I had never been afraid of the dark. During the hardship of my life, I often found it to be a place of safety and comfort. As a child I would recede into the shadows, cloaking myself in darkness to hide from my hateful cousins. My fondest moments of Lowood took place in the dead of night where Helen and I would lay awake talking into the small hours of the morning. Even as an adult I found myself fleeing to darkness in times of fear or anxiety. There was something about the dark that soothed me. However, the blackness of my disembodied mind was far from a serene safe haven. For a time there was only nothingness. Trapped in a void, I felt nothing but my own terror. I began to wonder if I was dead. Was it was purgatory I was trapped in? The silence inside my own mind was deafening, stretching on beyond the limits of my own sanity.
At last, I found salvation in the distorted voiced which filtered into my awareness. As sensation returned I began to hear concerned murmurs, gentle voices at my bedside. Mrs Fairfax, the doctor, Nan, Mary and Mr Rochester all came and went, I could feel them bathing my brow, stroking my hair and holding my fevered hand. I even felt the occasional nuzzle of my ever trusted protector, Pilot, who I often felt curled up at my feet. Every so often, when I found the strength to open my eyes I would see their blurred figures sitting with me, moving about the room or coming near to help me to drink. Their presence was an invaluable source of comfort. It gave me something to focus on while I fought back against the looming blackness. However, there were times of crisis when my fever would peak and I would lose myself to nightmares. Their calming voices and reassuring figures would morph before my clouded eyes into grotesque creatures. As the fever raged for hours on end dreams bled into hallucinations, tormenting my frayed mind. During one particularly vivid episode, I woke, not to the comforting scene of my Thornfield bedroom, but a dark sweltering hot dungeon. My Aunt stood over me in bed, laughing in glee while I wasted and writhed in pain. The chaotic, hysterical laughter shook her entire being as her featured began to melt away into that of a much younger woman. Suddenly it was the beautiful Blanche Ingram who stood before me. Her usually flawless visage twisted into a horrifying grin with wicked black eyes and sharp vampiric teeth. In her hand lay a beating heart, dripping with blood, its vessels torn as if it had been ripped from a chest. Her smile deepened as I looked down. My nightgown was shredded with a large hole. Blood poured from a gaping wound in my chest pooling on the bedding around me.
"He is mine" she hissed, stepping towards me. Her long claw-like nails began to piece my heart and she squeezed it mercilessly. I let out a blood-curdling scream and moved to run, but I was held down. I thrashed and fought against the bindings holding me captive but it was no use, the iron grip was far too strong for my feeble efforts. Miss Ingram advanced, her face still contorted with a haunting smile. She stopped right at my bedside and cackled menacingly before tossing my lifeless withered heart into my lap. Deep gouges covered the poor deformed organ and I watched in horror as it began to rot before my very eyes. In a blind panic, I scooped it up and pressed into my chest. Blanche continued to laugh as I realised the gaping wound in my chest had closed. I whaled frantically while clawing at the skin, desperate to return my heart to its rightful place.
Suddenly my wrists were seized, the bindings holding me tighter to the point where I could hardly move. This spurred me on all the more as I fought against them. With a surge of energy, I could not account for I threw myself off the bed, kicking and scratching, shrieking like a thing possessed. Breaking free, I landed heavily on the floor beside the bed. Delirious, I began searching for my heart which I had lost track of during the scuffle, but it was nowhere to be found. Looking around the room I noticed the Blanch had also vanished, my skin and gown were no longer stained with blood and the familiar confines of my bedroom had reappeared. I was then wrapped in strong warm arms and lifted from the floor. Exhausted and confused I continued to fight against them, but my outburst left me feeling drained and boneless. I was placed back in bed while the person holding me sat behind me, their arms folded across my shoulders and waist, trapping my arms while I whimpered and weakly struggled against them. As my nightmare faded I found that though their hold was firm, my captor cradled me gently, protecting me from myself more than anything else.
