Chapter One
September 3, 1666
London, England
Acrid smoke filled the air, burning her eyes and throat. Fear in the city was palpable as citizens hurried through the streets, fleeing from the growing flames.
Lady Victoria Spenser hadn’t experienced anything like it in her entire life. This fear clutched at her stomach, painfully twisting each time she was bumped into. Twice, someone had pushed her against the building, causing her to fight for her balance.
The last place she wanted to be was on the streets of London, with a large fire burning. It had started on Pudding Lane near the London Bridge early that morning. She wouldn’t be, if her sister hadn’t demanded that she fetch her special scent.
That morning Christina was in a state, her voice raised in a shout that could be heard throughout the manor house. Servants scurried about, trying their best to gratify her, failing miserably in most instances. The sound of objects being thrown, and the yelp from a servant warned that she was out of control.
At twenty-six, Christina Montrose was as spoiled as they come. Her husband Walter was in the service of King Charles II, and was currently on the Continent as the King’s Envoy, trying to avoid more than one political crisis. It would be months before he returned, and Christina hated it.
“Victoria!” Christina bellowed from the parlor. “Now!”
Tori had put down her sewing and hurried to her sister. Six years ago, after the death of her beloved parents, she had come to live with her sister and brother in law. Twelve years old at the time, she had nowhere else to go; they had no living relatives to offer her a safe home.
As she entered the parlor, Christina gave her the familiar and dreaded stare. Victoria was a beautiful young woman, with Jade green eyes, and mahogany brown hair. She stood just barely five foot one inch, with a beautifully shaped body that was well hidden beneath the gown that was one size too large.
“There you are, it took you long enough,” Christina snarled. “I must have my scent, I used the last of it two days ago. Go to the perfumery and fetch it.”
With a nod, Tori changed into her walking shoes, and went for her cloak. The perfume shop was located closer to the center of London, a fair walk from Montrose House. It would be quicker to take one of the barges that operated on the Thames, but Christina wouldn’t allow Victoria to spend the money, not when she had two perfectly good feet.
“And don’t dawdle!” Christina admonished as the side door closed behind her.
A few neighbors stood outside looking in the direction she was heading. A pillar of smoke spiraled up from what appeared to be near the bridge.
“Where are you going, Lady Victoria?” Their next door neighbor called out.
“To the perfume shop, Mrs. Jameson,” Tori answered, she had always liked the woman, despite her penchant for gossip.
“Well stop by and tell us what’s burning.”
“I will.” Tori waved, and hurried on. The dirt road was uneven from recent rains, making it difficult. Twice she stumbled before reaching the main road that would take her to her destination.
Victoria pulled her cloak tighter around her and picked up her pace, just four more blocks to the perfumery, and then she could hurry the sixteen blocks back home.
Leave it to Christina to need her special scent today. Christina hadn’t been happy to have her younger sister forced on her, but her husband, who was ten years her senior had insisted. Walter liked having the cheerful child around. A generous man, he spoiled his wife terribly adding to her sense of superiority.
Jealousy fueled Christina’s dislike for her sister, especially now that Victoria had emerged out of her awkward stage, and blossomed into a true beauty. Her sparkling jade eyes were expressive, and set off by her pale skin and beautiful long hair. Her body was perfectly proportioned, a threat to Christina’s chunky stature.
When Walter had been sent to the continent as a special envoy by King Charles II, he hated leaving Tori at the sole mercy of her sister. Since the outbreak of plague two years ago, Christina had refused to leave her home for fear of getting ill. No new illnesses had been reported since the end of January, but Christina would take no chances. In addition, when there were no servants to run her errands, she sent Tori.
A strong gust of smoke blew into her face when she hurried past an alley off the main road. Coughing, she wasn’t aware of her soundings when a large man carrying a burlap bag on his shoulder slammed into her. Without control she careened into an open door, falling on the floor, she looked up at the people surrounding her. They were frantic to make their purchases and leave quickly before the fire blocked their way home.
“Watch it you silly chit!” one man roared, having been jostled.
“Get outta the way, you worthless creature!” a woman shouted, trying to get past her.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, trying to stand up. “I was pushed…” she was cut off as the woman grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the way.
Newcomers blocked her way out, and she struggled to get past them. Back out on the street she was horrified to find it more crowded in the short time she spent in the shop. The sky was darker from the smoke, and a hot wind was blowing from the fire’s direction. Struggling to join the tide of people, she found it difficult to get in. Panic was setting in, and the fear limited their willingness to allow another to merge in ahead of them.
