16. Another Fire
CHAPTER 16
Another Fire
S unday rolled around again. Shaun waited outside the bookshop to escort Louise, Bernadette and Mrs Poole to church.
Louise was wearing her new cloak, and it looked regal on her. She looked up at him with a happy smile as he offered his arm. “I forgot to ask, but you didn’t come to church or to Ferndale Hall last week. Were you on patrol?”
“In a manner of speaking,” he said. “The Fox brothers are Catholic, so I went to their church to see if anyone matched the arsonist’s description.”
“I take it no luck?”
“No luck at all. It’s so vexing.”
“Mr Stratforth’s description sounds very similar to yours, so I am hoping there’s only one arsonist rather than two,” Louise said.
Shaun pulled up short. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“But there aren’t two, it’s the same tall man, isn’t it?”
Once again Shaun wanted to kick himself at being such a dunce. He’d become so focussed on Louise he’d forgotten how to do his job. Maybe there were two arsonists, which is how they managed to move across the town so quickly. Perhaps one of them had always had a cudgel, rather than this being a new development?
He would use his time at church to pray for answers, because his previously reliable methods were not working any more.
They found the Ferndales in good health outside the church, and they greeted them warmly. While the ladies spoke to Miss Yates, he relayed the latest developments to Lord Ferndale.
“As much as I don’t like Mr Baxter,” Shaun confessed, “he is the magistrate, so I’ve provided updates. He’s not taking this as seriously as he should. More people might perish, and Doctor Rasley appears exhausted.”
The doctor was walking their way, with Joshua, Phoebe and Benjamin Baxter bringing up the rear, the boy wandering along with his shoulders hunched against the cold and hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“Terrible things, these fires,” Dr Rasley said.
“Indeed,” Lord Ferndale nodded. “But I’ve no doubt Mr Jackson is close to a breakthrough and we shall be spared this almost nightly terror.”
Lord Ferndale sounded confident, a direct contrast to Shaun’s ongoing failures.
Joshua berated Benjamin and said, “Do stop slouching, boy!” Then he interrupted the conversation and directed his words to Lord Ferndale, “Can we not talk about something more uplifting on the Lord’s day of rest?”
“Yes, quite right,” Dr Rasley said, but then added in a tone which showed he was far from actually being in agreement with Joshua, “Far be it for us to show concern for our fellow townsfolk.”
Benjamin muttered something that sounded like, “You’re doing well out of it.”
Dr Rasley’s face flushed red and he raised his voice. “Hold your tongue! How dare you speak to your elders like that!”
Shaun had to cough to stifle a laugh, as Benjamin turned around with a huff. As they walked into the building, Joshua reprimanded Benjamin again, “Stand up straight, for goodness’ sakes, and look at me when I’m talking to you!”
So, Joshua was capable of reprimanding his eldest son after all. Benjamin’s face was red with rage, but he held his tongue. Trouble brewing there, Shaun thought. Benjamin was taller than his father already, despite the hunched shoulders. A few more years and some muscle on him and Joshua would have his hands full if the boy decided to fight back.
Louise touched Shaun’s arm and guided him towards the Ferndale pew to sit with them, a pleasure he would by no means forego. Sitting beside her and sharing a prayer book was lovely, a little moment of peace in which he could forget everything that weighed heavily on his mind. Her face was serene in the dappled, coloured light pouring in through the stained-glass window behind the altar, and he lost himself in staring at her during the reverend’s droning sermon, taken by surprise when she suddenly stood up and he realised the sermon was finally over.
Hastily, Shaun stood up too, and Louise cast him a laughing look. She knew he hadn’t been paying attention, but did she know he’d been staring at her the whole time? He flushed red, hoping nobody else had noticed, but the amused look Bernadette sent him put paid to that notion.
They were invited to Ferndale Hall for Sunday dinner, and the Ferndale carriage to bring them back again. Shaun realised, about halfway through the excellent meal, that he was beginning to think of the Yates and Baxters as his family. Indeed, better than family; his father had been always busy with his banking business and his mother a quiet, distracted woman far too taken up with her own concerns to bother overmuch about Shaun. Here, Lord Ferndale was forever taking an interest in what he was up to and Miss Yates and Mrs Poole were both busily mothering him, telling him that he must have another slice of roast pork or to try the honey-baked carrots.
I want this. I want all of this.
Most of all, though, he wanted Louise, bright-eyed and smiling as she proudly told Miss Yates about her new cloak.
The arsonist, however, was making Shaun begin to feel like a failure. Would his suit of Louise be approved by Lord Ferndale if he couldn’t catch the man? He needed to get it done, and soon, so that he could get on with the business of courting Louise properly with his full attention, as she deserved.
The ride back to Hatfield was a convivial one despite the snow beginning during the journey, so Shaun made no protracted goodbyes to the ladies. He saw them safely inside the bookshop and waved the carriage off before making his way to the Red Lion to find his men, who were just finishing a hot meal before setting out on patrols.
