The Vagabond Duchess. Claire Thornton

right,’ she said, her voice harsh with anxiety. ‘We have to pack up and leave.’

      ‘After we’ve eaten,’ he replied.

      ‘There’s no time—’

      ‘There’s time to eat,’ he said firmly. ‘The fire looks more fearsome in the dark, but it is still no closer than Cannon Street.’

      By the time dawn was casting a shrouded light over the city, Jack had found a cart for Temperance. She didn’t ask how he’d persuaded the carter to go with him, or what he’d paid to hire the cart. She’d seen for herself how the price of carriage had multiplied since the start of the fire. Porters, carters and watermen were all charging whatever their customers were capable of paying—and if one person didn’t have the money, another one, richer or more desperate, was sure to accept the exorbitant price.

      Temperance didn’t let herself think about how deeply she might now be in debt to Jack. She’d ask him later. For now she concentrated on wrapping and loading the bales of cloth from her shop. Sarah had returned to her own family that morning, too frightened to remain close to the advancing flames, so it was only Jack and Isaac who helped load the cart.

      She paused to catch her breath and noticed Agnes come out of her shop door. After today Temperance didn’t know when she’d see her neighbour again. She’d had many arguments with Agnes, but she didn’t want to part on bad terms, so she went to speak to her.

      ‘Where are you going?’ Agnes asked.

      ‘Covent Garden. What about you?’

      ‘My niece, Fanny, in Southwark. You remember her?’

      ‘Of course. What about your belongings?’ Temperance could see Agnes’s shop was already stripped bare.

      ‘St Paul’s,’ said Agnes. ‘No fire will burn the cathedral. I was lucky I managed to get my goods inside in time. Everyone was rushing there yesterday. I didn’t know you knew anyone in Covent Garden,’ she added suspiciously.

      ‘I don’t. Jack does. Where are Ned and Eliza?’ Temperance asked, referring to Agnes’s apprentice and servant.

      ‘They’ve gone ahead,’ Agnes said. ‘I’ll be on my way soon. I just came back…’ Her throat worked as she patted the doorjamb of the shop, her home for forty years. ‘I can’t stand here gossiping, girl,’ she said. ‘I’ve got things to do.’ She went inside without a backward glance.

      Temperance walked over to Jack. He paused, one hand resting on the side of the cart.

      ‘We’re nearly done in the shop—why don’t you start upstairs?’ he suggested.

      She nodded and went inside. It was agonising deciding between what she could take and what she would be forced to leave behind.

      ‘What’s going?’ Jack asked from behind her.

      She pointed mutely, making ruthless decisions with tears in her eyes. Jack picked up the largest item and started downstairs. They finished loading the cart in silence.

      ‘Is that everything?’ Jack asked at last.

      ‘I think so.’

      ‘Good.’ He glanced over her shoulder, and she saw his expression change. She spun around, then clapped her hands to her mouth in shock.

      The fire had reached Cornhill. For the first time she could see the flames when she was standing at her own front door.

      ‘Oh my God!’ she whispered. ‘It’s nearly here.’

      For a moment her feet seemed frozen to the ash-covered cobbles. Then life surged back into her limbs. She dashed inside the building and rushed up the stairs. When Jack caught up with her she was flinging open cupboard doors and dragging drawers from the old dresser.

      ‘What are you looking for?’

      ‘Everything. Nothing. What if I’ve missed something important?’ She stared around in panic, then headed up another flight to her bedchamber. ‘What if I’ve missed something?’ she kept repeating, as she tossed discarded items left and right in her distress.

      Jack’s arms closed around her from behind. ‘You can replace anything except life,’ he said gently. ‘It’s better to live to fight another day than to take on a foe you can’t beat. Now be still and think quietly. You’ve already taken a little carved box. I know it’s important to you because you put it straight into your pocket. Is there anything else here that means so much to you?’

      ‘My brother made the box,’ she said, her thoughts going off at a tangent.

      ‘Where is he now?’ She felt Jack’s breath against her cheek as he held her from behind.

      ‘He died when I was thirteen.’

      ‘I’m sorry. Then of course you must keep it safe. Is there anything else here so important to you? Just close your eyes and rest a moment.’

      His voice was so soothing and unhurried she did as he bid. Just for a few seconds she relaxed enough to let her mind range over her belongings and all the years to see if there was anything she’d forgotten.

      ‘My mother’s sewing box.’ She made an instant move to fetch it, dismayed she’d forgotten it until that moment. What else had she forgotten?

      Jack held her still.

      ‘Anything else?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ Panic began to rise in her once more, and tears leaked from her eyes. ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Fetch the sewing box,’ he said gently. ‘It’s time to go.’ He released her and stepped back.

      She careered down the stairs and found the sewing box in its familiar place in the alcove by the fire. It had been in full view all the time. She was so used to seeing it there her eyes had passed over it every time she’d scanned the room for important things to save.

      She clattered down the rest of the stairs to the shop floor, terrified they’d lingered too long and the fire would be upon them. To her relief, the flames didn’t seem much closer. The fire was making inexorable progress through the old timber buildings, but not so quickly a healthy man couldn’t stay ahead of it.

      That didn’t stop the carter cursing them for the delay.

      ‘Be quiet and drive!’ Temperance snapped. He hadn’t lifted a finger to help them load the cart, but she knew he was being paid a fortune for his services.

      She and Jack and Isaac walked beside it as it rattled over the cobblestones. When she looked around she realised they were the last people to leave this part of Cheapside. The fire roared behind them, so loud it drowned out the sound of the cartwheels. Sparks as well as ash showered down on them. High above them the thick black smoked blocked out the sun.

      They were halfway to St Paul’s when Temperance remembered Agnes.

      ‘Isaac! Did you see Agnes leave?’

      ‘I…’ He drew in a breath and coughed on a gust of smoke. ‘I didn’t see her.’ He stared at Temperance. ‘But I wasn’t looking. Surely she must have—’

      ‘Did you?’ she demanded of Jack.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Carter!’ She lifted her voice in a cracked shout. ‘Did you see an old woman leave the shop next to mine?’

      ‘Wasn’t looking.’

      Temperance spun around and headed back the way they’d come. She didn’t much like Agnes, but she couldn’t leave her to burn. Jack seized her shoulder, pulling her to a stop.

      She tried to shake him off. ‘I have to go back. Make sure she left.’

      ‘You stay with the cart,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll go.’

      Before she had time to protest at his high-handedness he was running