by Amity Cross
And what of Edward’s anger at the sight of his old friend? I couldn’t forget the rage that had passed through his eyes and the way he dragged the man from the dining room. The mystery was only deepening, and not one of these clues led me to solve the riddle. I was going around in circles.
I had to have faith Edward would reveal the events of this night to me once he returned, although I knew the chances of it were slim. I still had to try for my own peace of mind.
Outside, the wind had picked up and was blowing a gale across the moor. It rattled the windows every now and then, and I could feel it tickle my skin. Glancing around the room, my eye settled on the tapestry to the right of the bed. It was medieval in appearance and hung from the ceiling to the floor as was the style in those days. Most grand manors and houses held such treasures, and so did Thornfield, but beholding its beauty wasn’t why my gaze was drawn.
Rising to my feet, I stepped around the foot of the bed and stood before it, watching the fabric as it was sucked into a hollow space and then blown outward as the wind’s fingers let it go. I hardly took stock of the image portrayed before me as I curled back one side of the heavy tapestry.
To my surprise, I found a hollow recess in the stone wall behind with a door set into it. It was crude, and I realized this must be an older part of the mansion. Thornfield had many renovations over the past decades as it was turned into a hotel, and all sorts of nooks and crannies were uncovered. It must be an old servant’s entrance, and I fancied it opened onto stairs that would lead to the upper floors.
In centuries past, the staff used to live and work up in the eaves of great houses, using doorways such as these to quicken their path around their abodes. Remembering the upper floor Alice had shown me on my first day here, I knew it would lead me to those dusty, unused sections of the manor.
I wasn’t afraid, not at first, so I raised my hand and curled my fingers around the doorknob.
“Don’t!”
I turned in fright, my heart racing at the sudden burst of sound from behind me. Mason held his hand out, his expression twisted in panic.
“Don’t, Miss,” he said with a gasp.
I glanced uneasily at the door, then allowed the heavy tapestry to fall back into place. Coldness settled on my chest, and I glanced uneasily at the secret door.
“Shh,” I soothed, moving back toward the bed. “It’s okay. I won’t leave.”
“You care for Rochester, don’t you?” Mason asked as I sat beside him.
I hesitated, not knowing what I should say. He’d been forbidden to speak to me, and if Edward found out…
“I saw it in your eyes when you came in,” he went on. “I know I threaten myself with more harm by speaking to you, but you strike me as a sweet soul. You are a good person. I see that.”
“Hush,” I said, reaching for the face washer. Dipping it into the basin of clear water, I wrung it out, folded it carefully, and placed it on his forehead.
“Be careful,” he said desperately. “He is not who he seems. He has secrets, Miss. Dark secrets…”
His words chilled my very soul, but I didn’t allow it to show on my face. He was hurt, in pain, and feverish. It would do neither of us any good if I attempted to question him further even though I wished to tear the secrets from his mind and put this awful feeling of neglect to rest.
“Miss, please,” he pleaded. “You must listen to me.”
“I am listening,” I assured him. “You must rest, Mason. Mr. Rochester will return with the doctor soon, and all will be well.”
He sighed as if he struggled with a heavy weight, and then closed his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his forehead hot, so I doused the face washer once more to cool it. Checking the gash on his shoulder, I saw it had bled more, the small clot that had formed loosened with his desperate pleading.
Casting out my hearing, I hoped Edward wasn’t too far away.
23
The sound of boots in the hallway beyond roused me from my fitful nap.
Casting my gaze over Mason, I rose and inspected his wounds before placing another face washer over his forehead. My patient slept soundly. His fever had steadied, and no bleeding had resumed.
Mason started awake as the door burst open, and my heart galloped. Thankfully, it wasn’t an axe-wielding murderer but Edward Rochester and an unknown man. It must be the doctor from the village.
“You have ten minutes, Carter,” Edward hissed at the man. “After that, I expect you to be on your way with your patient in tow.”
The doctor nodded and placed his bag at the foot of the bed. Moving back, I vacated my place for him. He began inspecting Mason’s wounds as Edward turned on the overhead light so he could see.
“Did you clean these wounds, Miss?” Dr. Carter—for that was what I assumed his name to be—asked me.
I nodded, my gaze flickering to Edward’s, but he didn’t regard me at all. His eyes were firmly fixed on Mason, his expression unreadable.
“It will need to be sutured,” the doctor muttered, looking over the torn flesh. Moving to the side, he inspected the stab wound in Mason’s side. “This one doesn’t look deep enough to have punctured any internal organs though I would like to have a scan done at the hospital.”
“Can he be moved?” Edward inquired.
The doctor nodded. “The bleeding has stopped, and the flesh is clean thanks to the ministrations of this young woman. He can be moved with little bother of worsening his symptoms.”
“I’m sorry, Rochester,” Mason said through a moan, his eyes going in and out of focus. “I should’ve listened to you.”
“Be still, Mason,” Edward replied, seeming to have forgotten I was still present. “You are in good hands, my friend.”
