The Burning of Wooster Manor

The ethereal sounds of battle echoing through the voicepipe were unnerving for multiple reasons. Yes, the danger was plain, but it was simply unusual to hear anything emanate from them unbidden, beyond an abrupt ”Yes, Miss Mary,” or, ”Right away, Miss Mary.” Now though, it carried the sounds of the house to her bedchamber, rather than the other direction. Appropriate then, with this upheaval of the natural order, all that she could hear was chaos.
 
Ever since her mother's passing, Miss Mary had been the de facto master of the household. Her father spent most of his time at the capital conducting state business, and simply hadn't the time to attend to domestic matters. She had a head for leadership and had been taught her maths and letters. The waitstaff had been attended to and paid regularly. They were all gone now. Those among the housekeepers that hadn't fled for the docks had been cut down as the marauders found them. The guards fared little better for little longer. Only Jeeves remained.
 
 
”Miss Mary. There is nothing you can do for them now. You should withdraw to the safe room.” The old valet insisted. Old was unkind. The man was advanced in years, yes, but he had a weathered strength to him. Though his eyes were pinched and his skin tanned from long days of service in the sun, he was astonishingly perceptive. She could depend on him for most anything, but the numbers which had invaded their house were extraordinary, and though he was a capable swordsman, he was no soldier.
 
 
”I dislike being backed into a corner, Jeeves. If they find the safe room, there is no path for us to evade them. We would be at their mercy.” Miss Mary's eyes flicked towards the voicepipe as the sounds of violence continued to pour forth. ”I do not wish to entertain that possibility.”
 
 
Quietly, the valet flipped the cover of the voicepipe down, silencing the noise of combat that had been filling the room. ”Regrettably, there is no path for us to evade them, as it is. Rest assured, the safe room was fashioned by the finest architects your great grandfather could afford. These simpletons will walk right past it, be sure.”
 
 
Miss Mary gave a derisive sniff, but followed Jeeves as he led the way through the manor towards the safe room. It felt silly, to allow him to lead her. Though he had lived here much longer than she, this was still her home, and she knew no other place as well. Before long at all, they had slipped into the safe room with its bare stone walls, Jeeves pulling the false wall shut behind them and leaving them in darkness and silence. All that was left was to wait. Except...
 
”Jeeves, do you smell smoke?”
 
 
”Why would they set the house alight?!” Mary exclaimed between coughs, ”I thought they were here to steal! They can't well do that while the building is burning!”
 
 
Smoke had begun to filter in through the gaps in the safe room door. Without hesitation, Jeeves gently hooked a hand under Miss Mary's arm and pulled her to her feet. ”We cannot expect the common people to act with calm and coordination while they are raiding their betters. It may be that those more interested in satisfying their lust for destruction do not share the interests of those bent on burglary.” He shoved the safe room door open before poking his head out into the hallway and leading Miss Mary out.
 
 
”What are you doing? They'll find us out here!”
 
 
”They may find us, yes, and we will deal with them if they do, but fire and smoke both move upward, and that will find us if we remain. We shall head for the cellar and hole up there. With any luck, the fire will drive the raiders outside and we can make our escape when their attentions have wandered elsewhere.”
 
 
Mary held her peace as they moved through the hallways, which were filling with smoke more quickly than she would have liked. Jeeves seemed confident that the looters and thugs had arrived by happenstance and that they would easily move to a new and easier target once their manor had exhausted its opportunity, but she was not so sure.
 
 
Percival Jeeves took hold of one of the draperies and cleaned the blood from his sword as they quietly descended the stair case. The smoke was not as thick on the ground floor. Presumably, the fire had been started on the upper floors.
 
 
”Jeeves! You're soiling the fabric! Shouldn't you find a dishcloth or something instead?” Mary asked, incredulous at the usually fastidious valet's sudden disregard for decorum.
 
 
”Perhaps Miss Mary. However, I do not expect the wall hangings will survive the blaze. Above the foundations, I believe this is the last we will see of Wooster Manor.” He turned over one of the recently slain looters with his foot. ”I thought I recognized this young man. He was on the fire brigade.”
 
 
”Despicable! What would drive them to such madness? Honestly, what could they possibly have hoped to gain here? The business my father brings into the town is the only reason these louts have had it as easy as they have. Are the few trinkets they could carry out of here really worth their lives and livelihoods? Who would they even sell them to.”
 
 
”Some were just caught up in the fervor, I expect. It is not likely that they thought any further than seeing some who were profiting from the destruction and fear that they would miss out on the opportunity. Those that saw the first raiders were likely too fearful to take action, lest they become targets themselves. They are not driven by any malice, just different flavors of fear. I pity them.” Jeeves suddenly held up a white gloved hand as he turned his head towards a sound deeper in the manor. The looters had not all yet fled.
 
