September 18th 1892: Jacqueline
The minutes passed by slowly, and nothing happened. Of course, in our case nothing was preferrable to most things that could have happened. So far, the living room was not on fire. Still, more and more smoke was getting in through the crack beneath the door. It made us cough. Those were the only sounds I heard, expect for the occasional noise of breaking glass as yet another window on the first floor was smashed.
I couldn't bring myself to care too much about windows, though. What was the point in being worried? Nothing could be done anyway. I hadn't tried talking to Victor again, sensing it would have only made him angrier. Sometimes I looked over to him and saw that Antoinette was hanging in his arms like a big doll, with her eyes closed. She didn't seem to think about fighting, so why should I? I was feeling so very tired.
On my lap, Philippe had already fallen asleep. At the beginning, I had still stroked his hair, but now my hand had become too heavy. Well, he probably hadn't noticed it anyway. He was asleep, dreaming of green meadows with sheep on them, of trees and flowers, of birds singing cheerful songs in the branches and the buzzing of bees…
"Mademoiselle Jacqueline?"
I opened my eyes, though I couldn't remember having closed them. Tiredly, I looked up and saw Jacques standing in front of me.
"What?" I muttered, not caring that I sounded unfriendly. Why couldn't he let me sleep?
"You have to stand up and go to the window," he explained gently. "This sofa is too close to the door. Once the door starts becoming consumed by the fire…" He shook his head. "Come with me…"
He took Philippe in his arms and carried him away. I made a feeble attempt to follow him, but my legs were just as heavy as my arms, and I couldn't move them properly. Why should I even want to move? The sofa was nice and soft, and going away from it seemed foolish. Why should I do so? Jacques had said something about a door, but I couldn't recall what it had been. All I wanted was sleep. I'd still be able to think about that door when I'd wake up.
A hand landed on my shoulder and shook it roughly, just as I was about to doze off. Jacques was there yet again.
"You have to stand up," he repeated urgently.
"I want to sleep," I muttered. The words seemed to need a very long time till they actually left my mouth. "Please… let me sleep…"
"No," he said firmly. "You mustn't sleep. It's the smoke… it's doing something to us. But we mustn't give in."
The smoke? Oh yes, the smoke. I had completely forgotten about it. There was smoke in the room. Where did it come from? I couldn't tell. I was too sleepy to think about it. Perhaps it had something to do with that mysterious door he had talked about before.
I felt a tug at my arm and realised that Jacques was trying to pull me to my feet. How strong he was… My arm didn't seem to be as heavy for him as it felt for me.
"Help me!" he said, breathing hard. "We have to get away from the door… the fire…"
Fire? It was as if a veil was lifted in front of my eyes, and I could see clearly again. My mind was still feeling a little dizzy, as if I had spent last night drinking far too much alcohol, but I tried hard to stay focused and not to let myself drift off again.
In the same moment, panic spread through my body. The fire! We had to get away! Clutching the armrest for support with my other hand, I managed to come into an upright position.
"Very good," Jacques praised me breathlessly, wrapping an arm around my waist to keep me from sinking down onto the sofa again. "I won't let go of you until we have reached the window," he promised, and I was grateful for it, since it turned out that even placing one foot in front of the other was much more difficult than usual today.
"It is my fault," he said as we made our way through the room slowly. "I should have never allowed you to stay on the sofa for such a long time. I should have realised sooner how dangerous it was. But I must have nodded off myself."
"How is Madame?" I asked him.
"She is still unconscious," he replied. "I dragged her as close to the window as I could."
"That was very good," I commented. "At least one of us did something sensible…" My voice trailed off as I stared at the floor, pretending to look where I was going. I couldn't help feeling embarrassed because I had simply allowed myself to fall asleep.
"Don't blame yourself for something you had no influence on," Jacques told me in a kind voice I had rarely heard him use before. "The only reason why I woke up again that quickly is that I was closer to the window that you. The fresh air will do you good as well, you'll see."
As soon as we reached the window, I realised he had been right. I took large lungfuls of deliciously fresh air, and they seemed to revive my entire body and mind. The sleepiness vanished, and my limbs shrank to their normal weight. I straightened up.
"Thank you," I muttered, turning around to Jacques. "I think I can stand alone now."
"Are you sure?" he asked, removing his arm from around my waist very slowly.
I nodded. The fresh air had indeed worked wonders.
