Skeletons of conversation rattled throughout the Drawing room. Insignificance surrounded him. It oozed across and over immaculate stone mouldings and hardened stiffly in the curdled mouths of stone gargoyles. Jane was gone.

He was sprawled on the couch that Jane used to curl into when his guests were present; who were, at present so happily occupied with the increased lively frivolousness of the conversations of matrimony and gossip and of Adele, who beamed at the chance of being free of a monitor and charmed the mob with her French accented babble.

"And of course" cawed Blanche, in a suddenly louder tone "I would never dream of remaining a spinster; so unfitting of a woman" she shot her eyes in Rochester's direction as she said this; slickly flipping out her elaborately gilded fan and wafting it elegantly "I have already received above a few finely articulated offers…"

Rolling his eyes and rapidly slipping the last of his wine down his throat, Rochester rose and strode to his chambers, shutting the door and with it, the soulless chatter.

"Jane" he whispered aloud "Jane, Jane". He sank to the floor in despondency, furrowing his brow and crinkling his forehead at what she would be doing at this moment; as he sat on the floor of his bedchamber, what activity was she occupying herself with to keep her from forced, tense socialisation with her obstinate cousins? Did he ever enter into her thoughts, or perhaps, her dreams?

At this thought, his features relaxed and, for the first time since her departure, light warmed his gaze. His dreams of her were wild, unbridled; she would be sat on Mesrour, galloping him masterfully over rainswept moors; a determined thunder bursting in her eyes as she pulled him neighing shrilly to his hind legs as the full moon sparked over her moistened skin and lips.

"Edward" clattered a voice at his door; Colonel Dent intoxicated to the point of ridiculousness. "Rochester, open, old fellow" his slurred rambles continued until Edward pulled the door open, sending him stumbling back slightly and making his glass of port slosh dangerously "I say, old… old…" here he paused to savour another gulp "… chap, it's rather… rather bad hosting"

"Colonel" Edward replied, seizing the glass from his hand and clunking it on the washstand "I do believe you have had a little too much"

"Nonsense, my man! I had forgotten just how good your late father's taste was, finest sherry in the county, finest wife, too, you know". Edward shifted uncomfortably before grasping the Colonel's arm and rather forcedly leading him down the corridor "not especially, Colonel, perhaps you should retire to your chambers.

"Speaking of which, old man, where is that little young thing that used to sit in the window seat?"

Edward's ears pricked up and he whirled round to glare at the Colonel suspiciously "what business would that be of yours, Colonel?" he said; straining to remain civil in angry expectation of the thoughts that he suspected were cascading through Dent's head

"yes, not a very handsome little thing, but, you know, my lad, you know!" here he attempted a leering wink

"I would not Colonel, nor should you!" he barked, continuing their journey to the Dent's chambers. "She's a virgin, my lad..! Has a power over us; makes us want pluck that untarnished little –"

Dent's short, shocked cry reverberated off the stone walls of the hallway as Rochester knocked him with a well struck blow to the face "I wouldn't speak that way, Dent, for your own safety!" he spat. Madness had temporarily coursed through his veins as Dent lay there; dazed and clutching his cheek in pain before hurriedly stumbling to his feet; staring Edward directly in the eye and laughed the only words which sounded as though they were grounded in thought "I knew it… I knew it..."

Edward stormed back to his own chambers, presumably leaving Dent to hobble back to his. "Jane" he uttered desperately, once he was safely unheard behind his chamber door. Snatching his sight to his wardrobe, he strode to it and pulled out a sturdy suitcase "Gateshead" he repeated, slipping the map out of its pocket and spreading it out on his desk "Gateshead, Gateshead…"