Despised & Desired: The Marquess' Passionate Wife by Bree Wolf
Frederick! Ellie’s mind screamed, and her heart constricted painfully.
Instantly, her earlier paralysis fell from her, and she jumped out of bed, urged onward by her worst fears. “Frederick!” she called in a panic. “Frederick, are you in there?” As she reached the closed door, a sudden warmth jumped out at her as though she had run into a wall.
With trembling hands, Ellie reached for the door handle but stopped when the heat radiating off it singed her already scarred skin. Tears sprang from her eyes as her mind conjured imagines of the inferno that had to be raging inside.
As panic crawled up her spine, threatening to engulf her, Ellie remembered Frederick’s loving eyes, and a new strength surged through her.
Swallowing, she brushed away her tears, then returned to the bed and reached for the thick coverlet. Before she could even begin to think about doing anything else and alert the house to the fire, she had to know if Frederick was in his room.
Wrapping a corner of the coverlet around her hand, she approached the door once more, feeling the heat emanating from it painfully on her skin. Pressing herself to the wall beside the door handle, she reached out, knowing that she would have to be fast.
For a quick moment, Ellie closed her eyes, then took a deep breath and before panic could take her once more, her padded hand snapped out like a whip and pushed down the door handle.
Instantly, the door flew open, and Ellie jumped backwards as a wall of fire surged forward, reaching out its hands for her. Large flames licked at the wooden floor, touched the cabinet by the side wall and within minutes the small bouquet of dried flowers Mathilda had given her was ablaze.
Staring into the flames, Ellie felt herself moved backwards through time.
Again, she saw her little brother’s body lying on the floor as the fire closed in on him. Again, she heard his nursemaid’s screams of terror. Again, she felt her heart hammering in her chest and panic flooding every fibre of her being.
As though paralysed, Ellie stood in the corner of the room as the wall of fire slowly moved forward, threatening to cut off her only escape: the door leading out into the corridor.
Out of nowhere, a wave of nausea washed over her, and Ellie blinked.
Shaking her head, she forced the sense of numb detachment from her mind, and her hand went instinctively to her belly, shielding the precious life within. This time she would not be able to sacrifice her own life in order to save someone she loved. This time her child would die with her…if she failed to save herself.
Fresh tears came to her eyes, and for a moment, despair settled on her aching limbs as the smoke grew denser around her, drawing racking coughs from her body.
Again, nausea returned, and Ellie groaned, one hand braced against the wall to keep from sinking to her knees. One hand clutched to her belly, she staggered forward as a slight chill went over her. Stopping in her tracks, Ellie felt a presence within herself that she hadn’t noticed before as though her child was urging her not to give up, reminding her of what she had to lose.
Holding the fabric of her sleeve before her face, Ellie drew in a shallow breath as her eyes surveyed the situation before her.
From what she could see, Frederick’s chamber was completely engulfed in flames. If he was in there, …
Ellie swallowed and determinedly pushed that thought aside. It served no purpose. She had to think of her child.
The only way out that remained was the door to the corridor. However, she would have to move fast since the flames entering her bedchamber through the open door were already blocking her way, reaching out their orange tongues for her bed. Should the bedding catch fire, she would be trapped by a wall of flames on all sides.
Gathering up her nightgown, Ellie shot forward and flung herself across the mattress, rolling off the other side with such force that she hit the floor painfully. A sharp pain shot through her shoulder, reminding her of the day Frederick had fallen off his horse. As she tried to move her arm though, only a mild pain pulsed in her shoulder, which suggested that the joint had not been dislocated.
Scrambling to her feet, Ellie stumbled forward, eyes fixed on the door. The short distance suddenly seemed insurmountable, and her heart sank.
Nonetheless, she pushed onward as a wave of dizziness washed over her, and she staggered forward like someone too deep in the cups. The world blurred before her eyes, and she reached out a hand to keep from running into the door head-first.
As her hand made contact with the door, it felt as though her wrist was snapped in half. A blinding pain shot through her body, and heaving sobs rose from her throat. Gritting her teeth, Ellie swallowed, slowly drawing in a breath through her nose.
When the pain subsided, she reached out her other hand for the door handle, feeling its relatively cool surface against her heated skin, and pulled.
The door wouldn’t open.
As panic rose once more, Ellie frantically moved the handle up and down, pulling on the door with all her might.
However, it remained closed, and her foggy mind finally realised that it was locked.
As the bedding behind her went up in flames, Ellie stood staring at the keyhole in dumb-founded incomprehension. She could not recall a single day that this door had been locked. Why would it be locked now?
Chapter Forty-Two – A Light in the Dark
“It was a wonderful evening,” Maryann enthused, her eyes glowing like the stars themselves in the dim interior of the carriage. “I truly enjoyed it.” Her gaze shifted from him to Oliver and on to his mother sitting beside her.
Theresa smiled and gently squeezed her hand. “You are welcome, child. My heart soared seeing you so happy tonight.”
“I have to admit you are still the superb dancer that you’ve always been,” Oliver said, a hint of regret in his voice.
