CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

In order to avoid returning to her mother’s house before driving home, Anna had Ruth with her as well as Blake, her groom, when she drew the phaeton to a halt in Hawthorne’s yard. Handing each of them some coins, she bade them take the morning for themselves in Worcester.

‘Be back here at one – no, make it two. I shan’t want you before then.’

Taking out her keys, she let herself in and locked the door behind her. Then she went first to the office and spent an hour looking through the last quarter’s accounts. Once finished there and taking a duster with her, she went back downstairs to stroll through the exhibition rooms, admiring the new cabinets as she went and imagining how it would all look once the various wares were in place.

The crates holding the Reculver Collection stood open but had not been unpacked. Each bottle was wrapped in soft cloth and protected from its fellows by a mixture of straw and torn up newspaper. Unlocking the lid of the large cabinet which stood in the centre of the second room, Anna began methodically unwrapping and dusting bottles before placing them in it.

As she ought to have known would be the case, she completely lost track of time, scarcely hearing the clock in Nathaniel’s office when it struck noon. Her entire focus was on the gradually emerging collection and how spectacular it was going to look when every piece was placed to its best advantage. At some point, she thought she detected a faint whiff of smoke but assumed that, somewhere upstairs, a window had been left slightly open, allowing the smoke from the kilns to get in. She’d check on that before she left. Meanwhile, she carried on working, unveiling piece after lovely piece until the cabinet was a dazzling display of shape and colour.

No other pottery will have anything finer on exhibition than this , she thought with enormous satisfaction. I dare them to try.

The smell of smoke came again, stronger this time. Anna paused, frowning. Where was it coming from? Leaving what she was doing, she opened the door, stepped into the entrance hall and came to an abrupt stop. The smell was much stronger here; and it wasn’t the familiar coal smell of the kiln ovens. Neither, she suddenly realised with an unpleasant jolt, coming from outside. It was coming from the other side of the door to the corridor off which lay all the work-rooms.

It was inside the building .

***

Roughly half-way to his destination, Daniel halted in Upton-on-Severn to rest and water Cicero. He hadn’t met Anna driving in the opposite direction – hadn’t, in fact, met much traffic at all, it being Sunday. It was coming up to midday. If he still hadn’t met Anna by the time he reached Worcester, she was either staying for a further day because the matter of Samuel Price required it or something else had occurred to delay her departure.

Worry stirred and gnawed at him. Swearing under his breath, he realised he had what his mother would call A Feeling. He didn’t like it.

***

Anna froze, pulse racing and mind working feverishly.

Aside from the coal for the kilns, the manufactory used numerous other flammable materials. Ingredients for glazes, oils and pigments for mixing paints, quantities of turpentine for cleaning brushes. Then there were the stacks of paper for use by the designers. Large quantities of all of these were stored in two locations, well away from each other, with smaller quantities close to where they were needed. And, in addition to this, the limited editions department had its own storeroom which housed stocks of everything.

Every possible precaution was taken to ensure that fire couldn’t start by accident– of that Anna was sure. That this must have been set deliberately was a matter for later. Now was for finding it. Unless the fire-raiser had brought more than a tinder-box with him, there were three likely locations. However, finding out which meant opening the locked door at the far end of the hall and she had a feeling doing so might make everything worse.

She needed help; more help than the pair of firemen tending the ovens. She also needed to stop dithering. She flew to unlock the hall door but left it shut, then she raced outside to the huge bell that was rung to announce the end of the working day. It could be heard a quarter of a mile away. Surely hearing it on a Sunday ought to bring a few folk running to find out why? She heaved on the rope with all her might, over and over again, creating an irregular, alarmed clanging. Then, praying it was enough, she fled along the outside of the building until a glimpse through the windows told her where the fire was.

Fires. There were two of them.

One in the paint store on the ground floor, the other upstairs, next door to the limited edition studio. Words she’d once or twice heard spoken but never previously uttered herself escaped her lips. Harvill or some hireling of his was in there, doing his best to destroy everything Father had built … everything she was sworn to protect … and the livelihoods of over ninety people.

Let him still be here, doing this himself , thought Anna, soaking her handkerchief in a water-butt and snatching up a long-handled shovel, because I’m going to kill him.

She reached the rear door through which she assumed Harvill must have entered and, as she expected, found it unlocked. Thankfully, the kiln firemen were racing towards her from the other direction. Wasting no time, Anna said, ‘Saunders – come with me; Baxter – see if help has arrived and start doing something.’

Baxter nodded and dashed off. Saunders, horrified on his own account as well as Anna’s, said, ‘You can’t go in there, my lady.’