Tori was on the verge of tears when she finally spotted the perfumery just ahead. She found herself hurrying down the increasingly crowded and smoky streets. Glancing up at the darkening sky, she walked faster. The wind was blowing at her back and the fire following it, leaping from one wooden structure to another. From the direction of the fire, she could hear shouts and screams as people battled the flames, or tried to escape the inferno. Jostled for the umpteenth time, she fought to keep from falling, the man who had nearly bowled her over hadn’t even uttered a polite “pardon”, and she shook her head at the lack of manners that infected the city today.
Ahead she could see people loading carts with bundles of their possessions, or inventory leaving for safer ground, abandoning the rest to the mercy of the flames. This fire could very well consume the medieval city that was packed to bursting with inhabitants. Great wealthy homes and slums alike were in peril.
The noises were getting louder, the roar of the fire added to the din and the shouting growing more frenzied. Her hands were trembling by the time she reached the shop, fortunately it was still open though not for much longer. Employees were carrying out boxes of inventory to a waiting wagon, their faces reflecting the fear that was assailing her as well.
Mr. Jameson expressed his shock at seeing her out alone in this dangerous atmosphere.
“Lady Spenser, I have your sister’s order right here. You’re fortunate, a few more minutes and it would have been loaded on to the wagon and out of reach.”
“Lady Montrose would have my head if that had happened. She is most anxious to have the perfume,” Tori replied with a nervous smile.
“Well you must hurry home, my dear, it’s unsafe for you to be out, especially alone,” he warned, handing her the bottle and motioning for her to leave quickly.
“Thank you,” she said turning to leave.
“You hurry now, and go straight home!” he called after her, wondering what her sister could be thinking to send her out like this.
Smoke was spiraling through the streets, carried by the wind and was getting stronger the farther she walked. Fear could be felt from the citizens as they rushed to complete their business, all the while keeping their thoughts, and eyes on the pending disaster rushing in their direction.
The Montrose house was located on the other side of the fire and opposite from the direction of the wind, Tori wanted to complete her task and get back to the relative safety of home, bustling crowds making that more difficult by the moment. Only a few more blocks to go, and deep inside she worried about being able to make it back, there was no telling that the route would be safe. Mentally she thought about other ways to go just in case, each one would take far longer than the last.
Stepping out into the street, Tori began to battle her way back. The street traffic was headed in the opposite direction slowing her down to nearly a crawl. Panic was starting to set in, and with it all sense of manners or safety had fled. Arms and elbows pushed her around as they jostled their way around obstacles of carts, goods, and belongings being evacuated from shops and homes. The air was growing thicker with smoke, the heat from the fire was felt even from this distance.
Increasingly burning eyes and lungs added to her misery, and the fear making her stomach ache. Dodging down another street to avoid a blockade, she ventured through unfamiliar streets that were filled with more people sweeping her along with them. Unable to break free of the human current, she drifted further away from familiar neighborhoods, and landmarks. Panic welled as she realized she was heading into an area where flames were lighting the smoke filled air with intense orange hues.
A very large man pushed her out of his way, sending her careening down on the filthy cobblestones, cutting and bruising her palms and her knees. Stinging pain made it difficult to straighten up, when added to the pushes and shoves by careless people. She wanted to scream as the flames were growing nearer, people were so caught up with panic that they didn’t seem to realize that they were heading straight toward the danger instead of away from it. She had no idea of where she was, or which direction would take her home. She wasn’t sure how long ago she had left the shop but it must have been hours.
Suddenly the crowd of people thinned out as she entered another street. Tops of the buildings were alight with flames, the sound of roaring, and cracking timbers hurt her ears. Screams followed by large timbers falling onto the street set her raw nerves jumping as she turned around searching for a safe way out. Shouts rang out just as flame and wood hit her left foot, pain shot up her legs as she hit the ground hard. She began to shriek in terror as the hem of her day dress caught on fire. Hands slapped at the flame, pushing her back down when she attempted to get up and run. Voices that she couldn’t understand faded into the distance as she sank into the merciful blackness.
Tori was struggling as consciousness returned, she fought against hands trying to hold her down. An unfamiliar male voice spoke to her in reassuring words trying to allay her fear.
“It’s all right, you are safe, Miss,” he told her, patting her hand gently as she opened her eyes. He was a gray haired man with a gentle face, smiling at her with soft blue eyes.
