The Princess and the Pea

by Victoria Alexander

  “I don’t dawdle.” Indignation colored Emily’s voice. “But I still do not understand why you’re dragging me out here at the crack of dawn.”

  “Motoring is ever so much better early in the day.” Cece smiled to herself. Driving did indeed seem even more delightful in the morning. Why, at this time of day, the chances of running into anyone, particularly Jared, were extremely remote. After last night the dear man was probably still asleep. This was the perfect opportunity to finally drive his automobile. Even if he found out, he couldn’t possibly get too upset. Especially…after last night. “Besides, Em, dawn was nearly an hour ago.”

  “Nevertheless,” Emily grumbled, “it’s far too early for either of us to be out and about, engaged in a ridiculous escapade that sounds very much like an ‘interesting idea.’ What time did you retire last night, anyway? I stopped by your room around midnight and you weren’t there. Where on earth were you?”

  Cece tossed a grin over her shoulder. “Studying.”

  “Studying what?” Emily said suspiciously.

  “Driving.” Cece laughed with delight. She drew a deep breath, drinking in the early morning air, fresh and exhilarating. The rising sun sparkled with a magical brilliance; the deep green of the rolling countryside seemed blessed with an artist’s touch; the new-day calls of the birds rang out a sonata of sheer joy. “Isn’t it a glorious day?”

  “Lovely,” Emily muttered.

  Cece stopped and gestured at the lush landscape. “It’s more than lovely, Em. It’s magnificent and abundant with hopes and dreams and life.” She gazed at the land around them. “Jared loves it here. It’s his heritage and it pulses through his veins.”

  Emily studied her sister with a considering frown. “I gather all is going well between you and Jared? If you’re planning on driving his machine…” She brightened. “Then he did finally teach you to drive?”

  Cece laughed again with an effervescence she could not restrain. “In a manner of speaking.”

  Cece turned and set off once more, Emily scrambling to keep up. “Just smell the air here. Have you ever smelled anything more invigorating in your life?”

  Emily shrugged. “Smells a little like wood smoke to me.”

  “Wood smoke?” Cece sniffed the air curiously. “Why, there is a faint smell of smoke.”

  Emily trudged along beside her. “Some farmer must be burning something.”

  “It seems to be getting stronger.” Cece pulled her brows together thoughtfully. “How odd. There’s really nothing on this road except—” she stopped abruptly and stared at her sister “—the stables. Em that’s the only thing around here that could be burning.”

  Emily’s eyes widened with realization and fear. “The automobile!”

  “Come on!” Cece gathered up her skirts and ran as she’d never run before, pushing her feet faster, ignoring the stitch in her side and the burning ache in her chest. She reached the ridge, Emily hard at her heels, rounded a curve and sighted the old building at the end of the lane. Smoke poured out of the half-opened doors. There was no flame yet, but Cece suspected it was only a matter of moments.

  They raced up to the stables. Smoke billowed from the entry, swirling around them with an insidious, acrid bite that turned every breath to a battle for air and sanity.

  “Help me with the door,” Cece cried, fighting to swing the heavy doors aside. “We have to get the motorcar out!”

  “You can’t go in there!” Emily screamed beside her sister, lending her assistance in spite of her protest. The door would not budge. “It’s no use! It’s stuck!”

  Cece’s gaze met her sister’s. Determination rang in her voice. “It’s Jared’s machine, Em! I can’t let his life’s work go up in flames. I can drive it out. I know I can!”

  “You can’t get it out if we can’t open the door!” Emily’s eyes were wide with fright.

  Cece brushed her hair away from her face in frustration and frantically tried to think. They couldn’t open the doors without help and there was no time to waste. This was the only opening to the stables. There was no other way out. Or was there?

  “I have an idea!” It was a huge gamble in an unforgiving game. The stakes were her life or death. There was no choice.

  “What are you going to do?” Emily’s eyes mirrored the fear in her own heart.

