Sattler, Veronica (64 page)

Brett
whirled toward Patrick, taking off his coat as he moved. "I'm going up
there. Is there any count as to—"

"Enrico
just took a nose count," Patrick told him as he watched Brett soak his
coat in the bucket of water. "Only Maria and the twins are missing. He
thinks she went in after them after she brought the first group out."

As
Ashleigh watched Brett run into the burning villa, flames began to shoot out of
one of the lower windows.

Oh,
my God!
she
thought.
It's burned through to the lower floor!

Several
of the servants must have noted the same thing, for there was a mad scramble
for the well while others, their buckets already full, began running toward
this new source of flames.

Meanwhile
Ashleigh saw more servants coming from the direction of the stables; they were
pulling a small wagon loaded with several huge barrels, and she recalled that
ironically, these were water barrels kept on hand in case of fire in the
stables—
while no one thought to keep a single such barrel on hand near the
house itself,
she thought.

Then,
as she watched the chaos about her, she had a flash of another fire long ago.
She became, for a moment, a tiny child again, and Mary Westmont was wrapping
her in a blanket and carrying her to safety.

A
shout brought her back to the present. The gallery outside the children's wing
had collapsed in flames, nearly missing Enrico and a group of stable men below.

She
saw Patrick moving toward them with an entire water barrel on his shoulder, saw
Megan wrapping her robe about two of the older girls, saw Giovanni standing
near a tree with his arm about Lady Dimples, gazing about, shaking his head.

But
Ashleigh's thoughts were on the burning building. Maria was in there—Maria who
had saved her life from just such a fire... and Brett! He'd been gone for
several minutes, now. Where was he? And there were the twins, poor blind
babies! And Finn! Where was Finn?

Suddenly
Ashleigh knew she couldn't just stand by and do nothing; she had to act! Moving
quickly through the chaotic throng of people, barrels and buckets, she
approached the door Brett had entered. As she neared it, she heard a whimper,
and then saw Finn emerge from the smoke; clinging to his back was Allegra, one
of the twins!

"Oh,
thank God, Finn!" she exclaimed.

Allegra
was sobbing, but appeared to be unharmed. Ashleigh rushed up to her and pulled
her into her arms.

"Oh,
the poor darlin'," said Megan from behind them. "Here, come t' Megan,
macushla."
She took the child from Ashleigh adding, "Ye
oughtn't t' be carryin' her, darlin'. She's a might too heavy fer ye in yer
condition. And, fer Heaven's sake, get some rest while ye're at it!"

Rest?
How could she rest when Maria and Brett and a little blind girl were still in
that inferno? Without another moment's hesitation, Ashleigh withdrew a
handkerchief from her sleeve, dipped it in a passing bucket of water, and,
tying it about her face like a highwayman's mask, slipped into the burning
building.

Upstairs,
in the children's wing, Brett was frantic. He'd checked almost all of the
rooms, those nearest the fire first, but still no Maria. And now the smoke was
growing so thick, even at this end, he was forced to go down on all fours,
close to the floor where the air was less noxious. And even here, he kept his
sodden jacket over his head to protect himself.

"Maria!"
he called. "Maria, where are you?"

No
answer. And there was only one chamber left.

Brett
crawled to the door up ahead of him. He could barely make out the shape of it
in the hazy, smoke-filled hallway. Feeling his way, he reached the aperture he
knew was the doorframe and gave the door a shove.

Raising
the jacket slightly, he called,
"Maria!"

A
childish whimper met his ears, and his eyes followed the sound. Then he saw
them. A tiny girl was huddled near the window. Beside her, on the floor, lay
Maria's prone form.

"Sweetheart,"
Brett called. "Alissa, isn't it?" He moved toward the whimpering
child. Reaching out to touch her, he said, "It's
il duca,
sweetheart.
Put your arms around my neck and try to climb onto my back. I'm going to take
you and the
contessa
out of here."

Surprisingly,
the girl ceased her whimpering and complied, as Brett removed his wet jacket
and wrapped it over her.

"Hold
onto this, too,
cara"
he told her and forced the lapels of the
jacket between her clutching fingers.

Then,
summoning all his strength and whispering a dimly remembered prayer, he took
Maria's prone body in his arms and rose, sucking in a great gulp of relatively
clear air before he did so. Then he raced out the door and for the stairs at
the end of the hallway as fast as his double burden would allow.

Down
below, Patrick was soaking his own jacket in a bucket of water, preparing to go
after Brett, who'd disappeared into the building a frightening number of
minutes ago.

"Patrick,"
said his wife as she came rushing up to him, "have ye seen Ashleigh?
Nobody's seen her fer some time!"

Alarm
on his face, Patrick looked about him in panic. "God, no, Megan! I
haven't, and I was just about to go after—"

Suddenly
a shout met his ears, and he and Megan turned in the direction of the door to
the villa where two of the stable men, buckets in hand, were urging someone to
do something in rapid Italian.

Then
they saw what they were shouting about. An apparition that appeared to be a
headless giant carrying something, came lunging through the door.

"It's
Brett!" Patrick shouted, "and he's got Maria and Alissa!"

"Saints
be praised!" Megan cried.

Rushing
forward, the two of them relieved Brett of his burdens, Patrick taking Maria,
who was beginning to cough and sputter, while Megan clasped the sobbing Alissa
to her breast.

Brett
was gulping in huge breaths of clean air, but he managed to get out, "I...
think... that... does it. How's... Maria?"

Bending
over Maria, whom he'd laid on a coat one of the men had spread on the ground,
Patrick said, "She's taken some smoke, but I think she'll be all right.
But Brett," he said, grimly facing his friend, "no one's seen
Ashleigh for some time!"

