Page 30 of Zenith
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Imust have sleptthrough the day and well into the night when I finally opened my eyes.
I had not moved an inch, my body molding itself into the mattress, my cheek hollowing out the feather pillow. My gaze flickered around the room, the warm light of the bedside lamp lighting my way. My bag was sitting on the dresser, closed and hopefully untouched.
I sensed movement in the next room—the sitting room attached to the suite—and I remained still.
“She has not woken for hours,” I heard Alice say. “She must be starving.”
“I will keep a close watch on her.” Edward’s voice was unmistakable. “I will send for some food when she does.”
“Rocky—”
“The hotel must close immediately,” he commanded, barking his order and interrupting whatever she was about to say. “The doors must be locked at all times, and the staff must not allow anyone inside who is unknown.”
“Mr. Rochester, what is going on?”
“Do not question my orders, Alice,” he snapped. “You shall all be reimbursed and not suffer the loss of work. This is my wish. See to it.”
There was a slight pause before she answered, “Yes, sir.”
I did not hear any more. I was powerless to remain awake as sleep claimed me once again, but I did not mind. Sleep was peaceful and uncomplicated. A dream was a dream, and there it would remain while life… Well, life was a nightmare one could not escape.
* * *
Depression had taken me wholly.
After that first day, I did not know how long I remained in bed, not wanting to see anyone. I attempted to sleep my life away, but even constant rest was exhausting.
I attempted to shower on the second morning, but as soon as I looked upon my face in the mirror, I could not bear it. The marks on my neck were black, the shapes of Rivers’s thumbs imprinted on my throat for all to see. The skin under my eyes was not much better, and I looked sunken, the weight I’d been carrying around showing fully. My pain was no longer hidden, and I could not bear to see it manifested.
I returned to bed and did not move for anyone, not even Alice or Bessie. At least, not until I felt the presence of someone keeping vigil over my tired body.
Opening my eyes, I saw a dark form next to mine. Raising my gaze, I realized it was Edward sitting there, his back against the headboard and a book in his lap. His feet were bare and his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows. It pained me to find him there as he had never been so attentive before. Perhaps he had spoken the truth when he’d vowed to never leave my side again.
“Good morning,” he murmured, his eyes drawn to my movement. “I hope you don’t mind me being here. Alice would not leave me alone. I swear that woman has grown bold since you arrived. Do you know she calls me Rocky to my face now? Once, she would not have dared disturb my wrath.” I buried deeper into the blankets, and he smiled. “I fear I am growing soft.”
I feared he was growing a heart and gaining the same ragtag family I had, but I remained silent, unwilling to let myself soften toward him. At least, not until I was certain his intentions were pure this time.
It seemed he expected me to remain mute, and he did not mention it. Instead, he held up the book and displayed the cover to me. It was the copy ofPride & PrejudiceI’d read from cover to cover a million times over. The same copy that was worth quite a lot of money if I remembered correctly. It wasn’t the sort of book that was meant for reading, but I’d read it anyway.
“I noticed this was the tome you spirited from my library all that time ago. I’ve seen it in your hands quite a few times,” he said, opening the cover and smoothing his fingers over the title page. “Would you like me to read some to you?”
I frowned, disoriented by his kindness.
Clearing his throat, he began to read. It was a curious thing to behold, a man such as Edward Rochester reading Jane Austin. “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighborhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters. “My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?” Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.” He glanced at me with a smirk. “It is tedious already. Are you sure this is your favorite book in my library?”
I nodded.
“Well, it is an affront all things considering. Marriage and money.” He snorted and closed the book with a snap. “I must purchase you the audio book in lieu of my shredded concentration.”
The one-sided conversation dipped into a lull, but it was not long before his tone turned serious and matters I wished would remain unspoken were dragged into the light.
“Your lawyer friend came to see me not long ago,” he murmured. “He mentioned he was acquainted quite closely with your uncle, James Eyre, who had retired to Portugal some years ago. I understand it was because his health was poorly he sought you. Your aunt did you great harm by withholding knowledge of your family, Jane. I am sorry you never had a chance to know him.”
I remained silent, wary of his motives.
“Briggs is a good man,” he continued, setting the book aside. “You were right to put your faith in him.” He glanced at me, then smiled briefly. “I suppose you presume I merely sought you because of your inheritance. I can assure you I did not.”