Frederick laughed. “I’m afraid you will always be the worst dancer at any event no matter who is or is not on the guest list. Not even lack of practise could bring Maryann down to your lev-el.”
Shooting him a disgusted look, Oliver crossed his arms, the hint of a pout on his face as Maryann tried her best to suppress a giggle. His mother shook her head at him; however, she refrained from commenting on his lack of manners.
As the carriage rumbled along, silence filled the small space as each one of them turned to their own thoughts. Finally freed from his promise to watch over Maryann’s happiness, Frederick felt his mind instinctively return to his wife and the secret she had shared with him that day.
He would be a father! The thought echoed in his ears, and yet, Frederick had trouble believing it to be true.
A few weeks ago, such news would have sent him packing; only now, everything was different. The thought of leaving his wife and child was so ludicrous that he could hardly believe it had sprung from his own mind.
A loud rapping echoed through the carriage roof, and their heads snapped up. “My Lord, you might want to take a look at that.”
Instantly, the carriage stopped, and the door swung open.
Stepping outside, Frederick turned to his coachman. “What is it, Thompson?”
“Over there, my lord.” Jumping from his seat on the box, the coachman pointed into the distance.
Turning his head, Frederick stared into the night.
At first, he could hardly make out his surroundings as the sky seemed to be a black abyss, swallowing up all light. However, as his eyes slowly adjusted, the faint light of the stars allowed him to glimpse the outline of Elmridge in the distance. “What is it?” he mumbled just as a heavy cloud moved onward, revealing the small sliver of moon that hung in the sky.
The added light instantly froze Frederick’s features.
Despite the late hour, the front yard bustled with activity as people ran in a disorderly fashion from here to there, their movements and occasional shouts not merely betraying haste but panic as well. However, what froze the blood in Frederick’s veins was the soft orange glow emanating from the back of the house.
“Oh, God, there’s a fire!” Oliver called next to him.
“What?” his mother’s and Maryann’s voices echoed over from the carriage before they, too, joined them, staring out into the distance at the only colour on an otherwise black canvas.
“Ellie,” Frederick gasped in horror.
Only a moment later, Maryann’s shriek pierced the night, “Mathilda!”
Gritting his teeth, Frederick took a deep breath, then spun around. “Oliver and I will take the horses! The rest of you stay here.”
As the coachman began to unhitch the horses, Frederick shrugged off his overcoat.
“This is taking too long,” Oliver observed, pointing at the many buckles that needed to be opened to free the horses.
“You’re right.” Drawing a small dagger from his boot, Frederick began to cut through the leather, oddly reminded of his own accident. He still didn’t know if his saddle girth had been cut.
“You carry a dagger in your boot?” Oliver asked, staring at him.
Not looking up, Frederick nodded, then handed the reins of the first horse to his friend and bent to work on the next. Before long, they mounted the animals, who pranced around nervously, feeling the agitation that hung in the air like smoke.
Racing through the night, his eyes focused on the orange glow as it slowly grew bigger, Frederick prayed that they wouldn’t be too late.
Moments seemed to stretch into hours as the cool night air brushed over his face, and his fingers began to ache as he held them curled around the reins in an iron grip.
When they finally descended the small hill leading down toward the drive, Frederick saw a line of servants leading from the small well in the back to the house, handing buckets of water from one to the next and passing the empty ones back.
Stopping by the front stoop, he slid off his horse, Oliver close behind him. “Where is my wife?” Frederick called, his eyes searching the yard, hoping to catch a glimpse of her golden hair.
As though out of nowhere, Wilton appeared, bowing stiffly. “My lord, I am so relieved to see−”
“My wife!” Frederick snapped, grabbing the butler by his shirt front. “Where is my wife?”
“We believe she is upstairs,” Wilton answered hastily.
Almost tossing him aside, Frederick bounded up the stairs to the front door.
“Uncle Frederick!”
Stopping in his tracks, he turned to the voice, and his heart skipped a beat as Mathilda came racing toward him in her nightgown. He caught her in his arms, hugging her close. “Are you all right?”
The girl nodded, tears running down her cheeks.
“Stay here,” he said, setting her back down. “Do not come into the house.”
Then he turned around and, followed by Oliver, crossed the front hall and sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time.
Rushing down the corridor toward his wife’s bedchamber, he found a throng of people out-side her door. No fire was visible, but dark smoke hung in the air, sneaking into his lungs. “What is going on?” he coughed. “Where is my wife?”
Peter, his stable master, stepped toward him, his face and hands darkened by the small particles drifting through the air. “The door is locked, my lord,” he gasped, breathing heavily, “and the key is missing.”
“What?”
“We’ve been trying to break it down, but it won’t budge.” Wiping his sleeve over his fore-head, he pointed at the men still at work behind him. “Your bedchamber is completely ablaze, my lord. We are not sure about the condition of your wife’s room. From the window, it does−”
“The window,” Frederick mumbled and spun around, racing back the way they had come.
Stepping outside, he breathed in the fresh night air, and his body instantly felt rejuvenated. In large strides, they rounded the house, passing by the stables as two men emerged, carrying a long ladder.
“My lord!” they called, gesturing toward the gardens.
