Without explanation, I found myself being pulled along at great speed. Jane climbed the steep trails effortlessly; all the while her hand remained clamped on my arm. Never did the bells cease their eerie, insistent song. Finally, when we reached level ground again and I could catch my breath, I yanked my arm away.

"What... What... is... it?" I panted.

She stopped midstride and threw an impatient look over her shoulder.

"Chapel bells. They never ring the chapel bells. We have to get back."

"Chapel?" But I was allowed no more information. Her hand seized my arm again and I was dragged in her wake. As we advanced, the faint, milky-green light diffused by the trees became brighter and the clanging sounded more urgent. I thought I heard distant voices shouting. The pungent smell of roses piqued my senses as it always did just before I left the sanctuary of the trees. But then I breathed in another odor, acrid and overpowering, and at last I understood Jane's alarm.

Smoke.

We burst from the cover of the trees and I saw them, thick, gray spirals billowing in the clear, blue sky. Hovering like a dreadful portent, these clouds obscured the gabled rooftops of Rosefield.

My heart stilled. Jane let go of my hand.

"Evelyn," she whispered and then sprinted ahead, leaving me behind and soon becoming a tiny figure in the distance.

I followed at a run, my thoughts flashing back to that morning and the smell of smoke I had detected, though Joss himself had told me the kitchens were empty and Meg was with Evelyn. How foolish I had been!

Soon I was out of breath and struggling to cover the expanse of gently sloping lawn. The bucolic scenery was now a hindrance rather than a pleasure. Every rolling bend, every scenic little nook became an obstacle. My wet skirts hampered my progress, twisting about my legs. Every few paces, I found I had to stop and catch my breath. All the while, my eyes were locked to the sky, straining to catch sight of Rosefield.

It's a kitchen fire, I told myself. It's nothing.

But when I reached the boxwood hedge that fringed the gardens, the full devastation that the bell's warning had presaged became frighteningly evident.

Oh my home! My Rosefield!

Rosefield's sloping roof was ablaze, as was the entire western wing of the house. Flames shot out of the upper floor windows, rising to lick at the eaves above. I heard the tinkling of shattering glass and the crash of timbers falling within.

For a few stunned moments I simply stared in shock. An edifice so aged, so stately as Rosefield had seemed impermeable to harm. For hundreds of years it had stood, a monument to stability, but here it was, blazing to ruins before my eyes. It couldn't be! Tragedies do not happen on lovely spring mornings under cloudless and sunny skies. I thought of all of the beautiful things housed within, all transformed to ashes and my heart broke.

"Miss Bell! Miss Bell!"

I turned at the frenzied summons and saw Joss waving his arms over his head. He and Meg stood near the kitchen garden wall, both covered in soot. Standing with Meg's arms resting on her shoulders was Evelyn, staring somberly up at the inferno that was laying waste to her home. I rushed to them and dropped to my knees in front of Evelyn. The child's eyes were glassy and unfocused, but she recognized me soon enough. Her small arms clamped around my neck as if she would never let go. Her little sobs shuddered through her small frame and I hugged her closer. A child should never have witnessed the things she had seen in the last few days. A child should never have to understand destruction such as this.

"It's all right," I crooned to her. "You're safe."

"The engines have been called from Millcote," Joss said over the sounds of the blaze. "But I don't know what they can do now."

"Did Mrs. Delchester go to fetch them?"

A pained looked flashed across both of their faces.

"No, Miss," he said, lowering his eyes so they would not have to meet mine. "She's gone inside to free that woman from the attic."

***

A scream, a true scream, bubbles up from deep within you. You can feel it, whether it be sorrow or fury or fear, rising, raging through your veins, gathering force until it hurtles into your mouth, pries apart your teeth and so frees the dormant primal being in us all.

I know that I screamed. I know that I ran.

I don't remember crossing the threshold, or climbing the stairs. All that I recall is smoke stinging my throat as I called her name over and over and the dark and shifting landscape that had replaced all that was familiar inside. The air was so thick I could chew on it, taste the soot and ash as it coated my mouth. Rosefield creaked and rumbled, its own voiceless protest to this senseless destruction. I think I turned left, seeking the stairway that would lead me upward to the attic, but a blast of blistering hot air buffeted me about until I stumbled backwards and found myself teetering against the railing of the gallery circling the Great Hall.

I heard a violent crack as the railing gave way and the ceiling above split and heaved downward.

I rolled to one side as I fell to the floor and narrowly missed a large chunk of plaster as it plummeted down.

Hurriedly, I pushed myself up and tried to reorient myself but the only light came from the flames that were rapidly engulfing everything. All that I could do was retreat, and even this I had to force myself to do. My mind was in rebellion.

She is still alive, I told myself. I would know it if she were not.

Or would I?

CHAPTER 23

Daylight and solid earth underneath me. Somehow I had crawled outside. I found myself staring up at the sky. I lifted myself up, resting on my elbows.

From that vantage, lying on the soft grass, the attic rooms were clearly visible. The stained glass windows set into the walls, those that had once reminded me of glittering jewels, were now shattered. The roiling blaze shot from the jagged portals, tendrils ever seeking to feed. The towers that divided the sloping roof were like spires of pure flame rising desperately into the sky.

Oh if only the heavens would open up and give mercy. If only nature would repair this travesty, I prayed. But no succor from heaven came.

My gaze, never wavering from those upper stories, caught the slightest movement within one of the smoking windows. A billow of white, the barest glimpse of white blonde hair, and then a face and torso leaned out, gripping the sill, breathing in deep gulps of air.

