Too close. I could feel him breathing. I fancied I could feel the beating of his heart in time with my own. But then, I was a fanciful girl at times.
"It is a long way to Ireland, Jane, but I can't do better in finding you a position. Can you imagine a way it could be helped?"
Well, by him not marrying Blanche Ingram, to be sure, but I couldn't find my voice to speak.
"I think we are much alike in some regards, Jane. I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you--especially when you are
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near me, as now. It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame." He made a gesture as if to indicate the string running from his ribs to mine. My breath caught. "And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will snap. And then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you'd forget me."
"I could never forget you. I--" I almost confessed how desperately I loved him, but I stopped the words in time.
"Jane, do you hear that nightingale singing in the wood? Listen." It was just like him to sense my distress and create a distraction to give me time to compose myself.
But I could not regain my composure! In listening, I sobbed convulsively. No longer could I repress my feelings. I blubbered something about how I wished I had never been born, never come to Thornfield.
"Because you are sorry to leave it?"
I was overcome. It all came out in a flood. "I grieve to leave Thornfield! I love Thornfield. I love it because I have lived in it a full and delightful life. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. I have not been buried with inferior minds and excluded from every glimpse of communion with what is bright and energetic and high. I have known you, Mr. Rochester, and it strikes me with terror and anguish to feel I absolutely must be torn from you forever. I see the necessity of departure, and it is like looking on the necessity of death."
I struggled to catch my breath, to calm down. I had said it. There was no going back.
"Where do you see the necessity?" he asked suddenly.
"Where? You, sir, have placed it before me. You're taking a bride."
"What bride? I have no bride!"
"But you will have."
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"Yes. I will!" He set his teeth.
"Then I must go. You have said it yourself." At last I was able to speak evenly, without emotion. I had mastered myself.
He placed a hand under my chin and tipped my face up to his. "The only time you go will be with me, at my side, if I can yet convince you."
"I don't understand."
"I have teased you too much, Jane. Don't be angry. I needed to know that your feelings were the same as mine, and I could not think how to accomplish it." He shifted in his seat, taking both my hands in his. "Marry me, Jane. I want you to be my bride. I offer you my hand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions."
I gasped. It was not real. I was convinced that I was in bed, asleep, and dreaming. I put my hand to his face, the side of his cheek, the roughness of his day's growth of beard on that stubborn, square chin. I did not sleep. I was in the garden, on a bench, at his side. It was real. All of it, real. "Sir?"
"I ask you to pass through life at my side. To be my second self, and my best earthly companion."
"Oh, sir." It was too wonderful! Too wonderful, and too amazing, too shocking, all at once. I could not answer properly. I could only marvel. "Sir."
I began to cry.
Mr. Rochester sat quiet, looking at me gently and seriously. He put his arm around me and pulled me closer again, cradling me into his shoulder.
"But what of Miss Ingram?"
"What love have I for Miss Ingram? None; and that you know. What love has she for me? None; as I have taken pains to prove. I started a rumor that my fortune was not a third of what was supposed, and after that I presented myself to see the result. It was coldness both from her and her mother. I would not--I could not--marry Miss Ingram. You--you strange, you almost unearthly thing! I love you as my own flesh. I love you." He kissed my brow. "I entreat
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you to accept me as a husband. Jane, I must have you for my own--entirely my own. Will you be mine? Say yes, quickly."
His face was much agitated and much flushed, and strong workings were in the features, and strange gleams in the eyes. I was silent, examining him. Then I realised that what I was feeling was not entirely overwhelming affection, though love and surprise were certainly part of it. I had that queer feeling again. I looked around the garden. It had grown quite dark. I could not see anything amiss, but I sensed it near.
"Oh, Jane, you torture me!" he exclaimed. "With that searching and yet faithful and generous look, you torture me!"
"How can I do that? If you are true, and your offer real, my only feelings to you must be gratitude and devotion--they cannot torture." I tried to focus on my one true love and not the shadows that fell around us.
"Gratitude? Jane accept me quickly. Say, 'Edward'--give me my name--'Edward, I will marry you.' "
"Are you in earnest? Do you truly love me? Do you sincerely wish me to be your wife?" By now, I knew he did, but I must stall and hope that our garden villain showed himself.
"I do. If an oath is necessary to satisfy you, I swear it."
"Then, sir, I will marry you."
"Edward--my little wife!"
"Dear Edward!" I thought I heard something, behind the tree, off towards the hedgerow.
"Come to me--come to me entirely now." He embraced me. "God pardon me! And man meddle not with me. I have her and will hold her."
"There is no man to meddle, sir." Only, perhaps, a vampyre in the underbrush, who had still not made himself known. "Edward. I have no kindred to interfere."
"No, that is the best of it."
If I had loved him less, I should have thought his accent and look of exultation savage, but sitting by him, roused from the nightmare
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of parting, called to the paradise of union, I thought only of the bliss given me to drink in so abundant a flow. The bliss, and the vampyre, drawing nearer by the minute. I had waited long for this bliss, and so help me, no skulking night-creature would interfere!