"Where's Philippe?" I wanted to know, as soon as my mind had recovered enough to allow me to think.
"Over there," Jacques answered, pointing at two huddled forms on the floor, a few steps away from us. "I'd have held him up to the window as well, but I thought it better to remove you from harm's reach first," he explained. "So I put him next to his mother."
"He looks so peaceful," I remarked softly, taking in the relaxed expression on his face. I remembered him crying at my shoulder. He seemed so much happier now.
"But he cannot remain on the floor," Jacques argued. "He needs to have fresh air as well."
"And Madame, too," I added. "We could hold her upright together."
He nodded.
"We should begin with Philippe, since he is a child," he suggested. He went over to him, picked him up in his arms – I noticed that he was getting rather good at it – and carried him to me.
"Philippe?" I called gently. "Wake up, dear."
It took him longer than it had taken me to recover, but after a few minutes he opened his eyes.
"Maman?" he breathed.
"She's right over there," I assured him, stroking his hair, while Jacques held him towards the window. Slowly, a little colour returned to the boy's face, making him look less like a ghost and more like a healthy child.
"If you hold Philippe for a while, I'll try to wake up Madame," the butler said. "Perhaps she'll feel good enough to walk. Then I'll help her to the window. It can't be good for her to lie on the floor all the time."
"Yes, give him to me," I agreed, stretching out my arms. "Did you hear it, Philippe? Your Maman will come to us." A shy smile appeared on his face.
The boy was just in mid-air between us, when a voice yelled
"I don't believe it!".
Jacques was so startled that he nearly dropped Philippe. I took the child into my arms quickly, and we all turned to stare at the source of the voice. It was Victor, and he was brandishing the pistol again. For a few blissful minutes, I had almost forgotten that he was there. I had known all the time why we couldn't leave the room through the window, but the reason had slipped my mind.
"We didn't do anything," I tried to justify myself. "We just – "
"You just thought you could smuggle the boy out of the house the moment my back was turned on you," Victor snarled. "I should have known that the old man and you would mean nothing but trouble for me. Perhaps I should just shoot you now, before you can do any real harm to Master's plan. I'm sure he wouldn't mind…"
He raised his pistol and aimed it at me.
"No!" I screamed, but I was not the only one. Philippe and Jacques had cried the same word. So had Antoinette, who had started struggling to free herself out of the man's grasp.
Yet there had been someone else's voice mingled with ours… a woman's. A brief glance at Madame told me that she was still unconscious, though. I looked out of the window again and saw that Victor was staring over his shoulder. Someone, presumably the woman who had shouted, had appeared behind him, but I couldn't see her. Victor was too tall and also too wide.
"You don't belong here, Mistress," he said calmly. "You should have stayed at home like a good girl and let the men do the work instead of turning up here with a pistol."
"I won't sit at home and let you murder innocent people," the woman called. "This has gone much too far already. Let Antoinette go… now!"
By now, I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of the woman. I was sure that I knew her voice from somewhere, but I couldn't recall where I had heard it. But then, it didn't matter, did it? It wasn't important who she was, as long as she helped us.
"You'd never dare shoot me," Victor spat, but I noticed a slight tremble in his voice. He turned around to look at the woman, probably to see whether she meant what she said. It wasn't more than a moment's inattentiveness, but Antionette seized her chance. A loud yell echoed through the garden, and Victor jumped on the spot, holding his arm into the air. His hand was red. My clever little girl had bitten him.
Antoinette landed on the ground on all fours, but came to her feet quickly. She hurried over to the woman and hid behind her. I only had a moment to wonder about why she trusted her so readily, before Victor approached the two, cursing loudly. Involuntarily I clapped my hands over Philippe's ears. I felt his body grow rigid in my arms and thought he was scared, yet just the contrary was the case. The woman jerked her head into our direction, and for a moment we could see her face.
Everything fell into place. I understood why Antoinette had hidden behind her, and I understood Philippe's behaviour. I understood it… but it didn't make any sense. It couldn't be…
"Marielle!" Philippe called cheerfully.
Author's note: For obvious reasons, I didn't put this note at the beginning of the chapter. So, now you all know who did it. Are you surprised or did you already guess it ten chapters ago? Tell me! Thanks to everyone who sent in a guess! They all were very creative and would have made fantastic stories. And congratulations to the winner… Phantom-Jedi 1! Please contact me, so that we'll be able to talk about the story you want me to write for you.