I gasped. It was Celine. She was still alive.

It seemed something drew her attention away from the life-giving air. I saw a hand upon her shoulder. Celine shrieked, her soot-blackened face gave the whites of her eyes an even more crazed aspect. I could see the hatred written upon her face, even from this distance.

And then she screamed.

"Never! I will never give you the satisfaction!" With a demonic leer she gripped the windowsill and hoisted herself up onto it. Her slim form was silhouetted there briefly.

"May your conscience eat you alive before the flames have you," she shrieked. "I'll see you in hell!"

And then she pushed away from the window, arms outstretched, garments billowing around her like wings as she plummeted to the ground. I stared at the place where she had landed, a small crumpled shape on the courtyard stones and then my eyes darted back to the window. The spires were no more. They had toppled, crushing the portal and any hope I might have had.

I had no breath, no thought. Time had ceased to move for me, though movement all around me registered in my mind.

A small, warm shape hurtled on top of me, knocking me down, forcing me to breath. Small arms grasped me tightly. And a golden head rested on my chest.

"Maman, oh mon maman! Tout le monde me part! Ne pas me partir encore! Que est-ce que je ferai? Que est-ce que je ferai?"

Her words tore at my heart, how much this poor child had suffered. She had thought her mother dead, only to find she was alive and mad, and now this. "I won't leave you. I promise you that. I will never leave you."

I sat up, put my arms around her, and held her as she cried. There was little else to do as we both helplessly watched our world, and all that we held dear, perish before our eyes.

I could not cry. I couldn't summon one drop of moisture from my eyes or a sob from my breast. It seemed the flames that were devouring Rosefield would consume all of my emotions as well.

Tears would not form, but deep within me a stiff resolve had.

I would not believe Jane was dead. I couldn't accept it.

We heard answering bells and the pounding of hooves as the engine arrived from Milcotte a short while later. They gave a valiant effort, but in the end, told us what we had known from the start. Rosefield, and everything within was lost.

***

Meg showed her true worth that day. A compassion and strength, so quiet and encompassing emerged, I was deeply ashamed at ever thinking her cross and heartless. She led Evelyn and myself to a bench in the garden, a bower with a trellis of roses enclosing it, gave us some water and insisted that we drink. Next, she took a soft cloth and wiped the soot from my face and hands. Like a baby, I allowed her to do these things, not caring or even feeling her do it. Next, she tucked a blanket around us and then gave us both a quick peck on the forehead. Neither of us acknowledged this rare display, traumatized as we were. But at the back of my mind, I noted it and was grateful. She left us, joining the shouting fray still arranged around the front of Rosefield.

The western side of the edifice had collapsed completely. Only the eastern wing still stood, but it too, was being slowly devoured from within. I looked up at the slate roofs and tried to picture them as I first saw them, with moonlight glinting off of them making them look like the scales of a giant fish. Now they were tumbling off one by one to crash to the courtyard, or caving in. Gaping holes told of swift and sure ruin soon to come.

Meg and Joss directed the men from Milcote to evacuate all they could from the eastern wing while it was still standing. This was no easy task. Though the men had wetted down the walls the best they could, the fire continued to consume and smoke choked all of the corridors. They risked their very lives to retrieve bits of Rosefield's history, paintings, silver plate, small and delicate figurines, all stained black by the smoke. Through the windows, they pitched what furniture they could rescue, until sweating, coughing and exhausted, they declared they could do no more.

All the while, Evelyn and I watched in deadened silence. Her head rested in my lap, but she did not sleep. Like mine, her eyes remained locked to this arena of commotion, dispassionately observing the men about their desperate tasks.

What cared I if these mementos survived if the heir to it all did not?

As the sun made its progress across the sky, the toil around us continued but we took no part in it. Meg came back from time to time, once bringing us more water and some bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth, brought from a nearby farm. This parcel remained wrapped and untouched on the bench beside us. Neither of us stirred.

Late in the afternoon, Evelyn fell asleep.

Near dusk, the roof of the eastern wing collapsed with a sad and defeated splintering sound and Rosefield was finished, gone forever. Only the chapel stood, now a defiant reminder that all comes to ruin eventually.

And only then did my tears come. Only then could I begin to see the truth. Nothing could survive such devastation. The resolve within me started to crumble. I was glad Evelyn was asleep, that she wouldn't have to see my grief.

The air was still thick with smoke. Waves of it rolled away from the wreckage. I couldn't smell it anymore. It was as if everything without and within had gone blank, a slate wiped clean, and the Charlotte Bell that I was no longer existed.

Only the pain, as hot and smoldering as the embers of Rosefield, remained. It coursed through me so that I thought I could feel the fire of it in every vessel of my body.

But still I could not cry.

The roses all around me, the soft, almost apologetic voices of Meg and Joss, their tentative hands stroking my hair, the cricket's song as the sun sank behind the hills, these things would try to offer me solace, a place to vent this horrible, tortuous grief. But I wanted it. I held onto it jealously.

It was all I had left of her, this pain, and I would not let it go. I wouldn't let it escape with my tears.

I wanted all of it.

I reasoned, without logic, that if the pain became so unendurable, so agonizing, then perhaps I could die of it, perhaps it would claim me whole. Only then would I release it.

But then Evelyn sighed pitifully in her sleep and common sense returned.

No matter how much I wanted sorrow to separate me from myself, I would remain sensible Charlotte, at least for Evelyn's sake.

I had given her a promise.

