Averill: Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 3) (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Something woke her. It came through the shuttered window. Averill stirred on the bed, her arm automatically reaching for the vacant space where Tenny had been before cracking open an eye. It looked near dawn. She’d slept deeply. And hard. She felt safe. Secure. Drowsy. It wouldn’t take much to return to slumber. Averill stretched and looked over at Tenny’s portrait. It was official-looking and yet still showed his warm-hearted nature. And somehow she had the talent for capturing it.

“Fire!”

The word filtered through the shuttered window. Averill blinked the sleep from her eyes. Sat. Looked across at the aperture, just visible in the dim light.
Did someone just shout fire?

Awareness came
. Finally. A moment later she was at the window, unlatching the shutter to push it open. And the next she was yanking it back closed. Dense smoke filled the streets in every direction, billowing upward and outward. It stung her eyes. Filled her chest. She was bent over, coughing for some moments while her thoughts whirled. Nobody could be down there. They wouldn’t be able to breathe. They’d perish!

She counsel
ed herself against rising panic. She had little time. She needed clothing.
Where would Tenny’s friend put a wardrobe?
She raced into the hall, checked two locked doors before finding one that opened. It was used for storage. Averill began opening trunks and found men’s clothing in the second box she opened.

She stared at the burnoose
. Tenny’s friend was a man? He should’ve told her. It would’ve been less worrisome. Or…in truth, she should’ve asked. And she was wasting precious time. She slipped the pants on and fastened a cord around her waist with shaking hands. In the dim light of dawn, she could just make out fingers of smoke filtering across the wood underfoot.

The whole house is made of wood!

A roar blasted from somewhere in the house, ominously. With it, came heat. The soles of her feet felt it. She tossed on a shirt and then the burnoose. It was done, but her new clothing dragged on the floor as she left.

She staggered
about the hall, gagging on smoke, but she’d gone the wrong way. She was back in her room, glancing first at the bed, then Tenny’s portrait, and from that to the bag of money Tenny had left her on a dresser. She might need that. A moment later she had the bag in her pocket and from there, it was a few rushed steps to the stairs. The fire hadn’t waited. Flames licked at the bottom steps, chasing her back up them, and right back to her room. Averill slammed the door and leaned against it, panting in fear, trying to think.

Nobody was going to save her
.

Again.

It was up to her. She’d have to get out somehow. Or perish. What she needed was an exit…or water. And that’s when she remembered the pump. She grabbed the blanket from the bed, tripping over it in haste, fell against the dressing table, and knocked Tenny’s portrait from its perch. It dropped into the haze of smoke that reached her knees. She didn’t spare it another glance.

It took two, muscle-straining
pumps to get any water out, but once it came, it gushed. Averill shoved the blanket under the spout and pumped until everything was soaked. And then she wrapped it about her, shivering worse as chill added to fear, and the staircase looked like it was now engulfed in flames!

Just a
glance burned, so Averill grabbed the blankets about her, clutched them closed from the inside and slid blindly down the wall, hunched beneath the weight. She took a step. Another. One more. Another. A countless amount. Would they never end? Before she reached the landing, she knew she was in worse trouble. Her feet were radiating pain.

The
pathway finally leveled off. She reached the tile of the ground floor, but she couldn’t feel it. Very little sensation made it through agony that had reached her thighs. Oh, how she wished she’d paid more attention when Harvey had first brought them! Or that she’d had the sense to explore.

Each breath was filled with heat
and smoke. It choked her even through her blanket wall. Averill fought cough spasms, hunched further, and kept moving. Somewhere there was a door. And succor. Screams came to her, primarily from her left. She moved toward them. She slid one foot. Another. And finally her head bumped into a structure. She ran her hands along it until she felt a handle. It wasn’t hot. But it was locked. Averill fumbled with the lock before the knob finally turned, she pulled the door open, and fell out into the sunshine.

The blanket was hissing and steaming
. Averill kicked at it with throbbing feet. She refused to look at them. She didn’t dare. Smoke was pouring upward from the doorway she just left, and there was a wall of flames fueling it from behind.

