Okay, so I've been feeling bad that I left the last chapter on such a cliff-hanger as that, so I have moved mountains (not literally) to write up this next chapter for you. Enjoy!

Chapter 10 – The Nightingale and the Lark

When I woke it was day: an unusual movement roused me; I looked up; I was in somebody's arms; the nurse held me; she was carrying me through a familiar passage; it led back to my dormitory at Lowood School.

Night's songstress woke me from the dream; its tune of trills and gurgles whistled loudly from the garden. None carried me, for none moved. The room was dim and barely discernible; the fire having banked down beneath its ashes gave off no glow, though its warmth still hung on the air; it contended with a cool breeze that chilled my arm. A shadow or movement by the window alerted my eye, and turning my head, there I perceived that the heavy curtain had been drawn back: it now half-covered the lattice and blew in the breeze. The window having been opened, the nightingale sang loudly beyond. Had someone been in the room to unlatch the casement? I could not think that any would enter, other than Mr Carter to check on his patient. What if he saw us lain together so? – but who would disturb such a star-crossed pair?

Night's candles were burnt out. That cloudy dark sky admitted no light; the stars hid their fires behind them, and the moon – where was the moon – did she hide her pale face too?

Patient reader, it pains me now to recall how I laid there in my master's limp cold arms dreading what awaited me: the discovery; agony; the grief; acceptance.

The beautiful bird finished its song and flew away home. Soon, no sound disturbed the hushed air: all was still. I turned back with an ache in my heart, and nestled a little more into my master; I felt for his face to plant a kiss upon his cheek – my lips were met with his bristly jaw. With eyes slowly accustoming to the dimness, I told them to look their last as I beheld vaguely the outline of his strong features: his heavy brow, his very lips, his hair pushed back to allow me an injured view of his silent expression. I stroked his hair and my tears fell liberally. Giving out a great sob, I crushed myself against his body, to which he moved with a sudden but weak groan.

'Sir? Edward?' (pulling back my head from his) 'Did you speak? – did you move?'

Silence.

A wishful delusion? All my senses were alert! How hard it was to hear over the rapidity of my heartbeat–!

I felt it again! – a movement in his chest.

'Sir?'

'J-a-n-e?' came the dry whisper erelong.

I started. 'Yes, sir?' I gasped in both elation and shock.

For perhaps two minutes hence, I heard and felt only his breathing – a rasping echoed from his chest – building to a rhythm, as if he were gathering energy to speak again.

'Don't tire yourself, Edward, please! – only rest!'

'Jane,' he struggled to mutter again, followed by a cough.

'What can I do?'

'Stay.'

'Yes, sir. I shall stay here with you; I am going nowhere!'

I felt his warm breath on one side of my head as he exhaled in relief. I heard him and I felt him, though I dared not lift my head from his pillow, lest I woke up. He fell silent and seemed to have relaxed back into slumber.

Reader, it is quite something to be lifted from grief to elation! and a thing indeed to experience both at once, since it is not possible to leap from one to the other so quickly as the situation may do. I dreaded to wake up; I dreaded to get up and find him, my only friend! my one true love, cold in his bed, and my dreams at an end! The impending hour was not spent in the least bliss; for I was unconvinced he lived. How slowly Time dragged its heavy heels.

When the sky began blending her subtle tints of predawn-blue, though it was indeed still very dark, I heard again the bird singing in the garden: the song was quickly broken by another much more penetrable sound to my ear –

'Ja– Jane?' he began throatily, 'is it you – is it, Jane?'

'Thank God!' I muttered, embracing him instantly, 'you live!'

'You are certain?' said he breathlessly, 'I feel dead.' He groaned while trying to enclose me tighter in his arms: he could not manage it. This supremacy in the situation reassured my concerns at remaining in his bed; though I wished his strength to return, in due course, presently I rejoiced that I could be in no danger: he was too weak to make advances: we might lay here together and commit no sins. He huffed thrice more where he could not enclose me fully in his arms.

'Well then, Delilah,' said he very slowly, 'what have you done with me? I feel my strength has been sheared from my body!'