And realizing this must be so, sorrow clutched at my throat and flooded my eyes. It squeezed my chest until my ribs ached from sobbing. Endless it seemed, testing the depth of my soul. How much emotion can one body hold? But, grief is like a virus. It renews even as it feeds upon you and so my tears seemed to have no end. Quietly, I cried until the sun had set and Joss came for us to tell us that the men from Millcote were leaving and that we should go with them. He said he had arranged that Evelyn and I should spend the night at the inn in Milcotte.

I heard this like a whisper across a vast chasm. Staring straight ahead, I merely nodded and allowed him to take Evelyn from my arms. But when he made motion to help me rise, I shook his arm from me and snapped at him like a rabid dog.

"You think I would leave her? You think I would just go? Someone should stay. Someone should watch... What if..." I choked. "What if she needs me?"

Joss gaped at me and then sputtered, "But Miss, you know she couldn't have..."

I leaped from the bench, angrier than I have ever been. I felt the sorrow leave me to be replaced by a paroxysm of blinding rage, not at Joss, not at anything or anyone. It was rage against fate.

"Why?" I shrieked, pacing the garden path, subconsciously mirroring Jane's own habit. "Why couldn't she have survived? She would find a way! She wouldn't leave me. Did they search everywhere? Did they even try? Bring them back! Make them keep looking!"

I was a maddened thing. If he hadn't been holding Evelyn, I would have attacked him, pushed him down and beat at him with my fists. Instead, I turned my fury on the roses, tearing at the fragrant and fragile blooms, shredding them, wrestling with the thorny vines until my hands were bloody and I my breathing ragged. But the docile hedge couldn't fight back, wouldn't give me the answer I so needed.

"Why?"

And then Joss gave me a look of such benign pity it stopped me in my tracks. Tears slid down his dirty cheeks. "We did everything we could," he said, his voice thick with shame. "Lord knows, I tried..."

It was only then that I noticed his blistering hands and face, both raw and red, his charred clothing, and the way he limped as he came toward me with Evelyn in his arms.

"Come with me now, Miss," he pleaded. "Find your peace just as she has surely found hers."

For the longest moment, I simply stared at him, not really seeing him. I was thinking of Jane's face, that soft and young picture of happiness I had seen in the moonlight.

"All right," I whispered, and together we walked to the cart that would carry us all to the village.

CHAPTER 24

Like a cork floating along on a swiftly moving stream, life continued to go on around me and I endured, without actually partaking in it. The innkeepers welcomed us effusively that first night, and then for days afterward, crept by our room with careful feet, fearing to encounter us. Our blank and lifeless faces must have shocked them. The news had traveled quickly, but no one directed any questions at us as we wearily climbed the stairs to our room. Evelyn spent the first night with me, my body curled around hers protectively as we lay, sleepless and weary, on the lumpy bed. Noise rose from below. The tavern was full and the village inhabitants had much to gather and talk about. I learned through fragments of conversation carried through the cracks in the dormer walls, that the villagers had 'given the lunatic what burial they could.' and that 'them fine things' had been carted to a cottage near the seashore where workmen had been hired to clean and restore what they could. But that was all I had learned. No matter how much I strained to hear it, Jane's name was only mentioned followed by the obligatory 'may she rest in peace.'

Neither of us slept that first night. But our wakefulness had nothing to do with the noise or the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. Someone had neglected to pull in the shutters. Moonlight pooled on the windowsill. Tentative bands of light stole into the room like a visitor humbly petitioning to enter. One tender ray fell across my face and in my delusional state, I thought I could feel it, like a caress. I thought I could detect the scent of roses, but I knew that must be fantasy. The only scents in the air were of roasting fat dripping onto the hearth fire as the spit turned over it and of fermented spirits spilled upon the rough hewn boards of the tavern below.

I am not sure what thoughts kept my mind company during those hours. I do know that a sense of peace fell over me and the burning pain inside had dulled, or, more likely, had burned away all the parts of me that could feel anything.

The next morning, I had fleeting memories of Meg barging into the room and forcing us to sip at some soup she and the innkeeper's wife had concocted. It smelled heavily of brandy and chicken broth. I believe we both drank it down, for the rest of the day was hazy. We slept and when we finally awoke, it was to find that two days had gone by without our being aware of it.

"C'mon now, you have to get some sustenance. Can't go about sleeping your life away."

Meg's rusty voice chided us out of our collective slumber. Evelyn sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Meg set a tray down on the wobbly table opposite. That, along with the bed and two equally sturdy chairs were the room's only furnishings.

My first thoughts were out of my mouth before they were truly formed in my head. "Has there been any word from Rosefield?"

Meg gave the faintest shake of her head and then turned away. I heard the clank of china and she turned back, a teacup in each hand. She held them out to us, refusing to meet our eyes. Hers, I noticed, were red and swollen and her rough hands shook so that the cups wobbled and rattled against their saucers.

We took the cups from her gratefully and drank down their contents. A stinging in my throat reminded me that it had been too long since last I'd eaten and that Evelyn was in the same predicament and must be feeling far worse.

What are you about, Miss Bell? Be mindful of your charge. I heard Jane's mocking voice in my memory and my sore throat tightened

"Up you go," I said to Evelyn, managing to make my tone light. She scrambled out of bed.

My, what a state she looked! Her dress, the same she had been wearing three days before, was blackened, rumpled and quite frankly, we both smelled of soot and sweat.

I was so weary. I couldn't summon the will to rise.

It's what she would have wanted.

And so, with Meg's untiring help, I got out of bed and succeeded in bathing and dressing us both. While I plaited her hair, Evelyn ate a bit of bread dipped in milk. I could eat nothing. The mere thought of food made my stomach churn.