  “I’ll see if there’s a way in from the other side. You go get help.” Emily stared as if she didn’t believe her sister. Cece pushed her roughly. “Go, Em, now. I’ll be all right, I promise!”

  Emily threw her a last worried look, turned and flew along the ridge and back toward the castle. Cece grabbed a handful of her skirt and ripped a long piece of the fragile fabric. She drew a deep breath, held the cloth over her mouth and slipped into the stables.

  The fire raged to the left of the building, feeding on the very canvas and hay where she and Jared had lain only a few hours before. Had they forgotten to take the lantern when they left? She could see only in the area where the flames roared; smoke obscured all else. She dropped to her knees, the heavy, choking air lighter near her feet. Where was the automobile?

  Sight would do no good here. Memory and touch were her only senses. She tried to think. The lone machine that worked was directly in front of the doors. She crawled toward the location, praying she was right. It was an eternity, or only a moment, before she grazed the wheels of the automobile. Her fingers led her along the spokes to the body and finally to the front of the beast. She wondered vaguely why it had always seemed so small before and now, with only the touch of her hands to guide her, it had grown to enormous proportions.

  She fumbled until her fingers found the crank. She pulled a breath from the sweeter air at the floor and jerked to her feet. Jared had drilled her on the mechanics of the machine over and over. This was the real test of his long, tedious lessons. She summoned all her strength and turned the crank.

  Nothing.

  Panic filled her. She had to save his motorcar. It was akin to saving his life.

  From some reserve she never dreamed she possessed, she tried once more, pulling with every muscle, every tendon, every surge of blood through her veins to snap this mechanical creature to life. The automobile sputtered and coughed and caught. She stumbled around the car, blindly groping her way until she found the seat. Her hand brushed a pair of goggles and she pushed aside what felt like Jared’s coat and leapt into the seat. Fear clawed at her and she searched wildly for the levers that would fuel the vehicle and steer it to safety. Her breath was rough, rasping with a need for air, and only determination held her upright and spurred her on.

  There was no time to consider whether her actions were right or wrong, no time to ponder which lever to push and which to pull. There was no time to think at all. She stared straight ahead, squinting in a futile effort to see. Somewhere in front of her was the hack of the stable and the canvas-patched hole in the wall. Thank God Jared had never thought to make that ill-fitting covering permanent. The smoke obscured nearly everything, but she could make out the wicked flicker of the blaze, a vague whisper of glowing orange. Terror stilled her heart. Flames licked at the edge of the canvas.

  With an instinct born of a soul-searing knowledge that if she was to escape it had to be now, she gritted her teeth, squared her shoulders, clutched a tiller and threw the car into motion. It lurched forward almost as if it had a life of its own and a primal need for survival. To one side she heard the unmistakable sound of collapsing timbers. Before her, the canvas loomed closer and closer. She braced herself for the impact. Ducked her head. Closed her eyes.

  And prayed.

  Jared’s feet pounded the ground, pushing hard and fast in his desperate attempt to get to the stables. A farmer had reported the blaze a scant few moments earlier and already Jared was but a step or two ahead of the servants and neighbors racing to the scene. Some carried buckets and headed down the ridge to the pond. Others made straight for the old, rundown structure. There was no need to give directions; ever
yone in the neighborhood knew the only thing that could be on fire in this secluded area was the ancient stable.

  He forced himself onward, his lungs straining for air, his legs bearing the hammering of the ground beneath his feet, his mind pushing away the inevitable meaning of the smoke billowing into the summer sky.

  Damnation! The automobile. All he’d worked for, all he’d wanted was in that stable. Not irreplaceable, of course—he still had the skill that had brought him to this point—but starting over would be impossible. Even with a wife eager to share in his plans, the responsibilities of the life of an earl were not conducive to long hours reworking the finer points of a motorcar. No, if the machine was destroyed, so too was his dream.

  He sprinted for what might have been forever, through long moments that moved like the somnolent molasses of a nightmare until finally the building appeared around the bend. Smoke streamed from the doors and surged from every chink and crack in the rickety structure, as if eager to escape to the clean air and blue sky. A boiling plume of black smoke eddied and swirled about the old structure in a macabre torrent of destruction.

