My steps flew. Why would I hurry to an empty house in flames? Because I knew, in fact might be the only person to know, that there was a chance it wasn’t empty.
The structure wasn’t entirely engulfed, but there was a great deal of smoke.
“Jelly!”
I untied my cloak and pulled it over my head before I opened the door. A thick curtain of smoke poured out. I threw myself onto the ground and crossed the threshold, crawling on my stomach.
“Jelly!”
I heard something—a whimpering in one moment, a groan the next. I crawled in the direction of the sound, for all was dark and I feared the flames and smoke. I kept the cloak close over my head. I found the steps first. My hands followed the shape of the cupboard over to the right, and I ran my fingers over the wood until I found the leather string to pull the door open. Jelly was crouched in a tight ball. I reached in and covered her with my cloak and tugged. We rolled backward.
Flames licked the ceiling above me, and I tried to take in breath so I could cover us again and get out. My lungs stung and my eyes watered. A plume of smoke seemed to reach out, and I thought it would consume us. But the smoke had firm hands and a pair of arms. Suddenly Jelly and I were upheld and moved swiftly out of the cottage. What happened next is unclear. I remember lying on the ground and coughing. We were surrounded by people and tended to. I remember shouts and the thunder of running feet. Then I was floating, like I was covering miles and miles with no effort at all. I enjoyed the sensation. It was like I was a baby again, riding with Papa through his fields. I thought I might see him again, and I took hold of this thought and allowed it to guide me into unconsciousness.
When I woke, I felt a heaviness on me on my right side. I thought I had been injured or lost feeling in that part of my body, so I shifted to assess my condition. I heard a child’s excited whisper below my ear.
“Miss Bébinn!”
It was Jelly, lying next to me, holding on to me.
“You’re all right!”
“Yes, honey, I’m all right.”
She jumped from the bed and ran into the hallway. “Daddy Daddy Daddy! She’s awake!”
I heard a commotion on the stairs and a rumbling down the wide gallery. But instead of Jelly’s father, Mr. Colchester appeared in my doorway. His face was colored in pain, and his eyes glinted with a wild energy. But he didn’t come into the room, and he didn’t say a word. In another moment Jelly had returned with Templeton and Missus Livingston.
“Thank the Lord! How are you, child?” Missus Livingston brushed past Mr. Colchester and laid a cool hand on my forehead.
I tried to sit up, but she pressed down gently on my arm. “Don’t try to get up.”
“No, it’s easier to breathe,” I said. “Please, I just need to sit up.”
I rose, and she adjusted the pillows behind me so I was comfortably supported.
“Miss Bébinn, thank you. Thank you. I would’ve lost her for sure.” Templeton stood at the bottom of the bed. He held Jelly tight against him; her eyes were trained solidly on me. I saw no burns and guessed she had been scared more than anything else.
“I thank God I was there.”
Mr. Colchester stepped forward. “Missus Livingston, she must be hungry.”
“Yes, perhaps some tea, Miss Bébinn? And something light.” She left the room quickly.
“Templeton, please leave us. I want to talk to Miss Bébinn.”
“Yeah. Come on, Jelly.”
She wouldn’t budge.
“Come on, Jelly, she ain’t going nowhere.”
The girl came to me, threw her arms around my neck, and kissed my cheek. Then she ran from the room. Templeton bowed to me and followed her.
Mr. Colchester closed the door behind them. “In the name of God, what the hell did you think you were doing?”
“Sir?” I hadn’t expected to be berated.
“You both could have died! In another moment the roof would have fallen in on you.”
“I didn’t think. I acted.”
“How did you come to be there?”
I briefly related to him how I’d visited the school, witnessed the flames upon leaving the building, and rushed to the cottage when I realized it was on fire.
“Jelly likes to read in the little closet under the stairs,” I said. “I knew she might be in there. I had to check.”
He listened. His level of upset increased as I went on.
“You found the girl. Did you see anyone?”
“No, sir, but I didn’t look around. I went toward the fire and went in. That’s all I remember.”
He made no reply but paced the room back and forth twice. Then he stood silent with his arms folded, looking at the ground. At the end of a few minutes, he finally said, “I knew life here would be different because of you, that you would bring goodness and light to this place. I cannot tell you how I came to think this. You have been a great help to me ever since you broke my fall down the stairs. It hurts me to know that goodness could put your life at risk. That we could have lost you. I have never known such bravery.”
“I did what anyone would do.”
“No, not anyone! And you could have suffered a horrible and excruciating death because of it! No, I will not allow you to be modest about this.”
He stood silent again and seemed to be waiting. Then, awkwardly, he held out his hand; I hesitated but finally gave him mine. He took it first in one, then in both of his own. He gazed at me; his lips trembled as though he would say something more. His eyes blazed with their colorful glint.
He wouldn’t release my hand.
We were suspended like this how long? I hardly know. I heard Missus Livingston on the landing. In another moment she was at the door with my tray.
Mr. Colchester moved swiftly to open the door for her. Once she entered, he swept through the door himself and was gone.
Missus Livingston set the tray before me and chattered on, but I could listen to only half of what she said. I didn’t want to eat, but she watched me closely and encouraged every bite. A fierce energy whipped about within me. I wanted badly to be alone so I could nurse the burgeoning bubble of joy forming within me.
Chapter 9
The next morning I awoke to a soft knock on my bedroom door. I felt buoyed on some happy dreams I couldn’t remember—the sense of delight dissipated from my brain like an early fog. I both hoped and feared that the knock belonged to Mr. Colchester. I wanted to hear his voice, to know if the strange tones of yesterday would be repeated again, yet I didn’t know if I had the confidence to look him in the face. Of course it was silly of me to expect such a visit; before yesterday, he had never set foot in my room, nor did he have any reason to. It wasn’t proper. But nothing about the fire or the events that had followed had been ordinary, so I thought I could expect different behaviors. It seemed right that he would come to see me.
I sat up and smoothed my hair back and away from my face as best I could. “Come in,” I said.
It was not Mr. Colchester. It was Founder.
She stepped slowly into the room, surveyed its contents, then approached my bed. She wore a light-blue scarf wrapped around her head to form a kind of turban. Her simple brushed cotton dress was a darker shade of blue, with a brooch in the shape of a silver rose pinned to her left shoulder.