Afterward, Meg surveyed us with her usual stern complacency. Apparently satisfied, she took up the tray and made to exit. At the door, she looked back, her hand on her hip and the tray balanced flat on the palm of the other, and said, "The solicitors are downstairs waiting for you. They've been waiting since yesterday. I told them they could wait till hell came to claim them for all I cared. But, seeing as you look almost back to normal, you might want to hear what they have to say. I think it's important."

And with that and an equally surprising smile, she left the room.

Evelyn and I exchanged glances.

"Do we see them?" I asked her. She solemnly nodded but looked afraid. Her little hand reached for mine and squeezed it so tightly, the circulation was cut off and my fingers tingled.

I smoothed her hair with my other hand and mustered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, darling. No matter what, remember? I won't let them take you from me."

Her lower lip trembled, but she nodded bravely and we two prepared to go downstairs.

***

The solicitors, Misters Gilroy and Hackelby, stood near the hearth, hats in hand, looking, for all the world, like two young schoolboys brought to task by a stern headmaster. Mr. Gilroy was a phlegmatic young man with greasy dark hair and a thin, sour face. He introduced himself with hurried movements and then quickly disappeared into a cloud of his own thoughts. His eyes were glazed and his expression, it appeared, was habitually slack. Mr. Hackelby was the more social of the pair, barrel-chested with spindly legs. His vest buttons looked strained, I noted abstractly, suddenly longing to be back upstairs with a blanket pulled up over my head.

Mr. Hackelby's greeting was effusive, overly so, and he motioned Evelyn and I to a table specially prepared.

The inn's finest linens had been withdrawn from some forgotten chest and spread across the rough and wobbly table. The cloth still smelled of camphor. A resplendent tea was set, poured from a tarnished, but pretty pot into a pair of cups that looked to have been set away in that same forgotten chest. The handles were still dusty, but the insides appeared clean. The fluttery innkeeper's wife set down a chipped platter overflowing with dainty pastries and then hovered nearby, wringing her hands. The gentlemen joined us, but apparently felt they had no right to partake in this feast. They looked nervously from Evelyn to myself and then at each other.

Mr. Gilroy shrugged and this seemed to assure Mr. Hackelby.

I was fast losing interest. I didn't want strangers intruding upon my misery. I wanted to be alone with it now. Evelyn reached for a pastry, but instead of eating it, began to pick it apart.

"Gentlemen," I said impatiently. "I understand you have business with us?"

Mr. Gilroy jumped as if I'd shouted at him.

"Yes, Miss, and thank you so very much for meeting with us. It's been a very trying time, I'm sure." He pressed the brim of his wide hat against his chest as if it were a shield to fend off a dragon. This mental image made me smile slightly. Taking this as a welcome, Mr. Hackelby relaxed just slightly. He rested his hat on his lap, and reaching inside his left breast pocket, pulled out a thin sheet of parchment, folded and sealed. The seal, I noticed, had been broken. He opened this sheet and glanced down to read it, as if memorizing bits of it, before he looked back to us.

"Misses Charlotte Bell and Evelyn Mason?" We nodded. "I have here the Last Will and Testament of Jane Elizabeth Delchester. You both are named as heirs. I'd like to take a moment to read it through with you." He cleared his throat. "And I'd just like to add here that I do hope you decide to remain with Hackelby and Gilroy Solicitors."

"Gilroy and Hackelby," Gilroy mumbled, clearing his throat.

Hackelby ignored this correction. "We've served the Delchester family for generations to their good fortune and ours. I assure you, we will spend just as much effort and energy on your behalves."

I couldn't answer. I don't think I could have spoken. This was just another unwanted confirmation that she was gone.

"Have they found a body then?" I asked and then immediately regretted it. Evelyn squirmed beside me.

Mr. Hackelby looked shocked at my bluntness but Mr. Gilroy seemed to appreciate it.

"No body," he said. "Don't need it. Too much wreckage to move about to find a body. We have witness testimony and the inquest has made its determination."

There had been an inquest. I hadn't known that. I took a deep breath, but I could feel my hands begin to shake.

"Fine," I said and made to rise.

Mr. Hackelby became quite agitated. "No. You can't go yet. You don't understand miss. She's left you the whole lot, you and the child."

I gave the man a wry smile, but my throat felt so tight I could barely speak. "Yes. And do we really need to discuss what is now ashes?"

Hackelby appeared puzzled. "No, miss. I mean, yes. She did leave you Rosefield and the grounds and property. But there was far more to her estate than that. There's the plantations in Jamaica for the child; they are very lucrative; several homes, in Paris and Rome, not to mention the two in the Orient. Oh no, Miss. It will be quite a tangled skein to unravel, these finances. We really must talk about it."

It was too much. I couldn't fathom it. I who had possessed nothing but the clothing on my back and the knowledge in my brain, was now an heiress of an astoundingly wealthy estate.

Did this make me happy? Was I grateful?

No, I was more angry than I had been thus far. I pushed away from the table, the chair scraping against the floor loudly.

"When were these arrangements made?" I demanded.

Gilroy and Hackelby frowned at once. "Weeks ago, Miss. At first, she had only listed the child as her heir. She added your name as an heir and also as executor for the child. The will specifically states that the child must remain in your care until she reaches her majority at eighteen."

Evelyn squealed happily and abandoned her chair to wrap her arms around my waist. I hugged her back, feeling a small sense of relief that at least this one issue had been resolved for me.

