To Deceive A Duke

Chapter 18

The bucket falls to the ground, her hands shaking. What is she thinking? She can't fight fires, she's not been taught to handle this. A hand tapping on her shoulder makes her jump and reach for her pistol. She spins around, prepared to hit but Florence slaps her hard in the face before she can move. 

"Get it together." Flo speaks harshly, a bucket gripped in her other hand, "Your people need you." 

Clarissa looks around at the people running,  at the people screaming and crying as the fire stalks closer to them. It's a horrific sight. She picks up her bucket. Florence takes her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Clarissa nods and the two girls hurry towards the shore. They wade into the river, about half a meter away from the flame and joins the line of men frantically throwing water onto the flames. 

Cold water seeps into Clarissa's boots and drenches the bottom of her coat but luckily the water doesn't rise above her knees. Her back aches and her hands are being rubbed raw but she doesn't stop filling her bucket. For 20 minutes she helps her people to douse the flames. At last, the fire brigade arrives and it takes a combined effort to reduce the fire to nothing more than a lit twig. The Strada port is easier to diminish and that too burns out in under an hour thanks to the efforts of the people. With the fires out people go home, exhausted, in need of sleep. While the fire burnt furiously it only destroyed the two ports and the boats near it, leaving most of the nearby houses undamaged and stable. It's a small mercy. 

Clarissa is sitting at the side of the river after everyone has left, her eyes on the wreckage of black wood and timber. There is little to show that there was ever a port standing there. She digs her bare feet into the beach, her boots discarded to the left. Her thick coat had helped to keep her warm from the Thame's strong current but her feet haven't been so lucky. She has rolled up the bottom of her trousers to keep the damp material off her skin. She pulls the pistol from her pocket and scrutinises it, the water has reached the gun powder, making it currently useless. Her fingers run over the barrel and squeeze the hard wood of the handle. All her training, the lessons, the tests meant nothing against the fire, she didn't prove her competence. She froze like a child. 

"Clarissa?" 

She turns, Flo stands there, her arms wrapped around her body, fighting to keep herself warmer. 

"Chuck has made ginger tea, I thought you might like a cup," She nods towards the pub where a steady light glows, "Most people are gathered inside," 

Clarissa shakes her head wordlessly and turns back to face the river. Florence lets out a frustrated sound, fidgeting on the spot, unsure what to do. Sighing she tucks her legs under her body and sits next to her solemn friend. The silence coats the street, the smell of burning is still thick in the air. Florence snuggles closer to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders. 

"You should come inside, it's almost five, people will start to wake up soon and they can't find you like this." 

Clarissa sucks in a harsh breath. Time has gone so much faster than she had anticipated. 

"I don't know what to do..." Her voice cracks, her throat suck. She turns her ashen face to Florence who is shocked at how deathly pale her friend is. She feels her start to shake under her arm. Florence doesn't know what to say so she stands up and pulls her friend to her feet. Clarissa grips onto Florence like a lifeline, all disputes forgotten between them. She picks up her boots and allows herself to be lead away from the destruction, but that doesn't stop her from glancing back, a feeling of failure and despair settling in her stomach. Her bare feet on the cold ground is the only other feeling in her body. 

It takes the pair a shaky 15 minutes to cross the river and walk down Florence's street. She lives in the middle of a row of identical small houses with dark brown doors and windows. Florence unlocks the door to number 8 and starts to light a number of candles in the front room. Clarissa glances around the living room, vaguely aware that in so many years of friendships she has never seen the inside of her friend's house. It's small, about the size of her bedroom, but it's well decorated and cosy, with a large sofa and coffee table in front of the fire. The door on the back wall leads to a bedroom while the door next to the fireplace leads to a small kitchen and dining area.