Her throat burned, making it difficult to speak, so he urged her not to speak, just relax. The pain in her foot and legs burned terribly, tears stung her eyes.
“We’ve sent for the doctor, he should be here shortly,” he told her, trying to put her at ease. She tried to say something to him, and he answered what he assumed she was asking. “I’m Lord Gerald Rothforth, you’re at my home with my wife and I, and you’re safe now. I was there when you were injured, and carried you away from the danger in my carriage. What shall we call you?”
Painfully she said “Tori” motioning to herself. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome, Tori. I’m pleased to meet you,” Rothforth replied.
Dr. Marks arrived and was brought into the room by a maid. Gerald explained the situation before leaving Tori in his capable hands. Nodding to Lady Eleanor Rothforth, he introduced himself to his patient, and carefully examined the injuries to her foot and the burns on both shins. He was a kind man who talked all the while he bandaged her legs, telling her about how he became a doctor, and about his family.
“Burns are very painful, and there’s not much I can do except wrap them with medication and provide you with laudanum for the pain.” He took a small bottle out of his bag, mixed a few drops in a glass of water, and helped Tori sit up enough to drink it.
“This works well, but you must be careful to not give her too much.” He showed them how much they should give, and handed the bottle to Lady Rothforth. “Hot tea with honey will help your throat.” He offered her a sweet smile. “I’ll stop by and check on you tomorrow.”
“But I have to go home,” Tori said, painfully.
“That’s fine. Rothforth will send word to me when you do, I’ll visit you there.”
Gerald Rothforth insisted that the doctor stay for a bite to eat, seeing the fatigue on the man’s face. He and Dr. Sam Marks had been good friends for years, the man’s surgery had been overrun with injuries, burns, and smoke inhalation, along with his usual patients.
“It’s like hell out there Gerald, I’ll be amazed if there’s anything still standing by Friday.” Dr. Marks sipped the welcomed brandy.
“I thought I wouldn’t get out myself. I had business that I had to attend to, otherwise I would have stayed home.” Gerald munched on a bit of ham. “Though if I hadn’t gone out I suspect that young lady upstairs would have died. The buildings were collapsing around us, I barely made it away when the whole thing came crashing down. Good thing she doesn’t weigh much or I’d have not been able to get us both out safety.”
The main fear for a crowded city made of wood was fire, panic was adding to the chaos and additional injuries. Dr. Marks gave his own accounting of his experiences, adding that he’d heard that a large medical area was being established to treat the injuries. He would be going there after he got a bit of a rest. They would need all of the doctors they could get.
“Why don’t you rest here, Sam? You can use one of my spare rooms rather than going all the way home,” Gerald suggested.
“I’m going to take you up on that,” the doctor agreed gratefully. “Where’s Heritage? Is he still in the country?” Sam asked, speaking of Gerald’s eldest son, Lord Taylor Marquess of Heritage.
“He’s out there fighting the fire. He sent word several hours ago,” Gerald answered. He was extremely concerned about his son, knowing that the man’s daring spirit would have him deep in the worst of it.
“They need help out there. I have no idea where my sons are, no doubt, they’re busy with the injured. I hope to meet up with them at the medical pavilion.” He was extremely proud of them, all three of Sam’s sons had become doctors.
“My other sons are nowhere near here at the moment. Charles is on his estate; his Jenny is due to give birth to my first grandchild in a few months. He is hovering over her like a mother hen, happy to keep her out of London for the time being,” Gerald smiled at the thought of his first grandchild. “Seth should be on his way back to Oxford from York, he’s been looking at new properties to add to his holdings before returning to school. Thankfully, my daughter is comfortably at her husband’s home, and out of danger.” The two old friends enjoyed talking about their offspring, there wasn’t a lout among them.
“We’ve done well, Gerald,” Sam sighed, finishing the last of his meal.
“Aye, that we have. Go up and get some rest, I’m going to check on my guest. Hopefully now she will be able to tell us her full name, and where she lives.” Gerald stood up, waiting to walk up the stairs with the doctor.
“I imagine that she’s in for a shock to discover that she has been saved by a Duke,” Sam chuckled.
“I doubt she cares.”
If hell is anything like this, Taylor vowed to get back to attending church. He hadn’t seen the likes of this before and prayed that he wouldn’t again. The heat from the fire was burning his skin as he fought to kill the flames, embers burning holes in his lawn shirt, and the flesh beneath it.