But damn her! She had known weeks ago. All that time wasted.

I was jealous of that time spent lurking and waiting, hoping to gain my trust. If only she had been honest, I raged in my mind. At least we would have had that time.

As it was, I had only one true moment of happiness to hold onto, one kiss that I must make last the rest of my life.

I choked on a sob, but quickly swallowed it. I looked to the two solicitors and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Once she spoke of a cottage not far from here. Is that part of this as well?"

They nodded in unison.

I took Evelyn by the hand and turned away from the stunned gentlemen and began to walk upstairs.

"We'll be there the day after tomorrow. You may speak with us then."

And in the morning, I thought to myself, you will say your goodbyes to Rosefield and, if you can bear it, to Jane.

CHAPTER 25

Daylight came and I was prepared to meet it, dressed and perched on the edge of the bed as if waiting for a sign that it was the right time to go. Birds began to trill their appreciation of the morning sun and I decided that this was the only signal that I would probably receive. But still I dreaded getting to my feet. I knew that once I did so, the future would come to collect me and I was too immersed in my memories to feel pleasure at the prospect of parting from them.

What was I expecting from my return visit?

I could not put it to words, but in my formless thoughts, returning was the only way I could ever truly let her go. If I didn't return, my own hopes would haunt me for the rest of my days. I could feel myself longing to house myself within the comfortable walls of memory, letting an improbable hope give my imagination meager nourishment for the rest of my days. But I knew that I could not indulge this desire. I could not live my life, as I had done for the last few days, starting at every horse that rode through the village, or every new face entering the inn, expecting them to carry word that a miracle had happened, that she had been found and was unhurt and waiting for me. I had to be realistic, for Evelyn's sake.

Going back to Rosefield meant laying down that hope and burying it forever. I would offer up my dreams to the heartless demands of responsibility, just as Jane had done.

It seemed that becoming an heiress entitled me to many unlooked for advantages.

Arrangements for our journey to the cottage were made with dizzying swiftness. Agents of Gilroy & Hackelby had purchased for us everything we could possibly need. All our personal belongings had been replaced. Indeed, these agents had been extremely thorough and their knowledge of fashion was very precise and current.

The dress I wore was the most elegant garment I had ever owned. Demure lace trimmed the sleeves and the hem but the bodice was left bare, a deliberate omission that only accented the low neckline and all that was displayed there. The gown was made of the richest jade silk and fit well for a dress purchased from a dry goods store. I brushed a hand across its satiny folds but derived no enjoyment from the soft feel of it under my fingers. I had arranged my own hair, drawing it back into its habitual plait. Perhaps it did not match the fashionable appearance of the dress, but I have never been concerned with such things and did not intend to begin now, no matter how much people insisted that I must play the part of the "fine" lady.

I left Evelyn asleep, reflecting she would need the extra rest if she was to travel this afternoon. Of late, she had developed a slight cough, and I was a little concerned. Meg had promised to come and sit with her late that morning. Evelyn had readily agreed to this arrangement when I explained it to her the evening before. It seemed she and Meg had formed an unexpected bond over the course of events in the last few weeks. The child's former mocking attitude had vanished, to be replaced with a dogged attachment for the dour woman.

Ere I departed, I placed a kiss on her forehead and then went to meet the cart that waited for me outside. The weather had changed in the last few days. A vast blanket of lowering clouds covered the sky. The thunder, when it came, did not surprise me and the ominous signs would not deter me.

We rattled over the country roads, the driver treating me with comic deference. After a time, I held up my hand and asked the driver to stop. I stepped down from the cart, shunning the offered assistance. I told the driver he could go, that I wanted to walk the rest of the way. He gave me a queer look and glanced up at the darkening sky, but did not question me. Turning the cart around, he shrugged and made for the village. I waited until he had passed out of sight and then took in the landscape around me.

We were at the crossroads, the same stretch of road where the coach had deposited an innocent governess with a terrible restlessness in her heart, a young girl that had been so keen to see the world. What a mockery I had become. I had all the wealth I would ever need, but no desire to use it or the power it would bring me. The world, all of the exotic places I had wanted to explore, were within my reach, but I could not lift a hand to take them. I didn't care.

I had begun this pilgrimage mindlessly, allowing my subconscious to guide me. I saw now that my mind would force me trod the path that had taken me to Rosefield months before, confronting the inescapable comparisons, each one, step by step.

I began to walk, noting with little stabs of pain, the very spot that Jane had galloped into my life. That is where she fell, I thought. And to further the torment, my mind supplied the vivid images of that first encounter, her frown, her laugh, the way she looked, arrogant and beautiful, astride her horse. I swallowed hard and continued on.

How joyous I had been to see these green rolling hills spread out before me. How eager I had been to traverse them, to get that first glimpse of my future abode. I was anything but eager now. Too quickly my legs carried me to that high overlook that had once revealed to me the splendor of Rosefield. Seeing the much changed view, the full irony of it struck me then. Jagged and blackened, the sad monolith of burnt timber and tumbled stone sat waiting for me.

I felt so very old, so tired. In such a short time, I had loved and lost and I still could not comprehend the totality of either. I could only try to make my peace with both and somehow, find something that would fill this frightening emptiness inside of me.

How appropriate, I thought, that there should be this visual monument to the way I felt inside... gutted, lonely, dead of emotion.

My feet were not under my own control. They swiftly carried me to the very edges of the garden before I had time to prepare myself for the heady perfume of the roses, the familiar bends and twists of the garden paths. I could have gone ahead, sidestepped the gardens altogether, but my traitorous feet found another place familiar to me.

