Birdie and the Beastly Duke by Sofi Laporte

Chapter 17

The next day, the children didn’t come.

Birdie did not notice until much later because she’d spent the entire day in her own dreamworld, with a vapid smile on her face.

He’d told her so much more, in the darkness of his room. He’d bared his soul to her. All the shadows, the terrors, the terrible images that had haunted him, that had kept him imprisoned. By finally allowing her in, she could help him carry his burden. She knew such a task was precious beyond words.

He’d also told her other things. Sweet things that he’d whispered, endearments that she’d never heard or read about before. Caresses that left her shivering with delight.

She’d left him sleeping in the morning, and there had been a peaceful look on his face; the kind that little children have when they have fallen into a deep, healing sleep.

It was a sunny day, and Birdie worked in the kitchen garden, pulling out weeds.

She held a handful of purple flowers in her hands, remembering the timid offer Gabriel had given her after their first quarrel. She’d pressed those flowers between sheets in her books to keep as a memento.

Birdie lifted her face to the sun.

Everything would be well. She felt it down to her bones. A feeling of warmth and peace flooded through her.

He was healing. She was gradually putting this place together. Maybe, one day, they would have children.

Then it struck her. Children!

Where were the children? She’d entirely forgotten that she was to teach them this morning.

Birdie scrambled up and ran back to the courtyard. That was when she noticed the silence. Where was everyone? Why was the schoolroom empty? Weren’t the women supposed to clean today? Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen Ally, either.

“Higgins!” She found the old man polishing wine glasses in the hall. No other person was in sight. “Where is everyone?”

He looked up with watery eyes. “They didn’t come. Cook never came either. Had to eat porridge again.” He looked displeased. “Left you a plate for breakfast.” He pointed at a lone porridge bowl on the table.

She looked at Higgins, shocked, realising only now that she hadn’t eaten all day, and not noticed.

“But why?”

“Because the people here have always had bad blood towards the Dukes of Dunross. It’s a bad place. Haunted by evil.”

Birdie let go of his arm and shook her head. She would go down to the village herself and talk to them.

A strange quiethad settled over the village. The street, usually full with playing children, was empty. No one was working in the gardens. No one came out to greet her.

She knocked on Eilidh’s door and saw the curtain move inside, but no one opened the door.

“Eilidh? Tommy?” she called, and walked around the house, where sometimes the children played in the garden. No one was there. Birdie looked around, confused.

What was happening? Where had everyone gone?

“Psst. Miss. Your Grace,” a little voice whispered from underneath the blueberry bush. It was Eilidh’s youngest, Elsa.

“Elsa. Thank goodness. What is happening? This is so strange. Where has everyone gone?” She pulled the girl behind the trees so no one would see them from the house. “Why haven’t you and the others come to school? Where is your mother?”

“We are not to go to school anymore, Your Grace, miss,” said the little girl. She dropped her eyes. “Father forbade it.”

That Logan McKenna. He was Eilidh’s husband and Tommy and Elsa’s father, and a definite good-for-nothing. Birdie felt fury flash through her. “But there is no sense in it whatsoever! Why object to having his children receive education, for free?” she exclaimed.

“It’s not just my father, Your Grace, miss. The parents of the others as well. They don’t like it. They want us to work.”

“Work!” Birdie ground her teeth.

“Aye, there’s lots of work.”

“And your mother? Why hasn’t she come, with the others?”

Elsa merely looked at her with sad eyes.

“Elsa. You’re a good girl. I need to find a solution to this. Don’t disobey your parents if they’ve told you not to come to the castle. Tell your mother I miss her and Ally, and I hope she changes her mind and continues to work for me. There is much work left, and enough payment for everyone.”

“Aye Your Grace, miss.”

The girl walked back to the house, changed her mind, scampered back to Birdie, pressed her face into her skirt in a fierce hug, and then ran away.

Birdie returned to the castle, her mind in turmoil.

Looking up, she saw a white sheet flutter on the barbican. Someone had put up the makeshift ghost again. This time in the middle of the day.

Fury shot through her. “I will uncover what is behind this all if it’s the last thing I ever do,” she muttered and stomped up the path to the castle.

She smelledit before she saw it. The pungent, acrid smell of something burning. Black smoke billowed to the sky. Birdie quickened her steps until she ran the last stretch into the castle courtyard. Stunned, she stared at the fire and smoke emerging from the windows of their schoolroom.

“Heaven help us, the castle is burning,” Higgins gasped as he stumbled down the stairs from the main hall.

She rushed forward without thinking, but Higgins caught her by the arm.

“What are you doing, woman?”

“What if someone is inside?” Birdie shouted. She shook off Higgins’s hand and ran to the entrance.

“It is too late for anyone who is inside,” Higgins said.

“Higgins, get help, call the duke, fetch the men from the village, we need water—” Birdie cut herself off as she spied a moving shape inside the burning room. “There’s someone inside!”

What if it was one of the children? Horror overwhelmed her. She rushed forward, and without thinking, hurtled into the burning building. Smoke burned in her eyes; she teared up and could see nothing at all. She fell back, choking and coughing.

