Page 52 of Zenith
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Later that day, a furious looking Alice sought me out in the library.
“Jane,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Where is Rocky?”
I nodded toward the study. “In there. He’s finalizing the sale of his assets.”
“Is it really that dire?” she asked, coming to sit beside me on the couch.
“The share prices have plummeted quite dramatically,” I replied. “He assures me that in order to save as many jobs as possible, he must dissociate himself from the company completely.”
“It is such a terrible business,” she commiserated. “But I have some information that may be helpful. Jane, I have found out who gave the information to Blanche about Bertha.”
I straightened up. “Who?”
“It was Grace.”
“Grace Poole?” I asked, my mouth falling open. “She’s Bertha’s carer and very well paid to be so. What cause would she have…” I trailed off, my thoughts tumbling around and around in my head.
Grace had always been apart from the staff at Thornfield and had some curious tendencies about her. She wandered the halls at night, and she had scarce human contact with anyone other than Bertha. It was no wonder she obviously felt alone and neglected.
Had she become complacent with her position and allowed Bertha to slip past her unaware because of it? If it were true, then I needed to see her at her post, and for that, I needed to know where in Thornfield Bertha was.
“I must see her at once,” I declared. “Where is she?” Alice hesitated and glanced at the door to the study. “Alice, please. I do not want to bother Edward with this. He’s got enough to deal with right now, and I fear this new treachery will cut deeper still.”
“I’m not sure you want to see it,” she said in a rush. “It’s quite confronting…”
“Alice, I must get to the bottom of this. I need to see Grace at once.”
She was silent for a long time, thinking over her decision. Finally, she nodded. “Come with me.”
* * *
Alice ledme to the eaves of the manor.
The old servants’ quarters were as devoid of life and as full of dust as they were the first day I’d laid eyes on them. I was led down a hall I’d never traversed before, in a direction opposite to the attic and the trapdoor, which led to the battlements on the roof above.
“Through here,” she practically whispered, gesturing to the door at the end of the hall.
“Thank you, Alice.”
“Are you sure you want to go in there, Jane?” she murmured, glancing at me nervously.
I nodded. “I shall be fine. You can leave if you wish.”
She bowed her head and scurried away, her footsteps clicking on the bare floorboards until she disappeared downstairs.
I didn’t blame her for wanting to escape this place. Looking about, it felt cold and desolate and positively haunted. I did not want to linger either, so I boldly pushed open the door that led to Bertha’s chambers—it felt too oppressive to refer to it as her prison—and steeled myself.
Immediately, I was assailed by a pungent stench, and I almost gagged. Within lay a small room with a compact window, which let light in from outside, and another door set in the wall directly opposite from where I stood. It was sparsely furnished with a low table and chair, a single bed, and a closet. It was a warden’s lodgings.
Grace Poole sat at the table by the open window, a book in her hands, seeming quite enthralled by the contents that she did not notice me at first. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer as Bertha’s mad chattering filtered through the door within.
“Miss!” Grace exclaimed, rising to her feet so abruptly she almost knocked over the little table beside her.
“Grace,” I said, covering my nose with my hand. It positively reeked of stale humanity in here. What kind of care was this woman giving Bertha?
“Sorry about the smell, Miss,” she said, watching me. “It’s nigh on impossible to give her a bath, and she goes without most days.”