Another stab of pain pierced the emptiness within. This is where first she kissed me, I realized, and it seemed my memory would play traitor as well. Instead of allowing this painful moment to pass in a haze of half remembered thought, every word she had spoken, every glance, every gesture replayed itself in my mind's eye.

"Come to me then," she had said "Make my happiness and I swear I will make yours."

I hadn't known that meant the reverse as well. I had willingly given her everything and her absence left me with nothing.

I stood there a long while, watching the blossoms sway to and fro as the wind grew stronger. I suppose I was waiting for another sign. It never came.

A sharp crack of thunder sounded in the distance, and the light took on that dulled aspect that makes all color seem sharper, as if viewed from under water. The grass looked greener, the sky more blue.

Spurred by some unknown drive, I moved on, slower now, listlessly wondering, my eyes traveling over the pile of tumbled stone that had been the eastern wall. In my mind, I was exploring the house as it had been, those vaulted corridors, the dainty parlors and all of their treasures, the magnificent great hall, the wide staircase and the many niches filled with priceless and beautiful works of art.

Comparing that to the hulking black shape before me was heartbreaking, or would have been if mine could be broken a second time.

I sighed and then drew in my breath sharply.

Had I been mistaken? Had my eyes, so optimistic and eager to find respite from this devastation, deceived me?

No. Amidst the wreckage of Rosefield, farther away, on the western side, I saw it, a bit of black that moved, independent of the charred shapes around it.

It felt as if something had clamped itself around my middle, squeezing the breath from me. With a wordless cry, I bolted forward, pelting wildly across the lawn to the other side of the house. Chest heaving and damp wind screaming in my ears, I reached the spot where I had thought I'd seen the movement.

There was nothing. A few curled bits of ash found wings and were carried away in the wind. That had been all I had seen, just burnt bits of flotsam taking flight. But my mind, now kindled by the tiniest of possibilities, wouldn't accept this rational explanation. No. I had seen something. I was sure of it.

"Jane!" I screamed, putting all of my hope and fear into my voice. The cry was snatched up by the churning wind. I listened intently, but no answer came.

I opened my mouth to cry out again, but cried out in surprise instead as a black shape hurtled toward me, knocking me down.

Laughter warred with tears of disappointment.

I sighed and then a wry chuckle escaped my constricted throat. Of course, I had forgotten.

"Hello, Ullysses," I greeted the big, black dog, patting him on his head and then scratching behind his ears. He leaned against my hand, urging me on, his tale wagging in avid appreciation.

"I'm so sorry, boy. We forgot all about you didn't we? Shameful of us. Will you forgive me?"

He licked me on the hand and I considered myself absolved.

"You must be hungry?" I told him. Black eyes importuned me sweetly as he panted his agreement. This morning, I had slipped a bit of bread in my pocket in the unlikely event that I would be hungry later. This I offered him and he eagerly accepted, licking my hands until every crumb was devoured, tail wagging vigorously all the while.

"You poor thing." I stroked his snarled, black coat. Here and there, I could see where heat had singed his fur, but be didn't appear to be in pain. I assumed he'd gotten these marks from prowling through the hot coals in the aftermath of the fire.

And suddenly, I was so grateful and happy to have another living being there, seeing it all with me. I threw my arms around the animal's neck and leaned my head against his.

"You poor, poor thing," I said again, ignoring the tears as they trickled down.

Ulysses wriggled out of my grasp and gave a frisky bark. He frolicked back and forth, and then bent low, stretching his front paws out. Another sharp bark followed.

'Come with me' he was telling me. 'Play.'

And because I was not willing to be alone again, I did follow, letting him bound forward happily, only to turn and trot along for a moment at my side before streaking off again.

After a moment, I could see where he was taking me and I almost turned back.

I wasn't ready for that yet. But the chapel beckoned, its steeple wreathed in mists once again. Overhead, thunder rumbled closer and the sharp tang of ozone filled the air. Even though it was the only shelter I would find for miles, I hesitated. My dread became alarmingly physical. My throat, tight before, nearly closed off altogether. I found I had to take short, shallow breaths just to keep breathing. Blood raced through my veins, even as I felt my feet go leaden in subconscious protest.

A fat drop of rain spattered the tip of my nose and then another, my cheek. Ulysses nudged my hand with his nose and then shot off, disappearing around the other side of the chapel.

Again, some awareness outside myself compelled me to go forward, and I followed this unearthly summons, forcing myself to take each step. When I reached those battered doors, I opened them quickly, before I could stop to think about it. I hurried inside, holding my breath and squeezing my eyes shut.

When finally I inhaled, the scent of dust and peace worked its magic. I could open my eyes. That frantic sense of expectation was lifted. The interior was a cluster of deep shadows. The only bright spot, a hazy oasis in the dusky dark, was the front pew and the benevolent mother, still in her niche. I went forward, taking my place at the pew as if following some silent instruction from her. And, in reality, I was, in as much as she was a symbol for the deepest part of myself, that hallowed place that connects us all to the divine in some sense.

I looked to her, swathed in her vines and greenery. "Is this really what you meant for me?" I asked, my voice catching. "You would have me know the pain she must have felt all these years? Not guilt, but sorrow, emptiness, futility? It must have been like this for her. I hope it wasn't worse than what I feel now."

The salty deluge came freely then, spotting the front of my new gown. I couldn't pretend to feel the comforting numbness here. Everything that I had held at bay strained at the barriers I had erected.