  “Jared!” Emily stumbled toward him. “It’s Cece—”

  He grabbed her shoulders with a harsh hand and stared into eyes reddened by smoke and a face pale with fear. Dread gripped him at her expression. “Cece! Where is she?”

  Emily struggled to get her breath and waved frantically in the direction of the fire. “I left her at the stables. She sent me for help.” Emily gasped and unbidden tears streaked down her soot-smudged face. “She promised she’d be all right.”

  “What do you mean?” Cold fear squeezed his heart. He fought the urge to shake the answer out of her.

  Emily shook her head. “She said she was going to the other side of the building. But when I looked back I saw her.” She clutched his arm, panic in her eyes. “She went in, Jared. She went into the stables! Into the fire!”

  “Bloody hell! Why?”

  “The motorcar, Jared. She wanted to save the motorcar!”

  Shock coursed through him with the paralyzing import of Emily’s words. For a moment images of Cece flashed through his mind: the spirit-freeing sound of her laughter, the righteous indignation and determination in the set of her shoulders, the rich, amber flash of her eyes in the throes of passion. He clenched his jaw. He refused to lose her. Even if it meant fighting the fires of hell itself, he would not give her up. Not even to death.

  “Come on!” He released Emily and sprinted toward the stables. Flames leapt along the left side of the building. So far, the fire appeared to be contained to that one area, but with the age of the structure and the dry state of the wood, it would not remain in check for long. There was little time. He ran for the stable doors. Hot waves slapped his face and he staggered back at the intensity. Still he struggled forward.

  He reached for the door, a scant few feet away, and it seemed to explode before him, heat biting the tips of his fingers. Flames leapt along the timbers of the frame, consuming the planks with a voracious hunger. Still, if he could slip through the opening quickly enough, he could get inside and—

  A strong hand jerked him back.

  “You can’t go in there!” Quentin yelled, his voice barely audible above the roar of the blaze.

  “Cece’s inside!” Jared tried to shake off Quentin’s firm hold.

  “You can’t make it!” Quentin’s grip tightened.

  “I have to!” Jared glared, fury and fear welling up within him. He grabbed Quentin’s shirt. “I must find her, and if I have to go through you to do it, old friend, I will!”

  “No. It’s too late, Jared.” Amid the hellish scene around them, Quentin’s voice rang firm. Distress and sympathy filled his eyes. He shook Jared roughly. “She’s gone. Look!”

  Jared whirled back toward the stable. Flames engulfed the doorway. The blaze climbed the wall before him and all but the right side of the building was obscured by clouds of smoke and rivers of snapping flame, vibrant with color and blistering heat. The left side of the structure collapsed, and Quentin dragged him to a safe distance. There was no possible way in.

  And there was no way out.

  He stared mesmerized at the consuming flames. The realization of his loss struck him with a force as intense as the heat from the blaze, a burning, blinding anguish that scorched his mind and seared his soul. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms with a pain he ignored. Nothing could match this agony. Not now. Not ever.

  How could he live without her? Without her wit and her smile and her passion? How could he go on? And all for what? For his automobile? A harsh, bitter laugh curled within him. She had sacrificed her life for his vision, but without her there was nothing left except the dry, empty chill of a nightmare.

  “Jared!” Her voice echoed in his mind, obscured by despair and the violent din of the blaze.

  “Jared!” Would her voice linger in his memory forever? He stilled, pulling his brows together in an attempt to concentrate his thoughts. Odd; why didn’t he remember her voice filled with joy and love? Why did he only recall a tone colored with insistence and impatience and urgency?

  “Jared!” This time his name was a scream, and it was no memory. He jerked his gaze away from the flames and frantically searched the grounds.