Again and again he said, "Are you happy, Jane?"
And again and again I answered, "Yes."
But what had befallen the night as we embraced? The moon was not yet set, and we were all in shadow. I could scarcely see my master's face, near as I was. The chestnut tree writhed, while wind roared in the laurel walk and came sweeping over us.
"We must go in. The weather changes. I could have sat with you until morning, Jane."
"And so could I with you," I said, then jumped as a livid spark leapt out of a cloud at which I was looking, and there was a crack, a crash, and a close rattling peal, and I caught sight of it at last in the bright burst, the vampyre, as he slowly crept up on us and barely managed to hide on the other side of the chestnut's trunk. I had a split second to act while Mr. Rochester was still overcome with the lightning and his emotions, and while the thing lurked, ready to pounce. I pretended to bury my eyes against Mr. Rochester's shoulder while I reached up my sleeve, retrieved a stake, took aim, and hurled it with all my might through the air.
All at once, the rain rushed down, framing the vampyre in silhouette, there one second, gone the next. Fortunately I had sharpened that stake just this morning and my aim was as true as my love for Mr. Rochester, for I would not have had a second chance. As the rain fell, he hurried me up the walk, through the grounds, and into the house. We were quite wet before we could pass the threshold. He took off my shawl and shook the water out of my loosened hair, running his hands through it as if it were wet gold. The lamp was lit.
"Hasten to take off your wet things," he said. "And before you go, good night--good night, my darling!"
&nb
sp; He leaned his head down and caught my lips in a kiss, gentle at first then growing more urgent, drawing me close against him
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though we were both wet through and through. His body was warm against mine. I wished the kiss would never end, but he eventually released me.
When I looked up, on leaving his arms, there stood Mrs. Fairfax, her face registering shock. I only smiled at her and ran upstairs. Explanation would have to do for another time.
Still, when I reached my chamber, I felt a pang at the idea she should even temporarily misconstrue what she had seen. But joy soon effaced every other feeling. The wind blew loud and thunder crashed near and fierce. Lightning gleamed. But I experienced no fear and little awe. Mr. Rochester came thrice to my door during it, to ask if I was safe and tranquil, and that was comfort, that was strength for anything.
Before I left my bed in the morning, little Adele came running in to tell me that the great horse-chestnut tree at the bottom of the orchard had been struck by lightning in the night, and half of it split away.
CHAPTER 27
AS I ROSE AND dressed, I thought over what had happened and still wondered if it was a dream. I could not be certain of the reality until I had seen Mr. Rochester again and heard him renew his words of love and promise.
While arranging my hair, I looked at my face in the glass and felt it was no longer plain. I took a clean and light summer dress from my drawer and put it on. It seemed no attire had ever so well become me, because none had I ever worn in so blissful a mood.
I felt pretty, lighthearted, without a care in the world! I never
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imagined I could feel so. I was not surprised, when I ran down into the hall, to see that a brilliant June morning had succeeded to the tempest of the night. The rooks cawed, and birds sang, but nothing was so merry or so musical as my own rejoicing heart.
"Miss Slayre, will you come to breakfast?" Mrs. Fairfax greeted me with a grave air. I could feel her disapproval as she looked at me, but I couldn't say anything until Mr. Rochester had announced it. I ate what I could, then I hastened upstairs to meet Adele leaving the schoolroom.
"Where are you going? It is time for lessons."
"Mr. Rochester has sent me away to the nursery."
"Where is he?"
"In there." She pointed to the apartment she had left. I went in, and there he stood.
"Come and bid me good morning," he said.
I gladly advanced and received now not merely a cold word, nor even a shake of the hand, but an embrace and a kiss. A deep, loving kiss, like the one we'd exchanged last night. It seemed natural. It seemed genial to be so well loved, so caressed by him.
"Jane, you look blooming, and smiling, and pretty. Is this my pale little elf? This little, sunny-faced girl with the dimpled cheek, rosy lips, smooth hazel hair, and radiant green eyes?"
"It is Jane Slayre, sir."
"Soon to be Jane Rochester. In four weeks, Jane, not a day more. Do you hear?"
I did, and I could not quite comprehend it. "Jane Rochester. It seems so strange."
"Yes, Mrs. Rochester. Young Mrs. Rochester--Edward Rochester's girl-bride."
"Human beings never enjoy complete happiness in this world, do they? Could it be? It all seems a fairy-tale dream."
"Which I can and will realise. I shall begin today. This morning I wrote to my banker in London to send me certain jewels he has in
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his keeping, heirlooms for the ladies of Thornfield. In a day or two I hope to pour them into your lap."
"Oh, sir! Never rain jewels! Jewels for Jane Slayre sounds unnatural and strange. I would rather not have them."