I did not fight it. Let the walls come down. Here was the proper place to allow those feelings release. That is why I had begun this pilgrimage, to give Rosefield back what it had given to me. Let these musty walls absorb everything that had been me. Let my words tumble into the quiet and sanctified air so that they need never be heard again.

"But why?" I whispered desperately, addressing the silent witness before me. "I must know why. You allowed me happiness greater than I have ever known, or will ever know, and then you take it away. Was it simply a test of my strength, my character? Is this really how fate works? It's too cruel! I can't believe it! If it is a test, then I have failed utterly. My strength was in her eyes, in the way she looked at me as if I were her whole world. My character was everything good and pure that she saw inside of me and cherished. I gave those things to her. I can't find them in myself now. They are gone."

And having said the words, I knew it to be true. I could carry on, do my duty, but the force that had guided me was gone.

A memory surfaced, of the two of us, sitting in this very spot. She had confided her guilt to me here, bitterness suffusing every word.

"You do not know what it is to be enraged, to lash out. You are too ingenuous to understand what true despair can do to you. She'd said to me.

Now, I knew.

Trembling from head to foot, I felt a confusing mixture of pity and rage, that she had died trying to assuage this pain. Is that what I would have to do? Someday, would I need to find solace in all that I had once despised? Would I find "diversions" as she had done? Was that the answer? Would that fill the void?

"Why?" I said again, getting to my feet. I stepped around the pews and approached the statue until I was so close I could reach out and touch it. I did, feeling the cool stone hem of her robes under my fingers. "I will do what you seem to want of me. I will live through the rest of my life like this. I will do it because I must. I will let the bitterness eat away at me, just as it did her. But please, just tell me why! Give me a reason!" My voice rose as I went on, becoming shrill as anger bubbled up inside of me. I made a fist and raising it up, I shook it at her. "Is this what you want? Do you want my rage? Do you want my dreams? Have them! Take it all! Just tell me why!"

I slammed my fist down upon her stony feet, feeling the pain in my hand as it made heavy contact. Again and again, down came my fist, wordless cries erupting with every strike. Tears blinded me. The statue became a shimmery white form, silently and benevolently accepting my violence, even as it wobbled on its platform.

"No."

In surprise, I stopped my hand as it came down.

In my rage, I thought I'd imagined the sound. I listened, casting my watery gaze upon the silent lady, thinking dazedly that the sound had come from her, and saw that she had acquired a darker twin.

"Don't cry," said the twin. Lightening suffused the darkness for a brief flash. I gasped, even as my hand reached up to wipe the tears from my eyes.

I blinked and then blinked again. Doubting my very sanity, I reached forward a shaking hand and touched, not a phantom made of air and wishful thought, but cloth, rough and real and flesh warm beneath it.

"It's you," I said, as I had said once before, just as stunned by the beauty I beheld now as I had been then, if not more so.

Blue eyes, the color of the silvery rain, squeezed shut quickly as tears wetted her long lashes. Jane, real and alive, stood before me and then suddenly she flinched, cowering backward until she was pressed against the concave wall in the space behind the statue. Holding up the palm of her hand, she turned her face away, Her eyes squeezed shut.

I think I swooned, because suddenly she was next to me again, and then holding me, had lifted me up into her arms and carried me to the pew where she put me down again, cradling me in her embrace.

"Alive," I whispered and she said nothing, a closed and watchful expression on her dirt-streaked face. I reached out a hand to wipe at the streak. Nothing should mar such beauty, I thought dizzy with joy. "But how? It's really you? You're alive!" I studied her, marking every detail with joyous fervor. She wore what she had worn when last I'd seen her, though the garments were now rent and blackened. A few small scrapes showed through tears in her sleeves and breeches, but other than these, I saw no injuries. "And unharmed, how is this possible?"

The corner of her lip quirked as she pushed my hand away from her face gently, instead enfolding it into her strong grasp, drawing it close to her. I felt her heart beat fast under my hand. She looked down at me and I smiled up at her, drunk on the sight of her. Only moments ago I had been agonizingly empty and now I found myself blissfully filled. I wanted to dance, sing, celebrate, but her face tightened and she looked away hastily.

That expression? I didn't understand. And she had evaded my question. An undercurrent of inexplicable tension spoiled what should have been a happy reunion. I asked my question again.

"How is this possible?"

"The roof," she said, gruffly, letting go of my hand. "I crawled onto the roof before it fell in. I ran along the length of it and then jumped to the steeple."

In my mind I calculated the impossibly vast distance between the two and gasped. "You jumped?"

She nodded matter-of -factly, still avoiding my stare, and, it seemed, any detailed account of her actions. "It took me awhile to climb down from up there. When I made it to the ground, everyone had already gone."

I nodded too, smiling like a little child at Christmas. The miracle I had prayed for, had expected and waited for, had actually happened. She lived!

But why wasn't she happy too?

And then I understood and the smile slid from my face. It was as if she had struck me, the sting of this realization.

I sat up, wrenching myself from her grasp. "That was four days ago."

Four days. In all that time she hadn't found me, hadn't bothered to let me know that she was safe. Four days had gone by and she'd let me believe she was dead. And she'd done it deliberately.

She sighed.

"You were going to walk away from here. You did not want me to know you were alive."

These were not questions put to her. These were realizations of fact.

Dark hair swung forward as she buried her face in the palms of her hands. She sat there for what seemed an endless time, still as the statue before us. I felt that primal scream of rage welling up inside of me again. I wanted to beat her, to take my fists and attack her as I had attacked the lifeless image on the altar. But I held back my fury. I wanted an explanation.