She
crawled across the alley to a post. The next one. She didn’t try to stand until she’d reached the third post. Her legs gave her trouble. She had to pull herself upright. And there she stood, swaying against the pole, taking great gulps of air while blinking against a blur that wouldn’t clear. Her eyes burned. Her chest hurt. But tears were for the weak. She’d survived. Now all she had to do was reach Tenny.

She
stumbled away from the porch, ignoring how each step sent pain through her legs. A flood of people passed her, screaming about the fire. Behind, if she cared to look, the entire block was aflame. They yelled it at anyone who would listen. She didn’t turn to check. She’d seen it.

A horse-drawn fire wagon almost ran her down
. She limped to one side of the street, keeping herself from falling by an act of will. No one noticed. No one cared. She righted herself and kept walking.

It felt like hours later
she reached a square that actually contained a well. She slumped against a wall, to rest and gather courage. Pain had risen from her ankles to consume her legs, lock her knees, and send agony with every step, while all about her, people were racing. Shouting. Filling buckets and hauling them away. Nobody seemed to notice her at all.

She kept her eyes
on the bucket as she raised it. Once she had it, she slumped to the ground in order to rinse her feet, stifling cries as she poured water. The dirt was rinsed off, and that just made the pain worse. Fresh tears poured down her cheeks, dropping as black spots on her white burnoose. She tore at the hem of her garment with shaking hands. She wouldn’t be able to continue if she didn’t somehow protect her feet.

Averill
dipped the strips of material in the water and bound her feet, stopping often to wipe ceaseless tears on a sleeve. The tears were worse than stupid. They didn’t soothe the burn behind her eyes. They didn’t make the view any clearer. They weakened and sapped her resolve. And none of that would get her to Tenny. Averill stood, using her arms as much as her legs, and that’s when she saw what looked like a walking stick. Propped beside her against the well. Without anyone near enough to claim it.

It didn’t seem possible
.

Averill slid along the well edge, swiping again at her eyes
. It was a miracle! When she most needed it. She pulled the stick to her breast and held it for a long moment, expecting a challenge to her possession at any moment. None came.

And that’s when she knew for certain that she’d make it to Tenny
. All she had to do was get there. And that’s when she realized how poorly she’d been thinking. She shouldn’t have left. She didn’t know where the docks were. She couldn’t even see a ship mast. She didn’t even know which direction to take.

She had to go back
.

Averill
forced her legs to support her for a stand. And then she forced herself to walk, limp forward a step, while the stick supported the move. The other leg was awkward acting as she dragged it forward. But it moved. She could walk. So, she did the maneuver again. And again.

The sun beating down on her was the same she had lived with all her life, but its brightness that day
felt different. Almost unbearable. She stopped at a fruit seller’s stall and reached for the bag at her hip. She gasped as she opened it before quickly slapping it shut. Re-pocketing it. She hobbled away before the man noticed. Tenny had left her a fortune in large coins! She couldn’t buy food with such large coins. Someone would steal them…or do worse to get them. Stupid man.

Stupid, wonderful man!

Averill wiped again at her eyes. It was stupid to cry but the tears wouldn’t cease. The smoke was a gray shade now. Perhaps the fire was out. She started back down streets that blurred together in her mind. Worry arrived next. What if Tenny came for her…and she wasn’t there?

Would he think she’d perished?

Anxiety dogged each step. She moved quicker despite how she stumbled. Ashes clung to the air now. She knew she was getting closer. At times, a cry or groan made her look up, but otherwise, she concentrated on the ground beneath each step.

One more step
, she told herself.
One more. Another....

The
smoke grew thick again. It also carried a horrid sweet smell that made her gag more than once. She covered her mouth and nose with the front of the burnoose. Smoke stung her eyes again, creating even more tears. She blinked uselessly at them, barely recognizing the street that had once been cluttered with humanity.

And then her
eyes widened. She stifled a scream. Smoking, charred, human remains were propped against the building right in front of her. She was going to be ill. Averill clutched her belly and bent forward, leaning against the stick as she heaved for breath. She slid to knees that weren’t working and fell forward until her forehead reached the dirt. She squinted as the dust below her moved as ants scurried about, far removed from the destruction right above them.
Lucky ants
, she thought.

