Chapter sixteen- Gilbert

The woman on the bed was definitely dead. Her eyes were wide open, fixedly staring off at nothing. The pinched face was pasty white and frozen into an eternal expression of agony. There was that distinctive stench of sickness and death in the air. It was obvious from the condition of the bed that the woman had been ill. Gilbert almost pitied her, dying alone here, in her own bed. Sad really. If only she hadn't locked the children out, they might have been able to save her life.

Beatrice covered her nose and mouth to muffle the smell and simply stood there in the open doorway, no doubt shocked at the gruesome sight. As he watched, she lowered the lamp and moved to step further into the room. Thinking that would not be a good idea, Gilbert quickly reached out and tapped her arm to stop her. Beatrice glanced back in surprise. He shook his head and motioned for her to come back out of the room. Beatrice turned to glance once more at the still body of her sister-in-law. She seemed to hesitate. Then suddenly she tilted her head up with resolve, straightened her shoulders and turned away.

"I don't suppose she needs my help anymore." Beatrice muttered softly as she returned to his side.

Gilbert patted her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. He guessed that her relationship with her sister-in-law had not been the best, but that didn't mean Beatrice would not morn the woman's passing. If not for herself, at least for her nephew and nieces, who were now orphans. He reached past her as she stepped out of the room and pulled the door shut. Thankfully, just the action of closing the door muffled the noxious smell. When he turned back to Beatrice, he found her staring at him curiously.

"How did you unlock that door?"

Gilbert shrugged. It wasn't all that difficult. He simply used his knowledge of levers and hinges along with his experience with crafting projects out of wood. Gesturing for her to follow, he led the way back to the hall door. He pointed out the latch and bar lock secured on the inside. The metal was old but strong. In itself a good lock. The door, however had a slight warp and did not fit in the frame properly. It was a simple matter to slide his fingers into the gap and access the bar that pinned the door. He re-engaged the lock and then pulled the panel towards him.  Reaching over the top from the back side, he demonstrated how he had manipulated the bar and unlocked it.

"That's amazing." She exclaimed breathlessly.

Then she glanced back at the closed bedroom door, nibbling at her bottom lip. Gilbert watched her mull over the idea forming in her mind and wasn't really surprised when she turned back to him and asked, "Can you relock it from the outside?"

Gilbert shrugged and motioned for her to proceed him. Once they both stood in the hallway again, he carefully closed the door and reached up to adjust the lock. They both heard the click as the bar slid back into place and, like that, the door was relocked.

"Thank you." Beatrice nodded solemnly.

"We must go make certain the children are ready." She led the way back to the staircase.

There they met the three youngsters just coming down. All three were now dressed and wore serviceable, if ill-fitting coats and shoes. Not necessarily what one might expect gentry children to wear, but they were all clean and presentable.

Teddy's clothes hung off his thin frame and were obviously not new. No doubt they had once belonged to his deceased father. Beatrice's brother had apparently been a tall man but much broader in the chest than the, as yet, undeveloped boy. The middle girl's clothing seemed snug. Even the coat she wore barely covered her. She had obviously outgrown everything. The youngest seemed to be the only one in clothes that actually fit properly, even if the material did seem a bit worn. She carried a small stuffed doll with an outfit that matched her own. Gilbert glanced at Beatrice and it wasn't difficult to imagine she was the seamstress responsible for fabricating them both.

Teddy stopped in front a Beatrice and solemnly held out a dark cloak and matching bonnet. The cloak was a rich satin with soft fur lining, obviously of good quality, and the pretty bonnet was a perfect match.

"We thought you might need these, Aunt Bea." He announced, his voice steady and deep this time.

"But they're your mother's." She protested.

"Mother doesn't need them anymore." Felicia pointed out.

"And you do." Martine added, practically.

Gilbert tapped Beatrice on the shoulder and motioned to the window across the way. An orange glow lit up the night. They really needed to get going.

"Yes, you're right. We need to go." Beatrice handed the lantern to her nephew and quickly donned the cloak and bonnet.

"Doesn't Mr. Lourson talk?" Martine asked.

"No, he can't talk." Beatrice answered softly while her nimble fingers worked at the fastenings.

Gilbert gazed down at the little girl who so closely resembled her aunt. She was a precocious little bit. But would she be able to keep up? They had a long walk ahead of them and he was fairly certain if he did not carry the child, her aunt would. He had noticed how Beatrice struggled to hold the little girl in her arms earlier. She was still recovering from her own bought of fever. He couldn't allow her to wear herself out further.

With this in mind he got down on one knee beside the little girl and gave her a friendly smile, hoping not to frighten her. Even on his knee, he towered over the child, yet she seemed completely unconcerned. She boldly stared back at him, wide-eyed with fascinated curiosity. He watched her gaze move quickly over him, absorbing every detail. It really was surprising how calm she was. He knew grown men who were afraid to look him in the eye.

He pointed to her doll and then the dresses they both wore. He raised one eyebrow and was surprised at how quickly she grasped his meaning.

"Prissy is my doll. Aunt Bea made her a dress just like mine, see." She told him, proudly holding the doll out for him to admire.

