She peered out the window into the light of morning. The sky was clear of clouds; only the faint haze of London obscured the sun.
It was early enough that Maria could be certain that her family remained abed, but after a night of no sleep, she was exhausted. It was important, however, that she retrieve her suits of clothes, her manuscripts, and the bank notes that she had hidden around the space. Without her things, she would she not be able to work. Worse yet, she would no longer be able to provide for Thomas, and that simply was not an option—no matter Jasper’s pretty assertions.
She toyed with the ties of her bonnet and tugged at the sleeves of her pelisse, her stomach fluttering riotously.
With a sigh, she unfolded the newspaper and scanned the columns, coming to a stop when she sighted news of Lady Cartwright’s death.
“Mmm. The baron won’t like this,” Maria muttered as she began reading.
Baroness Sarah Bantry, Lady Cartwright, was found poisoned on the property of none other than a certain duke. A lover’s quarrel? …
Lover’s quarrel, indeed.
The carriage rumbled over the cobblestoned streets of London, steadily getting closer to Cheapside. Ordinarily, when she journeyed to her apartments there were so few people about, that the journey was swift. That morning, however, the carriage slowed far before the turn into the close.
“Fire,” Jonah called from his driver’s perch.
Maria scrambled to the opposite window and looked at the chaos surrounding them. Men and women worked together to pump water into buckets and toss it onto the burning building.Herbuilding.
Her heart jumped to her throat and her stomach dipped ominously.No, no, no!
“Stop!” she hollered to the coachman, scrambling for the door’s latch.
The door swung open, admitting a cacophony of shouts from people attempting to douse the fire. Her half-boots hit the uneven cobbles and she ran to join them.
“Return home!” she called to Jonah over her shoulder.
She caught a flash of the worry in the man’s gaze, but he doffed his hat and did as he was told.
She wheezed, and a cough caught her by surprise. She blinked back the sting to her eyes. The air was thick with smoke, and each choking breath made her heart ache further.
“Water!” a man shouted before handing a bucket off to another man.
Maria recognized them as residents—neighbours—and her stomach twisted painfully.
Seeing an opening in the line of hands, she hurried forward to pass a bucket of water.
The intensity of the blaze heated her through her clothes, causing perspiration to bead at her hairline and between her breasts. Her heart beat a tattoo against her ribs, but she couldn’t think past her efforts with the water. Mustn’t think of what she might have lost. There was no way for her to ascertain the damage to her apartments from the street, while the light of the fire still flickered angrily in the windows. She wouldn’t yet give up hope that her home would survive.
As time passed, Maria’s arms began to weaken and her back began to ache, but she continued to pass the buckets. Coughs racked her frame, and soot covered her from head to foot.
Eventually the crowd dispersed, and the fire was reduced to smouldering embers. Her neighbours entered the building, everyone hoping to recover items, while the cobbler stood, forlorn, at the smoking entrance of his shop.
Midday sun glinted off broken shards of glass, catching Maria’s eye as she passed through the crooked front entry and into the small foyer. The overwhelming stench of smoke and wet wood permeated the air. Her stomach lurched and her eyes stung with tears as she picked up her filthy skirts and ran up the creaky staircase toward her apartments.
A sharp gasp stung her oesophagus, and her cough turned into a sob.
The door hung askew, and inside…
Another sob caught in her throat, the weight on her chest nigh-suffocating. The walls were now fire-blackened brick, her furniture naught but piles of ash and jagged bits of metal. There was nothing left. Neither a pen, a pound note, nor a stitch of fabric. Every piece of her independence had been instantaneously reduced to nothing.
The floor creaked behind her and, despite her desire to continue her fruitless search forsomething, she knew she ought to vacate before the floor collapsed.
She was taking one last glance around her charred bedchamber when a blinding pain crashed through her temple and the room went dark.
CHAPTER22
Jasper’s eyes burned with exhaustion. He felt far too many things for him to bloody wellfocus. His mind and heart were filled with worry over Francis’ newest letter, but there was also joy—and, if he were honest,hope—for the progression of his connection with Maria. His chest ached, his skin felt far too tight, and his spine tingled from top to bottom.
