Chapter 22 #2
She made a swift decision and thrust Alexandra toward Stewart. Instinct made him grab her. “Take her to safety. Now.”
“Mrs. Croft, you can’t—”
“Get out,” she snapped, already moving away from the footman, away from her wailing daughter, and away from the certainty of survival. “Go!”
Without glancing back, Samantha hiked up her nightgown and bolted back the way she’d come.
She ran past the nursery and her bedchamber, toward the service stairs at the back of the house.
If she could get the servants who slept upstairs down to the kitchen, then they could exit through the service entry.
She entered the stairwell and was greeted by the approaching clatter of feet on the stairs. A shouted warning, “Fire,” informed her it was Turner. The servant who doubled as groom, when he wasn’t assisting Adrian or Murry, came into view.
His surprise over spotting her instantly gave way to horror. “Mrs. Croft. You have to get out of the house.”
“And so I shall” – she started climbing the stairs – “as soon as I’ve made sure everyone has been evacuated. You should go. Leave it to me.”
“And die at Croft’s hand? I think not.” Turner’s footfalls fell heavily on the steps behind her. “Where’s your daughter?”
“With Stewart. I told him to take her to safety.”
“You should have stayed with her,” Turner insisted. “Ward and I were already sweeping the house to make sure no one gets left behind.”
“Thank you, but everyone who works here is my responsibility. And Croft’s.” She reached the uppermost landing and pulled the door leading into the male servants’ quarters open. “We’ll not abandon any of you.”
She started banging on doors and thrusting them open. Turner did the same and was able to rouse the two hall boys who slept. Pierson, the other footman, who’d heard the ruckus, was hastily getting dressed.
“Take the stairs all the way to the kitchen,” Turner told the three servants while Samantha tried the door that lead to the women’s side of the servants’ quarters. “Use the nearest exit, then go to the front of the house so you can be accounted for.”
When the door didn’t budge, Samantha rammed her shoulder against it. Nothing. She banged on it with her fist. “Anyone in there?”
No one responded.
“Maybe the female servants have already been alerted,” Turner said, his voice at Samantha’s right shoulder.
“I’m not taking any chances.” She stepped back, then tried to kick the door in, but it didn’t give way. If only she had her trusty hairpins, but they’d been removed and set aside when she’d readied for bed.
“Let’s see if we can force the door open together,” Samantha suggested.
“Unlikely, considering it’s been bolted shut for as long as I can remember.”
“Bolted shut?” The dread of what this implied turned Samantha’s stomach. She shook her head. “Why would that be necessary?”
“Because a key wasn’t enough to keep Mark, a previous footman, away from Emma.” Turner angled his shoulder toward the door. “Let’s give it a go all the same, shall we?”
Despite his discouraging words, Samantha nodded. She positioned herself as he had, then counted to three. The door shuddered beneath the impact of their combined force. But held.
“Again,” Samantha told him.
They made another attempt but still failed to breach the barrier.
Samantha retreated a step, considered their options, then looked at Turner. “I’m ordering you to leave.”
“I only answer to Croft,” he replied, his voice firm.
She rounded, ready to lash out at him for being so damn loyal, when a faint voice caught her ear. A brief pause to listen, and then she was heading back to the door. She pressed her ear to it while asking, “Is someone there?”
“Mrs. Croft?” Sarah’s voice.
Samantha drew a shuddering breath. “The house is on fire, Sarah. Can you open this door?”
“It’s locked,” Sarah said. “There’s no key.”
Uneasiness slid down Samantha’s spine. How was this possible?
A problem to focus on later. For now…
“If there’s anyone else with you,” Samantha yelled, “tell them what’s happened, and then get out of the building.”
“We already tried,” Sarah replied, “but the smoke forced us back up the stairs.”
Samantha closed her eyes on an anxious sigh.
In the few short minutes it had taken her to arrive here, the fire had swept through the left side of the building, toward the back.
The stairs leading to the female servants’ quarters were now cut off, the door that would lead Sarah and whoever was with her to safety, impenetrable.
A hand settled over Samantha’s shoulder. “You must go.”
Turner’s voice – the finality in it – brought tears to Samantha’s eyes. She shook her head. No. She would not leave her loyal servants so they could perish while she lived on.
“Your daughter needs her mother,” Turner said, his hand attempting to draw Samantha away from the door. Toward the stairs located behind her.
“We’ll try again,” Samantha responded before telling Sarah, “Stand clear of the door.”
“Mrs. Croft—”
“Shut up and help me,” Samantha shouted, already preparing to slam her full bodyweight into the door.
Turner made an exasperated sound which she chose to ignore, and took his position beside her.
“On three,” she told him, then counted off the numbers and rammed her shoulder back into the door together with Turner.
The solid wood held as it had no doubt been intended to do.
Samantha muttered a curse while running her fingers through her hair. This was ridiculous. They were separated by only a couple of inches, and yet, that was enough to damn her servants.
No. She refused to think in such terms.
There had to be a way. Some means by which to help them.
“There’s an axe in one of the basement storage rooms,” Turner said. “I can try to get to it, but there’s no guarantee.”
“According to Sarah, the fire has already cut off the stairs on that side of the house. The storage rooms aren’t accessible anymore.”
“Neither is the service entrance through the kitchen.” He gave Samantha a pointed look, reminding her that their own chance of escape was diminishing by the second.
She stared at him, mind whirling as she attempted to figure her way through this disaster. And then…
“There’s another way out,” she murmured. “A way in which everyone survives.”
Ward’s eyebrows drew together. “How?”
“Out the windows, and across the roof.”