"Shhh, sweetheart" my captor soothed. "Be still". His arms tightened slightly as his thumbed stroked soothing circles against my skin. Worn out from my exertion I felt myself begin to slip back into oblivion. As I hovered on the edge between sleep and wakefulness, My captor lay his head against mine, his soft hair tickled my ear as he nuzzled against my neck. "I am so sorry, sweetheart" he whispered.
This was one of many occasions where fever drove me to near madness. Caught between dreams and reality I would wake up screaming and fighting against assailants who were not there. Each time I had to be firmly but kindly brought back to bed and restrained until I was calm once more. On one instance I was said to have made it all the way into the corridor and was hovering perilously at the top of the stairs before I was taken in hand by those watching over me.
Finally, after days of struggle, my fever broke and I felt my mind begin to clear. I woke naturally, not at the behest of nightmarish creatures or insistent hands urging me to drink. For the first time in many days, I felt comfortable. Though my arm still throbbed and my head and shoulders ached from illness, I no longer felt discombobulated and dizzy. Opening my eyes, I squinted as the early morning sun shone through my window. Pilot was curled up at my side so I stretched out to reward him with a thorough head scratch. He melted into my pats but did not stir.
A light snore at my bedside drew my attention. Looking up I was surprised to see Mr Rochester asleep. His tall, broad body was squished into an armchair with his head lolled to the side and his long legs stretched out before him. He looked more unkempt them I had ever seen him, with at least a few days worth of stubble decorating his chiselled jaw and a head of unruly curls. His coat and cravat had been put aside, leaving him in only shirt sleeves and a thoroughly creases waistcoat with many buttons left undone. He looked charming, if not a little exhausted. The dark rings which encircled his fine eyes left me wondering if it had been him who had been tending to me to diligently. In my feverish delirium, I had memories of strong arms and a soothing masculine voice pulling me from my nightmares. I could vividly remember his voice hushing me gently, calling me his sweetheart, but I dismissed it immediately. He was as good as engaged. I was sure he would not be wasting his time caring for a servant so intimately.
I continued to watch him sleep for a time, admiring the adorable way his mouth would fall open, releasing a gentle sigh or delightful little snore. He would them purse his lips lightly and return to a peaceful slumber. He looked much younger in sleep - a far cry from the fastidious man, plagued by responsibility and duty. I felt my heart squeeze in sheer love for him. He was so handsome. But beyond that, he was kind and sensitive and passionate. I then became briefly transfixed by the taut lines of this throat and chest, visible through the gaping neckline of his shirt. Though it was never left exposed his skin was lightly bronzed and speckled with a light dusting of dark hair.
So absorbed in my in-depth study of his form, I failed to see his eyes open and begin their own examination of me.
"How do you do, Jane?" he asked, startling me from my fascination. My cheeks flushed when I looked at him. The sly smirk he worse showed he had been awake for a while and had been aware of my thorough study of him.
"Much better, Sir," I said with a hoarse voice, attempting to push myself upright. Mr Rochester immediately moved to help, adjusting the pillows against the headboard, even positioning one for me to lay my injured arm upon. It was still a little swollen, but far less painful then what I could remember. A dressing covered me from wrist to shoulder, limiting most of the movement of the limb.
"Good". He said, sitting back into the chair. "You gave us all quite a fright. Your arm sustained a terrible infection. I cannot tell you how startled we were to discover such a large wound. But the doctor has been treating it and it is healing well. Your fever too, broke last night. I have been waiting for you to wake for many hours" he brooded, glaring down and my arm. I was a little taken aback by his ill-disguised anger.
"I am very sorry to have caused such trouble, especially while you have a household of guests" I murmured, looking down at the woollen counterpane.
"Yes, well as you should" he snapped. I glanced up in surprise at his sharp tone. I had never heard him speak thus. His glare was cold and harsh for a second before softening at the startled look in my eyes. He looked away for a second, running a shaking hand through his dishevelled hair. "How could you be so reckless Jane?" he asked. His voice breaking at the end as he looked up in anguish. "There were many times, where I thought I would lose you. You were so ill I was afraid to even touch you!".