'You have been ill, sir, very ill!' I felt his hands. 'Blocks of ice! Let me have them to keep warm in mine.'

'Her very fingers!' he whispered hoarsely. 'I dreamt you were gone and I could not find you. Let me hold you closer, Jane – help me!'

'We are close already, sir.'

'Closer,' he pleaded.

'I should alert Mr Carter, sir.'

'I don't want Carter; I want you!' Again he could not help but relent to a sequence of dry coughs.

'I think you must have some water.'

He sighed, 'If nothing stronger to hand.'

I yet feared disturbing the vision by moving from his arms, but my master required water; and whether dream or not, I was obliged to fetch it. I now sat up and unable to reach the table where I had left his glass, I got up to refill it. With the room shaded in such heavy gloom, I got by mostly with my hands. I returned to Mr Rochester, sat on the bed and helped him to sip slowly.

'Thank you,' said he with relief, letting his head fall back, 'now come back to me, Jane?'

Reader, did you ever sit awake in the dark and wonder at a dream? I sat now on his bed and did just that. Did he live; did he speak – truly?

'Come, Jane, restore me to this world,' muttered he. 'You're unshod feet must be cold. Climb under my quilt; I like to have you near me.'

Whether human being or spirit, I answered the request by climbing back into his bed where I laid myself close to him, though he could not move to receive me.

He cleared his throat and managed to move slightly, only to loosely twine my waist with his arm. He could not though grip me at all.

'Oh, I must be dead,' he repeated erelong, 'and gone to heaven to wake with an angel in my arms.'

'I am no angel. Now do tell me how you feel? – has the pain subsided?'

'It is easy while you are here.' I felt his hand now moving over my waist and up along my arm, slowly to reach my shoulder, then to my face where he combed my cheek weakly with his thumb.

'Then I dare not move, sir, though I know I should.'

'Are you yet afraid, Jane?'

I swallowed down my answer; I said nothing.

'You think you will wake to discover this but an empty mockery?'

'Sir–' I clamped his bristly face with both my hands, 'I can't see you to know it by sight! You are living? I am not imagining this? The hours I spent believing you would not recover–' tears stifled my voice.

'I am living, my fairy, I am here.'

'Oh, sir, I thought I had lost you. Mr Carter feared the worst and said the danger was most pronounced last night – that I was likely to see you for the last time.'

'Did he, the Devil! I suppose the sexton is now at the vault of my lineage, by the kneeling angel, preparing it to receive me, is he?'

'I hope not, sir.'

'Doomed to make my final commitment to that place of wailing and gnashing of teeth!'

'Not if you behave yourself,' said I, while his careful hands sought evidence that I lay in his bed: my shoulder being gently squeezed; my cheek stroked; my wrists encircled. Soon I felt the strength in his arms growing; his chest rising; an acceleration in his heart; his breathing falling harder on my neck.

'How should a man behave himself when he is lying at death's door with his lover in his arms? Don't move, Jane, for I cannot. You must not, and I have no strength. Glad am I, too, to speak truth; for if I had the strength I might try to–'

'–Say no more, sir, or I shall move.'

'–Take you to my bosom, Jane. You cannot deny me a kiss?'

'I most certainly can, and will! One unsanctioned kiss is far too many for a married man.'

'But if I behave, will you stay?'

A pause.

'Jane?'

'For five minutes more, I shall stay, sir, if you promise to behave.'

I felt his smile as he put his rough cheek to mine. 'You had no intention of moving, did you, elf?'

'Originally, no, I did not.'

'Because you love me?'

'Not because of that. But because I do not wish to be far from you. Though I am certainly awake, it does not yet feel real.'

'You are awake, Jane, as am I. Jane, stay here under the covers with me. I am too weak to attempt boundaries, even if I should wish it – which I do not. Jane, you are shivering.'

'I am both cold and afraid, sir.'

'Then let me hold you and assure you, Jane – don't draw yourself away, come hither! Give me your hand. There! Do you feel the steadfast beat of my heart?'

'I do, sir, yes.'

'I ask you, Jane; let us embrace each other for the five minutes? To hold you in my arms while I am yet so weak?'

