23
The soundof 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 shoulders. “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?”