Ellie skidded around three corners in her chase before she realized that she was following him back to the kitchens. "Oh, no," she groaned, feeling suddenly very sick to her stomach. Not the oven. Please not the oven.
She felt the smoke even before she saw the door to the kitchen. It was thick and acrid, and it stung her lungs within seconds. With a grim heart she turned that last corner. Servants were handing off buckets of water, and Charles was in the thick of it, shouting out orders and running in and out of the kitchen as he hurled water onto the flames.
Ellie's heart caught in her throat as she watched him dash into the blaze. "No!" she heard herself shout, and without thinking she ran through the throng of servants and into the kitchen. "Charles!" she screamed, tugging at his shirt.
He whirled around, his eyes filling with horror and rage when he saw her next to him. "Get out!" he yelled.
"Not unless you come with me." Ellie grabbed a bucket of water from a servant and threw it on a small blaze that had jumped from the floor to a table. She could put out that small section of the fire, at least.
Charles grabbed her arm and began to drag her to the door. "If you value your life, get out!"
Ellie ignored him and picked up another bucket. "We almost have it contained!" she yelled, charging forward with her water.
He grabbed the back of her dress, stopping her short and causing the contents of her bucket to fly forward, landing rather neatly on the fire. "I meant that I will kill you," he hissed, hauling her toward the door. Before Ellie realized what was happening, she was on her behind in the hall, and Charles was still in the kitchen, fighting the blaze.
She tried to reenter the kitchen, but Charles must have said something to the servants, because they very efficiently blocked her way. After about a minute of trying to worm her way back in, Ellie finally gave up and joined the bucket line, refusing to consign herself to the impotent position Charles seemed determined to assign her.
After a few minutes more, she heard the telltale sizzle of a blaze put out, and the people in the bucket line began to exhale so loudly that Ellie wondered if any of them had remembered to breathe. They all looked exhausted and relieved, and she decided then and there that her first official act as Countess of Bil-lington would be to make sure that all of these people received some kind of token of appreciation for their efforts- Extra pay, perhaps, or maybe an additional half day off.
The crowd thinned out at the entrance to the kitchen, and Ellie wormed her way forward. She had to get a look at the oven and see if she could somehow determine what had caused the blaze. She knew that everyone would believe that the fire was her fault— she only hoped that they would think she had done a shotidy job fixing the oven and not that she had purposefully set the fire. Better to be thought foolish than evil.
When she entered the kitchen, Charles was in the far corner, conferring with a footman. His back, thank goodness, was to her, and she darted over to the oven, which was still letting off a bit of smoke, and stuck her head in.
She gasped at what she saw. The rack had been moved to its highest position—even higher than it had been before Ellie had fixed it. Any food placed in the oven would catch fire. It was inevitable.
Ellie stuck her head in a little further, wanting to get a better look, but then she heard a sharp curse behind her. Before she had time to react, she felt herself being yanked backward, and she had no doubt as to who the yanker was.
She turned around warily. Charles was standing over her, and his eyes were blazing with fury.
"I have to tell you something," she whispered urgently. "The oven. It's—"
"Not one word," he bit out. His voice was hoarse from the smoke, but that did little to diminish his rage. "Not a single, damned word."
"But—"
"That's one too many." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.
Ellie felt traitorous tears stinging her eyes, and she had no idea whether they were caused by hurt or anger. She hoped it was anger, because she didn't much like this feeling in the pit of her stomach that he had somehow rejected her. She rose to her feet and walked to the kitchen doorway so that she could hear what Charles was saying to the servants in the hall.
"... thank you for endangering your lives to help me save the kitchen and indeed all of Wycombe Abbey. It was a noble and selfless act you performed today." Charles paused and cleared his throat. "I must ask, however, were any of you present when the flames began?"
"I had gone to the garden to collect herbs," replied a kitchen maid. "When I returned, Miss Claire was screaming about the fire."
"Claire?" Charles's eyes narrowed. "What was Claire doing down here?"
Ellie stepped forward. "I believe she came down earlier when ..." She faltered for a moment under the weight of his thunderous glare, but then she reminded herself that she had absolutely nothing of which to be ashamed and continued. "... when we were all gathered in the kitchen."
Every servant's eyes were on her, and Ellie felt their collective condemnation. After all, she had been the one to adjust the rack.
Charles turned away from her without a word. "Get me Claire," he said to a footman. Then he turned to Ellie. "A word with you," he barked, and stalked back toward the kitchen. Before he reached the doorway, however, he turned around and said to the assembled group, "The rest of you may go about your duties. Those of you who are sooty may feel free to avail yourselves of the bathing facilities in the guest wing." When none of the servants immediately moved, he said sharply, "Good day."