"But—sir?"
"Yes, Merriweather?"
"If you decide t-to…" She gulped. "I shall try…to accept it…"
Francis, disrobing, climbed into bed behind her, pulling her close.
"Thank you, my little sweetheart," was all he said.
NEITHER OF THEM SLEPT, but lay, quietly, in each other's embrace. Francis, deep in thought, Merrie relaxed in his arms, knowing that he would not punish her if he felt he was being unjust.
An hour later, a knock came at the door, just to let them know that lunch was outside. Neither of them acknowledged it. Francis leaned up on one elbow to look down into her face. She seemed at home in his arms.
"My little girl," he said softly. "I have made my decision."
Merrie turned in his arms, facing him, and raised her eyes to his, full of dread.
"I am ready to hear it, sir…" Her sky-blue eyes were slightly pale and wide.
"I am not going to punish you, my little one. Not this time."
She stared into his eyes for a long time, in earnest. "Are you…certain, sir?"
"I am, my darling. I honestly feel as if you tried to get your mother's attention. She felt that way, as well. I could tell by her expression when I asked. Do you understand why I have made my decision?"
She still seemed uncertain, but after a moment, nodded.
"If you change your mind, sir. I shall do my best—"
"I shall not change it, Merriweather. I have given you my word."
She lowered her eyes but nodded once again.
"However," his voice caught her attention, now, as he tilted her chin upward. "I do wish you to understand, my little girl, that the next time this happens, I shall not be as lenient toward you. The next time you disobey and your safety is threatened because of it, I shall use the strap on your adorable little bottom. Is that quite clear, Merriweather?"
Her eyes told him, even before she nodded, that it was perfectly clear.
"Now." He kissed her forehead and then her mouth. "Do you feel you could eat something? I believe lunch is outside." He caught her doubtful expression. "At least, try?"
"I shall try, sir."
"Good girl." He moved from the bed and threw his robe on, before opening the door and bringing in the tray.
"Indie has outdone herself." He grinned, setting it out on the little table by the reading area.
She sat up. "Indie? I wondered about her name. She is from India?"
"Her grandparents were. Indie is as American—and Virginian—as one can get. She has the beautiful Indian coloring, but when you hear her speak much, you will see what I mean."
"Why have I not met her?"
He paused. "Would you like to?"
"Yes."
"You shall then, when we go down to supper. You have not yet met Toby, either."
"Tell me about him." She was almost through eating by now, but popped a small tart into her mouth as he explained.
"Toby is Cherokee. And he is amazing. He came to my father, here, as a boy. His tribe was being moved west. He saved me, when I was a lad, when a bear nearly had its claws into me and was injured badly, himself. His tribe allowed my father to bring him home, and Glennie nursed him back to health. The tribe was gone by then." He was grinning now. "When he was well, he did not want to leave. He liked us. So we gave him his own land and pay him to do what he loves best. He trains our horses for us. He talks to them, and I swear they talk back."
"I would love to meet him. And, Francis—" She paused. "I want to go see baby Abel."
"I shall take you to see Gleason and Kathleen tomorrow. I believe Mollie is still there. She is very devoted to babies. Geoff says he is always amazed when he watches her hold an infant in her arms. 'Mollie the Gruff' becomes 'Mollie the Soft.'"
"I saw that, when she was working with little Abel," she said, her voice soft. "I wonder if Glennie is that way with children."
Francis threw back his head and laughed. "I shall admit, I thought her fierce when I was a boy. But she loved me, and she would have given her life for me. And…" He planted a kiss on her mouth. "She will love you, too, my little sweetheart. Wait and see."
She looked unconvinced. "I do hope so."
CHAPTER 9
T hey were on their way to Gleason's the next morning, when Merrie looked up.
"Francis? I smell smoke!"
Suddenly, he leaned forward. "What in the world—" He stiffened suddenly, leaning forward and then lowering the window. "Jackson! Quickly now!"
Jackson had already seen it.
