JANE

JANE Chapter Twelve: Fire

Chapter Twelve

Fire

Hacking and coughing, I was awoken at two in the morning, barely able to breathe. The faint trace of smoke had started to funnel under the door of my bedroom. I wore only a light t-shirt and pyjama pants to bed, and it was cold when I threw the covers off me; but there was no time to pause and dress or even grab my coat.

Gasping, I heard a piercing scream from above. I could smell more smoke as I began to cough. I ran down the hallway, pushing my messy bed hair from my eyes.

The trail of smoke seemed to lead to Rochester's room, six doors down. Everyone had stayed up to all hours drinking and the rest of the house guests seemed oblivious to the danger.

I knocked frantically on the door. When I turned the handle, it opened easily.

The room itself was enormous, with high, Baroque ceilings and a wide oldfashioned bed situated in the middle. There was no time to think. I ran to the bed where Rochester lay. Perhaps he'd already inhaled smoke because he didn't move when I said his name.

'Wake up Nate,' I said, shaking him. He didn't stir. I reached over his bare chest and grabbed his broad shoulders and shook him again. He finally opened his eyes, then coughed and spluttered in the greying air.

'Jane,' he whispered, 'what's happening?'

'The curtain! Look, fire - Nathanial, get up!'

I tried to drag him but he was tall and twice my weight in muscle. He managed to get out of bed and with my help sat upright and then he moved suddenly.

'Get the blanket Jane, quickly!'

He ripped the mats up and threw the blankets onto the curtains and the edge of the bed. I turned on the tap in the bathroom and filled a bucket that was sitting under the basin. I started throwing water at the drapes, wondering where I could dial for the fire department, but in just a few minutes we managed to contain the fire. The stone floors where the carpet had been removed prevented the fire from spreading beyond the curtains. Rochester had been planning renovations for a while and the lack of floor covering curtailed the heat at the foot of his bed.

When the flames had been put out, I felt intense relief mixed with exhaustion.

I leaned on the wall then slumped to the floor.

Rochester collapsed at the foot of the bed, head in hands. Then, it seemed like the only thing left to kill us was smoke inhalation.

Slowly, he rose. He was shirtless and beautiful in the moonlight as I looked out for a moment from behind my own hands. I was shivering from the open window, the icy water sloshing at my feet.

He brought me a towelling robe from the bathroom and handed it to me.

'You are cold, put this on. Tell no one about the fire.'

'What?'

'Tell no one about what has happened here tonight.'

'Why?'

He paused.

'Can I trust you Jane?'

I looked at him from behind my messed up hair, my cold feet suckered together.

'Yes,' I answered, hesitantly.

He knelt down beside me in the dark, finally the same height as me, eye to eye.