  It was a scene set in hell and a gift straight from heaven. His automobile burst through the smoky haze, Cece at the helm. Was she real or was this some illusion brought on by a mind numbed by desperation? He sprinted toward her. She stopped the motorcar and he pulled to a halt, his mind struggling with disbelief.

  For a long moment their gazes locked. A slow grin spread over her smoke-blackened face and she shrugged. “I knew I could drive if given half the chance.”

  Joyous laughter erupted from him and he swept her into his arms, half pulling, half dragging her from the machine. A scent of charred wood and scorched metal and fear clung to her, and he had never smelled anything so delightful in his life.

  “I thought you were dead.” He cupped her face in his hand and stared into her eyes. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  She laughed. “Jared, it would take more than a little fire to get rid of me.”

  “A little fire?” The woman was insane. Had she no idea of the danger she’d faced? “Look at the stables.”

  They turned as one toward the building, now consumed by the blaze. Those fighting the fire with feeble buckets of water could do nothing more than wet the grounds around the structure to keep the flames from spreading. They watched as the few walls still standing slowly collapsed with a flurry of sparks and glowing embers.

  “Oh dear,” she said faintly, and he cast her a sharp glance. Her face was ashen beneath its smudged coat of black. “I had no idea it was quite that bad.”

  “What ever were you thinking?” Anger washed aside his relief at her escape. “How could you run such a deadly risk? You could have been killed. I thought you had.”

  “I didn’t think—”

  “No,” he snapped, “you certainly didn’t think at all.”

  She stared at him, her expression quietly defiant. “I wanted to save your automobile. I know how much it means to you.”

  His voice was rough with remembered fear. “It means nothing compared to you. It’s only metal and rubber and wire—”

  She glared indignantly. “It’s your dream! Your life!”

  “You’re my life.” He pulled her tightly to him and crushed her lips with his in a kiss born of a compelling need to convince her without words how she, and only she, was what made his existence possible and his spirit soar.

  He pulled away and awe glimmered in her eyes. He grinned down at her. “Nothing to say?”

  “Of course.” She sighed and smiled, staring at him with widened eyes. “Now you have the motorcar and me as well. It seems to me you have all you want in life.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “And with you in it, Lord knows, it will never be dull.”

  Her eyes
twinkled. “I should certainly hope not.”

  Spires of blackened timber climbed skyward, the only still-standing remnants of the stable. The structure was gone, burned to the ground. Nothing remained but charred, smoking rubble.

  Cece wandered aimlessly through the area, nodding to a servant here, an acquaintance there. Her voice rasped and her throat ached from the smoke, but she’d tried to help battle the blaze as best she could. Still, even a well-trained Chicago fire brigade could not have saved this building. The loss was such a shame. Both spare machines were burned beyond salvage, any number of tools were missing and all drawings and plans had been destroyed. At least she’d recovered the automobile.

  She stared at the smoldering wreckage. It could have been so much worse. Thank goodness Jared and Quentin had learned from their past mistakes. Previous incidents with highly flammable fuel had taught them to store the petrol in a shed some distance from the stables. It was untouched. Cece shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if the flames had found the fuel.

  Emily, of course, had dressed Cece down for her actions, claiming she always knew her older sister’s impulsive nature would lead her astray some day. She railed for long moments over the sheer stupidity of what she called Cece’s “stunt” until she burst into tears and threw herself into her sister’s arms. Finally, her emotions spent, Emily looked at her and said solemnly, “Nellie Bly couldn’t have done better.” Cece grinned at the memory. It was indeed a high compliment.

  She glanced around at the thinning crowd. Now that the fire was essentially extinguished, many who had come to help had drifted back to their own concerns. Her parents had already come and gone. Her mother grew faint at Emily’s somewhat embellished telling of her older daughter’s exploits. Her father expressed his opinion in no uncertain terms, and his blistering words still rang in her ears. Even so, with the look in his eye, she wondered if he wasn’t at least a little proud of the initiative she’d shown. He’d muttered something to Jared as well that she couldn’t quite make out. It sounded suspiciously like, “Good luck. You’ll need it.”