A woman
sobbed somewhere near her, and a child, too. Averill wondered why no one helped them. Couldn’t anyone else hear their misery? Was everyone deaf? And that’s when she heard Tenny.

“How could this have happened
? I want her found and I want it done, now! Now! Do you hear me? Oh, God, help me! Averill!”

Tenny’s anguish
reached through her stupor. Averill lifted her head and tried to focus. He was so near, looking proud and official in his uniform, but he was moving away.

“Tenny!” 

Her voice didn’t work. All that happened was a rough whisper of sound that hurt her throat. She pulled herself upright, forcing her legs to hold her. The walking stick shook with the effort.

“Tenny
! I’m here!”

Averill
stumbled forward, sending agony with each step. He was mounting his horse. Her feet wouldn’t move fast enough. He’d never see her.

“Tenny
! Captain Andrew Tennison! Tenny!” 

She croaked his name
as he lifted the reins. No. No. He was leaving.
No!
And then Harvey turned in her direction. Absolute joy flooded her, overtaking even the pain. Her lower legs no longer existed. Her feet were as nothing.

“Harvey
! Oh, thank God!” 

She gathered breath
through a raw throat. Others in the street saw her. A dog barked at her. Harvey met her eyes over the heads of the crowd. Averill waved wildly with both hands, one even holding her stick.

And t
hen he turned away.

“No!” 

The word was screamed as her throat closed off, her heart swelled, and her belly lurched with a sickening motion. And that’s when her legs failed her completely, dropping her into the dust.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Here you go.”

A
nun lifted Averill’s head and dripped broth across her lips. She choked as it went down wrong. The coughing became a raging torrent that burned her lungs. That just seemed to match everything else. Averill’s eyes fluttered open.

“You’re a very lucky young man
. The wagon nearly ran you over, you poor thing. Here. Let me help you.”

The
woman put an arm behind Averill. Lifted her shoulders. And then the sister fitted a hard pillow behind her back.

“Where...am I?” 
Her voice didn’t give away her gender. It was hoarse. Deep.

“A medical station
. You’ve got some nasty burns there. The doctor wasn’t certain he could save your right foot. As I said before, you’re a very lucky young man.”

“I
…I can’t stay here! There’s an inn outside the gates. I must go there—ah!” 

Averill
’s words ended on a cry as blood rushed to her bandaged feet when she swiveled.

“Well
! Dr. Abrahm will certainly wish words with you. It took him more than two hours to piece skin back together, and here you are, trying to walk on it again.”

“
You must help me, Sister? Please?”  Her eyes burned. Her throat closed off. But no tears came. “I must get to that inn. I must!”

“
Very well. I’ll check with the doctor.”

“
Please? I’ll do anything you ask. And…I can pay.”  She lifted the bag from under her robe and poured coins into her palm. “I have money. See?”

The nun eyed her
. “You didn’t steal that?”

“Of course not
. Look at my clothing. Do I look like a thief?”  She gestured to her once-clean shirt and the dirty white burnoose she’d shredded at the bottom. Perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned anything – the clothing didn’t even fit.

“I promise on all I hold holy that I didn’t steal these coins, or my clothes
, Sister. I swear it.” 

She gripped the nun’s hands
. Her own were dark in comparison, covered with grime and smoke. The sister looked down at their entwined hands and then back up. Averill released her and bowed her head. It was useless. No one was going to help. She waited for the nun to leave.

“Regardless of your need
, I don’t believe you can walk. Not yet. Your feet can’t support you. You need rest. I’ll find conveyance the instant the doctor allows. And you may make a donation to the church with your coin if you like.”

The sister swept from the room while Averill
stared wide-eyed. She hadn’t even thanked her.

~ ~ ~

The throbbing worsened. No matter how she held her feet, or tried to think of other things, the sensation grew. Averill spent the next two days and nights dealing with agony. The bed frame rattled as she gripped it. Pain grew to encompass everything. It dulled the sounds of screaming. It went past tears. It almost blinded her to the sight of the burned mass of flesh in the next cot over. That body was burned to an unrecognizable lump. She couldn’t believe he still lived. In comparison, she had little to deal with. That’s what kept her silent.