‘Yes. I can.’ And pressing the wet linen over her nose and mouth, she wrenched open the door and went through it, not waiting to see if he followed.

***

Minutes after Anna left the front of the building, a little group of people from nearby cottages – some of them Hawthorne’s workers – began gathering in the yard and were followed soon after by Anna’s phaeton.

Drawing the horses to a halt, Blake called, ‘What’s going on?’

‘Dunno,’ replied one man, scratching his head. ‘Somebody rung the bell so –’

He broke off as an upper floor window shattered allowing smoke to billow out.

‘Oh bloody hell,’ breathed Blake. And without a second’s hesitation, yelled, ‘ Fire! Get buckets and water – now! And more help. Where’s her ladyship? She can’t be stupid enough to stay in there, can she?’

Ruth scrambled down from the phaeton wailing, ‘She can. It’s exactly what she’d do – start trying to put it out instead of getting herself to safety. We’ve got to find her.’

‘How?’ he snapped. ‘I don’t know the lay-out inside and she could be anywhere!’

‘There’s two ways in,’ one of the neighbours told him as another set the bell clanging again. ‘This’n,’ pointing to the front door, ‘and another round the back. We’ll split up – some of us’ll get buckets and start filling ’em, the rest can find extra hands. Can’t do much without.’

The men dispersed, leaving Ruth wringing her hands amidst a small huddle of women. She said, ‘If something happens to my lady, how am I going to tell her mother – never mind his lordship?’

***

Inside, her eyes already streaming, Anna heard the upstairs window break and gambled on the likelihood that Harvill – And please, please let it be Harvill – had lit the upper fire before setting the lower one and risk being caught in his own trap. Both hands being occupied, she jabbed Saunders with her elbow, then pointed along the corridor towards the paint store and the other rooms beyond it. Trying to shield his mouth and nose with his sleeve, he nodded miserably and followed her.

Upstairs, the fire could be heard gathering pace. Smoke was billowing throughout the building and, against the crackling of flames, Anna could hear bottles exploding inside the paint store where the blaze had a firm hold and was sending out unpleasant fumes. Pointing again, this time to the large, stoneware bottles of water stacked against the far wall, Anna indicated that she wanted Saunders to do what he could. Then, leaving him to it and starting to cough, she lurched onwards. Four rooms ahead of her, something else was burning. But before she got that far, the next open door revealed Harvill, busily piling stacks of paper in the centre of the floor.

‘Don’t you dare! ’ she choked. And took a wild swing at him with the shovel.

It whacked him squarely between the shoulder-blades, sending him to his knees with a grunt. Standing over him ready to hit him again, Anna managed, between spasms of coughing, to say, ‘What is the matter with you? Trying to burn the place down because I won’t sell? Are you insane? ’

Harvill didn’t reply, choosing instead to put all his efforts into standing up.

Anna was having none of that. She whacked him again. He dropped forward, leaning on his hands and said jerkily, ‘Don’t want your damned factory. Never did.’

***

By the time Daniel arrived, the upstairs fire had spread to the adjacent room and black smoke was pouring out through the broken window. Below in the yard, a brawny fellow was filling bucket after bucket from the pump while a chain of women passed them hand to hand to the men carrying them into the building. The entire scene was like something out of a nightmare and his skin turned icy cold.

Seeing Ruth standing nearby, watching, he said, ‘Where’s my wife?’

‘She … she …’ stammered the maid. And, unable to frame the words, pointed.

Daniel’s breath promptly evaporated. A voice in his head said, No. No, no, no. This isn’t happening. He croaked, ‘Tell me she’s not in there.’ But the girl’s face told him that she was. He spun round and raced to the door. He was vaguely aware that both the chain of women and the men carrying the water inside were operating a system; one bucket went upstairs, the next one down. Further along the building, another window exploded making everyone either duck or jump.

Daniel did neither. He just forced his way through the door, shouting, ‘Where is she? Do any of you know? Where is she? ’

‘Not sure, m’lord,’ said someone. ‘We think she’s maybe down here somewhere but there’s men checking upstairs as well. Trouble is, there’s more’n one fire and they’re spreading because a lot of the rooms open on to each other.’

Daniel knew that. He remembered it from the tour Anna had given him.

Dread paralysed his lungs and froze his brain.

The only thought he had was, Where are you? Where? I can’t lose you. Not like this. Not at all. I couldn’t bear it.

And racing down the corridor, where small fires seemed to be breaking out in rooms on either side of him, he bellowed her name over and over again.

***

Anna didn’t hear him. Eyes streaming, throat raw and still threatening Harvill with the shovel, she managed to say, ‘What do you mean – you don’t want it? What have all these weeks been about – if not that?’

