Zenith (The Thornfield Affair Book 3)

by Amity Cross

“Edward,” I murmured, my voice sounding far away. It was the first time I’d spoken in three days, and it felt alien to do so. “Blanche knows everything. About Bertha, your past, my inheritance… That was why Rivers… She would have struck me down herself the day I fell down the stairs, but when she was thwarted by chance, she gave Bertha the very same knife. Then she destroyed Rivers to get to me.” I swallowed hard, my throat feeling raw. “She intends to destroy you completely.”

  Silence opened up between us, my words hanging heavy in the air as we watched the last of the painting dissolve into ash on the white pebbled driveway. The groundskeeper would have a coronary when he saw the mess we’d left behind. He took great pride in his detailing.

  “You mustn’t worry, Jane,” Edward replied after a moment of thought. “I have expected her to play her cards for months, and I assume what transpired with the painter was an unexpected boon on her part. Now that you are here and under my protection, I’m sure I will be hearing from her directly soon enough.”

  “I must worry,” I replied. “She has tried to destroy me along with you, regardless of our relationship.”

  “I brought this sorrow into your life, Jane, and I must be held accountable.” He turned to stare at me with his unearthly eyes, but I could not bring myself to match him. “It is the only way to mend what I have broken. There will be an end to this.”

  “You intend to let her divulge your secrets to the world?” I shook my head in disbelief. “You cannot.”

  “Do you worry about me, Jane?”

  I glanced at him, but his face was turned to the garden, his eyes studying the plants in great detail. How his brow darkened under the threat of Blanche Ingram. It was not the terrible temper I had come to know him capable of, it was the shadow of sacrifice which clouded his expression.

  I frowned and turned fully toward him. “I do, sir.”

  “Then I am pleased.” His disposition turned serious all at once, and he continued, “Jane, I asked you once if the world found me abhorrent, would you turn from me completely as the Ingram’s and their followers surely would…”

  “I did turn from you.”

  He bowed his head in acceptance. “You did, and I do not blame you. But I ask you now… If I were no one of consequence, if I were poor, plain, and little—just as you used to describe yourself—would you turn from me? Would you still see me as I am without this grand house and my fortune?”

  The air was full of the scent of burning chemicals, the low humming of bees working through the flowerbeds to our left clear in the silence of the countryside. Somewhere at the back of the hotel, a door slammed, and the groundskeeper’s dog barked, sending a pair of inky black crows sailing high into the blue sky, cawing in annoyance.

  Edward stared at me, his eyes swirling and his lips pursed together tightly as he waited for my answer.

  “No,” I said. “I would not turn from you.”

  His expression melted into softness, and he nodded. I stepped toward him, closing the space between us, drawn to him as strongly as ever.

  Brushing my fingers against his, I murmured, “You are not your fortune.”

  14

  After the remains of the painting had been resolved to ash, Edward and I parted ways.

  I felt I’d softened a little toward him, and the destruction of the portrait had lifted the weight John Rivers had piled upon my shoulders. I still worried about Blanche and her intent to destroy Edward, but I knew I must place my faith in him. He said he’d been waiting for her to make her move, and I assumed he was formulating a plan. I didn’t know what I could do to help, so I decided to watch and wait.

  Returning to my room, I thought of Adele and the staff at The Gossiping Shrew. I’d been spirited away quite suddenly, and when I did not turn up for my shift the following night, they would be wondering where I had disappeared. I was the kind of person who turned up fifteen minutes early like clockwork and remained an hour after I was supposed to leave. Not arriving at all was uncharacteristic.

  Then there was Rivers and his past familiarity with Adele. I worried about her after his attack on me and knew she had to be warned in case he came looking. She was a strong sort of character, and I knew she could look after herself, but they had been friendly. If he chose to take out his frustrations on her, she would not see it coming.

  Opening my bag, I rifled through the contents and found the little phone Georgiana had picked out for me last Christmas. Now it was summer, and more than six months had passed. Was it really so long since I had seen my cousin?