Unable to keep still, Frederick sprinted ahead until he came to stand below his wife’s window.
A wave of relief washed over him as he saw her standing by the open window, coughing vigorously, her face streaked with soot.
When her eyes beheld him, her face lit up and a relieved smile spread over her face. “Frederick!” she called as sobs tore from her throat.
Unable to tear his eyes away from her as the men set the ladder below her window, Frederick froze as the dark behind her suddenly shone more brightly and flames moved into his field of vision. The breath caught in his throat, and his heart constricted so painfully that he thought he would faint.
Rushing forward, he pushed the men aside just as his wife climbed onto the windowsill. In a matter of seconds, he climbed the ladder and the most wonderful feeling swept through his heart as she sank into his arms. Holding her tight, he glanced over her shoulder at the raging inferno.
Truly, they had no time to lose. If they had only been a few moments later, she would have been lost to them−to him−forever.
Closing his eyes, Frederick pushed that thought aside and carefully carried her down the ladder.
Chapter Forty-Three – Mathilda’s Moment
Huddled under the tall oak tree by the water fountain, Ellie pulled one deep breath after the other into her lungs. The fresh air tickled her insides as though her body was slowly waking up. Suddenly away from the unbearable heat, a cold chill went up and down her back, and she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
Glancing up, she found Frederick nervously pacing the lawn, Oliver by his side, before he once again strode over and sat down beside her, his arms coming around her as though he was still afraid to lose her.
“I am fine,” she whispered, snuggling into his shoulder. Only a mild pain in her wrist and shoulder remained.
“Are you certain?” His gaze burned into hers, then dipped lower to where her hand still rested protectively on her belly.
Smiling, Ellie nodded, and the relief that washed over his face brought tears to her eyes. She reached up then and cupped her hand to his cheek. “We are both fine.”
He crushed her to his chest then, burying his face in her hair, and for a long time, they sat locked in each other’s embrace, oblivious to their surroundings.
Since everyone had finally been accounted for, the underlying panic had finally died down and only the desire to save as much of the manor as possible hastened people’s movements. The line of servants still supplied water although even a full bucket was little more than a drop in the ocean. At least, for the moment, the fire didn’t seem to spread, the massive oak doors charred but unyielding under the raging inferno.
“Where is Mama?” Mathilda’s tear-heavy voice reached their ears, and reluctantly, they pulled back.
Letting go of Betty’s hand, the little girl came running toward them. “Where is Mama?”
“She will be here soon,” Oliver said before Frederick had even opened his mouth. “They are still with the carriage, but I’ve sent men to retrieve them.” He brushed a hand over her unruly curls. “Do not worry. She will be here soon.”
Opening the blanket, Ellie drew the little girl onto her lap and wrapped them both in it as though huddled inside a cocoon. Then she leaned back into Frederick’s arms, her limbs suddenly heavy. “I’m afraid I will fall asleep any moment,” she whispered, unable to suppress a yawn.
Frederick cleared his throat and moved her in his arms so that he could see her face. “Can you tell me what happened? How did the fire break out? And why was the door locked?
Through the haze that threatened to cloud her weary mind, Ellie felt a familiar suspicion rise to the forefront of her thoughts. “I don’t know,” she whispered, trying to recall what had happened. “I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I…I smelled fire.” A shiver went over her, and Frederick’s arms tightened around her shoulders. “I saw its glow coming from under the door to your bedchamber.” She met his gaze and knew that he understood the fear she could not put into words,
“It’s all right,” Frederick mumbled into her ear, his hands brushing up and down her arms. “You don’t need to speak about it.”
Ellie drew in a deep breath, then swallowed and closed her eyes. “I made it to the door, but it was locked.” She shook her head, still unable to believe what had happened. “Why was it locked? I’ve never…” Again, she took a deep breath, trying to calm her rattled nerves.
“You didn’t lock it?” Oliver asked, standing before them, his forehead furrowed in concentration.
Ellie shook her head. “Why would I?”
“Maybe it was the woman,” Mathilda’s sleep-deprived voice peeped up from under the covers.
“Who?” they all asked in unison.
“The woman,” Mathilda said as though their question was ludicrous; she couldn’t possibly be any more specific. “I couldn’t sleep,” she mumbled, and her eyelids closed.
“Mathilda?” Frederick called, giving her a soft shake.
Again, her eyelids opened. “Mama?”
“She will be here soon,” Oliver said, kneeling down before her. He took her little hands into his, rubbing them gently. “Can you tell us about the woman you saw? It is important.”
Slowly, Mathilda’s head bobbed up and down. “Well, I couldn’t sleep,” she began her tale, her round eyes shifting back and forth between them, “so I thought I’d get one of the kittens from the stables. Their fur is so soft.” A little smile drew up her lips before her eyelids closed once more.
“Mathilda?”
Again, her eyes snapped open.
“So, you went to the stables,” Oliver said, trying to keep her focused. “What then?”
Mathilda shook her head. “No, I wanted to, but then I heard a noise.”
“A noise? What noise?” Frederick growled, and the tone of his voice sent a shiver down Ellie’s back.