Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Panic filled Isobel’s veins quickly.
It was getting increasingly difficult to see and breathe, and with Cecil pressed against her side, she knew it was on her shoulders to rescue them both.
Lightly, she pressed against the hand that was holding the handkerchief to Cecil’s face, and she did her best to take in as much air as she could without inhaling the smoke. Then she screamed.
Her fist came down on the door hard, banging as loudly as she could while she called for help.
“Somebody! Help! Help us! Please help us!”
Cecil tried to assist her, using his other hand to bang against the door as well. With both of them doing their best to attract the attention of the other occupants, Isobel could only hope someone would come to their aid.
A glance over her shoulder told her that things were only getting much worse.
The fire was spreading, creating waves of heat so intense that she could feel it through her clothes.
It felt as though every pore on her skin was suffocating, and it did not take too long for her limbs to run out of strength.
Isobel staggered and slumped against the door, her vision blurring slightly.
“Isobel!” Cecil cried, reaching for her.
“I’m – I’m fine,” she mumbled, blinking as the world seemed to spin around her.
Sluggishly, she pulled herself away from the door, leaning against the wall instead, coughing as she tried to think of something else to do.
By now, the room was almost completely ablaze, and there was no clear path to the window to try to call for help from there.
The more time they spent in the room, the more difficult it became to think.
She looked down at Cecil, her heart breaking as the boy buried himself in her arms, clinging to her sides. She had promised him they would overcome the situation that already weighed heavily on them. She had promised Valerie justice. She had been unable to do either.
And now, because of her, they would meet their untimely ends here.
Weakly, Isobel wrapped her arms around him and turned, her back facing the flames. She might not be able to do much, but if only she could protect him somehow… if she could shield him from the flames, even for a little while –
“I’m sorry, Cecil,” she whispered hoarsely. “I am so sorry.”
The rest of her strength faded, and the world darkened slightly around her. Just as she was about to succumb to the darkness, the door snapped open, slamming against the wall behind it.
Richard marched in immediately, relief and concern overtaking his features as he spotted them huddled together on the floor. Quickly, he swept them both into his arms in a surprising display of strength and rushed out of the room.
“Do not worry,” he told them, his voice a quiet rumble that pierced through Isobel’s tired mind.
Her nerves that had been alight with fear and panic only moments ago relaxed at the sound of Richard’s voice, and she clung to him tighter, a sob breaking free from her.
Richard took them downstairs, not acknowledging the servants except to ask one to bring them blankets and some cool water to drink.
He set Cecil down first, then gently lowered Isobel onto a sofa with the utmost gentleness. He tried to move away, but she clung to his arm, shaking her head as she continued to weep.
Somewhere in the corner of her mind, she had known that what she was doing – impersonating Valerie – was utterly dangerous. It was quite clear, and even if she had, in some strange turn of events, forgotten as much, Richard had no problem reminding her as often as he could.
But perhaps, because no attempts to kill her had been made in the last few days, she had believed that the culprit had lost their edge or desire for her blood on their hands.
However, the evening’s events proved that was definitely not true. She had nearly died, and Cecil with her. She had been surrounded by flames, nearly engulfed by them, and had practically fainted. She had almost left Cecil in there, alone, with her corpse as his burden.
Right before the world went dark around her, she thought about her family.
Her sisters and brother, who did not know that she had returned to London to embark on this quest. She thought about Valerie, whom she wanted to know deeply, the connection to the sister she had missed before she had even known about her existence.
She had thought about Cecil and Nora, immensely sorry that she could not know them as well.
And Richard… she had been overcome with grief and a strange sense of relief, knowing that it would end and she would not need to make attempts to live without him.
Whilst acknowledging that she had fallen in love with him.
“Isobel, it is all right,” Richard told her gently, wiping away her tears. “I have you now. No one will ever lay a finger on you ever again. I promise.”
Isobel shook her head, trying to calm her nerves, but the fear had returned to her bones, settling as a lingering weight, and she could not help but draw nearer to him.