“Is anyone there?” she shouted. The desks and chairs were burning. With sudden clarity, she realised that someone must have thrown them in a heap in the middle of the room and set them on fire. The fire now licked at the wooden beams on the roof. With alarm, she realised the entire structure would collapse soon. She coughed and choked, and called out again, “Anyone? Is anyone here?”

From the farthest corner of the room, she heard a weak “Miss!” She edged around the burning pile.

There. Again. “Miss!”

“Tommy!”

The child huddled in a corner, his head on his knees. Birdie stumbled toward him and pulled him to her.

“Keep your head down,” Birdie gasped, “and hold on tight to me.” A cloud of black smoke engulfed them. Both coughed. She could no longer see where the door was. They would have to get up and run for it anyhow.

At that moment, the beam cracked and crashed on the floor.

They were trapped.

So this is how she was going to die. With someone else’s child in her arms, trapped in a burning room. She didn’t see her life flash by, but oddly enough, heard her friend Lucy’s voice, sweet and clear: “Remember this: things never are what they appear to be. You just have to have the courage to see things differently.”

Her friend, cheeky as she was, had a point. Birdie lifted her head with determination. She would not stay there and die just like that. Not without a fight. She saw that, even though the beam blocked the path, there was a little space on the other side––but not if they waited for long.

“Come. We have to go. Now.” She grabbed Tommy and pushed him to the floor. “On your front. Crawl. Keep your head as low as possible. You can do this, Tommy!”

They crawled around the other side of the burning pile. The second beam cracked––it would come crashing down on them if they did not hurry. Birdie pushed Tommy along on the floor. They were almost there.

Almost.

The beam tilted downward.

Then a pair of muscular arms grabbed her and pulled her out.

Birdie clung to Gabriel,tears running down her cheeks.

“Birdie!” Gabriel picked her up, carried her to the stairs, and set her down. He wiped her face gently with trembling fingers. “Are you hurt?” His voice cracked. His fingers roved over her body to check whether she was all right.

“I am fine, Gabriel. The boy? Where is he?” she gasped.

Little Tommy was in his mother’s arms. Birdie was unsure when Eilidh had appeared, but she clung to her son, rocking him back and forth.

“Eilidh! Is Tommy hurt?”

The woman looked up with a wet face. “He is fine, Yer Grace. He is fine. Thanks to God. And to ye, Yer Grace.”

Birdie felt the tension seep out of her body, and she collapsed against Gabriel.

“Birdie. My heart nearly stopped when I saw you in there.” He drew in a ragged breath. “I have to help put out the fire. Take her away, Higgins. Stay clear. If something happens to her, Higgins, I’ll make you personally responsible.”

The old man swallowed nervously, then clamped his claw of a hand around Birdie’s arm. “Come with me, Your Grace.”

Birdie let him take her to the library. She pushed the curtains aside so she could watch the men put out the fire. Her head ached and her throat was raw from the smoke.

Where had all those men been previously? Birdie wondered. Where had they come from? The village had been empty. Now they all gathered in the courtyard, passing buckets of water under Gabriel’s orders. Many of them saw him for the first time. Even some women helped. They threw him odd, mistrusting glances, but did not question his authority here.

They put out the fire; however, the building was not salvaged. It burned out entirely; the roof collapsed, and the fragile structure gaped at them sadly with black, empty windows and doors.

Birdie saw Eilidh in the crowd and gestured to her. She came after a moment of hesitation.

“Your Grace.” She avoided her eyes.

“Eilidh.”

She struggled visibly. Then she met Birdie’s eyes. “Thank you for saving my son’s life. We were told to stay away from the castle. Now we know why.”

“Are you saying someone set fire to the building on purpose?”

Eilidh nodded.

“But why? Why would someone do this? It’s meant to be for the children.” Birdie felt a helpless rage well up in her.

“You have to find and punish whoever did this.”

Birdie walked up and down the library, wringing her hands. “Yes. But who? Who’d do something so despicable?”

“I don’t know. I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Eilidh whispered.

“I’m sorry too. We will find another room to teach the children,” Birdie told Eilidh. “The main thing is that no one got hurt.”

Eilidh’s eyes looked troubled. She went to the door, but before she left, said, “I will return to the castle, and Ally will, too. I think Mrs Gowan also intends to return. But the others won’t.”

“Won’t you tell me why?”

Eilidh shook her head. “It is not for me to say. There has always been bad blood between the village people and the old duke. Some men object to it.”

That was what Higgins had said earlier as well. “Thank you, Eilidh,” Birdie said, utterly exhausted by the day’s events.

Birdie took a long bath and scrubbed the smoke out of her skin. Miraculously, she had not a single scar on her body. She dressed in a warm woollen dress. Her throat was still sore, and she drank the elm tea that Cook had sent up.

They had indeed returned, the servants. Birdie frowned. Where was Gabriel? He’d worked as hard as any of the other men earlier. She’d seen him, with rolled-up shirtsleeves, drag crates and barrels out of the adjoining buildings. He’d looked like any of them.

Someone scratched at the door. “His Grace wants to talk to you in the drawing room,” Higgins announced after he entered.

“Thank you, Higgins.” Birdie ran light-footed up the stairs to the drawing room, where Gabriel was waiting for her.