Claire Thornton - The Vagabond Duchess

Temperance walked over to Jack. He paused, one hand resting on the side of the cart.

‘We’re nearly done in the shop—why don’t you start upstairs?’ he suggested.

She nodded and went inside. It was agonising deciding between what she could take and what she would be forced to leave behind.

‘What’s going?’ Jack asked from behind her.

She pointed mutely, making ruthless decisions with tears in her eyes. Jack picked up the largest item and started downstairs. They finished loading the cart in silence.

‘Is that everything?’ Jack asked at last.

‘I think so.’

‘Good.’ He glanced over her shoulder, and she saw his expression change. She spun around, then clapped her hands to her mouth in shock.

The fire had reached Cornhill. For the first time she could see the flames when she was standing at her own front door.

‘Oh my God!’ she whispered. ‘It’s nearly here.’

For a moment her feet seemed frozen to the ash-covered cobbles. Then life surged back into her limbs. She dashed inside the building and rushed up the stairs. When Jack caught up with her she was flinging open cupboard doors and dragging drawers from the old dresser.

‘What are you looking for?’

‘Everything. Nothing. What if I’ve missed something important?’ She stared around in panic, then headed up another flight to her bedchamber. ‘What if I’ve missed something?’ she kept repeating, as she tossed discarded items left and right in her distress.

Jack’s arms closed around her from behind. ‘You can replace anything except life,’ he said gently. ‘It’s better to live to fight another day than to take on a foe you can’t beat. Now be still and think quietly. You’ve already taken a little carved box. I know it’s important to you because you put it straight into your pocket. Is there anything else here that means so much to you?’

‘My brother made the box,’ she said, her thoughts going off at a tangent.

‘Where is he now?’ She felt Jack’s breath against her cheek as he held her from behind.

‘He died when I was thirteen.’

‘I’m sorry. Then of course you must keep it safe. Is there anything else here so important to you? Just close your eyes and rest a moment.’

His voice was so soothing and unhurried she did as he bid. Just for a few seconds she relaxed enough to let her mind range over her belongings and all the years to see if there was anything she’d forgotten.

‘My mother’s sewing box.’ She made an instant move to fetch it, dismayed she’d forgotten it until that moment. What else had she forgotten?

Jack held her still.

‘Anything else?’

‘I don’t know.’ Panic began to rise in her once more, and tears leaked from her eyes. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Fetch the sewing box,’ he said gently. ‘It’s time to go.’ He released her and stepped back.

She careered down the stairs and found the sewing box in its familiar place in the alcove by the fire. It had been in full view all the time. She was so used to seeing it there her eyes had passed over it every time she’d scanned the room for important things to save.

She clattered down the rest of the stairs to the shop floor, terrified they’d lingered too long and the fire would be upon them. To her relief, the flames didn’t seem much closer. The fire was making inexorable progress through the old timber buildings, but not so quickly a healthy man couldn’t stay ahead of it.

That didn’t stop the carter cursing them for the delay.

‘Be quiet and drive!’ Temperance snapped. He hadn’t lifted a finger to help them load the cart, but she knew he was being paid a fortune for his services.

She and Jack and Isaac walked beside it as it rattled over the cobblestones. When she looked around she realised they were the last people to leave this part of Cheapside. The fire roared behind them, so loud it drowned out the sound of the cartwheels. Sparks as well as ash showered down on them. High above them the thick black smoked blocked out the sun.

They were halfway to St Paul’s when Temperance remembered Agnes.

‘Isaac! Did you see Agnes leave?’

‘I…’ He drew in a breath and coughed on a gust of smoke. ‘I didn’t see her.’ He stared at Temperance. ‘But I wasn’t looking. Surely she must have—’

‘Did you?’ she demanded of Jack.

‘No.’

‘Carter!’ She lifted her voice in a cracked shout. ‘Did you see an old woman leave the shop next to mine?’

‘Wasn’t looking.’

Temperance spun around and headed back the way they’d come. She didn’t much like Agnes, but she couldn’t leave her to burn. Jack seized her shoulder, pulling her to a stop.

She tried to shake him off. ‘I have to go back. Make sure she left.’

‘You stay with the cart,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll go.’

Before she had time to protest at his high-handedness he was running back towards the flames.

Temperance paused on the verge of following him. ‘Carry on to Covent Garden!’ she shouted at Isaac. ‘Bundle’s Coffeehouse. Don’t forget.’

‘But, mistress—’

‘I have to see Agnes is safe. Go!’ she insisted, when he seemed reluctant to obey. ‘It’s your duty to make sure everything gets safely to the coffeehouse. I’m counting on you, Isaac.’

She pulled her skirt almost to her knees and started to run. Modesty no longer mattered. She had to catch up with Jack and find Agnes. She was still clutching the workbox to her chest. She wished she’d had the presence of mind to put it in the cart, but it was too late now. As she got closer to Agnes’s shop, her pace slowed. The far end of Cheapside was already a roaring wall of flames. As she watched, the fire leapt the width of the wide street. If Temperance hadn’t known better, she would have sworn the flames were alive. She wanted to turn and run, but she forced herself to go forward. Jack was ahead of her for sure and so, perhaps, was Agnes.

The shop door stood wide. She rushed inside, shouting their names.

‘Here,’ Jack called from upstairs. ‘Stay there.’

‘What? Why?’ Horrors flashed through her mind. She started up the stairs.

‘We’re coming down. Move, Tempest!’

She jumped back and Jack emerged into the shop with Agnes in his arms.

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Temperance hurried ahead of him into the street.

‘Fell on the stairs and twisted her knee,’ Jack said. ‘Stay close to me.’

Temperance almost had to run to keep up with his ground-eating strides. She didn’t ask any more questions. She had no breath to spare and Jack had Agnes safe. An occasional shudder racked the old woman, and there was a pinched look on her face, but the fire would not get her now.

Jack paused once they were level with St Paul’s. There was a stitch in Temperance’s side. She wanted to double over to ease her aching muscles, but resisted the urge.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘Covent Garden.’ Jack sounded mildly surprised by her question. His voice was hoarse, and even his breathing was more laboured than usual.

‘Her niece lives in Southwark,’ Temperance said.

‘I can talk for myself, girl!’ Agnes snapped.

‘Does your niece have room for you?’ Jack asked.

‘Of course she does. She’s family.’

‘We’d best take you there, then.’ Jack set off again, striding through St Paul’s churchyard as he headed obliquely for the river. Temperance kept close to him as they pushed through the crowds around the cathedral. When she looked to her left she was shocked to see they were moving parallel with the fire. It had travelled further west along the edge of the Thames than she’d realised. They’d have to go further than she’d expected to find a boat to take them across to Southwark.