The
blood drained from Brett's face as Patrick's words registered. Then he whirled
and ran toward the villa, pausing only to pick up Patrick's wet jacket.

"Brett,
wait!" Patrick shouted. "You're too done in! Let me go!"

"Stay
here and see to Maria!" came the reply.

"But—"

"I've
got
to find her, man! Don't you know that?"

These
words were hardly out of Brett's mouth when, from the interior of the villa, he
heard a faint bark.

"Finn!"
he shouted as he entered the smoke-filled doorway, "Finn, where are you,
boy? Where's Ashleigh?"

Another
bark met his ears when he reached the foot of the stairs, louder and clearer
this time, coming from just above him.

Shielding
himself with Patrick's coat, he began to crawl up the stairs. When he was
nearly to the top, he could make out the wolfhound's shaggy form on the
landing.

"Finn!
Where—?"

Then
he saw her. She was lying very still under Finn's standing body. The dog was
pulling at her gown, as if trying to nudge her over the top step.

"Ashleigh!"
Brett cried. "Dear God, Ashleigh!" As gently as he could, Brett
retrieved her still form, clutched it to him, turned and flew down the stairs,
Finn at his heels.

Outside,
a worried Megan was ministering to Maria while Patrick stood by, his eyes on
the door to the house. Although he knew the fire was largely extinguished now,
he realized there was still a heavy amount of killing smoke. Where were they?
The dog's last bark had been several minutes ago.

Then
he saw a movement at the door and a second later, Brett stumbled out, Ashleigh
clutched in his arms.

"Megan,
he's got her! Thank Heaven!" He raced forward to meet the faltering Brett,
just as he heard Finn's excited bark.

"Here,
man, I'll take her," Patrick said.

Brett
shook his head wearily, then sank to the ground, Ashleigh still safely in his
embrace. "
No!"
Then, "No, I—I'll keep her," he managed
to get out.

He
cradled his wife's head in his lap and gazed anxiously down into her face.
"Ashleigh?" he whispered, and when there was no response, the whisper
became a frantic cry.
"Ashleigh!"

Patrick
knelt beside his sister's swollen form and took her wrist, throwing Brett a
worried look as he felt for a pulse.

"The
dog... Finn... saved her," Brett was gasping between gulps of air.
"Please God let him have saved her!"

"She's
alive," Patrick announced, "but her pulse feels irregular. She's in a
state of shock, I think. I'm going for a blanket."

As
Patrick left, Brett heard Ashleigh moan and bent anxiously over her.

"Ashleigh?"

"Brett..."
he heard her whisper faintly, "Brett... where... Maria?"

"She's
fine, love," he said to her. "Now, hush. Don't try to talk anymore.
Just—"

"H-had
to... find her," Ashleigh continued, "had to... help...."

Brett
was shaking his head. "You silly little fool... Sweetheart, you could have
been killed!"

Ashleigh
began to cough and choke as she shook her head at him. "H-had to...
Brett," she gasped. "Sh-she's your
mother...."

At
that moment, Patrick came rushing up to them, a blanket in hand. He was in time
to catch his sister's words before she sighed and lost consciousness. He was in
time to catch Brett's incredulous stare.

"So
now you know the whole story, Brett," Patrick was saying, "or at
least as much as I know of it. For the rest, you'll have to talk to Mar—to your
mother."

They
were sitting in Abner Thornton's cabin aboard the
Ashleigh Anne
while
nearby, in the captain's cabin, Signore Capetti, the
contessa's
physician,
was examining her for damage from smoke inhalation and a few minor burns.
Following last night's fire, Brett and Patrick had decided to take everyone to
their two ships in the harbor, for, though the fire was out, there was
extensive damage to most of the villa and Maria's home was deemed uninhabitable
for the time being.

"I
see," said Brett, a bitter twist to his lips. "All this time you knew
who she was,
where
she was, and yet you never said a word!"

"Oh,
have off, Brett!" Patrick's tone was sharp, tinged with weariness. They'd
been up all night fighting the fire and performing the rescue work, and now he
was fighting exhaustion. "Maria made me promise—made us all promise—not to
reveal who she was.
I
gave my word!
Can't you understand
that?"

Brett
nodded, but the cynical expression did not leave his face. "I understand
that there was a massive effort at concealing from me some information that was
central
to my life!
And in your case, and hers—" he nodded his head
in the direction of Patrick's cabin "—it went on for years!"

Patrick
leaned forward, his blue eyes boring into Brett's. "For God's sake, man,
what would you have had us do? Storm the gates of Ravensford Hall and demand to
be taken to you so that you might learn the truth? Oh, your grandfather would
have loved that! He'd have welcomed her with open arms, this woman he'd exiled,
wouldn't he?"

Brett
was silent at this, and Patrick thought he saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. But
at that moment there was a knock on the door, and further discussion cut off.

"Yes?"

"Signore
Capetti and the priest to see you, Your Grace," said the first mate's
voice.

"Show
him in, Mr. Thornton," said Patrick.

The
door opened, and in walked the small, bearded physician whom Enrico and one of
the grooms had fetched and driven to the
Ashleigh Anne
earlier. Behind
him stood Father Umberto, who was functioning as a translator.

"Come
in, please," said Patrick, rising from his chair. "Ah, you know His
Grace, the duke of Ravensford?" He gestured from them to Brett, who had
also risen.

"Si,
si, buon giorno, Signore Duca,"
said the priest, bowing.

Brett
nodded impatiently, then addressed them both. "How is she?"

Father
Umberto turned toward the doctor, but the little man began speaking in rapid
Italian, as if he'd already understood the question. When he was finished, the
priest smiled at both Brett and Patrick.

"He
says
la contessa,
she's-a rest-a comfortably,
signores.
She's-a,
how you say? Out of danger."