If anyone saw them like this, it would be troublesome. But Richard clearly did not care, because he continued to wipe her tears, his touch warm and gentle. He ran his hands up and down her arms, hoping to soothe her as he whispered.
“It is over now. You are here, and you are alive. It is over.”
His words penetrated the cloud of frustration and uselessness that presided over her thoughts, and soon, she found it easier to breathe again. With a deep inhale, she clung to the clarity she was regaining and told him quickly.
“I-I saw someone.”
Richard looked confused at first, then his features sharpened seriously. “When?”
“When I woke up,” she said, her voice hushed as he leaned closer.
“T-There was a sound that woke me up, and when I arose, someone was leaving the room in a hurry. That was when I noticed the fire. They had shut the door behind them, and when I tried to open it, I discovered it had been locked from the outside. That fire was deliberate.”
Richard paused thoughtfully, shifting his gaze in the direction of the staircase as the sound of footsteps coming from that direction reached their ears.
“Do you still believe Deborah is responsible?”
Isobel paused, thinking back to the shadowy figure she had spotted leaving the room.
Whoever it was, they moved quickly, and Isobel couldn’t say such a swift gait would belong to her aunt.
The person also seemed taller than Deborah, although due to the smoke and Isobel’s barely conscious state, she could not be certain.
Slowly, she shook her head, uncertainty reflecting in her eyes as she stared up at Richard.
“What on earth is going on?”
“Is there a fire? I saw the servants rushing to the west wing with pails of water.”
“Is anyone hurt?”
The sounds of chatter and speculation filled the room, and Richard gave Isobel one last concerned look before he rose to stand but still hovered around her chair.
Isobel watched the room fill with the occupants, her heart sinking as she noticed Valerie was not among them. Worried, she turned to Richard, but he was already leaning downward to whisper,
“Adrian has gone to be with her. The fire is far from where she is, but he will move her if he thinks she is in danger.”
Isobel relaxed slightly and shifted her attention to Cecil, who had taken up the other end of the sofa she was on, his fingers tightly clutching at her skirts.
Feeling guilty that she had been too caught up in her own breakdown, she had nearly forgotten her brother, she moved closer to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“Are you all right? Were you hurt?”
Cecil shook his head, sighing with relief as Nora spotted them from the throng of people and wandered over to them as he told her quietly, “I am fine, do not worry.”
Nora’s face crumbled as she noticed Cecil’s disheveled appearance, and she quickly rushed into his embrace when he opened his arms. He spent a little bit of time soothing his younger sister, then he spared a glance at the confused guests standing around and sighed.
“Father will be livid.”
Isobel sighed. “We nearly died, Cecil. I feel as though even he has enough humanity to –”
“Who is responsible for this? What have you done to my house?”
At the sound of Gregory’s angry voice, everyone stepped out of his way, allowing the man of the house to storm into the parlor.
“You!” he roared, pointing at Cecil. “The fire started in your room. You should know better than to leave a lit candle unattended! Do you know how much this is going to cost me to fix? I suppose you have no sense of responsibility because you assume we are quite well off, do you?”
Isobel pulled Cecil closer to her and glared at their father.
“There was no lit candle in that room. Someone started a fire on purpose in an attempt to kill us. Someone in this house did not care about the number of lives that they might have claimed along with my own, and they simply did whatever they wanted to do. Do you have any idea how dangerous this was? The last thing any of us – especially Cecil – needs to hear at this time is you complain about the things you value more than your family’s well-being.
Either help us get down to the bottom of this or stay out of our way.
Regardless, this ends tonight.” She snapped.
Gregory looked red in the face, and he took a threatening step towards Isobel, but stopped in his tracks when Richard fixed a stare on him. Grumbling, he wandered off to the other side of the room, just as Deborah and her children entered the parlor.
It looked as though the older woman had been crying, her eyes red and swollen even from where Isobel was seated. Clutching Deborah’s arm tightly was Bridget, who looked terrified to death. Her skin had turned rather pale, and her eyes kept darting around the room.