Hugh launched himself across the stable, flying upon Gregory with manic kicks and bites.
In an effort to save the boy from a blow, Arabella set loose the saw. Wrapping her arms around Hugh’s heaving shoulders, she hushed him, demanded he stop. “He means me no harm, Hugh.”
Panting, the boy went still. There were tears on his red cheeks, the back of his hand working to wipe them away. “Your ladyship. Mr. Harrow is a bad man.”
Scoffing over them, Gregory narrowed his eyes and threatened certain death. “You would fight me for this woman?”
“Aye.”
Turning the saw, extending the hilt toward the child Mr. Harrow asked, “If you had this saw, would you use it on any man who thought to touch her?”
She held the boy to her breast. “Stop it, Gregory.”
“I would!” Hugh snatched the weapon, holding it out as if to cut the man who’d given it.
Black eyes left the boy, pouring over Arabella’s face. There was a question in his eyes, one for himself, not for her. “Promise me you will not leave this place, and I will find your Mary.”
Chapter 21
E vening fog mixed with acrid smoke, the air a blur as fire ate away Stonewall Grove’s North Wing. Edmund Jenkins, his servants, male guests, all able bodied men raced with buckets brimming with water. Chaos reigned, every shift in the wind hinting at new destruction.
Arabella kept to her word, holding vigil in the stable, Hugh fast to her side and Payne safe at her back. More and more people streamed in and out of the house, but Gregory had not emerged.
William Dalton had.
He was bare of his coat, his shirt untucked and his breeches loose. Their eyes met across the yard.
Arabella took the silver saw straight from Hugh’s hand. “Gather the women, Hugh. Have them come to the stable for shelter.”
“Mr. Harrow said—”
Without breaking her gaze from the enemy, she hissed. “Do as I say. Do it now before Dalton thinks to enter here and cause us harm.”
The Baron of Iliffe took a step in her direction, adrenalin stealing her breath, but Hugh had obeyed and was already shouting at the top of his lungs for all ladies to come to safety. To have followed, Dalton would have been caught up in the stream of women and made to look like the coward he was. Instead he retreated to a place Arabella could not see, but she was certain he was not running buckets like the others and kept her eye sharp in the smoke for where the villain might lurk.
The stable grew crowded, the Jenkins’s female guests loud in their fright. All around her women wrung their hands, shivering from various stages of undress as they huddled near the only lit lantern. Their presence was Arabella’s shield, and should the worst happen, their labors might save them all.
Mrs. Jenkins, her daughters, family friends and neighbors, could not be allowed to carry on.
Stern, Arabella rounded on them. “We must be vigilant of stray embers. Save your weeping for after the fire is extinguished.”
Lizzy was the first to obey, though she looked terrified. “What do we do?”
“Dear Lizzy, grab those blankets and dunk them in the trough. Cover as much dry hay as you are able.” Arabella gestured for Mrs. Jenkins to take the stool near Payne. “And you. You sit here. There is cleaner air blowing from the back window to clear your lungs.”
The old woman was inconsolable, and Arabella suspected it had less to do with the fire and more to do with the reason Lilly was drawn and silent as a ghost. Something had been seen when the initial alarm arose... something regarding William Dalton and one spoiled miss. Gregory’s plan had come to fruition, more spectacularly than he had intended it to.
“Lilly,” she called to the girl quietly. William had left a love mark on the girl’s neck, insurance, no doubt, to secure her fortune should he wish. Arabella pretended not to see, just as she pretended not to notice Lilly’s hair hung as loose as her own, or that her nightgown lacked a robe and had been laced up improperly in haste. Whispering at her ear, Arabella warned, “There is blood on your gown. Save a blanket to wrap about your body.”
As if Mrs. Jenkins had heard the low spoken words, she began to sob all the louder. At the blubbered word ruined, Arabella snapped. “Stop this at once!”
The old woman, shocked that someone would dare speak to her with such venom, quieted.
Leaning down so they were eye to eye, the baroness said, “Your son is in that house, as are your friends and neighbors, all of them fighting to save Stonewall Grove... turn your thoughts and prayers to them.”
Scanning the women, seeing who was being useful and who was in a faint, Arabella dared to ask. “What happened?”
Lizzy’s lip shook, the girl telling the tale even as she wrung out wet blankets. “I don’t know. The fire started in the men’s hall. Edmund came running to warn us... I thought it some joke at first, my lady.” She began to weep and tremble, fighting to say, “Until he said they found him burnt in his bed...”