It was a few moments before he answered her – though whether because he didn’t want to or because, like her, he could scarcely breathe, let alone speak, she didn’t know.

But finally he gasped, ‘The land. I want … the land. What’s in it is … mine.’

Anna had no idea what he was talking about but knew that this wasn’t the time to care. She could hardly see and her chest hurt. But from somewhere outside the room and overhead she could hear hurried footsteps and male voices exchanging staccato remarks. Help had arrived. There was a chance that not quite everything would go up in smoke.

Then Daniel was in the doorway, leaning against the architrave for a second to stare at her before storming across the floor to haul her into a bone-crushing embrace.

‘Oh God,’ he breathed. ‘Oh God. Thank you.’

He was holding her so close she could feel the too-rapid thudding of his heart. She let her muscles go slack and leaned into him, weak with the knowledge that he was here … so everything would be all right.

Daniel gave a long, shuddering sigh, tried to pull himself together and, failing, said less steadily than he would have liked, ‘Anna, love … unless you want to frighten me into an early grave, don’t do anything like this again. Ever .’

Something inside her lurched. He’d called her ‘love’. And even though she knew he might not mean it literally, it still took root in her heart and made it sing.

But they were forgetting Harvill and he, aware of it, was slithering his way towards the door. Daniel checked him with one foot, saying coldly, ‘Don’t move another inch if you want to leave this room intact.’ And to Anna, ‘Harvill, I presume?’

‘Yes.’

He nodded and, as one of the water-carriers paused in the doorway, said, ‘This fellow is the fire-raiser. Tie him up and put him somewhere safe until I can be bothered with him.’ And once more to Harvill, ‘Be grateful that they’re putting out your fires. If the whole place had been going up, I’d have left you inside to burn with it.’

Giving a startled gasp as he swept her up and carried her out, Anna said, ‘No. You wouldn’t.’

‘I might. I would if he’d hurt you. But let’s just get out of here.’

They emerged into the yard to a ragged cheer which he acknowledged with a wave and something resembling a grin. Then, setting Anna on her feet and allowing himself one brief, fierce kiss, he said, ‘Later, I may be able to cherish the memory of seeing you standing over Harvill like the wrath of God. But not just yet. Right now, my nerves are still shredded. Don’t be surprised if I chain you to my wrist for a week or two. Or longer.’

Turning to the clucking women surrounding them, he said, ‘Look after her ladyship, please. I’ll be back in a little while.’ Then, knowing that Anna was in good hands, he strode over to the pump and told the sweating fellow operating it to take a break, adding, ‘I need to work off the urge to put my hands around a man’s throat … this will help.’

***

Unfortunately, the day was far from over. Anna refused to leave until she was sure there was no further danger. Then she insisted on taking a preliminary look at the damage which she eventually declared bad but not catastrophic. The work rooms would need cleaning and redecorating; furniture and various pieces of equipment would have to be replaced, as would most of the stocks of oils, pigments and so forth. But all the finished wares were stored in a separate part of the building on the far side of the offices, so none of those had been lost or damaged – which was a blessing. Finally, she had a note taken to Nathaniel Lowe’s home so he would be prepared for what awaited him tomorrow morning.

Daniel, meanwhile, sent for a pair of constables to arrest Harvill, informing them that he’d want to question the fellow himself on the morrow. It occurred to him that he’d recently had a lot more to do with officers of the law than any sane man would want to. He hoped this would be the last of it.

By the time everything was done it was far too late to set off for Reculver – even if either he or Anna were in any fit state to do so. So he told Blake to take Cicero, ride to Hawthorne Lodge and warn Anna’s mother to expect them and that they would require baths. He hoped she’d keep her opinions on Harvill to herself.

***

Mrs Hawthorne received the news that her gentleman friend was currently under arrest for attempting to burn down the manufactory with a lack of comment which actually said a great deal. Much later, eyes still red and throat a little sore but glad to be clean again, Anna snuggled up to Daniel and, yawning, said, ‘It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?’

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ he agreed.

Among the other shocks to his system had been one of cataclysmic proportions. A discovery that was simultaneously both new and yet not new at all.

Quite simply, he was fathoms deep in love with his wife – and had been for a long time without recognising it. But today, in those brief minutes when he’d thought he might lose her … might have already lost her … the truth had hit him. She was his need, his delight and his haven when life’s storms threatened to overwhelm him – all things he’d taken for granted.

But no more , he decided.

The mere thought of being without her was too painful to bear. Did she know, he wondered? Could she know when he hadn’t himself? Probably not. But today had taught him a hard lesson. One about not taking anything for granted. Not tomorrow … and not his wife. Emotion clogged his throat. He swallowed it. This could not wait.

~** ~**~