'Very well, sir, but no kissing. Only, Edward, do hold me!'

'I will do whatever you command, Jane. I will hold you; embrace you; breathe your little scent.'

I pulled the cover up over us both and pressed myself against his warm and muscular chest; my head nestled against his shoulder, his great arms encircling my entire frame.

'How hard and fast your heart beats, Jane.'

Here was I, delirious with his love! – This is what I feared would come of my staying in this house! This is why I fled! Who can know to what depths of self-destruction one might fall when confronted by temptation, until they are in the very clutches of forbidden love!

'Jane?' he whispered softly.

I raised my face to his, finding his eyes upon me, now easier to see in the faint approaching light of dawn; they looked upon me full of love and life, and longing.

'So, Jane?' pressing his lips firmly to my lips. He breathed passionately, kissed me tenderly, while gathering me to his breast. It was some minutes before I found the discipline to break gently away.

'You must conserve your strength, Edward.'

'I have strength enough for this.' – again his lips went to mine; both his hands held me to him – weak as they were – while his caresses lasted. Pleasure whirled the contents of my head and sent sweet tingles of desire down my spine, where its arms reached across into my heart to heal a wound momentarily. He groaned with pleasure and whispered my name between kisses, and I began to panic inwardly. The moment was heavenly; it flew so close to heaven I felt God's eyes on me. I did not wish to part with my idol, nor my father in heaven, and so I gently extracted myself from his arms and said –

'It has surely been five minutes, sir.'

'"Edward", my love!' He took hold of my hand; there he slipped something on my finger. I could not see it, but I felt it was his own ring.

'Dear Edward! I cannot take this, you know I will not!'

'Wear it, my little darling, as a symbol of our love.'

He kissed me again, but now I fought it. 'You know I cannot, and it is too big for my finger in any case. Now I really must fetch Mr Carter.'

'Then keep hold of it just until I am revived?'

'Let me have your hand, sir; I will put it back on myself.'

He broke into a fit of coughing as I slipped the broad ring back onto his little finger.

'But, Jane–' he spluttered, 'Jane, not one minute has yet elapsed.'

'You are mistaken, sir. It has been five minutes at least. In fact, I see the sun is soon to rise.'

'Sun?' he struggled to say. 'No, my love, it is not yet near day; you are thinking of the bright moon when that brilliant orb rises over Hay-hill yonder! It is yet the middle of the night, and a freezing night at that. You must stay and keep warm beneath my quilt. There, do you hear the nightingale?'

'Sir, it is a lark, that herald of morn is come.'

'Nonsense! I know its lyrics.'

'I am now satisfied you are living, sir.' I made a move to extract myself from his arms.

'Jane?'

'Yes, sir?'

He pressed his lips once more to mine, then twice more, before he said –

'I have exhausted myself, Janet.' He chuckled a cough. 'If you remain longer, I shall close my eyes now and rest easy while you stay?'

'If you sleep, sir, I shall stay.'

I saw his smile and his lids close to sleep, and this was evident in how deeply he breathed. I may have soon drifted off too. I woke before him, when it was perhaps late morning. Silently as I could manage, I climbed out of his bed, sought my slippers and went to find Mr Carter.

While the surgeon attended Mr Rochester, and Leah prepared the master a breakfast to that man's directions, I went to take something of the same kind in Mrs Fairfax's parlour. The hour for that meal was long gone by; it was closer to noon, but I was persuaded by the good lady to eat something. Tea and a small piece of toast were all I could manage. After which I returned to my own room to wash my face and smooth my hair, and then change my frock. Leah soon came to tell me that Mr Carter was leaving to visit another of his patients. I rushed downstairs to see him off, to thank him, to ask when he would return, and –

'How does Mr Rochester, sir?'

'He is very weak and will be for some time; quite congested, but out of danger. He is one of the lucky ones, and there are not many. It is unlikely his lungs will become inflamed, but I shall return in a few hours to re-examine him.'

Relief lifted the weight of the world from my shoulders.

'He must not get up or move too much, Miss Eyre, you will see to that? Plenty of bed rest; small amounts of food and fluid, no alcohol and no excitement.'

