Author's note: Attention, everyone! Please note that your guesses have to be sent in by tomorrow, Thursday, at midnight (GMT). I cannot accept guesses that come any later.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-One

September 18th 1892: Jacqueline

For a moment we all stared at the fire incredulously, transfixed, while the flames started spreading over the blanket. None of us said a word. The children didn't even scream, although I could see the horror in their eyes. Only the sound of a second window being smashed managed to pull us out of our stupor.

"We've got to leave – fast!" I cried, realising at last how dangerous the situation was. The second window had clearly belonged to one of the other rooms on the first floor, but what if whoever was throwing those missiles would try this room again and hit the door? We'd be trapped.

I didn't wait for a reply, but simply picked up the terrified Philippe in my arms and carried him to the door. Judging by the sounds, Larisse was doing the same with Antoinette. I could hear the cook groan, for naturally the girl was heavier than her younger brother. It was a sign of how afraid Antoinette was that she didn't complain about such a treatment.

I turned around briefly as I reached the door to make sure the others were behind us, then I flung it open and stepped into the corridor. To my horror, I saw smoke billowing from downstairs. It hadn't reached the first floor yet, but it was spreading fast. I knew nothing about fires and couldn't tell whether this meant that the door to the kichen had given way. I only knew that I had to bring the others to the living room. There was no other way to get out of the house, since the dining room with its equally good windows was much too close to the kitchen.

"Where is all this smoke coming from?" Philippe asked, looking around him. "It can't come from my room only." Inwardly I cursed M.Erik for his excellent education. This boy couldn't be fooled.

"No, it doesn't," I replied truthfully, speaking loud enough for Antoinette and Larisse to hear me as well. "The kitchen's on fire. There are… bad people who try to hurt us. But they won't do anything to you. We won't let them. We'll go to the living room now, and then we'll leave the house and…"

Exhausted by my long speech, I took a deep breath. This, however, turned out to have been a grave mistake. I inhaled smoke and started coughing. Forcing myself to keep walking, I stopped at the stairs, noticing that only the top half was still visible. The rest was buried beneath grey clouds.

"Hold this over your nose and mouth," I instructed the boy, handing him my handkerchief. "It'll protect you from the smoke. Larisse?" I looked over my shoulder to advise her to do the same with Antoinette, only to see that she had already done so. Gripping the banister tightly, I began my way down the stairs.

I couldn't remember the last time anything had taken this long. The stairs didn't seem to end at all. Every time I was sure we'd have reached the bottom, there was another step coming. Once or twice I stumbled and nearly fell. The boy in my arms was making it very hard to keep my balance. Hearing the panting and gasping behind me, I knew it was just as hard for the others.

Finally, finally we were downstairs. I threw the entrance door a longing glance. Our way to escape was so close, and yet… But it was no use pondering on what would have been if things had been different. We had to make the best of what we had. And the best I could see – or rather, not see – at the moment was that the corridor didn't seem to be on fire yet, at least not the part of it we were walking through.

The smoke made my eyes water, and it was good that I knew where the living room was located, for I doubted I'd have found it otherwise. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, feeling that I didn't have the strength to knock, even as we stood directly in front of the door.

"Jacques!" I called, trying to open my mouth as little as possible. ""Jacques!"

The door was opened at once. The butler seemed to have stood behind it, waiting for us. He let us in quickly, then closed the door again.

"The smoke is getting worse by the minute," he remarked. "What is going on? We heard breaking glass. I could hardly keep Madame from standing up."

I glanced over at Madame, who was indeed sitting rather than lying by now, looking a little healthier.

"I'll tell you in a moment," I promised. I put Philippe onto the floor, and he ran to his mother at once.

"Maman, Maman!" he cried, beside himself with joy. He threw himself into her outstretched arms, closely followed by his sister.

Involuntarily I let out a sigh. It was such a touching picture, the two children and their mother, happily reunited. I wondered whether my own children would act like that as well one day. If I ever had children, that was. Why was it that Gabriel's picture appeared in front of my mind's eye again?