 
As the blood from the wayward mage's throat spilled across the floor, Jeeves stumbled against the wall, the tip of his sabre dropping to the ground. He recovered and stood fully upright a moment later, but not before leaving a red smear where his shoulder had pressed against the plaster. ”Quickly, Miss Mary, the cellar is just through here. Then...” He coughed lightly once, and Miss Mary did not believe it was from the smoke, ”Then we can rest a bit.”
 
 
”Jeeves, sit down! You're hurt! You look like you're about to collapse, and I am not about to drag you down the stairs!” Her voice was sharp, but only to mask the very real concern she felt. It was strange that with danger so imminent, she was more anxious about her valet slowly bleeding out than she had been that he might be cut down by brigands or burned alive by the flames.
 
 
”I do not believe that if I sat down now, I would be likely to ever stand up again. Do not fret, Miss Mary. There are bandages in the cellar. I will be able to address this, when I get there.” The tip of his sword came up and he stood a little straighter as they worked there way through the servants' quarters and through to the main hall.
 
 
Miss Mary was not reassured and recognized the false bravado for what it was. Still, she knew that Jeeves was right and expected that their best course of action was to forge ahead. Her nerves were playing havoc however, and she felt compelled to fill the silence to drown out her anxiety, despite the risk of attracting the attention of looters. ”I recognized that spellcaster before, back in the hallway. That was Master Adremius from the academy. His family is nearly as well off as ours. What in the world was he doing among the mob?”
 
 
Jeeves looked back at her with a face pinched with profound sadness. Odd that he could conceal the pain of his obvious injuries, but not the emotion of grief. ”In truth, Miss Mary, I have recognized more than just the boy from the fire brigade. There was an apprentice from your school in that last room, alongside Merrick, a shopboy from the Thayer's market. I think there is more going on here than greed. I always had friendly conversations with Merrick every time I went to purchase the week's groceries. He had such plans... such plans. Before your spell put him under though, he looked right at me. There was no recognition in his eyes. Just... violence.”
 
 
A clatter from the other side of a door revealed that some looters still remained, cutting Jeeves reminiscence short.
 
 
The cellar is cold and dark, but given the alternative, Miss Mary deems it acceptable for their purposes. After blocking the door, Jeeves laid down to rest and quickly fell asleep. To pass the time, Miss Mary summoned a magical servant to perform the cleaning that she would usually expect the staff to attend to. It calmed her to see them all busy at work. That was not likely to happen again. She began talking to herself to calm her nerves. It was not particularly effective. ”That man back there, his face seemed to... shift. Did you see that Jeeves? It was so bizarre! I have heard of beings... those doppelgangers, which can copy someone's face and steal their life. Perhaps that what happened to everyone... don't you think Jeeves?”
 
 
Jeeves obstinately did not reply to either question, so deeply was he asleep. ”Jeeves, honestly... I'll surely go mad if you don't reply when I ask you questions! It is only you and I now, isn't it? If I'm right and the townspeople have all been... replaced, then we can't trust anyone we know. Can we? Why do you think they struck our manor? Were they going after our manor specifically or were there other victims in town? Do you think they went after father?”
 
 
Jeeves continued to say nothing despite the torrent of questioning Miss Mary directed at him. ”Jeeves you have to give me something here. I can't be expected to make all the plans by myself, can I? Certainly the decisions are mine to make, but your insight is invaluable to me. Jeeves?”
 
 
Drawing closer to the recumbent valet, Miss Mary placed the back of her hand against his cheek. ”Heavens! You're cold as ice and white as a sheet. I don't think those bandages were enough. I think... I think Agatha kept a draught of healing in the study for emergencies! I'll go and fetch it!” Miss Mary ran to the cellar door and tried to push it open.
 
 
”Jeeves, there's something in the way!” She tried pushing several more times, to no avail. ”Jeeves, I need you to get up, I can't open the door! Jeeves! Jeeves!” Jeeves continued to be unresponsive, still as stone on the cot, with his ghostly pale face dimly lit by a single guttering oil lamp. ”Somebody! Somebody help! Can anybody hear me!? We're trapped in here! We're trapped! Anybody!”
 
 
But no one came. Defeated, Miss Mary slumped with her back against the door, pounding her fist against the wood behind her and screaming herself hoarse. The flame on the lantern went out and she lost all track of time.
 
 
After a time, she opened her eyes, she wasn't even aware that she had fallen asleep. She did not feel rested, though she did not feel tired either. She didn't really feel anything. She croaked out in a cracked whisper of a voice she didn't recognize using a word she was not accustomed to, ”Please...” she begged, ”I need someone to open the door.” She was suddenly aware of a presence standing over her in the dark, and three words in an all too familiar voice resonated throughout the cellar.
 
 
”Yes, Miss Mary.”