Page 47 of Euphoria

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That night, I couldn’t sleep for thinking of Edward’s look when he stood before me in the sitting room.

What was it about Thornfield and his life that troubled him so? When I first arrived, Alice said he rarely remained at the hotel for longer than a few days, a week at the most, outside of summer. Would he remain and linger with me after all the guests had gone? If he did intend to leave, then the change would be too bleak to comprehend.

I hardly knew whether I slept after this as my thoughts were on a constant rotation, but at any rate, I started wide awake as a chilling moan sounded outside in the hall. I sat up in bed, clutching the blanket to my chest, and listened, attempting to still my beating heart.

What in the world?

I tried to shake off the strange sensation that someone unknown was lingering outside, but the tranquility of sleep was broken. I knew I wouldn’t settle until I’d investigated, so I slipped from my bed and unlocked the door. Peering out into the darkened hall, there was no movement or person to be seen.

“Who’s there?” I called out, but no one presented themselves.

Thinking it must’ve been the odd Grace Poole on one of her midnight walks, I sighed and returned to my room, but as I went to close the door, a sound came again.

This time, it was a laugh—low sounding, demonic, and deep—and it came from the other end of the hall. Knowing I might look back on this moment and think my next actions foolish, I cast my fear aside and replaced it with ire. I put my feet into my boots, and since I was wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a singlet, I didn’t bother to dress any further. Marching out into the hall, I turned to follow the sound. If someone was playing a game with me, indeed if it was Grace Poole, then she would be sorry.

Since the night I first came across her wandering the halls and denying her strange laughter, she’d been hiding away unseen. She’d been attending her duties, that much was clear, but had not slipped once in my presence. Tonight she had woken me, and I would see for myself!

“Who’s there?” I called out to the darkness once more. “Is that you, Grace?”

No reply came as I’d suspected, so I walked down the hall, my boots treading softly on the carpet. When I reached the end, I turned and surveyed the next hallway, but it was empty, too.

Laughter sounded again, much farther away this time, so I marched in pursuit of it, my annoyance rising with every step.

This had better not be some wild goose chase, I thought to myself. It was much too late for this kind of excitement, especially when Thornfield was full of important guests.

I followed the trail upstairs to the third floor, past the library, and then Edward’s study. Soon, I was in uncharted water. This part of Thornfield had been undiscovered by my ramblings, and the feel was different here.

The air was quite dim as if it were filled with the haze of smoke. As I hastened forward looking for the source, I became aware of the strong and unmistakable scent of burning.

A floorboard creaked, and I turned the corner, arriving into a hall of Thornfield I scarcely knew. Ahead, a door was ajar, and there came the source of the smoke, blue plumes rushing out from the crack.

I thought nothing more of the strange sounds that had led me here. I thought nothing of the odd Grace Poole or Alice and the staff. Indeed, I thought nothing at all of Blanche Ingram and her haughty friends who slept a floor below me.

Striding forward, I pushed through the door. It was then I realized I was standing in Edward’s bedroom, a place where I hadn’t been invited, the inner sanctum of the moody and complicated man I deigned to care for. But it wasn’t him I looked for, not at first. My gaze fixed upon the bright flickering of flame as it burned the foot of the bed, its fingers licking the edges of the quilt.

Smoke was filling the room, and I covered my mouth with the back of my arm in an attempt to filter it out.Why weren’t the fire alarms working?

Rushing forward, I gasped in panic as I beheld a sleeping Edward. I flung myself against the edge of the mattress, grasped his shoulders, and shook.

“Edward!” I cried. “Edward!Wake!”

He didn’t move, groaning in his sleep, and my gaze turned back to the fire, which had grown quickly. If I didn’t do something now, he’d burn alive!

Rushing forward, I dragged the quilt off his bed and tossed it out into the middle of the room. The flames flickered wildly as I attempted to smother the burning fabric, desperately calling out for him to wake.

“What…” His voice was groggy—in part from sleep, and in part from the smoke—as he crawled from his bed.

The room plunged into darkness as the last of the flame was extinguished. Then a lamp came on, and I blinked furiously at the sudden light.

Edward stood beside the bed, and when he saw me, he came forward, a look of astonishment on his face.

“Jane, what are you…”

“There’s been a fire, but it’s out now,” I said, moving across the room where I flung the curtains open. “We must open a window to let the smoke out.”

“Jane, how did you come to be here?” he asked as I opened the window.