"Mademoiselle?" A voice that sounded like anything but Gabriel's brought me back to earth abruptly, and I remembered where I was and what was happening. If I spent too much time dreaming, it wasn't very likely that I'd see Gabriel again at all. But dreaming was so nice, compared to the harsh reality… Suppressing another sigh, I told Jacques what had happened upstairs and filled in Larisse on the details on what was going on in the kitchen.

"So we can't get through the windows here?" Larisse asked, peering at the windows hopefully.

"I haven't actually tried these ones," Jacques said pensively. He went over to the one nearest to us, seized the handle and pulled. It didn't move as much as an inch. "Nailed shut as well," he declared gravely.

I had actually got my hopes up for a few moments, yet now I called myself foolish for having done so. Apparently those people had nailed all the windows shut, so why should they have left out those that would have been most convenient for us?

"But the windows remain our only chance," I mused aloud. "We can't get through the door and – "

"Philippe knows how to open doors without the key," Madame interjected. I hadn't even been aware that she was listening to our conversation, yet she had obviously been able to do so at the same time as comforting the children, who were still clinging to her sides.

"He does?" Larisse, Jacques and I wanted to know in unison, looking at each other. Then our gaze wandered to the boy.

"Uncle Erik taugh me how to do it," he said shyly, burying his face at his mother's shoulder. It was clear that the attention was too much for him. Still I couldn't help asking:

"Do you think you could do it again? Could you open the entrance door for us?".

Philippe shrugged, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

"I have the right instrument," he replied, pulling a small silvery object out of his pocket. I noticed that he still had M.Erik's book tucked under his arm.

"What are we waiting for, then?" Larisse exclaimed. "We have to get out!" She pulled open the door and was instantly enveloped in a dark grey cloud. Now it had really happened. The door to the kitchen had given way.

Without thinking, I pulled the cook away from the door, and Jacques slammed it shut.

"We can't get out," I said, putting an arm around the shaking Larisse's shoulders. "We don't know how far the fire has already come. And Philippe couldn't see in all the smoke anyway."

"I won't let a child of mine leave the room through that door," Madame declared fiercely, tightening her grip around Antoinette and Philippe. Her eyes were glittering with determination. In that moment, I believed the stories I had heard about lionesses protecting their cubs till death.

"We have to use the window," I decided. "We can't get it open, but – Step back!" I waited till everyone had backed away, then I seized a chair and swung it against the windowpane, jumping backwards as soon as I knew it had hit its target. Bits of glass flew everywhere, but most of it landed on the outside.

"Those people aren't the only ones who can break windows," I remarked with some satisfaction.

"Mademoiselle!" Jacques breathed in a mixture of awe and astonishment.

"Quick!" I said. "We've got to remove the remaining pieces of glass, at least the bigger ones." Larisse and Jacques had finished the task after a few minutes, with her apron and his jacket wrapped around their hands, while I thought about in which order we'd go. Yes, I was back to being in charge. Someone had to be.

"Larisse will go first," I told them. "Then the children. Jacques and I will help Madame before leaving ourselves."

The other nodded, although I didn't fail to notice that Larisse had grown pale at the news that she was to do it first. Still she gripped the windowsill with determination and climbed out. She huffed a little, yet the only help she needed was with her skirts, which threatened to get caught on the remaining pieces of glass.

"Antoinette," I said. The girl pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek, left the sofa and came over to us. Jacques picked her up from the floor clumsily – it occurred to me that it was probably the first time he was holding her in his arms – and gave her to Larisse, who placed her back on the floor outside. Who'd have believed that this would be so easy?

I was about to turn around to Philippe, but a motion made me stop. Two men jumped out of the bushes, as fast as lightning. In the next moment they had grabbed Antoinette and Larisse. I could see that they were holding pistols in their hands.

"No, no, no," one of them said, and I actually heard him suppress a chuckle. "You will stay in there. Otherwise the whole nice fire would be pointless, wouldn't it? If you try to come out…" He didn't finish his sentence, but flexed his muscles threateningly. Antoinette whimpered in terror. I stepped away from the window and motioned at Jacques to do the same. What else should I have done?