Gilbert nodded in full agreement. He reached out and caressed the cloth doll with gentle fingers. The little thing would have disappeared under the palm of his hand, it was so small. Pleased with his attention, she cuddled the doll to her little chest and peered up at him coquetishly. Gilbert winked at the little imp. He held out his arms to her, palms up, in that age old gesture every child understood. Martine did not hesitate. She happily launched herself into his arms. Gilbert almost chuckled aloud at her enthusiasm.

Shifting the child to his hip, he got to his feet and, as he did, he noticed Felicia eyeing her sister with longing and envy. No doubt at her age, she no longer benefitted from rides. Not that she was really much bigger than her little sister. Maybe an inch or so taller. Hardly much heavier. Before he could rationalize away the impulse, he held his free arm out to her in clear invitation. The beaming grin that lit up her pretty face was ample reward. She leaped at him and Gilbert bent his knee, easily scooped her up and settled her on the opposite hip. Both girls giggled and Gilbert felt the heart in his chest expand with pride.

"Gilbert." Beatrice scolded with motherly concern. "They will tire you."

Gilbert shrugged carelessly and gave her a lopsided grin. Beatrice shook her head at him and threw up her hands in surrender. Then she turned to lead the way down the stairs. He followed with the girls and Teddy, carrying the lantern, brought up the rear.

When they stepped out onto the street, they stepped right into an epic re-enactment of Dante's Inferno. The fire was even brighter and a lot closer. A mere two buildings away and marching closer at a heart-stopping pace. Beatrice hurried to the little metal gate in the middle of the low stone wall that marked the boundary between the front garden and the street with Gilbert closely behind. She turned from unlatching the gate to wave him through, but her eyes darted back to the house and she froze.

Gilbert looked over his shoulder to see young Teddy standing there on the threshold. The boy was staring from the raging inferno that was devouring the peaceful little village, to the lantern in his hand. Then he looked up at the townhouse and frowned. Gilbert could see the idea forming in his young mind. Suddenly, without a word, Teddy flung the lantern in through the open doorway and turned to race up the path.

Beatrice still gaped at the house, so shocked, she hadn't even let go of the gate. Teddy whipped around Gilbert, grabbed his aunt by the arm and dragged her through the opening. Gilbert followed as quickly as he was able. His two little passengers held fast to his shirt collar and said nothing.

Smoke lay heavy in the air, making it difficult to breathe, but they dare not stop. After they'd gone a few blocks, Gilbert took the lead. Again, his size worked to their advantage. While most people were unwilling to move aside for a small woman and a skinny boy, they stepped lively to get out of the path of a giant such as himself. They ran as quickly as traffic would allow, although, Gilbert noticed there didn't seem to be as many people crowding the street now as there had been when they first arrived. No doubt most had already fled the disaster.

Once their little group crossed the bridge and reached the relative safety of the far side of the river, they paused to rest. Gilbert set the girls on their own feet and dropped down onto the grass, puffing for air. Beatrice's legs gave out and she plopped down beside him. Little Martine wriggled into the small space between the two adults, leaning tiredly against her aunt's shoulder while Felicia and Teddy dropped to the grass nearby. None of them said a word.

They weren't the only ones to stop beside the river to rest. Several other families clustered nearby, others crowded around the old church, taking shelter amongst the ruins. There were people from all ages, old and young. Prosperous business owners and common labourers side by side with tradesmen and ordinary folk. For once there was no division of the classes. Disaster had brought them all together as equals.

There was relatively very little noise, for such a large crowd. Babies were crying, some women were weeping, men too, but most were quiet, either too tired or too devastated to converse. Gilbert looked out over the sea of smudged and dirty faces and wished he could do more to help them. But there really was nothing anyone could do now. One glance at the blazing inferno across the river was enough proof that the town was lost. All they could hope for now was that the fire would exhaust itself.

Besides, he had enough people in his care now with Beatrice and the children. He would have to build a bed for them. He couldn't expect a woman and children to sleep on a rough pallet as he did. Now more than ever he needed that horse and wagon and maybe a plow.

"Teddy," Beatrice began in a stern questioning tone.

Gilbert's attention snapped back to the present. He didn't need to guess what Beatrice wanted to discuss. The boy's action had been unexpected and disturbing. But, one glance at his devastated expression and Gilbert knew Teddy was at the end of his tether. Any more stress and he was likely to implode. Now was not the time to grill him for answers. He doubted the boy understood himself why he'd tossed that lantern into the house.

Intent on pointing these observations out to Beatrice, Gilbert quickly reached around the little girl between them and lightly tapped her on the back. She glanced over at him in confusion and he shook his head at her. Mutinously, she pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes in annoyance. Obviously, she resented his interference but Gilbert tilted his head and flicked his eyes, indicating the boy. She followed his gaze and her expression softened. The boy looked so lost and confused. He knew she couldn't scold him now. Her eyes flicked here and there as she quickly searched her mind for something plausible to say instead.

Finally, she suggested, "Why don't you carry Martine on your back for a while and give Mr. Lourson a respite from carrying both your sisters?"