“Get some sleep, boss,” Hugh Fox said cheerfully. “It’s miserable out, and the arsonist don’t like the cold or wet.”
That was true; to date only one fire had occurred on a night when it was snowing or raining. Likely enough the arsonist would stay home warm and dry in his own bed tonight, probably smugly thinking of the patrollers soaking wet and chilled to the bone.
“I’ll patrol with you until midnight,” Shaun compromised.
Hugh and John had drawn the duty of riding about the district that night; the livery stable knew them well by now and provided a pair of quality horses on Lord Ferndale’s account. The Fox brothers set off into the falling snow with lanterns, and Shaun and Riot spent a few moments to divide up between them which streets they’d patrol.
With the snow falling, Hatfield was quiet tonight, unless one was immediately outside either of the two inns, and even there the chatter from the taproom seemed muted, Shaun thought as he paced by the Swan, fists clenched deep in the pockets of his greatcoat so they didn’t freeze.
Nobody was about. The only time he saw another person was Riot, at the far end of a street when their paths crossed. The Welshman gave him a wave and moved on.
He turned the corner and marched on, his boots striking the cobblestones in a familiar rhythm ingrained into his soul after marching across the Continent for the best part of a decade.
The church clock tolled midnight at last, and Shaun decided to turn in after finishing his current round. He was just passing the darkened bookshop and turning to cross the street to Mrs Bell’s when a distant sound made him stop and turn.
Was that shouting?
“Fire!” he heard, somewhere to the west, and his blood ran cold.
The house was well alight when Shaun arrived at a dead run, out of breath. Riot was there already, banging on doors and yelling at the neighbours in English and Welsh, to get out lest their houses catch fire too.
“Is anyone in there?” Shaun shouted.
“I don’t know!” Riot called back. His English was improving, but he forgot it at times of stress. “Couldn’t get in!”
Shaun could see why. The house was an older cottage with a thick thatched roof which was already burning merrily. There were flames visible through every window, and the heat was high enough that he had to back off quickly when he tried to approach.
The front door was closed, so Shaun ran around to the back of the cottage. The little door at the back was firmly shut too. He didn’t see a broken window, and wondered if this was actually a case of arson, or perhaps a faulty stove or some other sort of accident this time.
The creaky old fire engine arrived along with several men from the fire brigade, hastily unrolling their hose and dropping it down the well before starting to pump.
“Concentrate on the neighbours’ houses,” Shaun called to them. “Too late here.”
Hugh Fox arrived at a gallop, jumping down off his horse and coming to stand by Shaun and watch as the flames raged higher.
“Mary, Mother of God,” Hugh muttered. “You know whose house that is?”
Shaun shook his head, dread churning in his stomach. “Whose?”
“Doctor Rasley.”
“Oh.” Shaun didn’t swear much, but he felt the occasion probably called for it. “Shite.”
“Let’s hope he was out on a call…”
They stood in silence, both knowing it was unlikely. The old doctor rarely bestirred himself after dark, leaving the sort of emergencies that occurred during the night hours to the midwives.
It was morning before the fire was finally out, and by then there was little left to burn. Shaun waved off offers from Riot and the Fox brothers and picked his way carefully into the still-smoking ruin, hoping a floorboard didn’t give way under his foot and drop him into an unseen cellar.
A few minutes later he made his way out again and shook his head, expression grim. “Nothing anyone could have done. Let it cool before you go in to collect what’s left.”
He didn’t stay to hear their quiet agreement, just walked away, weariness slumping his shoulders, and only one thought in his mind.
He wanted to see Louise. Wanted to see her smile, be in her calm, steady presence. His feet took him straight to the bookshop and inside, where she looked up at him with a sad look on her face.
“You’ve heard, then,” he said flatly.
“That Doctor Rasley’s house burned and nobody has seen him? Yes.”
“I found him inside. Still asleep in his bed, from the looks of things, when the smoke overcame him.”
“Oh, Shaun.” She stood up and came around the counter and put her arms around him, and he held onto her as though she were an anchor in the storm, pressing his face into her hair and letting out a low groan of frustration and pain.
“I’ll need to see Lord Ferndale,” he said after a few moments, regaining a little of his composure.
“Of course you will.” Pulling back, she looked at him, then reached up to frame his face with her hands, apparently uncaring that he was soot-smudged and stinking of smoke. “You’ll find the arsonist, Shaun. I know you will. And this isn’t your fault. His crimes? Are not your fault.”
She always seemed to know the right thing to say to make him pull himself together, Shaun thought as he left the bookshop and headed for the livery yard to get a horse.
It wasn’t until he was halfway to Ferndale Hall that the realisation struck him.
She called me Shaun.
Lord Ferndale was horrified to hear the news about Doctor Rasley, but then the old baron grew thoughtful, tapping his finger on his lower lip.
“Tragic as it is, this does present an opportunity I’ve been waiting for quite some time for,” Lord Ferndale said. “Doctor Rasley had some… let’s just call them outdated ideas. I know he and the midwives and the apothecary, and even Miss Bernadette, had some strong disagreements on how patients should be treated. I had some philosophical disagreements with him myself. We butted heads on the town council a few times.”