Dr. Abrahm
had visited. He’d made a clicking noise with his tongue as he pulled up a stool and lifted her right foot.

“I hear you wish to leave
us.” 

Averill had nodded
. She couldn’t answer. She was afraid the only sound would be a scream. She sucked in breath, and fought to keep the agony to herself. She had to appear well enough to leave. The doctor might refuse to help her otherwise.

“
Well. I can’t say that we don’t need the room now that the battle is starting.” 

He’d
wiped a noxious smelling cloth across her foot, staining it as red as Harvey’s tincture of iodine had once done to Captain Tennison. Averill wrenched her jaw closed and bit down on her lip to deflect pain. It barely worked. Then she’d looked over at the mass of burned boy beside her. His face was the only untouched portion. So calm. So peaceful. He already looked dead.

S
he envied him.

The agony had reached
her thigh before the doctor finished. She forced herself not to react as he started on the other foot, although she couldn’t prevent a jerk as he applied salve. He hadn’t seemed to notice.

“You’re a very good patient
. The sisters have need of more like you.”

He
’d finished and looked down at her as if expecting an answer. She couldn’t talk with her teeth clamped shut. That’s when the first thump came, sounding like thunder at a distance. Dr. Abrahm shook his head.

“The fire was an accident,” he said
. “And now listen. They maim and kill each other on purpose. It makes no sense.”

Averill
concentrated on the booming noise as it came again. She hoped it wasn’t harming Tenny.
Tenny
. Maybe if she envisioned him safely aboard his ship, she could force away her own circumstance. Her pain. Helplessness. She was surprised when it started working.

“I hear you want to reach an inn
. One outside the gates. You understand how foolish that is. Yes?”

“I must get there, Doctor
. It’s not a question of want.” 

Her voice
croaked, and was deeper than his. She hoped he wouldn’t try and stop her. She had to reach her art supplies, and if she was truly lucky, the horses would be there as well. Those were the only connection she still had to Tenny. Somehow she had to let him know she’d survived.

Despite
Harvey.

The doctor
had sighed and smiled slightly. And then he’d answered with words that sent her heart soaring.

“Then
we must get you healed quickly, mustn’t we?”

Averill watched him leave
.
Sweet heaven!
They were going to help her. She would get there, and Harvey’s action would be for nothing. The relief almost overrode the pain. Almost.

~ ~ ~

The inn looked the same. Dilapidated. Forlorn. Averill had the driver stop before the rickety building and actually managed to get down unassisted.

“
This is for Dr. Abrahm.” 

She gave the man two coins and waited until he drove out of sight before
hobbling toward the stables where her supplies should be. It was bad enough she could barely move, without anyone else being aware of it. The boots they’d given her were several sizes too big, but without them, she was unprotected. Her feet might open up and begin weeping again. Besides, as the sisters had teased, the bandages made the boots fit, albeit awkwardly.

Her heart warmed when she saw
her supplies, amid all sorts of other baggage. And there was Pegasus. And two horses. She’d been right about one part. Now, she needed to be right about the other. Tenny had to retrieve his horses before he left. She intended to be ready for him.

“I knew you’d come here.”

It was Harvey. Averill’s hand went to her throat. Her eyes narrowed. She swiveled to face him, grimacing slightly as the movement jarred her feet.

“You
certainly took your time. Did you have trouble finding it? Is that what happened? You get lost?” he asked.

“Where’s Tenny?” 
She tried to speak confidently. Her voice was little more than a whisper. And it hurt her throat.

“A
t his post. We’re at war. He’s a captain in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. He doesn’t have time to think of other things…and that includes you.”

“You lie.”

“I’m sorry, girl. Really, I am.”

“Sorry?”  Her brows rose.

“Don’t you understand, yet?” he asked. “I’m trying to spare heartache here, not cause it.”

She didn’t know what to answer, so she didn’t
. She just glared at him with an unblinking gaze. He sighed heavily and started talking.

