A smell of something burning wafted into his nose.
Philip crashed into the parlour. The table with his designs was turned over, and his papers and books scattered all over the floor. Katy held Joy, while Robin jumped around Miss Weston, who crouched on the carpet with a scarlet face and blew on burning sheaves of paper.
Instead of putting the fire out, she’d made it burn stronger, as her breath caused the flames to leap higher.
“What the devil are you doing, woman?” Philip tore a blanket from the sofa, pushed her aside and threw it over the burning heap, smothering the fire. He stomped on the carpet to put out the embers. The fire died, leaving a scorched hole in the middle of the carpet. “Haven’t I expressly prohibited anyone to be in this room until I have had a chance to clean it up?” Some of his most precious inventions were in here. He cursed.
“It was an accident, Papa!” Katy cried. “Robin was chasing Joy, she turned over the table, and the scrolls flew across the room! Some slithered right into the fireplace, where the coals were still glowing, and they relit the fire. A piece fell on the carpet, and it took light.”
Philip paled. “Good God! Are any of you hurt?” Heaven forbid if anything had happened to them. The house could’ve burned down. His children… he swallowed.
Katy shook her head. “We’re fine.”
“My work!” He stared aghast at the pile of ashes.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I tried to put it out right away.” Miss Weston looked like she was about to burst into tears.
“What did you do while my children were busy setting my house and my entire life’s work on fire, Miss Weston?” he asked coldly. “Drink tea and do embroidery?”
“I, uh, well.” Arabella sat up and struggled for an answer.
Cold fury gripped him. “How can you leave my children unsupervised?”
“Indeed.” She swallowed. “I shouldn’t have let them out of my sight.”
“No, you should not! Not even for one second. Not even for half a second. Not even for —” Philip took a big breath and controlled himself. “If I had known how incompetent you’d be, I would never have let the children out of my sight, as they normally do their lessons with me in the workshop.”
She handed him the charred sheet. Philip groaned. They were the diagrams he’d intended to send along with his inventions. It had taken him weeks to calculate them. Weeks of work. Weeks of sleepless nights of scribbling, calculating … He was about to have an apoplexy.
“Miss Weston,” he said. “You are dismissed from this post.”
Miss Weston blinked back tears. “I am so very sorry,” she whispered. She got up and left the room with quiet dignity.
“But, Papa, It’s not her fault!” Katy cried. Joy burst into noisy tears. Robin stood in a corner and hung his head.
He didn’t listen. His inventions! Burned! He got down on his knees and picked up the pieces and tried to puzzle them together.
He growled. One paper was completely gone, but it was not the one with the main formula. That main paper had merely scorched corners. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“I only wanted to save Mouse!” Joy wailed. She’d caught the mouse and clutched it between her hands. It squeaked.
Robin sniffed. “I’m sorry, Papa. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have chased Joy, then she wouldn’t have crashed into the table, and your papers wouldn’t have burned. I’m sorry Miss Weston has to leave because of me.” He blinked rapidly and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
Katy huddled on the sofa, drew up her legs and wrapped her arms about them. “Things never work out for me. We finally have a governess and then this happens.” She wept.
Philip looked up and sighed. Clearly, he’d overreacted. For the second time in two days. That wasn’t like him. What was it about that woman that made him lose his calm? He recalled that stricken expression on her face. A tear had hung on her eyelash like a dewdrop quivering on a leaf of grass.
“Come here,” he said gruffly and pulled Robin and Joy into his embrace. He took them over to the sofa, where Katy still cried, and hugged her as well. “You gave me such a fright. Everyone unhurt? No burns? Nothing crucial roasted?”
Joy showed him her finger. “Mouse bit me. But it’s not bleeding.”
“Oh dear.” Philip inspected it. “We shall have to invent a special cage for Mouse. What do you say?”
“She’s too little anyway for my balloon. I will find something else,” Robin said graciously. “Maybe a monkey.”
There were steps in the hallway. Miss Weston had put on her spencer and bonnet and clutched her satchel. She looked pale and composed, but her eyes were suspiciously red.
“Where do you think you’re going, Miss Weston?” Philip let go of his children and proceeded to collect his scattered papers. “I’ll have the room cleared in a minute, then it will be ready for use. Minus the carpet. That’s a comfort you’ll have to do without for the time being.”
