She moved to the left wall and seized an old wooden bucket. No water, but it was filled to the rim with dark soil. Gasping, she emptied it on the flames.
But it was too late.
They were already eating away at the workbench, table, and wooden tools that were littered across the surface.
“Merrylad, here.” Back to the door. More pounding. More barking. “Fire! Help!” Over and over, until the smoke choked her voice, until her eyes stung and watered.
God, please.She saw herself at the cottage hearth. Nestled by Captain’s knees. Listening to his soothing voice while the fire crackled and sparked. How many times had she imagined beautiful dancing maidens in those warm flames? Or fancied the tiny sparks were magic fairies?
She slammed her body again. The impact took her breath. The fire was growing. If someone didn’t hear her, if they didn’t come soon—
The door jerked open and she toppled into someone’s arms. “Mercy, miss.” The older man swung her off her feet, ran farther into the garden, and settled her onto a dewy iron bench. “Sit here now, miss, and let me help you.”
“My dog—”
“Right here, miss.” The wrinkle-faced man tugged Merrylad to her, then disappeared. Shouts echoed in the distance. Talk of fire and water and buckets.
Her limbs shuddered, and she lifted Merrylad to her lap. His hair smelled burnt. A little longer in there and they’d both have been little fire fairies themselves.
“Ye almost died, Miss Gillingham?” Minney appeared, eyes soft with sleep. “The gardener, Mr. Cott, he saved’ee. He’s sending for the doctor now and men are working on the fire. Why there be a fire, Miss Gillingham? You cause that fire to kill’eeself?”
Merrylad squirmed from her arms and ran to the girl’s feet.
Minney lowered and rubbed him with pale and crooked fingers. “Ye did try to kill’eeself. I know’ee did.”
“No, that isn’t true.” Eliza stood on shaking legs. “Someone locked the door. They broke the window and started the fire—”
“I don’t care if ’ee wanted to kill’eeself. When we was still in Cornwall, my mamm killed herself. Then we moved here. Papa did it too. He had to ’cause they…well, he just had to. People die all the time. I don’t care if ’ee die too if ’ee want to—”
“Minney.” Mrs. Eustace marched toward them and snatched the girl’s arm. “Take the dog and find another suitable place to make him a bed. And do stay out of everyone’s way. Is that clear?”
With a muttering answer, the girl hobbled to do her bidding.
“And you, Miss Gillingham.” Mrs. Eustace’s eyes went up and down Eliza’s length, as if searching for injury. “The gardener relayed everything to me. Are you all right?”
“Someone locked me in.”
“Preposterous.”
“It is true. They locked the door first and then started the fire—”
“If you overturned a candle, Miss Gillingham, I should rather hear a confession than some ridiculous, fabricated story. Heaven only knows what you were doing out here at the break of dawn anyway.” Her gaze dropped to Eliza’s feet. “And without shoes, no less. Do you want to shame your father—and all of Monbury Manor in the doing?”
“All I want to do is go home.”
“To that savage forest? I think not.” Mrs. Eustace grabbed Eliza’s hand. “Come now. Let us get you inside and I shall have a maid bring out the tub and kettles of warm water. You reek of smoke.”
“But Merrylad—”
“He will be quite safe with Minney. You may also abandon all these nonsensical ideas of someone trying to harm you. Your imagination, I see, is still getting the best of you, even after all these years.”
The locked door was no imagination. Nor was the fire.
Which meant only one thing.
Someone had tried to kill her.
Well, mayhap he had not lost his one friend after all.