“She is done for me,” was his faint reply.
“Nonsense. You’ll have a scar, for sure, but in a week or two, you’ll hardly remember the pain of it. You are not dying, Mason. You are far from it, I assure you.”
Edward gestured for the doctor, who assisted in righting Mason. Each man took an arm over their shoulder and hauled the wounded to his feet.
“Come,” Edward said. “Let’s get you away.”
Outside, it was dawn.
Edward and I stood side by side, watching the doctor’s car disappear down the drive and turn onto the lane. The air was still, not a whisper of wind disturbed it, and we could hear the purr of the engine fade as Mason was born to the village above. The storm that had risen during the night had all but departed, and the horizon was clear.
“You have borne a strange night, Jane,” Edward murmured. “You look pale. Are you well?”
“I was afraid,” I admitted.
“Of what? Mason?”
“I was afraid of the inner door,” I replied with a shake of my head.
Edward ground his teeth together and didn’t reply. I’d struck a nerve, and whatever haunted him had to do with what lay beyond that barrier. No doubt, now that I knew of its existence, it would be moved and hidden from me yet again.
“Laughter echoes through the halls at night,” I said, unwilling to let the events of the night go. “It has a madness to it that chills my bones. I heard it tonight before you brought me to Mason.”
“The house is full of strange sounds,” he said, brushing off my fears as if they were a mere annoyance. “It’s an old place. Floorboards creak, windows rattle with the wind, and ghosts most likely haunt dark corners. I’ve never heard such a thing, and I’m awake until late at night.”
“It was Grace Poole!” I exclaimed desperately. “I hear her laughter often, and it was the same sound I followed the night I found your room on fire. It was the same tonight. Why do you shrug it off? She almost killed you both!”
“Leave it be, Jane,” he said, his brow creasing in anger. “The matter is settled.”
“You would keep a murderess under the roof of a hotel? We have guests and a reputation—”
“Who has been murdered, Jane?” he asked, grasping my shoulde
rs. “Everyone is intact and very much alive. Did you see her? Did those eyes, which now stare into my soul and mark me a fool, see her cause these grievances?”
He’d backed me into a corner, and he knew it. I had no evidence save for a sound I’d heard in the darkness. I’d not once seen Grace laugh or cross paths with me on the nights I heard it echo through the halls. Nor did I lay eyes on her the night of the fire. I had no proof.
Edward loosened his grip, but the firm look in his eyes didn’t dull. “Leave this matter to me. I will not ask you again.”
I cowered slightly and nodded.
“Come,” he said. “Let us walk a little before returning. The air will do both of us good.”
He strayed down a path to our left, and I followed at his side. A fine dew covered the grass and plants, the air cool on my exposed legs.
The walk was bordered with box hedges on the left, which rose taller than his looming stature, their leaves shielding us from Thornfield. To our right was a mixture of cherry trees and beds of old-fashioned flowers such as primroses and pansies, all of them in bloom. The light was still low, the sun just now rising over the horizon, but I could make out their colors just fine.
Edward stilled and knelt, picking a pale pink peony.
“Do you like the sunrise, Jane?” he asked, rising and offering me the flower.
Taking his little offering, I nodded. “I like it just fine.”
“The colors will be brilliant this morning,” he murmured, casting his eye across the lawn to the moor where the first rays of the sun were staining the sky all manner of orange, pink, and blues. “But it always is after such an escape.”
“I fear I cannot stay silent,” I said, drawing his attention.
“You must, Jane,” he pleaded. “You are mine, are you not?”
I nodded, unsure of his intent. I was not completely his, but part of me was still tethered to his soul.
“Jane Doe,” he said, turning to face me completely. “With you, I trusted this strange night. Only you. I plead with you now to keep it a secret from all but myself. You now have some of my carefully guarded power. How will you wield it?” He grasped my shoulders, his eyes swirling with emotion. “How, Jane?”
“I wish to please you,” I said haltingly. “I wish to do what is right…”
“This is right, Jane.”
I lowered my gaze, studying the delicate petals of the peony. “Then a secret it will remain.”
He sighed in relief, his grasp on my shoulders loosening until he let me go entirely.
“And Mason?” I asked.
“What of him?”
“Will he be bound by the same pact of silence? He seems to be a man easily led.”
“That he is,” Edward replied. “We needn’t worry about Richard, Jane. He knows not to defy me.”
Glancing through the cherry trees to the moor beyond, I watched the changing colors in the sky as he studied the wavering emotions moving across my features. Neither of us spoke for a long time as we stood just so, our minds wandering where they would.
“You are a rare one, Jane,” Edward murmured, breaking the spell the wild countryside had cast over us.
“Am I?” I hardly dared to look at him for fear he’d see right through me and know what my heart held for him.
“Such beauty and strength defies words,” he went on. “I scarcely know how to describe what I see before me.”
“Then don’t,” I replied, finally working up the nerve to meet his gaze.
His brow furrowed, and this time, I was the one who had puzzled him.
A door banged, the sound echoing through the silence, and we were drawn apart.