  Turning on the phone, I held it up as it attempted to connect to the network, and after a while, it was clear it wasn’t going to find anything. The reception was terrible inside Thornfield—there were only a few select corners where one bar turned into two—but outside, I knew there was no hindrance.

  At first, I didn’t want to go back to the garden and be reminded of the bittersweet memories of last summer, but when I opened the window and leaned out, I discovered there was no reception at all. The house was a solid barrier between the past and the present. It was allergic to technology it seemed.

  I stole through the hallways, unheard and unseen, my eyes tired and my limbs rubbery. Sleep had done nothing to re-energize me. In fact, it had done the opposite. Too much and I’d wasted away into a shadow. I had to get moving again.

  Outside, I walked and walked until I found myself in the orchard, the scent of flowers heavy on the air. Apples sat upon branches in their hundreds, ripening in the sunshine, birds flittered through the leaves, pecking at the cornucopia of fruit. Continuing through the trunks, I found myself at the very bottom of the garden before I realized how far I’d come.

  Emerging through the hedge, my gaze lingered on the stump of the great chestnut tree, which had once stood tall and proud. All signs of the lightning strike, which had felled the behemoth, were long gone. Memories flooded my mind as I approached, and I curled my hand into a fist as I felt the ghost of Edward’s missing ring. The jewel had felt alien as I never wore any to begin with, and its absence was even stranger again. It made no sense.

  Sitting on the trunk in lieu of the bench seat that had once circled it, I took out the phone and saw I had full reception Perhaps the lightning strike had left some of its energy behind, or maybe it was a place of spiritual energy considering the things that had transpired here. Another myth turning into reality.

  I was far enough away from the house that no one would see or overhear me, and I listened for a while for sounds of lingering eavesdroppers, but there were none. Satisfied, I dialed Adele’s mobile phone number.

  “Hello?”

  “Adele?” I asked, relieved to hear her thick French accent sounding so unharmed.

  “Jane! My goodness, I was worried about you. What has happened? When you did not show up for your last two shifts, I went to the studio…”

  “He did not hurt you, did he?” I asked, beginning to fret.

  “No… He seemed rather irritated. He said you had left after the opening but didn’t know where. He had a horrible black eye.”

  “Rivers is not to be trusted,” I rasped.

  “Jane, you sound terrible. I’m beginning to worry quite completely about you. What has happened?”

  “Adele, you must distance yourself from him,” I pleaded. “He is not a good man.”

  “Jane, what did he do? Where are you?” There was a rustling on the other end as she moved her phone against her ear. “I will skin him alive!”

  “I’ve returned to the north,” I replied. “After the opening, Rivers attacked me.” There was an audible gasp from Adele, but I did not stop and allow it to sink in. “When he found out I did not love him in return, he became spiteful and attempted to choke the life from me. I withheld the truth about my circumstances, and it was enough to push him over the edge into anger. I fear I have not been honest with you, either.”

  “The dog!” she said, seething, her French accent becoming thicker. “How dare he raise his h
and to a woman? I will have his—”

  “Please, Adele,” I begged her. “Stay away from him.”

  “You have my word, Jane,” she replied after a brief pause. “Where are you? Are you safe?”

  “I am at a place called Thornfield,” I replied. “It is a long tale, and I’m afraid my voice fails me.”

  “As long as you are out of harm’s way, the story can be saved for another time, yes?” She sighed. “We were worried when you did not arrive for work. It was very unlike you. Even Mr. Gibbons was fretting, and it is not in his nature. I will tell him you are well. Rivers will not be welcome here or anywhere in Shoreditch after this.”

  “Please, don’t go on some crusade because of me,” I pleaded. “I only wish for you to be safe.”

  “I know, Jane. I will be okay, so don’t you worry about me. I’ve been in far worse situations and come out the other end smelling like roses.” She laughed, most likely at some memory her words had conjured, and added, “What will you do now?”