"I am sorry!" I cried. "I did not know what to do. You asked me not to say anything about the fire, but the burn would not heal" I gestured down to my arm, carefully propped on the pillow. Mr Rochester looked pained by my words. "I tried my best to tend to it. I thought I had it in hand". There was silence for a time. Getting up from his chair, Mr Rochester began to pace angrily from one side of the room to the other. His dark expression burned into the dark wood floor he glared at so violently. In a moment of anger, he kicked the kindling box, the noise causing me to startle and gasp. Pilot too, who had up until this point been soundly asleep, shot up, growling defensively at the noise. Mr Rochester turned to me but I shied away in apprehension, scared of what he may say next. Seeing my discomfort he was at my side in an instant, seating himself on the bed beside me. Seeing only his master, Pilot slouched back against my leg, casting an uninterested glance in our direction.
"I am so sorry, Jane. It is not you I am angry at" he soothed, grasping my hand. "I worried that may have been your reason for not seeking aid. I put you at risk and left you alone in your suffering. I am so sorry, My L-... Friend". Water pooled in his eyes for a moment, his distress evident.
"It is alright, Sir. I am alright" I said. Bringing my hand to his lips he placed a lingering kiss on each of my fingers before looking deep into my eyes. The action left me a little breathless.
"You are so very dear to me, Jane. My dearest friend. I don't know what I would have done if you had-" he choked. "I am going to have to ask you not to take any more risks with yourself, for my sake" he smiled halfheartedly.
"I would do anything for you, Sir" I replied, transfixed by the sheer emotion in his beautiful eyes. He smiled tenderly at me, before kissing my hand once more. He removed himself from the bed, settling back into the armchair. "So, what has gone on since I feel ill? How has your house party gone? I hope Adele has not been too much under their feet".
"To be perfectly honest, I have spent very little time with them," he said. "With you so ill I found I could hardly tolerate their idle chit-chat. I have tried to dine with them each evening, but I have spent most of the week here, nursing you".
"Nursing me?!" I gasped in surprise. "I am so sorry to have been such a burden. I am sure your guests are most put out". I could not believe it was actually him who had sat with me through the tormenting fever.
"Oh, nonsense! The men have access to my cellar of fine port and the ladies have enough gossip to prattle over till the cows come home. I am hardly missed at all. Besides I could hardly leave you. At times it was as if you were possessed, ranting and raving in such a fever. It lasted so long we thought you might sustain damage from it. I found I had to hold you down lest you hurt yourself in the throws of it all". I could not help but blush, thinking that he had sat in my bed with me in his arms.
"I am sure Mrs Fairfax or the maids could have seen to me while you entertained your guests," I said.
"Indeed, but I found it too hard to leave your side" he replied. His gaze was so direct I found myself speaking without thought.
"I am sure M-" I began, stopping before I made a fool of myself. I looked away, my cheeks heating in shame.
"What is it?" Mr Rochester asked. "What were you going to say?"
"Nothing, it is not important" I replied, unable to meet his eyes.
"Tell me" he insisted, reaching across to my hand once more. I looked up at him, my love for him giving me courage.
"I am sure Miss Ingram is not happy with your absence" I whispered, looking away quickly. To my surprise, Mr Rochester laughed lightly.
"There is very little that Blanche is ever happy with" he smiled, squeezing my hand. "But now that you have met her, what do you think of her Jane?". I was momentarily startled by his question. I am sure he would not be altogether too thrilled to hear exactly what I thought of the young lady who was expected to soon be his bride.
"Well, she is very beautiful, Sir" I replied hesitantly.
"Yes indeed," he said. "But what do you think of her character? Do you think she will make me a perfectly charming wife?". My stomach dropped at such questions. I had a sudden flashback to the disturbing Miss Ingram of my nightmares, crushing my heart in her bare fist.
"I cannot own to knowing her well enough to make such a deduction, Sir" I began. "But I am sure anyone who can own to being an intimate friend of yours must be perfectly lovely". He laughed once again, whether it was at my expense or not, I did not know. With a forlorn sigh, I rested my head back against the pillows, gazing out the window at the morning sky.