Shaun nodded, being well aware of the latter. While Doctor Rasley hadn’t exactly been one of Joshua Baxter’s closest cronies, the pair had tended to agree more often than not, and Joshua seemed almost to enjoy opposing any idea Lord Ferndale might propose.
“So I think this would be an excellent opportunity to recruit a new doctor of my own choosing.” Lord Ferndale gave him a direct look. “And I think you would be just the man to represent me. Would you go to London for me and visit the Medical and Chirurgical Society, Jackson? You could see about ordering that new fire engine while you’re there, too.”
Shaun hesitated, thinking. Neither of the errands Lord Ferndale was sending him on were simple; meeting and interviewing doctors would take days if he was to select a good candidate. He’d need to stay in London.
It shamed him that his first thoughts were of Louise, rather than of how much damage the arsonist might be able to do in that time.
“I know you’re thinking about the arsonist,” Lord Ferndale said, half-accurately. “But your men have just as much chance of catching him as you do at this point. Hire a few more, if you wish, to patrol while you’re away.”
“I don’t know…” Shaun said. “Don’t you have a man in London who could get this done, my lord?”
“You know this place, what Hatfield needs. My man in London doesn’t,” Lord Ferndale said. “I trust you to get it done right, Jackson.”
There was little he could say to that. Shaun bowed, thanked Lord Ferndale for his trust, and made his way back outside and got on his horse again. He was bone-weary after the sleepless night, but the sooner he got to London the sooner he could get back again, so he rode back into Hatfield, returned the livery horse, and stopped in at the Red Lion to buy a ticket on the next southbound post-coach, which would leave in an hour. Just time to stuff a few things in a satchel and stop in to tell Louise where he was going. He could snooze on the coach, hopefully.
Louise was in her usual spot behind the counter, doing something with Brutus that involved some very smelly glue and leather and an old-looking book. She wiped her hands and came out when she saw Shaun come into the shop.
“I have to go to London,” he said without preamble. “Lord Ferndale wants me to recruit a new doctor, and to purchase the new fire engine too.”
“Oh.” Her face dropped a little, but she smiled encouragingly. “It’s good that Lord Ferndale is putting so much trust in you!”
“I feel as though I’ve let him down by not catching the arsonist yet,” Shaun admitted.
“I know.” She put her hand on his arm, patting soothingly. “But that’s not the truth, you know that. Nobody could have done any more than you have. And you’ll get him, I believe in you.”
He looked down at her hand, frowning as he saw his filthy sleeve. He hadn’t changed before going to Ferndale Hall, though Lord Ferndale had been polite enough not to mention his soot-stained state. He really needed to change his clothes and wash his face and hands at least before he got on the post-coach.
“I have to go. I’m getting on the coach at two o’clock, but I wanted to see you before I left, tell you I’ll be gone for a few days at least.”
“I understand.” Her eyes were bright. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I’m sure Riot will stop in later, would you let him know? He’ll be sleeping right now, it was a long night. Lord Ferndale said we can hire more men to patrol, Riot and the Fox brothers will know who to trust…”
She reached up as she had earlier, and framed his face in her hands. “You’ve had no sleep. Why don’t you wait and go tomorrow?”
He shook his head. “The sooner I go, the sooner I can come back to you.” He really hadn’t meant to say the last two words, but they just sort of slipped out, and the soft smile that came across Louise’s face made him quite glad they had.
“I’ll be here,” she said quietly. “And maybe, when you come back, you can start looking for a proper house of your own?”
“I think I’ll do that.” He could hardly breathe, with the way she was looking at him. Should he kiss her?
A slight scuff nearby made him tear his eyes away from Louise long enough to see Ruth walk out from between some bookshelves and freeze as she saw him, standing so close to Louise with her hands on his face. Brutus was staring at them from behind the counter too, eyes wide as saucers.
Our first kiss shouldn’t be with an audience. Probably shouldn’t be when I’m this filthy, either, Shaun thought as he stepped back and glimpsed the sooty smudges on Louise’s fingers as her hands fell away. Nevertheless, he couldn’t just leave it there, so he caught her hands in his and lifted them to his lips, kissing the knuckles of first one hand, then the other.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he vowed.
He carried the memory of her smile with him through the next rushed half-hour of washing, changing, packing and scrambling onto the post-coach. Leaning against the side of the coach, he looked out of the window at the bookshop, wistfully hoping for one last glimpse of her face… and there she was, standing at the door to wave him off.
“Is that your wife?” an older woman seated opposite him asked inquisitively as Shaun waved back enthusiastically.
“No,” Shaun said, grinning as he sank back into his seat. “Not yet.” Soon , he promised himself. He’d handle Lord Ferndale’s business in London, get back and catch this damned arsonist, buy a house so he had something real and tangible to offer Louise apart from his heart and then… yes.
Soon.