, as though it had been locked away in a chest for many years and only just been freed. Though the white had tinges of yellow, the gown was lovely. The lace at the collar and edges was as fine as Ruby had ever seen, and though more flounced and ruffled than she would have chosen, the dress was neither ostentatious nor gaudy.
“It was Conrad’s,” said Mother, though Ruby had guessed as much. “It’s difficult to believe he ever fit into it, though I remember his christening quite clearly. With your skills, no doubt you have begun work on a gown, so do not feel obligated to use it.”
Ruby ran her fingers over the lace and linen. “It is perfect.”
“It will take some work to restore the color, but it is not beyond hope.”
Those words struck Ruby, and her eyes darted to Mother’s, but the lady’s attention was turned to her basket. She doubted Mrs. Ashbrook had intended a deeper meaning to her words, but Ruby felt it all the same. Conrad’s vow to woo her had not been passing words, and the sennight since had brought with it an overwhelming abundance of affection and attention. Each hour she passed in Conrad’s company nurtured the flickering hope nestled in her heart, but so did the dark fears threatening to snuff out that light.
With careful movements, she folded the dress her husband had worn as a babe. It was all too fitting that the child he embraced as his own should don it as well.
Mother handed Ruby a silver rattle, giving it a little shake. “I found several other things too large and heavy for me to manage on my own. I will have them sent over, but I couldn’t wait to give you these.”
Ruby turned the rattle in her hand, the round bulb on the end making a soft tinkling sound. There were several scratches along the surface that showed Conrad had used it well. The toy needed polishing, but Ruby grinned at the thought of their child playing with it.
“This is delightful. I am so glad you brought them.” Ruby reached over and embraced her. “Thank you.”
Mother held her just as tightly and murmured, “You are most welcome, my dear.” Releasing Ruby, she glanced at the tray. “Has the tea been helping?”
Ruby nodded. “Though I am growing tired of it.”
With a grimace, Mother said, “I used it with each of my children, and though it did help, I fear I cannot stand the scent of it now.”
“Conrad gave Fanny and Mrs. Seymour strict instructions to ply me with it and biscuits every hour when he is gone,” said Ruby. “I can hardly stir without the pair of them fluttering about.”
Though she’d spoken the words in humor, Ruby’s heart fluttered anew, and she fought to keep a grin from stretching across her face.
“As he should,” said Mother with a twinkle in her eye. “It’s—”
A blast shook the house, setting the ground rumbling and the windows rattling. The sound came and went so quickly that Ruby hardly registered what she’d heard. Mother ran to the window, jolting Ruby out of her seat as she raced to join her. Up and down the street, others searched for the source, but there was no sign.
“The mill?” whispered Ruby.
But Mother shook her head. “The sound was farther away than that.”
With quick steps, Ruby led Mother up to the fourth floor and into the nursery. The windows overlooked the same stretch of street but allowed them a higher vantage to see past the buildings opposite. A plume of smoke rose from a building several streets away, and Ruby’s hands flew to her mouth as she stared at the billowing blackness that grew with each second. Even from that distance, she saw the flicker of flames rising from what was left of the roof.
The front door slammed shut downstairs, and Conrad called out for her. Ruby replied, and his footsteps pounded up the stairs as he flew into the room and to her side. The three of them stood together, wide-eyed at the growing blaze.
“Hopkins’ Flour Mill,” Conrad murmured, his tone echoing the fear that gripped Ruby. Turning to her, he held her gaze. “Mr. Fields will keep the mill running as best he can while I take whatever workers we can spare to fight the blaze.”
Ruby was shaking her head long before he’d finished speaking, her heart dropping. Drawing her away from the window, Conrad took her into his arms.
“I must do what I can, Ruby,” he murmured. “They will need all the help they can get to get it under control. If we do not act fast, it will sweep through all of Olde Towne, and I will not risk it.”
Though she hated the thought of him rushing into that danger, Ruby knew he spoke sense. “Be safe,” she whispered.
“I will.” Releasing her, Conrad raised a hand to run a finger along her jaw. But before Ruby could think about the tenderness in his gaze, he turned to his mother. “Will you stay with Ruby?”
“Of course,” she replied, her eyes not moving from the window.
Conrad met Ruby’s worried eyes once more. “Do not take any risks. If the fire draws any closer, go with Mother to Oak Hall. The river will keep the fire from spreading to New Towne, so my parents’ home should be safe.”
Ruby nodded, and he turned away without another word, striding from the nursery. Her heart constricted with each of his footsteps. Once she heard the front door open and shut, she took her place beside Mother once more. From far above him, Ruby watched as her husband hurried back to the mill.
“He will be fine,” said Mother, reaching to take Ruby’s hand in hers.
