“Yes. Lady Newcombe has sent her footman to find ladders, chisels, and hammers, and anything else we might need. Mr. Martin and a maid are removing items from the mantel. Mr. Peasey said we need to come under him and reach in that way to support him, then work on removing more of the bricks upward until we can remove them where his legs are bent double. Then we can pull him out. Mr. Martin and I will do the work. We don’t trust anyone else with Christopher’s safety. Now, I’m going to pick you up at your knees. Be ready.—Wait, Lady Newcombe has suggested a table be brought over for you to stand on, and Mr. Martin is doing that.”
“Excellent idea! If I can’t climb, a table will get me closer,” she said.
“When I lift you, bend your knees so we can get the table here.” He grabbed her and lifted her. Cecilia braced her arms against the sides of the walls of the flue and bent her legs. She heard the table move. The rough mortar bit into her flesh. She worried Christopher could have severe injuries.
James lowered her feet to the table and Cecilia pushed herself to stand up higher. She still couldn’t reach Krishan, but she felt closer to him.
“Cecilia,” James said, “the footman has secured one ladder and chisel and has left to procure another. Mr. Martin will start chiseling the wall. Those will be the sounds you and Christopher hear.
“Thank you,” she said.
She tilted her head up toward Christopher. She couldn’t see him but felt he might hear her better. “Krishan?” she said.
“Y-yes?” came his wavering voice.
“You are being very brave. Miss Rangaswamy will be proud of you. You are braver than me. I dislike how dark it is in here.” The total darkness reminded Cecilia too much of the events from last May.
“I miss her,” he said, sniffing.
“I know you do. But don’t cry. She is coming. And we will get you out.”
“But how?” he asked, his voice trembling.
“My husband says they will break through the wall underneath you.”
“But how?” he demanded again, in the way only a young child would demand answers. Cecilia had to smile. If he could ask a child’s “how?” question, he was bearing up well.
“I don’t know, dear heart. I’m up here in the dark with you, so I can’t see what they have planned.”
In the flue, Cecilia heard noises coming from the wall, muffled pounding and ripping.
“Hear that, Krishan?” Cecilia asked. She felt she needed to keep the child talking, as much for him as for her.
“Yes. What is that?”
“They are opening up the wall. That is what that pounding you hear is. Once they get through the wall, they’ll open up the chimney to get to you.”
“All right.”
“Krishan!”It was Miss Rangaswamy’s voice.
“Rani! Rani” Krishan cried out excitedly, then howled in pain and soot poured down on Cecilia. She clamped her eyes and mouth shut tight.
“Krishan,” Cecilia said sharply when the soot storm stopped, her heart in her throat that he should hurt himself more. She took a breath to speak softer. “Yes, she’s here, but you must stay calm.”
“What is it? What’s wrong with my Krishan?” Miss Rangaswamy anxiously called up the flue.
“He’s in a dangerous position. It is best if he not move,” Cecilia called down to her, trying to not worry either Krishan or his ayah.
She heard James’ muffled voice and Miss Rangaswamy’s “Yes, yes,” response. Then: “Cecilia?”
“Yes, James?”
“We are ready to start work on breaking through the chimney bricks.”
“Excellent!”
“Yes, but before we do, I need you to come down out of the chimney. When we break through, bricks will fall on your head.”