"You look tired, Jane" Mr Rochester said.
"Mmm" was all the reply I could manage. Our conversation had tired me considerably. I already felt my eyes begin to droop. Getting up once more, Mr Rochester once again re-organised the pillows, assisted me to lay back, and pulling the covers up around me.
"Sleep a while, I will be here should you need anything," he said, caressing my cheek lightly. I believe I was asleep in mere seconds.
I spent many days confined to my bed and room once again. After spending so much time similarly occupied upon my arrival at Thornfield, I was often agitated and bored. Fortunately, Mr Rochester spent an alarming amount of time away from his guests, neglecting his hosting duties in order to keep me entertained. We passed many hours in our usual amiable conversation, laughing with one another. Mrs Fairfax, Sophie, Adele, Mary and Nan visited often as well, providing amusing commentary on the daily activities of the Halls prestigious guests.
The doctor also returned every second day to see to my arm. After removing the old dressing he would go about cleaning the wound. This involved scraping off the putrefied flesh that prevented the burn from healing. Though this was incredibly effective it was excruciatingly painful. Apparently, when I was fevered I had struck the good doctor while he went about his task, therefore he asked Mr Rochester to sit behind me, against the headboard during the procedure. While the flesh was removed he held me firmly, whispering to me soothingly. I found myself biting my tongue in a desperate attempt to stop myself crying out and alarming the rest of the house. On one instance I was fortunate enough to pass out from the pain, which gave Mr Rochester quite the fright but saved me from minutes of endless torture. Luckily the effects of these procedures were fairly instantaneous. Once it was complete my arm felt far less painful and seemed to improve more and more with each treatment.
One afternoon, Mr Rochester and I were laughing away at my recent visit from young Adele. The charming little girl had prepared an intricate puppet show for me, with plenty of characters and plot twists. After the dancer had stolen away the queen's husband and eloped we could hardly contain our giggles. The child was never short on imagination. After she had left we enjoyed some tea, still uplifted from Adele's exploits.
"She is such an imaginative little thing" I laughed, laying down my teacup.
"Indeed" Mr Rochester agreed. "Though, I did not think her to be a particularly bright child until you arrived. You have taken great pains with her, she seems to be flourishing". I smiled at the praise.
"She is a very intelligent little girl, Sir. She will be a credit to you when she is older".
"Hmm, and so very much like her father" he sighed. A sad shadow crossed his featured as he stared sadly into his tea. Looking up at me he gave me a very half-hearted smile. "I know I have never told you much about where she came from. I promise one day I will. It is still very painful-". He was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, followed but it swiftly opening to reveal the beautiful Miss Ingram.
Stepping into the room with a beguiling smile, she looked between me and the master.
"Ah, here you are Edward. I thought I might find you in here. I just popped in to see how the little governess was fairing" she smiled sweetly with false concern.
"I am much better, thank you Miss Ingram" I replied with a respectful nod.
"I am glad to hear it. You must be a special little thing indeed to cause such a stir"
"She is invaluable" Mr Rochester interjected, giving me a charming grin.
"I am sure she is," Miss Ingram said snidely, but with a serene smile. "I wonder since Miss Elliot is feeling so much better, might I steal you away for an afternoon ride Edward? You did promise" She pouted.
"Of course, my dear" he replied. Placing his cup down on the tray. "I shall fetch Mrs Fairfax to sit with you while I am away," he said rising from his chair.
"Oh no do not trouble yourself. I am feeling a little tired anyway, I think I shall have a nap" I said, trying to hide my sadness. Seeing them together in such an intimate setting only emphasized what a charming couple they made. With her flawless fair looks, she was the perfect juxtaposition to his handsome dark features. I could not help the miserable ache in my chest.
"Alright," he said, casting me a wary look. "Only if you are sure?" he seemed to feel a little uneasy about leaving me.
"Perfectly sure, Sir" I replied, smiling as convincingly as I could at the beautiful pair. With that, Miss Ingram wrapped her arm around his, leading him from the room. Just as the door began to shut behind them, she turned and bestowed me with the coldest glare I had ever seen.