Something heavy must have fallen off the roof; one of the stone gargoyles perhaps? It had left jagged edges of broken plaster and split wood around two gaping holes, one in the ceiling, and one in the floor. The dust swirled, thick as fog.
“James?” Her dry throat stung. She waved away the dust, and her heart quickened. No one had a chance if they were stood under the ceiling when it caved in.
She slumped against the door, exhausted with worry and fear. If James wasn’t here, she didn’t where to look. “James?”
Was that—she cocked her head—a moan or a cry? Too weak to make out, though she thought it came from the other side of the room, across the hole in the floor. Impossible to see in the murky air.
She coughed and swallowed to clear her throat. “James? James? Is that you?”
The crackling fire made too much noise. Its’ strange sounds tricked her. Then she heard it again, more distinct this time. A groan, that might be human, might be animal.
“James? James? Can you hear me?”
“Isobel.”
“James! Oh my god, James! Where are you? Wait. Wait there. I’m coming to get you.”
His voice came from the far side of the room. She tip-toed towards the hole, and the boards creaked under her weight. She didn’t dare approach the edge, though when she looked down, she saw, far below, the gleaming marble of the Grand Staircase.
The distance across was too hard to gauge in the dark, and she didn’t trust the floor to hold her weight if she jumped. She stepped back, and clambered over broken beams.
The floor sagged, and broken plaster tipped down the hole. She pressed her back against the wall, and inched her way round; one tiny step at a time, as she tested each board with her foot before she stepped onto it. Her breath came in tiny gasps, and she wished she was brave enough to move faster.
“I’m nearly there,” she panted. “I’m nearly there. Try and speak. I can’t see you.”
“I’m stuck—my legs.”
She reached the far corner. Slabs of broken plaster lay piled in a jumbled heap, and she lifted them aside with care, so as not to make any sudden movements.
And then she saw him, covered in wood fragments and dust. “I’m here now. It’s all right my love, it’s all right.” She dropped to her knees and embraced him, and he lifted his arms and hugged her. “Oh James, I’m here now. I’ve got you. I’ve got you now.”
She held him tight, and buried her face against his neck, and kissed him over and over again.
A straggling beard framed his hollow cheeks, and his pale lips were cracked with dryness. His threadbare jacket stank of mould, and his feet were bare. What had they done to him in Bedlam? She held his face and looked into his sunken eyes, and kissed him again. “We have to get out.” She didn’t want to alarm him, and she didn’t want to let go of him. “Can you stand?”
“I think so, if I can just get this—” A heavy lead pipe lay across his legs. “It fell through the ceiling and knocked me over.”
“Stay still.” She stroked his hair. “Can you crawl if I lift it?”
“Yes—at least I hope so, if my legs still work.”
She took hold of the pipe and eased it up, a bit at a time. She didn’t want to hurt him. He shuffled backwards, bent his legs, and scrambled free.
She lowered it, and as she let go, dust and debris tipped down the hole like a torrent of water.
James rubbed his legs and flexed them. “I feel a bit wobbly. Is that guard still here?”
“No. How do your legs feel?”
"Sore, but I think I can walk."
“I can help you.” She slotted her arms across his chest, and braced her legs to take his weight. “I’ve got you.” She lifted him, and he twined his arms around her, and held her, still and gentle. She noticed, with alarm, that such a simple movement had left him fighting for breath.
“We have to go back this way.” She shuffled him round away from the hole. He leant against her, and clung on tight, as a frightened child might with its mother.
“That’s good,” she encouraged. “One step at a time. We mustn’t make any sudden movements.”
She retraced her steps around the hole. She pressed her back against the wall to support them both, and to keep her balance. “It’s not far. Just hold onto me.”
The broken floorboards groaned. A column of smoke, blown on a fierce draught, spiralled through the hole, and rolled past them towards the roof.
“Hold your breath.” She turned his face away from the smoke. “Just a bit further.”
James needed all her support, and each step made him wince. The fire in the corridor might reach the door before they did, and then they would be trapped. She wished she had the strength to carry him. The thought of what might happen if she lost her footing dismissed that idea.
“Nearly there.” Sweat trickled down her face. The corridor wall beyond the open door flickered red and orange. The fire hadn’t reached the room yet.
Blood thumped in her ears, and the thumping intensified into a terrible rumbling. She panicked, and held James tight. The rumbling boomed above them, and then crashed and echoed through the hole in the ceiling.
Splinters of red hot metal cascaded past them. Fire and ash plunged towards them, and the House shook to its foundations and shuddered at the destruction.
She clamped her arms around James and dived for the door.
Burning wood smashed into the room. James collapsed, and she fell on top of him and covered his body.
The walls ignited, and the draught drawn up through the hole became a wind, which fuelled the fire, so that flames spun in a furious vortex which peppered them with burning splinters and threatened to engulf the House in an inferno.
She gasped for breath. The heat burned her face. She rolled off James, staggered to her feet, grabbed him under the arms, and dragged him to the door. Fear gave her strength, and she hauled him into the corridor and slammed the door to obliterate the terrible noise and destruction.
She dropped beside him and lifted him into her arms. He raised his face and kissed her neck. They sat and rocked and didn’t speak.
The fire in the corridor advanced. Rivulets of flame burned along the carpet, and the dusty threads ignited in bursts of white smoke. The only escape was back, towards her bedroom.
“Let’s make for the Grand Staircase,” she whispered. “It’s the quickest way out of the House and it won’t burn. Can you stand?”
“I think so. My legs wobble and they don’t do what I tell them, but I think I can walk.”
Pain flickered in his eyes. She knew his embarrassment at admitting weakness. He needed her strength, and her confidence too, that she believed in his ability to achieve what he promised. She brushed his long lank hair off his forehead. “You need some water.”
“I’m just weak. They chained me to the floor in Bedlam. I haven’t used my legs much. I just need to get them moving.”
“You’re very thin. I think I could almost carry you.”
“I love you so much.” He nestled his head against hers, and she kissed his tired and sooty face.
“Are we quits?” he asked.
“Quits?”
“I found you when you ran away from home. Now you found me, and saved me.”
She ran her fingers down his straggly beard, and kissed the tip of his nose. “You’re my knight in shining armour, and always will be.”
His eyes glittered. She knew that look; mischievous and humorous, and she laughed as his smile blossomed into a grin.
“A knight in shining armour eh?” He winked. “I see. So—what does that make you then?”
“You’re white charger, galloping to the rescue.”