Promise of a Family

by Jo Ann Brown

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “My old dollhouse.”

  Though he had never heard of a house entirely for dolls, he said, “It looks a bit like Cothaire.”

  “It is supposed to be a miniature of the house.” She smiled up at him, and he got a hint of what she had been like before she learned not to trust. There was something so charming about her that brought the twins instantly to mind. Had she been as open and trusting when she was younger?

  “But it is a toy?”

  “Not originally. When my grandmother had it made, she used it as a way to show what changes she intended to make to the real house. I don’t know if my mother ever played with it, but it was in the nursery while I was growing up.”

  “And you played with it?”

  She nodded as she ran her hand along the roof. “I had a family of dolls who had many adventures and held fancy events in the house. My nurse helped me make clothing for the dolls so they could attend balls and entertain at lavish dinners.” Her gaze turned inward to memories he could not share.

  Toys had been what he and the other children along the street could scavenge and make usable with either their hands or their imaginations. He had spent one whole summer collecting bits of wood and paper to build a ship, which had sunk the first time he put it in water. During the winter that followed, he took the ship apart and put it together over and over until shortly before Easter, the ship had floated. The ship vanished one night while he was sleeping, and he never saw it again, but creating it had inspired his determination to have a life upon the sea.

  Now looking at the contented smile on Lady Susanna’s face, he guessed she was enjoying memories as precious. He never would have imagined an earl’s daughter would learn to sew clothing when her father could hire a seamstress to make her all the gowns she wanted.

  “Shall we bring it down for the children to play with?” he asked.

  She stood, her face aglow. “That would be splendid, but it must wait until the nursery is ready. Maybe by that time, we will have found a nurse to oversee it.”

  “These children are fortunate that you brought them here.”

  “It might not have been possible if you had not come to their rescue.”

  “I happened to be in the right place at an opportune moment.”

  She shook her head as she edged between the boxes and came to stand in front of him again. “I prefer to think that God looked for someone to save the children and He found you.”

  Drake flinched. He had developed such a comfortable relationship with God that centered on neither of them intruding on each other’s lives. The idea that God might have chosen him to bring the children ashore suggested that had changed, and he was unsure how to feel about it.

  “My lady?” came a woman’s voice from the stairs.

  “Over here,” Lady Susanna replied.

  A maid peeked around the top of the stairwell. “Is Captain Nesbitt with you?”

  “Yes,” Drake said, relieved at the interruption. “I am here.”

  “’Tis Lucy, Captain. She is asking for you.”

  “Tell her that I will be right there.”

  As the maid hurried back down the stairs to convey that message, Lady Susanna chuckled. “Captain Nesbitt, I believe you have lost your heart to a little girl who has you wrapped around her finger. You cannot deny her anything at this point.”

  “Not if it will help her recover.” He followed her down the stairs and offered his arm when they reached the corridor. When she put her fingers on it, he said, “I daresay she has you as firmly affixed around her finger.”

  “Guilty as charged.” Her laugh was sweet music in his ears.

  “How is she doing?”

  “Better each day. Other than her missing memory, she appears to be healing well. I am actually worried more about Bertie.”

  “Why?”

  “He cannot understand why Lucy acts as if she never met him before a short time ago, even though I have tried to explain to him that she is hurt.”

  “But she looks fine to him.”

  Her dark curls bounced as she nodded. “’Tis almost like he believes she has abandoned him as his family did. I had hoped that her memory would return on its own by now, but it has not.”

  “What about Hockbridge’s suggestion that we help her remember by taking her to see people and things she knew before she fell?”

  She stopped and faced him, leaving her hand on his arm. “But what do we show her?”

  “I think taking her back to the harbor and the jolly boat would be the obvious place to begin.”

  “Yes, it would be! Why didn’t I think of that?”

  He tapped her nose and grinned when her eyes twinkled. “You may have a few other things on your mind. Like five of them in addition to Lucy.”

  “Mr. Hockbridge is supposed to come back and check her on Saturday. Why don’t we take her and Mollie to the shore after church on Sunday?”

  “After church?”

  “Do you have something else to do then?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then we shall go after church.”

  He gave a sheepish smile. “If the roof does not cave in when I step foot in the church, we will go.”

  “Raymond would not allow that.” She smiled. “Thank you, Captain Nesbitt.”

  “You are very welcome.” He would have said more, but he found himself sinking into the silver wonder of her eyes. He raised his hand to caress her cheek as he had longed to since they first spoke in the nursery.

  A terrible noise erupted through the house, threatening to press his breath out of his chest. He grabbed her and pulled her close, eyeing the ceiling as the floor seemed to rise and fall like the deck of his ship. Was the house caving in? She trembled in his arms and gave a soft gasp as glass shattered in the window at the end of the hallway.

  Lady Susanna’s face lost all color, turning as gray as the cliffs around the harbor. “The solar!” she cried through the ringing in his ears.

  Not sure what she meant, he matched her steps as she ran down the corridor. She tore open a door and shouted her sister’s name.