  I raised my head and gazed at Thornfield, the manor oppressively dark against the blue sky. Nothing had changed, not drastically, but I had to decide on something. There were still cards left in play, and I feared it was not over by a long shot. I could feel the chill of it in the air, threatening to unleash at the most inopportune time.

  Finally, I said, “I don’t know what will happen next, but please, be careful, Adele.”

  “I promise, Jane.”

  The following day, I decided to return to the office even though I knew Thornfield had closed, and I was no longer an employee.

  I found Alice talking heatedly on the phone, her tone exasperated, to say the least. It seemed she was arguing with one of the hotel’s repeat guests, an elderly gentleman who always spent a few weeks in the last days of summer, trying to convince him his booking was canceled.

  When she finally hung up the phone, she was surprised to see me lingering in the doorway.

  “Oh, Jane! It’s good to see you up and about. Did Rocky tell you?” she asked. “The hotel is closed indefinitely.”

  I nodded even though Edward had not uttered a word to me about it. I’d overheard him barking orders at poor Alice.

  “I feel so bad for Mr. Masters. He’s been coming here ever since I started working in the office,” she said. “And many years before that, too! It’s a shame to tell him Thornfield has been closed. He seemed quite upset by it.”

  “He will find a finer place and forget Thornfield soon enough,” I said. “I feel Edward has done the right thing considering…”

  Alice frowned. “Yes, you’re right. If only she wasn’t here, then think how grand the hotel could be!”

  I sat in my usual place at the desk, the scene feeling strange yet familiar to me. Running my fingers over the keyboard, I brought the computer to life and stared at the screen. The wallpaper was exactly the same with the icons all lined up just how I liked them. The email program had a red dot in one corner, proclaiming there were three hundred and sixty-eight unread messages. Oh, dear. I hoped Alice had dealt with them on her end.

  “Jane…”

  I turned at the sound of her uncertain voice. Preempting her line of questioning, I said, “Alice, don’t worry about a single thing. None of it was your doing. It was all circumstance.”

  “And Blanche bloody Ingram,” she said, seething through her teeth. “To think I had been dazzled by her! I should like to get my hands on her, Jane. I can’t believe the things she’s done to you and all because Rocky loves you, not her!”

  “Jealousy drives people just as strongly as love does,” I mused. “Do you think it was jealousy?”

  “Indeed I do! She could not bear to think he chose you, when you had nothing, over her, who had all the money in the world!”

  I sighed, knowing she somehow knew about all of it, and thought about my untouched inheritance. I wondered if Edward had sent word to Mr. Briggs that I was back at Thornfield. I must send him an email to let him know directly.

  “I don’t blame you for not telling anyone,” Alice went on. “People get funny when others come into money like yours. It’s difficult to know whom to trust. Everyone suddenly wants to be your friend when they would have turned their noses up at you before. Shallow the lot of them!”

  I nodded, completely agreeing with her. “I didn’t want to say anything for that very reason. At least, not until I was certain of it in my own mind.”

  Her smile was bright, and I felt a pang of guilt knowing I’d left her here alone while I’d fled to London.

  “Anyway, what are you doing in the office?” she asked. “You don’t need to do a single thing!”

  “I needed something to occupy myself with,” I replied. “I will go mad otherwise.” I hesitated, realizing what I had just said. “I didn’t mean…”

  Alice smiled and shook her head. “We’ve heard neither hide nor hair of you know who since…” She trailed off and waved her hand toward my chest. “I’m not sure where she is exactly, but she is here someplace. Rocky has made sure she is contained quite securely. You needn’t worry about her escaping again.”

  I nodded and turned to the window, staring out at the clear day beyond. “It surely is a strange sensation being here, knowing she is hidden someplace. To think of all those times I almost caught her wandering the halls…it gives me the shivers knowing she could have harmed me, and no one would have been there to stop her. It’s curious, you know, knowing what I know now. I’m entirely sure Blanche conspired to have Bertha set loose at that precise moment all along so she could be seen by as many people as possible.”