Giving another meaningless nod, Ruby saw Conrad emerge once more with a group in tow as they set off towards danger.
The minutes shifted and moved, but Ruby and Mother held their vigil at the window. Eventually, they procured seats, but it gave them little comfort as the blaze grew. The neighboring building took fire and something inside it erupted, spreading the flames along the street.
Ruby’s thoughts were a never-ending string of prayers for the safety of its occupants and those fighting to protect the rest of the town, for the swift recovery of the mills and businesses affected, and for the success and safekeeping of the fire brigade. There were not wo
rds enough to give voice to her litany of hopes and fears.
Let them be protected.
With no clock in the room, Ruby had no sense of how much time passed as they kept watch. The sun moved in its sphere, but she gave it no thought. Fanny brought tea trays, but they remained untouched, and Mother gave up attempting conversation. Below them, the streets were empty, and tension hung in the air, embracing Greater Edgerton as the citizens waited and watched.
Then a cart appeared, the horse moving at a hurried pace; Ruby straightened and watched as several others followed after it. With no one else in the roadway, the drivers ran their loads along the center, and it was only after several carts had passed that Ruby realized they were filled with the injured.
Mother followed her gaze. “No doctor in town will have the facilities to treat so many patients. The town has finally raised enough funds to build a hospital, but construction won’t begin until spring. They must have put together some makeshift facility and are taking them there.”
Ruby got to her feet. “They will need assistance.”
“Do you know how to nurse?” asked Mother with raised brows.
“I have two hands and can follow instructions.” Ruby watched the caravan moving down the road. “I cannot sit idly by when I can give aid.”
Mother got to her feet and nodded. “Too right.”
The ladies went in search of their jackets and were met by Tommy, who sat in front of the townhouse.
“Do you know where they are going?” Ruby asked him.
“Crawley’s warehouse,” he replied, hopping to his feet. “But you should stay where you are. Mr. Conrad told me to make sure you were safe.”
“We are going to help,” said Ruby. “And Crawley’s is farther from the danger than Newland Mills.”
Tommy cocked his head to the side, considering that, and then nodded as the trio followed after the caravan.
***
Only the man’s hand was visible beneath the bandages and singed clothes, and though Ruby suspected it hurt him to do so, he held fast to her. Any time she tried to release him, he stirred and groaned, clutching her hand tighter, so Ruby sat beside his cot and sang a few of the mill worker songs she’d learned over the past few weeks.
Crawley’s warehouse had been cleared; its goods shoved to the side to make space for the rows of injured. A few cots had been procured and set up along one side, but most of the patients lay on bedrolls or the bare floor. On the side opposite them, a cart served as an operating table, which Ruby studiously ignored; the sights before her were horrific enough, and she needn’t add to them.
Sunset stole away the light, and though an army of lamps was produced, shadows shrouded much of the warehouse in darkness. It made their work more difficult, but the night air seeped through the massive doors, dispelling the stifling heat of so many gathered together.
“Tommy,” called Mother from a bedside.
The lad and several others came forward with buckets of ice harvested from River Dennick. Her patient’s legs were covered in bandages, and Mother placed a layer of ice gently over his injuries; both ladies winced as he cried out at the weight, but then he sighed, turned his head, and slipped into unconsciousness. Ruby’s patient required far more, and it took several loads before they had covered him from head to toe. She wondered if he could feel its cold touch through all the cotton bandages.
“What are you doing?” bellowed Dr. Houlder. The young fellow strode around the injured and glared at the ladies.
Ruby shrank away from the harsh tone and words, and when she shifted, her patient’s hold tightened, as though afraid she might abandon him. Mother got to her feet and glared at the doctor.
“Keep a civil tongue in your head, sir. We are doing precisely what we were ordered to do—keep the burns covered and cold.”
“What fool told you that?” he shouted, waving wildly at the room.
“This fool,” said Dr. Johnson, wiping his hands on his bloodied apron. “The cold will help.”
“It may give some relief now, but they will pay for it later.” Dr. Houlder’s brows furrowed as he looked at the patients. “They need heat and lots of it to draw out the fire that is burning inside them. As we have no stove to place them by, we can try a thick layer of blankets.”
The older physician shook his head, but before he could delve into a deeper discussion on the subject, Mother interrupted.
“Silence!” The word sliced off any objections the doctors were to mount, and she glowered at the pair. “Arguing is pointless—as is giving us contradictory instructions. We will do as we were told, and you will not waste more time bickering.”
Both physicians’ eyes widened, though they gave no protest. Dr. Houlder returned to his previous work, and Dr. Johnson gave Mother a respectful nod. When his eyes fell to Ruby, they widened a fraction.