'Thank you, Mr Carter,' said I, shaking his hand.

I ran upstairs to Mr Rochester's chamber and carefully slipped within to find him sleeping calmly, other than for that rasping sound in his chest.

When the surgeon returned I went with him to look at Mr Rochester who was then awake, but so tired he could barely move. I went over to him, sat by his side and took up his hand in mine.

Mr Carter asked that he be given something a little more substantial to eat, and he directed too that my master would need assistance in many of the simplest tasks. He would return the following morning.

It seemed perfectly naturally, not just to me, but to the household, that I would nurse my master back to health. I planned to sleep the night in his armchair to be near him always – I had slept in worse and stranger, and certainly colder places! At dinnertime, I took up a tray and helped Mr Rochester to eat and drink. It was a lengthy process but I managed to get a quarter of what was on his plate into his stomach. After which, he was so exhausted that he could not remain awake, and so I took this time to wash his face and neck.

I plunged the sponge into the basin, wrung it out, and gently washed his features and hairline: his great jetty eyebrows, his grim lips and jaw; his neck and round to his ears. I pulled open his shirt and set the fabric back to expose his hair-roughened chest, his great shoulders. My cheeks burnt like the hot stove, yet nothing would induce me to stop – perhaps the only thing would be if Mr Rochester were to wake and boast at this captivity of my heart and fancy. I re-soaked the sponge and moved it across his massive chest as it rose and fell with the regularity of a north-easterly wind, and washed then his neck and arms–

'Jane?' he whispered.

The sponge I discarded to the basin; the towelling I quickly pulled over him. His hand was immediately seeking mine.

'Sir?' I swallowed hard. 'How do you feel?'

His eyes lifted slightly but he failed to move more. 'Like I have been dragged by chariot racers round the Circo Massimo for Ludus, before being rescued by an angel; she heals me yet with her bare hands. How wonderful they feel on my aching flesh, Jane. Don't stop.'

'I need to fetch Grace or someone, so I can turn you on your side; I need to wash your back.'

'I can turn.'

'No, you cannot. You can barely speak. Sir – please don't try! Oh, then let me help you –'

'Ugh,' he sounded out, puffing to roll over as I pushed against him.

'Am I hideous, Jane?'

'Yes, sir; you always were you know. Don't try to look round to me, or I shall commission Leah to finish this.'

'At your peril, you shall!'

I smiled to myself while I washed him, and I took no time over it now he was awake; I fought off any feeling and pursued the end of my task with only diligent efficiency.

'I should have pretended to sleep still,' he muttered. 'But I was so glad to wake to you. I dreamt I was in Hell, Jane; I dreamt I had fallen into the fiery pit. I lost my eyesight and one of my hands in the flames; but you pulled me from the fire, Jane, and loved me in spite of it.'

'Of course I did, sir. Now hush while I finish this.'

Thank you for reading!

Well, JE fans, I hope you enjoyed it! Romeo and Juliet was the tragedy – you may have guessed at the illusions to the lark/nightingale, the sun and moon debate, etc. But basically I wanted Jane and Rochester in bed for a cuddle, and Jane would never ever have gotten into his bed without a very good reason. Obviously, I feel I may have disappointed some of you with all the kissing (but surely, not too much!). I hope you enjoyed the romance! But what will happen next? Some exciting stuff coming up! It has been a while since chapter 1 where we last saw a certain someone I did promise to bring back later… will he appear in the next chapter?

News: my book Halton Cray will be FREE to download from Amazon this coming Friday 5th, Saturday 6th and Sunday 7th December! This is a promotional stratagem offered by Amazon to enable expansion of an author's readership. My own aim is to garner as many readers/reviews as possible. Please feel free to take advantage. Halton Cray is a paranormal romance inspired by Jane Eyre and set at a Tudor manor in present-day southern England. Maybe the genre isn't your thing, but maybe you know someone who might like it? And if you're in the USA you can gift a copy for free during these promotional dates! Take a look at my Book Trailer on YouTube (just type in Halton Cray) to see if you think you might like my book. :)