When she focused on his eyes, he smiled back, letting her see that, in truth, he was just as pleased as she—that he shared her commitment to the school. Again, the moment held—a shimmering, intangible connection flowing between them.
The thunder of footsteps racing along the corridor tore them from their momentary fixation and had them both shifting to look at the open doorway.
A boy skidded into view, gasping, his eyes wild.
Sylvia pushed to her feet. “Eddie! What’s the matter?”
The boy made a valiant attempt to catch his breath. Grabbing hold of the door frame, he blurted, “It’s the school, miss. It’s on fire!”
Already on his feet, Kit bit back an oath. He met Sylvia’s shocked gaze, then waved her to the door. “Come on.” He caught Eddie’s shoulder, steadying the boy. He eased Eddie back into the corridor as Sylvia rushed around her desk, swiped up her reticule from the top of the bureau, and hurried after them.
Kit briefly met her eyes, then strode with Eddie toward the stairs. “Don’t try to speak yet,” Kit told the boy. “You can tell us all once we’re in a hackney.”
He heard Sylvia shut and lock her office door, then she came rushing along behind them.
They went down the stairs at a run. Emerging onto the pavement, Kit put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill note. A hackney driver farther up the street heard and quickly steered his horse their way.
The instant the carriage halted, Kit lifted Eddie up. “In you go.” He turned and handed Sylvia up, then paused with his boot on the step and looked at the driver. “Trinity Street. It’s an emergency. There’s a guinea in it for you if you get us there fast.”
The driver straightened and saluted. “Right, guv.”
Kit flung himself onto the seat beside Sylvia, and the driver swung the carriage into a tight turn, then sent his horse racing for the Frome Bridge.
Given it was Saturday afternoon, the traffic was light, and the driver took Kit’s challenge to heart. The hackney racketed along the cobbles at a punishing pace.
“Oh!” Sylvia tried to catch her balance as the jarvey turned onto the bridge at speed.
Kit laid his arm along the back of the seat, closed his hand about her right shoulder, and braced her against his chest. He sensed the jolt that shot through her at his touch, but she didn’t shake free of his protective hold.
Good, his inner self said.
Once the hackney had turned off the bridge, he leaned forward and, across Sylvia, caught Eddie’s still-wide eyes. “Now—tell us what happened.”
“I’d brought me mum and the nippers to see the new hall—just from the outside.” Eddie gulped in air, the moment apparently etched in his young mind. “We were on the pavement in front of the school when Mr. Cross came charging up that little alley that runs beside the hall—the one that leads to the backyard. Mr. Cross was coughing something fearful, but he saw me and caught my arm and told me someone had set fire to the hall and that I had to go and fetch help. He said he had to get back to Mr. Jellicoe, and he went.” Eddie paused, eyes round. “I didn’t know where to go—who I was supposed to tell—and neither did me mum. We’d come to your office when I first joined the school, so I thought I should look for you there.”
Kit nodded reassuringly. “Well done.” Eddie would have done better to run to the firehouse, but Kit didn’t know where that was and doubted Eddie or his mum did, either.
Sylvia patted Eddie’s hand. “You did very well.”
The hackney rocketed along St. Augustine’s Back and on along the Butts and finally swung into Trinity Street.
The first thing they saw was a thick pall of smoke roiling and billowing upward from the rear of the new school hall.
CHAPTER 7
The jarvey halted his horse upwind of the smoke. “Close as I can get, guv’nor, if that’s where you’re headed.”
“Thank you. It is.” Grim-faced, Kit got down, tossed the jarvey a guinea, then helped Sylvia, who was scrambling to the pavement.
Her hand clutching his, she straightened and stared at the smoke pouring up and out from the school’s rear yard. “Dear God!”
“Don’t panic.” Kit had noticed that there was surprisingly little activity in the street—just a woman and three young children waiting by the hall’s steps. “From the look of that smoke, they’ve already put out the blaze.”
“Oh, thank heavens!” Relief swamped Sylvia’s features.
Keeping hold of her hand—holding her back from rushing down the alley toward the fire—Kit nodded to Eddie as the boy leapt down from the hackney. “You did well to fetch us, but now go with your mother.”
“Yes, sir—my lord.” Big-eyed, Eddie scampered toward his family.