He returned with a tray of steaming hot tea and placed it on the table between their chairs. “Now that’s better. Everyone seems to be dancing and having a good time at the ball. I believe the Viscount has quietly suggested that Lady Cressida and her mother leave the premises.”
Olivia leaned forward to pour the tea.
Marcus stopped her. “Absolutely not, Olivia,” and the sound of her name felt strange, yet wonderful on his lips. “I’m sure I can manage to pour a cup of tea.”
When he’d finished pouring, he said, “Now, my dear Olivia, tell me your story.” and he held his breath, waiting for her to continue. He instinctively sensed this was a difficult moment for her, and that Olivia was a woman who coped with whatever life threw at her with quiet dignity.
The fire flickered and he wondered if the sight of a fire caused her anxiety. It didn’t seem so, he saw her gazing into the embers of the fire as if trying to decide where to start.
“Three years ago I lived at Silverton Hall with my brother Frederick, Earl of Riversmead, his wife Mary, and of course my niece Jocelyn.
“I was happy. Frederick and Mary were generous people who put love first in our family. There had been a large house party at Christmas, and we were settling back into a quieter routine and looking forward to spring again.
“I was to be married in the early spring. The date was set and preparations underway.” Olivia paused and took a sip of tea, before continuing.
“My parents have been dead many years, and although the estate is entailed to the male line, I had a settlement in my name and no financial concerns. I mention this now as it is pertinent to my story.
Then one night it changed. I think a maid forgot to snuff out the candles in the drawing room, and one must have fallen over and set the curtain alight.”
“The worst possible place for a candle to fall. I’ve seen curtains aflame and the fire spreads quickly up the wall,” interjected Marcus.
“Yes, and in this case, in an old building, the smoke crept through the floorboards and made it difficult to breathe on the upper floors.
My brother’s room was directly above, and it is thought,” Olivia paused to compose herself. “It is thought that Frederick and Mary were overcome by smoke and died in their sleep. I hope so. I truly hope that was the case.
“My brother was older than me, but still young and should never have died so soon. Jocelyn lost both her parents that night.
“I had been reading in the library and when I left the room, candle in my hand to go to my bedchamber I saw the smokecoming out under the drawing room door and rising up the staircase to the first floor.
“I can’t remember it very well, but I do know that I raised an alarm. The butler, Mr. Jenkins, managed to evacuate the household staff using the backstairs. All escaped to safety.
“By this time the smoke was thick on the first floor, and I could see the first tongues of orange flame on the landing.
“I didn’t think. I knew my family were up there. I made my way up the backstairs, a scarf around my mouth. Somehow, I managed to wake Jocelyn and open the sash window and help her down to the roof of the stone porch, directly under her bedroom window. The household servants helped her down to safety.”
“I cannot imagine it,” Marcus whispered.
“It seems I turned around and went back to try to save my brother and his wife, and also our nanny who still slept in her rooms in the attic. The beams in the ceiling were on fire and the air was so hot it was almost impossible to breathe.
“There was no way I could get to them and the route down the stairs was blocked too. I do remember looking up and seeing a beam falling to the floor. No, it didn’t hit me, or I would not be here today. However, it splintered as it fell, and some hot wood flew upwards and caught my face and set my clothes on fire.”
Marcus gasped as she said this, amazed at the bravery Olivia had shown in putting her own life in danger.
Olivia continued her story. “I managed to get back to Jocelyn’s’ room and knew to roll on the floor to extinguish the flames on my clothes. My father had taught me about fire when I was a small child.
“One of the gardeners had climbed onto the stone portico below the window of Jocelyn’s room and climbed up the ivy and wisteria to Jocelyn’s window. He found me and rescued me.
That’s it really. I’m as you see. My brother Frederick, my dearest sister-in-law, and friend, Mary and the nanny all perished,” finished Olivia.
“And the house?” asked Marcus.
“Oh, there was significant damage to that part of the house, but the other two wings were untouched. Uncle Harold tells us we can visit again when renovations are completed in the spring. I suppose I both dread and long to return to my childhood home.”
He looked at this young woman in stunned admiration at her courage and bravery. There had been no concern for her own safety or wellbeing as she tried in vain to rescue her family.
There was something else though. She had been engaged. He remembered hearing Lady Cressida talking about Olivia’s fiancé and how he had ended their betrothal.
“I believe there’s more, Olivia. Will you tell me what heartbreak followed in the days after the fire?” he asked tenderly.