Merrie leaned forward. She gasped at the acrid smell. 'Fire, sir? At Gleason's?"
He looked down at her. "Yes. It is at Gleason's. I cannot tell if it is the house or the barn."
The smoke became thicker and darker as they approached. And all Merrie could think of was little baby Abel. Were the children out? Were the parents home? She was consumed with worry.
Their fears were confirmed, as the house came into view. Geoffrey set her down beside him as they began the approach. There were other families there; several tenants had rushed over at the first sign of smoke. They were pumping water and carrying it in buckets from the spring behind the house. But what was also apparent was the fact that they were losing.
"Obey me, Merrie. It is crucial that I know you are safe. Promise me!"
"But—the children, sir!"
"You may check on them—but do not go anywhere near the house. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir." But she was already running.
"Obey me!" He called after her again.
Pandemonium reigned supreme, she found, as she approached. "Go and stand next to the carriage! Gleason and Kathleen's children—come right here!" she shouted loudly, counting as they began coming. Olivia had been trying to coral them into one group.
"Mother is outside in the back, lying down on a quilt. She is too ill to move, milady!"
Merrie stared at her. "Take the children up to the carriage, Olivia. I shall check on your mother." She mentally counted as the children began to run with Olivia. All of them seemed to be there. But an uneasiness crept into her bones. One of the little boys, eight-years-old, followed her, and she took his hand. "Show me where your mother is, Rusty!"
The boy took the lead, pulling her almost faster than she could run. The smell was thick and dark now, the flames high; part of the roof had caved in. Something fell inside. A log? Part of the roof? Merrie was coughing as Rusty led her toward his mother.
"Here!"
Kathleen was lying entirely too close to the house, on a blanket. Merrie immediately rolled the edge of it into something she could hold on to and began pulling her further backward, away from the house.
"The children—" Kathleen looked up, her face paler than it had been a few days ago. "The baby?"
"Rusty tugged on her skirt, frantically. "Baby Abel…is in the house—the cradle is in front of the fireplace!"
"Dear God! Abel!!" Merrie's breath fled from her, and Kathleen began to scream at the top of her lungs.
All thought fled. Merrie ran for the house, screaming, "Francis! The baby!" as loudly as she could. But she could not see Francis anywhere. The heat was unbearable, the smoke blinding. But the thought of the infant inside drove her in further. She pulled her gown up over her mouth as she struggled for breath and ran inside the burning inferno.
The fire was roaring at her, licking out at her with great arms that threatened to eat her alive. She had come in through the back door by the kitchen, and a beam fell just behind her as she moved past it toward the hallway. Where was Abel? She looked around frantically.
She could see him now; the little infant was lying, still, in his tiny cradle. A log had rolled out of the fireplace and was very near the cradle; the heat he felt had to be unbearable!
"Abel!" she screamed out, running for the living room.
OUTSIDE, chaos had taken over. Francis was fighting, trying to bring water from the spring to throw on the roof, when he heard Rusty's y
oung voice, "Sir Francis! Lady Merrie is inside the house—Abel—" He did not finish, before Francis disappeared toward the house. "Merrie!" he screamed and ran.
The heat was unbearable now, but he kept going. He had to find her.
Know that I am coming, my darling girl. Do not be afraid, he voiced, inside, without speaking, as he ran toward the house with all his might.
WHEN SHE HEARD a loud crack from above, Merrie was forced to stop. A crash followed, and another beam descended in front of her. She barely knew that her gown was now on fire. She managed to find her way into the living room around the beam. A great lick of fire came at her face but was gone in an instant.
A cry from the infant got her attention, and she finally reached him, grabbing him up close to her and holding him tightly to her chest. She looked up as a beam came down in front of the front door, blocking her exit, and she prayed as she looked about for another way out. Another blocked access to the hallway. Yet another crash, quite close, came from her right as more of the ceiling caved in.
Merrie froze.