Shivers ran up his spine from the screaming as people watched their homes and shops burn, praying that it wasn’t the scream of people being burned. Judging from the size of the fire, there would be thousands of homeless, and with the colder weather moving in, they were in for more hardship. If only it would rain and stop the path of the demon flames.
Beside him, his best friend James Wolcott passed another bucket of water to him. It was strange to see James so serious, his boyish good looks distorted by the soot smudged all over his face. The only feature of Taylor’s that could be recognized was his gray-blue eyes that looked out of place in the blackened mask of soot and sweat. At six foot three, Taylor stood out in any crowd, his muscular body kept in shape through hard work and exercise, had many a young woman sighing at the sight of him. His well-honed body was serving him well as he threw himself into the job at hand. Every part of his body was in pain, his muscles straining to do what he was willing them to do.
A loud cheer went up as the last of the flames they were working on were doused out. Great pillars of smoke and steam billowed up into the air forming a cocoon from the raging flames on the other side. There were still massive amounts of fire throughout the city, but this section was finally out. Wiping his forehead on his shirtsleeve, Taylor grinned, his white teeth at odds with his soot stained face. Dropping his bucket, James let out a whoop, slapping his friend on the back. “Well done, Heritage!” he shouted over the noise.
“Let’s head home, Wolcott,” Taylor called out, and headed for the makeshift stables that had been erected safely away from the worst of it.
Both men had been returning to London after spending time in the country, Taylor at his favorite estate, Grayson, and James his property, Briarwood, situated next to it. The huge cloud of smoke that spread out over the city warned them of the disaster long before they reached the outskirts of London. They had quickened their pace, covering the last several miles as quickly as the horses could stand.
They were returning to join Parliament that was to resume next week, having taken a short break to allow its members to attend to their own business. James, Marquess of Wolcott had a seat in the House of Lords, assuming it after his father Duke of Wolcott had suffered a terrible accident that left him unwilling to take his seat and chose to remain on his own estate. James’ mother divided her time between the two estates, much to James’ dismay.
They were dead tired by the time they found their horses and turned in the direction of Taylor’s family home, Collins House. This was originally his mother’s family home in London. It had gone to her after the death of her father twenty years ago, and he loved the place. Many happy childhood memories surrounded the great house, and the orchards behind it. He and James had enjoyed many adventures there, much to his mother’s concern. Eleanor Collins Rothforth was a beautiful woman, retaining the sweet loving nature that had made her the sweetheart of London all those years ago, before she married Gerald.
Despite the soreness of her throat, Tori managed to finish the meal that was brought to her. Lady Rothforth fluttered around the room making sure that all was perfect for their guest, then seeing that Tori was finished she sat down beside the bed.
“How are you feeling, my dear?” she asked, noting the strain from pain still on the girl’s face. She had been pleasantly surprised to find such a beautiful face hiding beneath the soot and filth. Two of their maids had carefully bathed the girl, taking care to keep from adding to her pain, and then put her in a frilly nightgown that had belonged to her daughter, Julia.
“Better. Thank you for your kindness, My Lady, but I must go home soon. My sister will be waiting for me.” Tori was most anxious to get home, fearing that Christina might be infuriated when she hadn’t returned.
“We’ll discuss that later, in the meantime we can send a message to her,” Eleanor said, patting the delicate slender hand she held.
“I would appreciate that.” Tori was beginning to tire.
“Through all the excitement, I have forgotten to introduce myself!” Eleanor chuckled. “I’m Lady Eleanor Duchess of Rothforth.”
Tori’s shock registered on her face, looking around she realized that she was in a grand room; she hadn’t noticed it until now. The bed was a most elaborate four-poster with curtains of golden damask. The walls were painted a delicate pink, the trim done in a pale gold. “Oh, Your Grace, I’m so embarrassed!” Tori cried out.
“Nonsense, child. Now what is your name?” Eleanor replied, smiling the smile she was famous for.
“Victoria Spenser, Lady Victoria. But I prefer to be called Tori.” She was afraid she was about to start babbling.
“Spenser, are you the daughter of Lord and Lady Marcus Spenser?” Eleanor asked.
“Aye, I am. I now live with my sister Christina and her husband, Walter Montrose,” Tori answered.
“I was good friends with your mother. I lost track of you after her unfortunate passing.” Eleanor’s eyes showed her sadness. “She was a truly lovely woman; I can see her in you.”