Page 76 of The Phoenix Bride
The cook doesn’t seem likely to move. There is nothing for it; I must bolt past him. I take a deep breath, dart forward, rush past the unicorn—the dish catching on my sleeve—and then through the back door, ignoring the cook’s cry of surprise. Thereis a crash in my wake, the marzipan tumbling to the tiles. I barrel into the alley with the momentum of a cannonball, almost slamming into the opposite wall.
No time to pause. I continue running until I hit the main road, which is mostly deserted; there are no wanderers in London today. But at least dogged Katherine is still present with her flower stall, glancing warily up at the ashen sky as she rearranges a posy.
“Evening, mistress,” she says, smiling at me. I expect she still hopes I will buy a flower. I must continue to disappoint her.
“Forgive me,” I reply. “But I must ask—how far away is Aldgate?”
She blinks. “There is a fire,” she says.
“Yes, I know. What if I went via the river?”
“Not long—a half hour, at most. But there aren’t any barges to be had.” She pauses. “As there is a fire,” she repeats.
I thank her, ignoring her put-out expression as I run away. Someday I shall return and finally pay her for all her help.
It feels odd to come back around to the front of the townhouse; I am terrified that Margaret will burst from the gate and pull me back inside. But the street is empty, and I reach the house opposite the Edens’ without complication.
A footman answers the front door. Thankfully, he is so alarmedby my anxious countenance and state of dress that he permits me inside without protest, leaving me to wait in the parlor. Moments later, Sam descends the steps. He was clearly inthe process of dressing, as he holds his wig in one hand, and his outfit is a resplendent suit of peach-tone velvet. His bare head is covered in a buzz of brown bristles the exact shade as the wig.
“Cecilia!” he says, and then he gives a little shriek and covershis eyes with an arm. “You are in your wedding gown! I’m not supposed to see you beforehand. It’s bad luck.”
“Yes. About the wedding—”
“Did you hear that His Majesty is coming?” Superstition already forgotten, his arm falls in favor of a wild gesticulation. “Isn’t that exciting?”
“Very. Look, I must beg a favor.”
He jams the wig lopsided onto his head. “Of course. What is it?”
“I need to borrow your barge. To go into the city.”
“Really?” he asks, frowning. “Are you certain? I heard there is a fire.”
“Yes, I know,” I say, tamping down my annoyance. “Hence why I must go, to see if David—Master Mendes—is all right. I want to help him. His house is in its path.”
Sam nods slowly. “Pardon, to clarify— You wish to gointothe fire?”
“Beyond it. To Aldgate.”
“Where in Aldgate?”
“I don’t know.”
“It is a large neighborhood,” he says.
“Yes.”
“It is likely quite dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“It is our wedding day. We’d miss the ceremony.”
“Yes,” I say again.
He pauses to consider. We stare at each other. On the floor above us, there comes the faint, rhythmic yip of Duchess’s barking as she finds some new household object worthy of her derision.
Sam shrugs. “Well, all right,” he says. “If that’s what you want. Let me fetch Duchess, then we can leave.”