“You should not be here in your state,” he said, nodding at her growing babe. “It is unwise for you and the child—”
“I shan’t leave, sir,” she replied, and when he opened his mouth to protest, Mother gave him a hard look that had him snapping it shut again. Dr. Johnson watched the ladies for a silent moment before nodding again.
“Do not let that ice sit for too long. Once the bandages are good and moist, transfer the ice to other patients. I will drain his blisters later,” he said to Mother. Crouching beside Ruby, he whispered to her, “Leave the ice where it is.”
When Ruby gave him a questioning glance, he added, “It’s the only comfort he’ll get, and there is no need to worry about further treatment.”
Her throat tightened, though she kept her hold on her patient’s hand gentle. Blinking back her tears, Ruby tried to sing those little folk songs that seemed to bring some comfort, but her voice wobbled. Her melody filled the air around them, drawing their attention away from the cries and groans echoing in the night.
A few vicars and curates wove through the warehouse, praying over the injured and dying, but none was nearby to aid her patient, and Ruby could not bring herself to release him. Closing her eyes, she bowed over their joined hands and prayed over the poor fellow and his family, hoping her petition was an acceptable substitution for a man of the cloth.
And there she stayed, giving this nameless man the only comfort she had to offer until his hold finally slackened, and he drifted off into his eternal rest.
Chapter 22
Night was a blessing and a curse. Men tripped over rubble and their own feet as they fought to douse the flames, but the blackness helped them find the remnant sparks in the smoldering heaps surrounding them. Conrad’s legs shook, his arms aching as though they might fall off while he passed along another bucket of water to the next fellow in the chain. The fire brigade manned hoses and pumps, doing far more than their mere bucket brigade, but the fire had consumed more of the town than either group could manage on their own.
Someone from the front of the line called out, but Conrad couldn’t hear the words. Moving back and forth, he passed along the buckets until the message worked its way down the chain.
The fire was out.
Conrad and the other men collapsed to the ground, ignoring the prick and poke of the debris beneath them. Sweat soaked his clothes, and his lungs heaved as he took in gulping breaths of cool night air. Others stirred around him, but Conrad ignored them all, remaining precisely where he’d fallen until the cold and his concern for Ruby drove him to move.
The work was not over for Greater Edgerton, but there was nothing more to do tonight. The men all needed food and rest, and Conrad needed to see his wife. Hold her. Perhaps she could offer some comfort. Squeezing his eyes closed, Conrad pushed aside the sights and sounds he’d witnessed.
His body quivered as though he were four times his age, but Conrad got to his feet and made his way home while the town was caught between celebrating their victory and mourning their losses. Conrad didn’t know if they should be grateful or fearful that the majority of the fire had been contained to mills and wa
rehouses. This was a blow that Greater Edgerton would feel for a good while, but with winter here, it was a blessing that so few homes were lost.
Shuffling along, he made his way through great swaths of destruction and pristine portions of town that stood as evidence of the fire’s haphazard path through Olde Towne. He turned a corner and wandered through yet another smoking patch of rubble, his body and mind were too sluggish to recognize where he stood. But as he wandered past, his lagging wits stopped him.
Conrad turned to stare at the charred skeleton of Newland Mills. Nighttime made it impossible for him to tell the extent of the damage, and he knew better than to wander inside at present, but there was no mistaking that the building had been ravaged. His eyes darted to the townhouse beside it, and Conrad’s heart stopped beating. He stared at the ruins of their home for several long moments before panic surged through him, filling his muscles with renewed life. Shooting forward, he hurried to the remnants of their front steps, but even as his frantic heart begged him to find Ruby, sense cut through the hysteria.
Ruby was no fool. She wouldn’t have remained at Newland Place. But any number of things could’ve trapped her inside the townhouse, and Conrad’s heart wouldn’t beat again until he saw with his own eyes that she was safe.
Turning away, his feet drew him quickly down the road and towards his parents’ home.
***
The moon hung high in the sky when Conrad stumbled through the opening of Crawley’s warehouse and stared at the teeming activity inside that belied the late hour. Having never been to a battlefield, Conrad could not compare it to the scene before him, but he thought this makeshift hospital likely bore a strong resemblance to war’s carnage. Those not gravely injured huddled along the edges, waiting for their turn with the doctors and surgeons, the whites of their eyes standing all the brighter next to the black and gray of their ash-covered faces.
The light was poor, and Conrad struggled to recognize which of the hurrying helpers was his Ruby, but then a lady turned, and his heart gave a grateful thump. Hurrying between the patients, Conrad rushed to her, burying himself into her embrace. Ruby gave a startled squeak at first, but then her arms came around him, holding as tightly to him as he did to her.
The Honorable Choice (Victorian Love Book 2) Page 20