“I must go,” I said, turning from him.
“Jane,” Edward exclaimed. “You would leave me without the pleasure of your lips?”
Hastening down the path, I replied, “I am cold.”
And there I left him.
24
For three days, I roamed the halls of Thornfield in silence.
I went about my duties, I gossiped with Alice, I went to dinner with the staff, and I assisted Bessie where I could. During all of these events, no one said a word about the screams in the night or the sudden departure of Mason. I didn’t see Edward either, and I began to worry.
It was foolish of me to think I should be made aware of his movements given my status and his tendency to change his mind entirely on a whim. Despite this, I still craved to be more to him than a dalliance behind closed doors.
Of course, I’d received no word on Mason’s health and no explanation of his wounds, so I became fearful of what could be lingering in the house. No one else seemed to care. The staff were as happy as they usually were, no laughter echoed at night, and all had become still. Whatever trouble had been stirred now slumbered.
I’d never let fear rule me, not even in the first days of my residence at Lowood, nor at the hands of Aunt Sarah, so I resumed the wanderings I’d taken to when I first arrived at the hotel. My master did not want me, so I would entertain myself as I’d done all my life.
Before I left my room, I’d retrieved the key from underneath my pillow, the same key I’d completely forgotten about possessing. It was my invitation to the walls upon walls of books, each one of them an escape from my chaotic life. It was time for an adventure within the pages, for fretting on things I couldn’t control would do me no good at all.
I hadn’t visited the library since before summer, and when I entered, it was dark and cold.
Crossing the room, I opened the curtains, letting in the last rays of the sunset that was flung across the sky. Tiny pinpricks of light glittered above, heralding the first stars of the night coming out to shine.
Darkness was a burden on Thornfield, but outside its walls, it was beautiful. It uncovered such spectacles that usually lay hidden under the sun’s light. A host of nocturnal creatures emerged from their burrows and nests—owls, mice, foxes, and even badgers—and then there were the stars. How they lit up the sky above in their thousands, hanging like a magical backdrop for the moon, which was but a sliver as its final quarter waned. On a clear night, it was as if one could see the entire universe stretching out across the moor.
“I see you’ve finally remembered where the library is,” said a dark voice from behind me.
Turning as Edward’s presence broke the spell nature had woven over me, I cast my gaze over him. He looked askew somehow, as if these past days had done nothing but haunt him with ferocity.
“How you love your books, Jane,” he went on.
“I have not needed to come since I received my tablet,” I replied warily. “Nor did I dare when your friends were in residence.”
“Now you dare,” he stated, watching me with stormy eyes.
I nodded, sliding my hand into my jacket pocket, my fingers tracing the outline of the key hidden within.
He stared at me with such hunger I wasn’t sure which way to turn. I was so angry with him for keeping himself closed to me, but my body was screaming to bend to his will. I was trapped by his gaze, neither able to move forward or turn tail and run.
“What do you wish to say to me, Jane?” he asked, his voice taking on a dangerous quality. “I can see it in your eyes. You think and think until you are sick, and yet you say nothing.”
I swallowed hard, knowing I wouldn’t be leaving this room until something changed. We were on the precipice of a blistering argument of the mind and body. The air had a strange charge to it, almost like we stood inside an electrified cage, and if either one of us turned away, we’d be struck down. I suppose this moment was the climax of our story, like those written in the books around us.
“Speak, Jane,” Edward commanded, his voice grating against my soul.
“You say darkness resides in you, but I cannot see it being more than a shade paler than gray,” I exclaimed. “You once called me silly because I hid. Well, you, sir, are hidden, indeed. What word is worse than silly, because you are it!”
Edward
snarled, prowling forward. “Do you really wish to witness the things I desire, Jane? The things that drive me to dominate?” He grasped my arm and tugged me against his chest, his fingers biting painfully into my skin. “Do you want me to shed my final mask and show you the beast within?”
I was caught, my gaze trapped within his even as my mind screamed at me to turn away.
“It is not your desire I wish to see,” I said. “It’s your demon.”
His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Poor little plain Jane Doe,” he muttered. “They are one and the same.”
“I don’t understand…”
“No, you wouldn’t,” he murmured, his grip loosening and his lips lowering toward mine. “You have suffered your own hardships, have you not?”
I nodded, my chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
“And how have you overcome them?”
“By coming to terms with the fact I cannot change the past,” I replied, my strength beginning to return. “Those hurts are a part of me, but they are not who I am. Just as they are to you, Edward.”
“Do you really believe that?” he asked.
“I believe because I am living it,” I replied. “I do the best I can, which is all anyone can ask of others and themselves. We are all human, and humans falter.”
He closed his eyes as his lips brushed against mine, but he didn’t take me. We were perched on the edge of a narrow path, and neither of us seemed to know which way we were going to fall.
“Will you let me have you as I will, Jane? Will you let me show you how my pain has twisted me?”
I trembled, my body picking up on the dangerous undercurrent in his voice. He was warning me with words that asked for my consent.