She huddled down and prayed. Was it too late to find them? She closed her eyes and bent down, trying to cover the baby from the falling debris. She hoped Francis would forgive her for disobeying him. Looking down at the infant in her arms, she sobbed.
At least, baby Abel would not have to die alone and abandoned.
But as she began to cry, a calm, soothing voice spoke by her, saying, "Know that I am coming, my darling girl. Do not be afraid."
HE HEARD MORE CRASHES, and alarm gripped him with all its fury.
Francis was forced to pick his way through the kitchen and hallway. Burning beams were falling down around him, fast and furious, as he turned first one way; then the other, to try to locate Merrie and the baby.
"Merriweather!" he called out at the top of his lungs, franticly. "Where are you?"
The cry of an infant was all that answered him, and he ran toward the sound.
The cry sounded hopeless. He looked up in the smoke filled room, trying to find the sound. "Merrie!"
In the incredible holocaust of flame, a sudden light tugged at his vision. For a moment, he wasn't sure he was seeing correctly. A column of light from a hole in the ceiling of the living room drew him; he followed it, desperate now.
That is when he saw her.
Merrie was huddled in a little ball on the floor, holding a small bundle to her chest. Her clothes were on fire; her hair was on fire. He ran to her, voicing a thankful prayer, and picked her up in his arms. One fiery beam came down beside him, another, just behind him, as he jumped over the one in front and ducked to keep from hitting his head on what was left of the door frame.
He made it out just in time. The wall above the front door came crashing down behind him as he cleared it. Merrie had not stirred since he had picked her up. He looked down at her as he heard Glennie's voice.
"Give me the baby and go get in the spring with her, Francis." Glennie pried Merrie's arms from the infant. "I shall take Kathleen and the children in the wagon to the house."
Francis nodded and ran to the back of the house where the men were still trying to relay water and lowered her into the spring. The cold water cooled his skin as well. He was unable to imagine how she felt after being in the searing flames for that long.
Moving her back and forth in the water gently, he watched her face. Her eyes were still closed, but her color seemed slightly better than when he had carried her out of the house.
Gleason's voice spoke, behind him, "We have lost the house, milord. Now it is just a matter of saving the barn. Take Lady Merrie home. We shall be fine here without you."
Merrie opened her eyes when Gleason spoke and looked up at him.
"Rusty—" she whispered, quietly. "And Abel! Where are they—" She closed her eyes again.
Gleason nodded. "They are with Glennie."
Francis nodded and brought her up out of the water, starting rapidly toward the carriage. He glanced to his right; Rusty was in the wagon and was helping some of the smaller children up into it. He shouted up toward Jackson, "Go!" as he climbed into the carriage.
Jackson urged the horses as fast as they would go. Still, it seemed forever to Francis before they reached the house. When they did, he ran in through the front of the house. Miss Constance met him as Wendell opened the door.
"Is she very bad, Francis? I shall arrange a milk bath for her."
"Please. And I do not know. She ran into the house to rescue the baby. Gleason's family is on the way over with Glennie in the wagon."
"Certainly,"
He had reached her suite now and sat her in his lap, leaning her against him while he began pulling off her garments. The fabric came away in pieces; the material was burned through.
Liliana had met him and was working from the other side to strip her off as quickly as possible. And Glennie shoved a jar into his hands.
"Toby said to put this on her. Now," she barked. "Before the milk."
Francis took it and began to apply it liberally all over her upper body, as Glennie worked on her legs and feet. Then her turned her over and worked on her back. Merrie opened her eyes briefly and moaned. But it helped the pain, and she closed them again.
"The milk is here, Sir Francis. In her bath."
He set her down into the tub; Glennie was already there and began to pour the bucket of the cool milk over her.
Merrie gasped, and her eyes flew open in surprise. She blinked and looked up.
"I am sorry, love," Glennie said, apologetically. "We are trying to save some of the burns from getting worse."
Merrie nodded, looking from Glennie to Francis. "Baby Abel!" she cried out, remembering.