  Lady Caroline crouched behind a chair, holding the children close. Glass from the tall windows had exploded into the room and sprayed across the stone floor, mixing with the wooden animals and a couple of dolls the children had been playing with.

  He crossed the room in a pair of long steps, squatted and examined the closest child. Gil. The little boy had a cut on one cheek, and glass fell from his hair as he threw himself at Drake. Looking over the little boy’s head, he reached for Mollie, but Lady Susanna was already checking her.

  Screams erupted from throughout the house.

  One rose over all the others. “Fire!”

  Chapter Seven

  The shriek of “Fire!” was still echoing in Susanna’s ears as Captain Nesbitt sped out of the room. She hesitated, looking from the door to her sister.

  “Go,” Caroline ordered, and Susanna had to strain to hear her because her ears seemed stuffed with cotton. “None of us is hurt, and they will need everyone to put out the fire.”

  “If it is in the house—”

  “I don’t think it is.” She pointed at the shattered windows. Smoke billowed beyond the house. “Could it be an accident at one of the mines?”

  Susanna pushed herself to her feet and ran to the window. Smoke obliterated the back garden. Whatever had exploded was far closer than the mines on Lord Warrick’s lands to the south. Saying that to her sister, she gave the children what she hoped looked like a bolstering smile before she ran from the solar.

  She reached the stairs and looked down. Below, in the entry hall, Baricoat was waving the footmen outside, ordering them to get shovels and any other tool to fight
a fire. He shouted for the maids to grab every available bucket.

  Suddenly, Captain Nesbitt pounded down the stairs behind her. Where had he gone? He should have been outside by now. She saw he was holding the handles of four or five pails in each hand. He must have gone to the day nursery and borrowed the buckets from the women cleaning there. He took the stairs at a pace that threatened to send him tumbling as Lucy had.

  Susanna ran ahead of him and around the corner of the house. She faltered when she saw flames licking the eaves of a long, low building with a trio of wide doors. The stable! The fire had already reached its upper floor.

  She yanked a trio of pails from Captain Nesbitt and shoved them into the hands of servants milling about as they watched in horror. She clapped her hands to get the attention of the ones closest to her. The sound did not carry far over the roar of the fire. Even so, in no time, she had the men and women in two lines that stretched between the well house and the stable. Buckets were passed along the line. As people came from the village, drawn by the smoke, she put them into a second set of lines so the fire could be fought from two directions.

  It would not be enough. The fire had gained too strong a foothold in the stable. What could have exploded in there?

  Shouts resounded as more villagers arrived. Mr. Jenner, the blacksmith, took his place at the end closest to the burning stable. His thick arms made it look easy to fling water from the full pails. He called to his assistant, Mr. Morel, to take the front spot on the other line. Accustomed to heat in the forge, they should be able to work longer than anyone else before they needed to rest.

  A man staggered through the smoke. Sanders! His face was as gray as his hair.

  She rushed to the head groom. “Is everyone out?”

  Sanders coughed, then nodded.

  “The horses?”

  He shook his head before collapsing to his knees as he struggled to breathe.

  Calling to a stable lad, she motioned for him to move Sanders away from the smoke. She scanned the stable yard. Several horses were being herded into a nearby field, but she did not see Pansy, her beloved bay.

  Susanna hesitated only long enough to grab a shawl from a passing maid. Running into the smoke, she lashed the shawl around her mouth and nose. The heat tried to drive her back, but she bent low and kept going.

  She thought she knew every inch of the stable, but in the blinding smoke, nothing seemed to be where it should be. She tripped over a shovel handle and winced when her palms struck the rough floor. Pushing herself up, she groped toward Pansy’s stall.

  The mare neighed as Susanna reached her. Raising her head, she saw two more horses in stalls beyond Pansy’s. She could handle only one at a time when they were hysterical with fear.

  She wrapped a blanket around Pansy’s head before opening the stall door. Seizing the halter, she led the terrified beast toward the door. Something creaked overhead. She did not raise her head. Even if she could see through the smoke, what did it matter which rafter was failing? If the roof fell in, she and Pansy would die.

  A hand seized her elbow.

  Lifting her head, she could not make out a face through the smothering smoke.

  Then Captain Nesbitt demanded, “Have you lost your mind? Get out of here!”

  “Two...two more horses,” she choked out. “Back...right. Stalls.”

  “Go!” he ordered. “We will get them.”

  She had no idea who was with him but nodded. When he slapped Pansy on the flank, the horse broke away and raced out of the stable. She reeled after the horse.

  Coughing, gasping for air, half blinded by tears that ran from her smoke-filled eyes, she did not stop until she ran into someone who steadied her before she could fall to her knees. A cup was thrust into her hands. Pulling down the shawl around her face, she gulped the soothing water. The cup was taken and refilled. Again she swallowed it as fast as she could.

  Susanna blinked and realized Mrs. Hitchens was helping her. Pain scored her throat as she gasped, “Captain Nesbitt...someone else...still in the stable.”