But then I saw the tiniest shiver pass over her, and heard her breathing come in soft gasps behind her hands.

She was crying.

And then, as if it had never been, my anger melted away.

I went to her, put my hands on her shoulders.

"I'm a fool, Charlotte, a fool," she said, though the confession was muffled by her hands. "I thought I did what was best for all of us. I did it for you." She pulled her wet hands away and dashed them across her eyes. I could feel her trembling and oddly, felt calm in the presence of her distress. Her behavior had always produced the opposite of the expected results in me. I couldn't feel anger at her now any more than I could have quaked in the presence of her as harsh employer. She was simply Jane to me, flawed and beautiful. I would not have changed her, especially now, when I was so grateful to have her near, to hear her voice, to inhale the familiar scent of jasmine, mingling with the smoke and stale sweat that still clung to her. Gratitude was a little word compared to what I felt.

Darting a guilty glance at my face, she saw my quiet calm and, thinking me still angry, looked away.

"I knew you would come back," she rasped, shaking her head wryly. She looked to me. "Somehow, I knew. So stubborn... My fortune wasn't enough for you then?"

I ignored this caustic humor and continued to stare. Disconcerted, she dropped her head. "It seems I have failed again, yet another catastrophe of judgment. After a lifetime of failure, I shouldn't be surprised that my latest attempt at redemption should fall so short of what I had intended. I didn't even have the stamina to do what I set out to do. Charlotte, you really should hate me. It would be so much easier."

Though she endeavored to maintain a casual self-deprecating tone, I interpreted far more than she supposed.

"But I don't hate you, Jane. I love you."

At my softly uttered words, her beautiful face crumpled in anguish.

"You shouldn't," she wept, her words barely audible. "Oh God, I couldn't save her! Just like her father! I couldn't save either of them!" Her eyes, soft blue clouded by tears, fastened upon me and I was overwhelmed by the immeasurable pain I saw in their depths.

"I was stunned, sickened. I still lived and yet another had died because of me. I should have just let the flames take me. It would have been a fitting end."

She shook so that I thought she might convulse. Alarmed, I took a step forward but she held up a hand to stop me.

"But you didn't," I said, uttering a silent prayer of thanks.

"But I didn't. I'm too cowardly to even die. I climbed out onto the roof and then I saw you, there on the ground below, holding Evelyn. I remember suddenly thinking if I just did this one good deed, if I let you go, gave you everything you would need to make a better life for yourself and Evelyn, then that would make amends in some way for all I'd done. And then I could... just go away. I could..." She shook her head again. Rain dashed against the colored glass and the saints depicted there seemed to shiver and sigh. Cold, wet gusts of air found entrance through the holes in the roof and Jane shivered too.

"I... I'm just so tired, Charlotte," she said huskily, shoulders sagging, her posture a perfect illustration of defeat and despair. "When does it ever end?"

I removed my hands from her shoulders and regarded her silently. Then I reached out and lifted her chin so that she must look at me, like it or no. I spent a serene moment watching the way her eyes changed colors, the blue outer edges blurring into the icy silver of the inner iris. I saw tears welling up there, making these colors more vivid and I determined that not another should fall before I spoke my peace.

"Now, Jane. It ends now." I sat down next to her and took her limp, cold hands into mine. "You must start anew, as of this moment. Regret has been such a part of your life for so long, you don't know how to let it go. But you must. I will show you." I hesitated, but knew I must speak my mind fully. I continued, permitting my former anger to add a touch of bluntness to my words.

"I'm afraid you have an inflated sense of your own power, beloved. The sun does not rise and set because you wish it so. You cannot arrange the lives of others just because you think you know best. Your good intentions are killing you. I love that you are strong, but I'm afraid your strength is only hurting you. Let it go. You cannot atone for your mistakes by sacrificing your own happiness, and mine along with it. I won't allow it. Your future belongs to me now. All of it, the good and the bad."

I saw her mouth, full and soft, open to argue. She would not let go of her regrets so easily, not Jane. But rather than letting her give voice to her objections, I gave her the only other answer that would persuade her. I bent forward over her upturned face and captured her lips with mine.

What began as a gentle, quieting caress, lips brushing, tentative breaths drawn, became an affirmation, deepening as a promise was silently given and accepted once again.

Epilogue

Jane and I waited out the rain. Words were not necessary to repair the bond between us. Through the night the storm raged, but we had gained a peace that nothing could shatter. By morning the skies had cleared. We left the chapel, though it would not be forever. Walking back to the village, hand in hand, we made plans for our future together. We would rebuild a new Rosefield in the image of the old. We would make a home for ourselves there, a home for Evelyn, one free of the taint that had haunted the original. We would nurture the troubled girl until the nightmares of her early life no longer tormented her. I would shower her with such affection, that she need never long for the mother that had so harmed her.

I had no illusions. I knew these dreams would not be achieved easily. Jane would still have to battle her conscience and the tendencies that had kept her hard and aloof all of those years, but she would have me there to guide her and give her encouragement. I knew that our life together would be plagued by difficulties, from within our relationship and from the world without.

I gave her to know that I understood these things and accepted them willingly as the cost of my happiness. As long as she was by my side, I would be content. For any problems we might encounter were far outweighed by the joy that her mere presence gave to me. She was akin to me in so many ways I could hardly count them. Her dark was balanced by my light. Indeed, I knew now that the love I gave would be returned to me tenfold. And for that, even were a thousand plagues to descend upon us, I would count myself forever blessed.

THE END