CHAPTER NINECharles, being younger and more fleet of foot, reached the scene of the conflagration first.
Housemaids were running hither and thither, in helpless panic. Jess sat rocking to and fro on a fallen log, her green shawl over her head. Nearby Mrs. Crouch was lying in a state of shock against an old oak.
Parfitt, meanwhile, his collar undone and his sleeves rolled up, was attempting valiantly to organise a team of firefighters, but he lacked troops.
The strongest hands – those belonging to men who worked in the stables or in the fields – had been sent off earlier in pursuit of Jed Barker.
Parfitt greeted Charles with relief. “Thank God you are here, my Lord!” he cried. “We are severely undermanned.”
He looked round wildly. “Where are the ladies?” he asked in a tight voice.
Par
