Back in the Yorthend manor, Roxanne wrestled with restlessness, her sleep disrupted by something other than a typical nightmare. Was it the chill of the room? She gradually opened her eyes, greeted by a jolt of wind that struck her face, breezing through the open balcony doors. Sitting up in bed, she called out, "Honey..." In her half-awake state, her ingrained expectation was to find Haswell by her side, ready to offer his comforting presence.
But as she turned to look, there was no Haswell lying there, only a sea of disheveled sheets and soft pillows staring back at her. Frustration welled up within her, prompting her to bury her face in her hands and release a disheartened sigh. As she collected herself, her gaze fixed upon the balcony once more. This time, worry consumed her thoughts, particularly for the missing girl.
All day long, Rochester had barricaded himself within his study, anxiously awaiting any positive update on Louisa's whereabouts.