  The housekeeper poured more water into the cup and urged Susanna to drink.

  Susanna complied only after Mrs. Hitchens said, “They are out. They got the last two horses out.”

  “Where...?”

  “Over there.” She pointed to where Captain Nesbitt and Venton knelt on the ground, struggling as she was to breathe. “The horses have been turned out into the field.”

  Benton raced into the stable yard, shouting his captain’s name.

  “Over here!” Captain Nesbitt called back, and Susanna marveled at how he could shout when his lungs must be cramping.

  His first mate was followed by most of the crew of The Kestrel. Benton tipped his cap to her and started to greet her.

  She did not let him finish. Coming to her feet, she said, “Help where you can. People are already tiring.”

  “Unless you want them to start new lines,” Captain Nesbitt said as he walked unsteadily to where she stood. His face was black with soot, and she guessed hers looked the same. “You could lose the other buildings unless we soak the roofs.”

  Though she hated to give up on the stable, she nodded. She told Benton to shift the second group of bucket passers to wet down the roofs for the carriage barn and the icehouse.

  Ice!

  Susanna called to Baricoat, who was supervising the youngest maids who carried water and a ladle from person to person so the firefighters could drink. Outlining what she needed him to do, she watched him collect a few of the strongest men as well as two nimble lads.

  “Excellent idea,” Captain Nesbitt said before he took the ladle held out to him and drank gratefully. After thanking the girl, he added, “Those roofs are flat enough so blocks of ice can be set on them. As it melts, the water will protect the roofs from sparks.”

  “That is my hope,” Susanna replied.

  Cheers rose as more villagers arrived to help. Susanna directed them and did not see where Captain Nesbitt went. She joined one of the lines swinging the buckets back and forth between the well house and the stable. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw men scrambling up on the roofs. They set large blocks of ice in place, keeping them there by yanking up the roofing and nailing it to make dams that would allow the water to trickle past but prevented the blocks from sliding to the ground.

  They finished just as the stable caved in with a shower of sparks that soared in every direction. People ran to put them out with shovels and blankets. On the roofs, more sizzled in the streams of water and went out. The few that missed the water were put out by men who climbed back up. She realized most of them were from Captain Nesbitt’s ship. They must be accustomed to being high in the rigging.

  Once the stable was no more than embers, Susanna thanked everyone who had come to help. Mrs. Ford and the kitchen maids had trays of cheese and sandwiches, as well as lemonade, so nobody left hungry or thirsty. Mr. Hockbridge had arrived with balms for burns and cuts from broken glass. Her brother Raymond was helping Elisabeth serve food.

  But one question was asked over and over, and she had no answer: What had caused the explosion that had broken windows as far away as the village?

  * * *

  Drake stood by the pile of glowing embers. The stable could be rebuilt. No people or horses had been killed. Even the cats who hunted in the stable had been found by the kitchen door, begging for a saucer of milk as they did every day. But the supplies to repair the nursery were gone, and now windows would need to be replaced throughout Cothaire.

  He watched as the blacksmith and his assistant turned the glowing coals and poured more water on them. The steam’s acrid odor scraped Drake’s throat. It did not seem to bother them. In fact, the assistant had been whistling a cheery tune as he worked until Jenner ordered him to stop because it was not respectful to the
earl and his family.

  Parson Trelawney walked over to Drake and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Captain, for your help. I had not thought the next fire would be at my family’s house.”

  “Next fire? Have there been others?”

  “Nothing like this.” The parson sighed and stared at the charred remains of the stable. “There have been a few incidents in the village, but they appeared to be accidents.”

  “But now you are not so certain the fires were accidental.”

  “If a logical reason can be found for this fire, I would feel more comfortable.” He looked at Drake. “The fires started shortly before your ship arrived here. I don’t know what to think, but I am not the only one praying there will be no more fires.”

  “Has it been only fires?”

  The parson looked at him, surprised. “There have been other incidents. Chickens let out of yards, clothes covered with mud when the rope they were hung on came loose, a broken window. Things like that.”

  “Is that commonplace in Porthlowen?”

  “No.” He frowned. “If one person or group of people is causing the damage, it should be reported to the constable.”

  “No one has been seen?” Drake was astonished. It had seemed as if everyone in Porthlowen knew every detail of their neighbors’ lives.

  “No one, and now the perpetrator may be growing more bold. Burning a building is a felony and could lead to transportation.”

  “Or hanging.”

  “The justices of the peace in the local parishes prefer a sentence of transportation because it gives criminals a chance to remake their lives.”

  “Either way, nobody is going to step forward to admit to such a crime, and while the criminal roams free, who knows what might happen?”

  “We are grateful that so far no one has been hurt or killed.” Parson Trelawney’s smile returned. “And I thank you for allowing your men to help us.”

  “I don’t think I could have halted them,” he replied with a tired grin.

  “Maybe not, but you know as well as I do that some villagers want The Kestrel gone. They fear it makes Porthlowen a target for the French privateers.”