Darcy turned back. He could not leave Mr. Collins inside.
Drawing one final clean breath, he plunged once more into the inferno.
***
Lowering his body below the smoke, Darcy ventured back through Anne’s dressing room, then into her bedchamber. The heat grew unbearable as he made his way towards Collins. The parson lay motionless on the floor, flames creeping along the edge of the carpet where he lay.
“Collins!” Darcy shouted, shaking him by the shoulders.
The man groaned, his eyelids fluttering open. Confusion clouded his gaze as he took in the raging hell around them.
Darcy hauled him to his feet. The air had thickened; every breath was a struggle. The doorway to the dressing room was now blocked by flames, leaving only one way out: the balcony.
“We must leave—now!” Darcy said with urgency, gripping Collins by the arm.
The parson blinked, his expression twisting in pain and bewilderment.
“She said she was afflicted. . . begged for salvation,” he said in a rasping voice. “Whispers in the walls. . . Shadows in the corners. . .”
“This is not the time for riddles.” Darcy dragged him towards the open doors. “Move!”
“Jenkinson knew. . . She knew!” Collins muttered, voice low and fractured. “Just like before. . . Evil persists. . . I came, she asked. No one can be trusted. Not even—”
A violent crash rang through the room as the canopy of Anne’s bed broke apart, sending a burst of embers into the air. The distraction was enough for Darcy to force the rector outside.
“We must jump to the other side.” He pointed to the neighbouring balcony. “It is our only chance.”
But the parson recoiled, eyes wide with terror. “No—no! She warned me!”
The floor groaned beneath their feet. Collins stumbled backward, clutching at the railing. His foot tripped on a loose stone, and with a strangled cry, he lost his balance.
The crumbling balustrade gave way under his weight.
“Collins!” Darcy lunged, catching his wrist. “Take my hand!”
Their eyes met. For a fleeting moment, something like clarity shone in the parson’s gaze. He gave a bitter grimace. “I tried to make it right,” he cried. “I tried to save her.”
Darcy held on with all the strength he had, but the parson’s weight dragged at him, his grip slick with ash and sweat.
Then, despite everything, he slipped through Darcy’s grasp, falling over the edge and vanishing into the turbulent waters below.
Overcome by exhaustion, Darcy rolled onto his back and shut his eyes, the weight of death pressing heavily upon him. For a brief moment, he willed himself to believe this was nothing more than a fevered nightmare.
But it was not.
This was all too real—and he still had his own life to fight for.
Chapter 15 – One Step into the Abyss
The distant view of Rosings Manor was haunting. Never a welcoming sight, the house now glowed with dozens of yellow points against its dark stone walls—a diabolic vision conjured straight from hell. Turbulent skies churned around the towers as a dry, unmerciful wind fanned the flames and carried the smoke beyond the island, proclaiming victory over the once-invincible fortress.
Rosings Manor, built to stand forever, was about to fall.
Outside, a small crowd watched the fire with the helplessness of those who had nowhere else to turn. Half the manor burned, while the other half teemed with servants—desperate creatures darting through the halls, rescuing what they could, perhaps even for themselves. In the distance, the ringing of the town’s bells carried across the wind, announcing the mansion’s downfall to the entire island.
For Elizabeth, who held no deep attachment to Rosings or its inhabitants, the image was nonetheless heart-wrenching. She did not have a husband trapped inside like Charlotte, nor was she about to lose her home like Miss de Bourgh. Yet her heart ached for those still within—especially for one gentleman risking his life to save others. If only she had told him how much she cared for him—just once—before he vanished into the smoke. But fate had worked against her from the moment she arrived on the island, and now she had a right to be frightened that it would not be kind.
“Do not despair, miss. The servants are doing all they can to keep the fire from spreading,” said a woman gently.
