Jahaan-Ara

Chapter Five: Rusty Smoke.

"Mr. Rochester, as he sat in his damask-covered chair, looked different to what I had seen him look before; not quite so stern— much less gloomy. There was a smile on his lips, and his eyes sparkled, whether with wine or not, I am not sure; but I think it very probable. He was, in short, in his after-dinner mood; more expanded and genial, and also more self-indulgent than the frigid and rigid temper of the morning; still he looked preciously grim, cushioning his massive head against the swelling back of his chair, and receiving the light of the fire on his granite-hewn features, and in his great, dark eyes; for he had great, dark eyes, and very fine eyes, too—not without a certain change in their depths sometimes, which, if it was not softness, reminded you, at least, of that feeling."

-Jayne Eyre

_________________________________________

A bitter smoky smell  assaulted Jahaan-Aara's nostrils when she stepped into the study.

Jahaan-Aara's eyes pinned on the table where a collection of her sketches along with her diary-an unmistakable tattered brown dusk jacket- sprawled on the table, like an open safe ready to be looted. A bead of sweat trickled from under her headscarf. It was tight. Too tight around her neck. Her heart pounded leaving Jahaan-Aara holding in her breath. Had he read her diary?

"Daddy took me hunting today." Adila jumped up and down clasping her fists tight looking up at Jahaan-Aara. "We shot a rabbit and Pistol had it for supper." Adila smiled pleased like she spent the afternoon stroking a rabbit. Her eyes were wide with excitement, she was buzzing with energy. In just one afternoon Adila was a different girl, she was happy.

Pistol lay in front of the crackling fire in deep slumber after his freshly caught supper. Standing beside the fireplace was Rohail Saab with a cigar in his right hand a glass of whiskey in his left hand. Dressed in black trousers, grey shirt, matching black chic suede jacket and a black cravat dressing his neck, he turned to Jahaan-Aara who snatched her diary and pressed it against her chest.

"I bought your drawings to show daddy. I told daddy that you draw amazing pictures and when I grow up I want to be a good drawer like you." Adila smiled with glee. Jahaan-Aara couldn't be angry at her. Adila loved looking at pictures, and would watch Jahaan-Aara as she weaved her magic creating calligraphy.

Did he read it? Jahaan-Aara was afraid to ask the question. Since his arrival, Jahaan-Aara filled pages of criticisms about her master. If he read it most certainly she believed her role as governess come to an abrupt end.

Doused in the shadow of the oil lamp, Rohail Saab swirled the rusty liquid in his crystal glass and emptied the contents in one swig. He closed his lips around the cigar and breathed in the tobacco as a circle ring glowed at the end of his cigar.

"You decided to grace us with your presence?" His voice laden with sarcasm.

"I informed the maid-"

"Adila-go-find your Bibi." Rohail Saab cut Jahaan-Aara mid sentence clearly uninterested of her explanation. He made his way over to the table removing the lid off the crystal decanter and refilled his glass. Adila stood requesting for a good night kiss, but he patted her like he would a dog and sent her on her way. Jahaan-Aara smoothed Adila's hair and whispered. "I'll come by tonight."

Adila left Jahaan-Aara to deal with Rohail saab. The room was warm. The oil lamp flickered. The mood was tense.

"I need to discuss Adila-you see she-"