“It is all right, Neddy,” she said as she sat in a rocker and held him on her lap.
“Bad men. Where Iain? The bad men will get him.”
“He is keeping those bad men away from us. He and all his brothers.”
Neddy nodded but stuck his thumb in his mouth. Emily rocked slightly, hoping to calm him but her mind was not so easy to settle. She recalled the pain of her wounds, the damp smell of dirt as she had crawled out of the root cellar. It was the race for the shelter that played out the clearest in her mind, the need to stop the bleeding of her wounds even while doing all she could to keep Neddy safe. Time had never crept by so slowly nor terror been so persistent and chilling. She did not think she could do it again.
“The lad has gone to sleep, dear,” said Mrs. O’Neal.
Glancing down at Neddy, Emily relaxed a little. Better he slept than stayed awake and terrified. She rather wished she could find that peace.
Her thoughts went to the MacEnroy brothers. They were out there fighting to keep her and Neddy alive. Guilt was a heavy stone in her belly. She should never have dragged them into her troubles. She could go for days forgetting her troubles in the warmth and friendship of living in Iain’s house and then something like this happened and she was ashamed of herself for her thoughtlessness. The MacEnroys had already suffered too much from the greed of her class. She closed her eyes and began to pray that not one of the MacEnroys paid too dearly for what they had to do to keep her and Neddy safe.
She found herself thinking of her sister again. Emily could not understand how Annabel could have broken their one firm rule, the one they had made when they had realized their parents had been murdered. Emily had worked unceasingly to uncover that dark truth and the one that had told them who was behind it but Annabel had been so slow to believe it, passionately arguing with everyone of Emily’s facts. She had always disliked Albert but Annabel had considered the man the perfect English gentleman. After the first attempt on their lives that had failed, Annabel had appeared to accept the truth and understand what it meant. The mere hint that David or her child could be killed had appeared to make her accept the rules made. It was now obvious that she had not fully accepted the dark truth and the longer they had gone without a threat the less Annabel had worried.
“I should have known better,” she muttered.
“Pardon, dear?” asked Mrs. O’Neal.
“My sister. I should have known she did not fully understand the danger she was in. It was not really in her nature to be able to do so. Perhaps she did not understand that it was a threat that would stand for a long time. Not even the possibility of her husband’s death, or her son’s, could make her fully believe Albert meant to kill us or how it could be dangerous to contact anyone in the family. She always thought he was the perfect gentleman.”
“It can be hard for some to accept when it is their own blood causing their troubles.”
“I fear that in our class, it is most often someone of our own blood.” Emily sighed over that hard truth. “She agreed, swore she understood. I know David did.”
“He was not one of your class though, was he.”
“No, he was not and I am not sure Annabel always fully understood hownotlike our class he was. She was a sweet woman but not always the most thoughtful of people.”
“I am sorry, dear. Sorry you had to discover that about your sister when you can’t talk it out with her, maybe finally get her to see. Sorry that it was such a silly mistake that cost you so dearly.”
“It cost her more,” Emily said quietly. “And, one reason it troubles me so is I cannot help but feel sad for David more than her. That shames me some. But, the man did not deserve what happened to him just because of who he chose to love.”
“No, he didn’t. But that part is over and done, dear, and you have to push it aside. They left a beautiful lad in your care and that is what matters now. That is what those men are fighting for out there.”
“I know. I . . .” Emily frowned and sniffed the air. “Do you smell smoke?” She was not sure if her memories of the last time she was stuck in a root cellar were causing her to just think she smelled it.
Mrs. O’Neal sniffed the air and then cursed. “I do. The bastards have set a fire.”
Emily handed Neddy to Mrs. O’Neal. The boy whimpered once then snuggled up against the woman and quieted. She still felt bad about the MacEnroys fighting what she considered her battle but she was damned if she would let their home be damaged or destroyed because of it.
“What are you going to do?” asked Mrs. O’Neal as she stroked Neddy’s back.
“Find the fire and put it out.”
“But the bullets . . .”
“If the MacEnroys can face them so can I. It is my enemy after all. Do not let Neddy get away from you,” she added as she headed up the stairs.
The heat of the fire was the first thing Emily noticed as she cautiously stepped out of the stairwell. She hurried to look into the kitchen, saw the fire was not burning there although a window was broken, and grabbed a bucket. Once she had filled it with water she moved down the hall. It too was not on fire but it was filled with smoke. Then she looked into the dining room and cursed. After all the work she had done, it seemed a cruel twist of fate that this was the room they had chosen to set alight.
After tossing her bucket of water on the fire she ran back in the kitchen. It was going to be hard work to quell the flames since she was the only one working with a bucket. She wrapped a damp cloth around her nose and mouth as the bucket filled with water. Finding a second one, she stuck that under the pump as well.
Going back to the dining room, she threw the water on the flames, making sure she got some on every part of the line of fire forming in front of the windows. It was diminishing and she prayed that wetting the area where it burned would keep it from flaring up in the time it took her to gather more water.
As she ran back and forth with her buckets of water, she heartily cursed men who could only fight by burning down everything around them. She was just pouring water on the flames again when a bullet smashed through one of the windows in the room. Emily wondered if they could see her efforts and tried to stop her.
Dragging the buckets behind her she did a strange crouched scramble back into the kitchen. If she had to fight the fire under a rain of bullets that would make it difficult. Yet, if she did not continue to fight the fire it could spread and take a section of the fine house Iain and his brothers had made. Emily refused to allow that to happen.
