“But Miss Elinor, your mother…”
“Is gone. There’s no way we can change that, and she hadn’t much time left as it was. At least we can hope she went quickly, that the falling rafters killed her before…” She stopped talking, realizing what she was about to say.
It was too late. Lydia raised her tearstained face. “Oh, love, you did what you could. ”
She considered rising from her knees on the floor of the carriage, but it was as good a place as any. “She wouldn’t come,” she answered simply. “I did everything I could to get her to move, but she just screamed at me. The madness was in full force—I can only assume she set the fire. ”
“Must have,” Jacobs said solemnly. “I made sure the hearth fire was banked before I went to bed, and there was no way a stray spark could have escaped. And Nanny was locked in the room with her—I had the devil’s own time getting to her. Begging your pardon, miss. ”
Elinor knew if she began to laugh she wouldn’t be able to stop. Her mother’s foul language still rained in her ears, and they were being rescued by the devil himself.
The carriage pulled to a halt, and the door was opened, opposite her, a liveried footman waiting to help them alight. Hands reached out to help Jacobs with his tender burden, and Reading leaped down before he reached for Lydia, holding her close as he guided her into the house. Leaving Elinor alone, on her knees, in the deserted carriage.
For a moment she was tempted to stay there. Just let them take the carriage around to the stables and see to the horses, and no one would know where she was. She could curl up on one of the seats and manage to sleep relatively well….
“Miss Harriman?” Etienne de Giverney stood in the open doorway, looking at her curiously. “May I assist you?”
Too bad, she thought. It had been a lovely idea. “No, you may not,” she said briskly. “You have two patients inside. Nanny Maude collapsed, and she has need of your expertise. And Lydia is understandably shattered—she needs your comfort. ” And to get away from Mr. Reading, she added mentally. “Go ahead—I’ll follow in a moment. ”
A footman remained by the open door to attend to her, though Elinor wished he would go. She scrambled forward, pulling herself to the seat. The pain in her feet had passed, and they were blessedly numb. She realized with sudden shock that she wore nothing but her thin cambric night rail, so old that it was practically transparent in places. Lydia had had the presence of mind to grab a wrap and shoes. Elinor had been so distraught that she hadn’t even thought of slippers.
The enormity of their loss hit her like a blow to the stomach. They were penniless, homeless, without even clothes on their backs. What in god’s name was she going to do?
She climbed down from the coach, the snow cool on her bare feet. It was snowing harder now. Why had it waited to do this until all their possessions had burned away? Not that snowflakes would have any effect against a fire like that. It had been an angry, hungry inferno. She could only hope her mother’s madness hadn’t burned anyone else’s home
The fire had come from everywhere. The living room had been ablaze, their mother’s room with a river of flame holding them apart, the flames licking through the kitchen door, Nanny trapped inside. Had her mother done all that while they slept? There could be no other explanation. And yet…
The coach pulled away immediately, heading out into the snow-covered street, and she wondered where it was going. Had they really left Viscount Rohan standing by the ruins of her house? It appeared so. How had he happened to come by their house, just as a fire broke out? Accidents like that simply didn’t happen.
She looked ahead, at the front door of the mansion. Someone had closed the door to keep the storm out, and she moved slowly, wondering if she was going to face the nasty butler from that trip that seemed so long ago. Perhaps he would recognize her as the woman who bit him and not let her in.
But of course the door swung open promptly as soon as she approached, and the servant standing there looked vaguely familiar. She’d seen him before, at least once, and he greeted her by name, his rough Yorkshire accent unmistakable.
They’d taken Nanny to a small room at the back of the house, one that Elinor assumed was used for illness. Nanny lay still in the bed where she’d been placed, her color ashen, her breathing labored, with Lydia sitting on the far side of the bed clutching her hand. Someone had made an effort to clean the old lady up, swaddling her small figure in warm shawls, but she looked like death, and Etienne de Giverney’s face, when he turned to look at her, was grave.
“She’s suffered a great shock,” he said solemnly. “And her heart isn’t strong. ”
“She’s not going to die,” Elinor said fiercely, sitting on the bed beside her, taking her other hand.
“I’m afraid she is, but as to when, I cannot say. I’ve done what I can for her—the rest is in the hands of God,” Etienne said, the pompous prig. Elinor wanted to scream at him, but he’d already dismissed both his patient and Elinor, turning to her sister. “Miss Lydia, surely you need to rest. Your sister is here now—she can keep your old nursemaid company. ”
“I’m not leaving either of them,” Lydia said in a tear-filled voice.
Elinor looked up at her. “Dearest, he’s right. It wouldn’t do for you to become ill. ”
“Come, Miss Lydia,” Etienne said. He took Lydia’s hand in his and drew her away from the bed. “My cousin’s housekeeper will have already seen to a room for you. You’re a frail, sensitive creature and you’ve suffered a great shock. Your sister is far more sturdy—she can keep your nursemaid company with no ill effects. ”
“Indeed,” Elinor said with just a hint of dryness. “After all, I’m sturdy. ”
“I’m just as strong as my sister, and I’m not leaving her,” Lydia said mutinously, trying to pull back from Etienne’s hands. “Where is Mr. Reading? He accompanied us back here, but I haven’t seen him…”
“Mr. Reading has returned to fetch my cousin,” Etienne said, and there was no missing the disapproval in his voice. “You have no need of him. ”
Lydia had tears running down her face, and she made a hiccupping sound. “Of course not,” she said, sounding somewhat hysterical. “No need at all. ”
No, Elinor wanted to cry as she looked at her sister. She couldn’t be in love with Charles Reading. It would lead to nothing but disaster.
But now was not the time to deal with it. Elinor pulled herself together. “I will take the first watch, my love, while you rest,” she said gently. “Then you can come and take my place once you’ve regained some of your strength. I couldn’t bear it if you were to become ill from this night’s work. And you needn’t worry about Lord Rohan or his friend. They will return safely. ”