"He is with his mother," Francis said gently, as he took a glass from Liliana and began to scoop up glassfuls of milk from the tub and pour them over her body and her hair. Liliana moved behind her, examining her hair.
"Oh, milady! Your beautiful hair!" she exclaimed.
Merrie looked up at Francis. "Is it very bad?" she whispered.
"I still have you, my little innocent," he whispered back. "And that is the most important thing."
Merrie smiled up at him. "Francis Adams," she whispered, softly. "I have never heard such beautiful words…"
The milk began to warm to her body temperature within a few moments.
"Shall we bring up more milk, Glennie, or is this enough?"
"Bring it. But, Francis, I need to see her again.
Francis nodded, as he lifted Merrie from the tub and wrapped the towel around her. He carried her to the bed as Liliana put a sheet over it and returned to her suite. He laid her down carefully, examining her as she lay on her back then turning her over on to her belly, while they waited in her bath.
Francis could not believe what he saw. Her usual alabaster skin, though a bit pink, was free from burns. All of the burned patches of skin he had seen and smelled were now just pink, and she was almost back to how she normally appeared. He looked toward Glennie, who was examining her closely.
"Glennie?"
"Better. But put her back into the tub for a few more minutes," she barked.
Nodding, he picked her up in amazement and returned to her bath. She was shivering now, as he lowered her back down into it and began, once again, pouring milk over her.
Glennie was hovering over her now, as well. "I know, love. It is to keep you from having further burning. Just a few minutes more."
They knelt by her, continuing, as Merrie grew more and more cold. Finally, Francis looked up to see Glennie nodding.
"Enough. Warm the child." She added, "And give her a few minutes. Then I shall request some warm water—not hot, mind you—and you may bathe her and let Liliana see what she can do with her hair. And rub more of Toby's salve onto her skin." But Glennie was giving him an appreciative look. "I believe she shall be all right, Francis. I am pleased."
Francis had lifted her from the tub and had carried her toward the bedroom now, and she sighe
d, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"F-fran-ncis..."
"It is all right, my little Merrie Lynne. I shall get you warmed." He set her down in his lap and pulled the blanket from the bed, wrapping it around her tightly, and using his hands to rub her with it. Within a few moments, her trembling had lessened.
"That—is so much—better."
"It looks as if you shall not even scar, my sweet little girl." He whispered into her ear, continuing to rub her in the blanket, "You must have been so terrified, my darling…"
But she shook her head against his chest, and he leaned her back so that he could focus on her face. When she looked up, she said, slowly, "When I was holding little Abel, Francis, I heard your voice speak to me. I looked, but I could not see you—it was only your voice…"
He hovered over her, frowning. "Merrie Lynne? Do you remember what I said?" He was staring down at her,
"You said…" She frowned, remembering, vividly now. "Know that I am coming, Do not be afraid. And you called me your darling girl…"
Francis' face was filled with disbelief, and she looked up into his, waiting.
"Francis?" she whispered.
"Merrie Lynne." Francis swallowed, not moving his eyes from hers. "When I spoke those words, I had not yet reached the house. And I did not even say them aloud."
It was ten minutes before he remembered that Glennie was sending up warm water for a bath for Merrie, and he gathered her up in his arms, taking her back toward her suite. Liliana was waiting.
"Her bath is ready, Sir Francis. It is probably just about the right temperature now."
Merrie opened her eyes as he lowered her back down into the warm water. "It feels heavenly," she said softly. "Do you think you shall be able to save any of my hair at all, Liliana?"
"I believe we should wash it first, milady. Then I shall know more about what we can do." She was smiling back, if a little uncertainly. Francis held Merrie gently as her maid washed her hair and added some black tea containing rosemary to it, before he took the sponge and began gently lathering her body up with soap. She closed her eyes, saying how good it felt. A few moments later, he lifted her out of the tub, wrapping the towel about her, and he carried her to the vanity bench.
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