  “Do you really think so?” Alice was staring at me in shock. “Do you think she is that manipulative?”

  “Yes, I entirely do. We must be on our guards, Alice. I fear she is not done with us yet.”

  She nodded furiously. “I will.”

  Allowing the conversation to drift into silence, I turned back to the computer and opened the email program, intending to write to Mr. Briggs. First, I scrolled through the plethora of unread messages, checking each folder I’d long ago set up to filter their importance.

  One message sat in my personal folder, the same folder which always sat empty, and I clicked on it. When the message flashed on the screen, my heart leapt into my throat. It was from Edward, dated the day I’d fled Thornfield.

  I could only guess at its contents, and my hands trembled at the thought. Should I read it? Did it mean anything now? I suppose he’d sent it knowing I’d never be here to read it, but now I was, and it was still waiting. Was it full of hate or love?

  Deciding to think about it, I printed the email and folded the paper into small squares, then fitted it into my pocket. It was there if I desired to know the words he’d written in anguish. I mulled on it for quite some time before I knew I had to go outside or lose my mind worrying about it.

  “Alice,” I said. “I’m going out for a walk.”

  She turned and asked, “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I am in need of some fresh air, is all.”

  “Well, it’s getting late. Don’t be too long, or you’ll catch a chill.”

  Promising I would be safe, I left Thornfield and walked. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go, but I knew I wanted to be alone. My mind would not suffer distractions, and as if my body knew the perfect place to lead me, I followed my feet and quieted my tumbling thoughts, allowing my boots to carry me where they willed.

  It was entirely ironic when I found myself crossing the low fence at the edge of the garden. Passing through the forest, I smiled as I remembered the carefree afternoon I’d spent here with Edward. I felt like I could look back on it fondly now and see it for what it was. A brief moment in time when we were completely happy and free of burdens that were to tear us apart.

  Soon, I emerged onto the moor itself and climbed across its ragged surface, my boots scraping across rock and squashing patches of brilliant green grass that clung where it could catch a piece of dirt
to cast their roots.

  When I felt I’d traveled far enough, I sat on an outcropping of bluestone, my feet dangling over the edge, and breathed in the clear air. My palms lay flat against the rock, delighting in the warmth it had soaked up from the sun, and I swung my legs back and forth, contemplating the letter which sat in my pocket. The longer I dwelled, the more it began to burn a hole, and I took it out, my fingers trembling as I did so.

  Unfolding the paper, I immediately began to read, becoming lost in the things Edward committed to reality. The further I went, the more his heart was divulged and the more my opinion of him changed. I felt the pain echo through his words, and then his love and honesty as he confided the last of his secrets to me. To think he’d considered ending his life because he was so unhappy! Tears fell down my cheeks unchecked as I imagined never knowing him at all, to go on as I always had, alone and lost until the day I died.

  And his mother’s books! He’d trusted me in his library, giving me the key to his mother’s most prized possessions. This gesture spoke volumes, and I trembled knowing it. If only he’d told me half of these things, then perhaps the last few months would have gone so much differently.

  I read the letter a second time, then a third before raising my eyes to the moor. What good was it to dwell on what ifs? The past couldn’t be changed, no matter how much one wished for a time machine. There were many things I desired to change if I had the chance, but if they were different, would I have found the love of Edward Rochester? I sincerely believed things happened for a reason, as random and unforgiving as they could be.

  I sat on that rocky outcrop for a long time, thinking over all manner of things. I was at another crossroads, well aware that the choices I made now would change my life irrevocably.

  The last of the sun faded over the horizon, and the day wore into night, the stars stretching endlessly above, the pale face of the moon lighting the moor with her silver rays, and still, I did not go back.

  “Jane! Jane!” A mournful cry wailed across the moor, then nothing…