“I’m not
simply Captain Tennison’s valet. I’m the Earl of Tennison’s man. I’ve had the responsibility for young Andrew since he entered Eton. It’s not an onerous duty. He has a way about him. Of course, you’ve noticed that. All the women notice that.”  He smiled, but she refused to return it. His smile faded. “And so I had to step in and stop him from making a mistake like…well. Like—”

“Like loving me?” she interrupted.

“He only thinks he loves you. Last year, it was a set of twins, Burmese girls. The year before…I believe it was a Spanish singer who caught his eye. Before that, it was an entire troupe of gaiety girls on loan to the East India Company. I never know who’ll take his fancy from one year to the next. The boy has a lusty nature. Surely you noticed. You’re not his first. You won’t be his last. I’ve lost count. The lad more than sowed his wild oats. He reaped them afterwards.”

“You’re wrong!” 

Her rebuttal came out as little more than a whiff of sound. That angered her more than his words. He was wrong. He had to be. This time was different. Tenny had told her so. He loved her. Why else would Harvey keep her survival a secret? What harm would it do if Tenny knew she lived?

“No,
miss. I’m not.”

Averill met his eyes and then lowered hers
. His looked strangely moist. Sad. As if he pitied her. She wouldn’t accept that from him. Ever.

“Andrew
Tennison will be an earl someday. I don’t know if you know what that means. I’ll try and explain. An earl is a peer of the highest order. The position and title come with great authority, immense wealth, and a shoulder-load of responsibility.”

“He told me.”

“Did he, now? Perhaps he also mentioned that he must marry…and when he does, it must be to his social equal. Oh…he’ll have his pick. They were already hounding him. That’s one reason he fled England for this God-forsaken country. Won’t matter. It’s his duty. It has nothing to do with how he feels. Do you understand yet? The only position he can offer would be his mistress. Is that what he promised you?”

She
shrugged. She didn’t truly know.

“Is that what you want
? Because I must warn you, he has capricious tastes. What I listed before was but a sampling.” 

His voice softened
. The straw she studied so intently went to a blur of yellow and tan. She blinked rapidly until it was clear again.

“Perhaps being his mistress
would be acceptable to you. I’ve no doubt its leagues above what you’re used to. But…there’s a bit more to it. A mistress can be a credit to a man. Andrew has claimed several. All beautiful. All womanly. All...uh. I’ll try and explain without giving offense. It won’t be easy.” 

He stopped
. Averill waited, watching as gooseflesh roved her arms. They were accompanying trembling she couldn’t quite control. He finally spoke again.

“The women in Andrew’s life have all been
uh…clean. You know…bathed. Pure of skin. Healthy. They were discriminating women. All of them. Not one of them lived as a street rat, slept with camels, or sold themselves for coin.”

Averill fl
inched. She hoped he didn’t notice.

“
What I’m trying to say is…if Andrew claims a foreigner for his mistress, it isn’t so bad. You’ve got more than that against you, though. You’re of...uh, uncertain descent, we already know you rarely bathed…and God alone knows how many men you’ve lain with.” 

Averill’s hands balled into fists
. Tenny had told her none of it mattered. He’d reassured her. But she’d known at the time that it wasn’t true. Deep down, she’d known it and feared it. She’d
known
.

Harvey was still talking
. Averill missed the first part of his sentence.

“...could cause immense damage
. It’s amazing the power public opinion has these days. It wasn’t a problem in years past, but...who knows? The cartoonists are scurrilous and the newspapers abound with rumor-mongers. There’s nothing they like better than writing an expose on one of their prestigious lords.   

“The scandal
might be more than even I could repair, especially if there were children...had you considered that? And what will happen when he tires of you? What then? Would he find you another protector? Would you accept that from him? Is that what you want?”

She shook her head
. The straw was back to a blur. She didn’t dare blink.

“I’m sorry,
miss. Truly I am.”

And this
time, she believed him.

“Here
. I paid your passage back to Cairo. It’s aboard an Egyptian ship. Take your canvasses and paints. Andrew wants me to bring back the finished ones, but I can say the innkeeper stole them. Here.”

Averill lifted pain-drenched eyes
. He was holding out a piece of paper. She knew now that physical agony was nothing when compared to what she could feel in her heart.