"I will myself put the diamond chain round your neck. I will clasp the bracelets on these fine wrists and load these fairylike fingers with rings. I will attire my Jane in satin and lace, and she shall have roses in her hair. And I will cover the head I love best with a priceless veil. This very day I shall take you in the carriage to Mill-cote, and you must choose some dresses for yourself. The wedding is to take place quietly, in the church down below yonder, and then I shall waft you away at once to town. After a brief stay there, I shall bear my treasure to regions nearer the sun, to French vineyards and Italian plains."
"We will travel, sir?"
He nodded. "Paris, Rome, and Naples. Florence, Venice, and Vienna. I want to show you the world as I have known it, and to live it all again through your eyes, my angel."
I blushed at his endearment. "I am no angel. I am only Jane. And I ask you, sir, please, don't send for the jewels, and don't crown me with roses. I'm not one for such extravagances."
He laughed. "Very well. I will win you over to it, a little at a time. I can't help wanting to shower you with gifts. Make a request of me. What do you want? It is yours. Some fine new daggers, perhaps?"
"No, sir, it is far simpler. Communicate your intentions to Mrs. Fairfax. She saw me with you last night in the hall, and she was shocked. Give her some explanation before I see her again. It pains me to be misjudged by so good a woman."
"Very well. Go to your room and put on your bonnet. I mean you to accompany me to Millcote this morning, for dresses you will need and have, and while you prepare for the drive, I will enlighten the old lady's understanding. Did she think, Jane, you had given the world for love and considered it well lost?"
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"I believe she thought I had forgotten my station, and yours, sir."
"Station! Your station is in my heart, and on the necks of those who would insult you, now or hereafter. Go."
I was soon dressed, and when I heard Mr. Rochester quit Mrs. Fairfax's parlour, I hurried down to it. She sat, staring straight ahead, looking a bit shocked.
Seeing me, she roused herself. "I feel so astonished. I hardly know what to say to you, Miss Slayre. Can you tell me whether it is actually true that Mr. Rochester has asked you to marry him? And have you accepted him?"
"Yes."
She looked at me bewildered. "Equality of position and fortune is advisable in such cases, and there are twenty years of difference in your ages."
I was nettled. "Mr. Rochester looks as young, and is as young, as some men at five-and-twenty."
"Is it really for love he is going to marry you?"
I was hurt by her coldness. Tears rose to my eyes.
"I am sorry to grieve you," pursued the widow. "Mr. Rochester, I daresay, is fond of you. I have always noticed that you were a sort of pet of his. Last night I cannot tell you what I suffered when I sought all over the house and could find you nowhere, or the master either, and then saw you come in with him."
"Well, never mind that now. It is enough that all was right."
Happily, Adele ran in.
"Let me go, let me go to Millcote, too!" she cried. "Mr. Rochester won't allow it, though there is so much room in the new carriage. Beg him to let me go, mademoiselle."
"That I will, Adele." I hastened away with her, glad to quit Mrs. Fairfax lest she offer more advice or admonishment. The carriage was ready. They were bringing it around to the front, and my master was pacing the pavement, Pilot following him backwards and forwards.
"Adele may accompany us, may she not, sir?"
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"I told her no. I'll have only you."
"Do let her go, Mr. Rochester, if you please. It would be better."
He sighed. "Then off for your bonnet, Adele, and back like a flash of lightning!"
She obeyed him with what speed she might.
"After all, a single morning's interruption will not matter much," he said, "when I mean shortly to claim you--your thoughts, conversation, and company--for life."
The hour spent at Millcote was somewhat harassing me. Mr. Rochester obliged me to go to a certain silk warehouse. There I was ordered to choose a half dozen dresses. I hated the business. I begged leave to defer it. No, he was insistent. It should be gone through with now. If I could not choose, he vowed he would select himself, and he did. He fixed on
a rich silk of the most brilliant amethyst dye, and a superb pink satin. Before he chose the rest in crimson or spun of pure gold, I persuaded him to add some sober black satins and a pearl-grey silk.
According to the warehouse manager, unfortunately, one black satin was not the same as the next. There were shades of black--onyx, ebony, midnight--and satins of varying sheens. He could have his assistant, quite the expert eye in blacks, show me a few while he showed the gentleman some fine manly patterns for waistcoats and ascots. I tried to refuse, but Mr. Rochester insisted that he keep Adele with him while I had a look and chose the very ones that I preferred. I sensed the shop manager simply wanted more of Mr. Rochester's money, but there was no point in arguing. I allowed the dreary assistant to show me to the store of black satins.
After seeing skeins after skeins of black satins, I still couldn't tell a bit of difference between them.
"Perhaps if there was more light?" I said, feeling anxiously torn between them. "Could we go near a window?"
"Heavens, no," she said. Her black hair, possibly ebony but perhaps
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closer to midnight, was pulled back so tight that her eyes seemed constricted. "Natural light is the worst thing for viewing fabrics. I'll fetch a lamp."
A lamp? It occurred to me that the entire warehouse was kept rather dark for showing fabrics, but the back room was so dark I could barely tell between black and grey, let alone distinguish between shades of the same colour. That's when I knew that my anxiety was not simply brought on by nerves from shopping. My queer feeling was at work, a warning. The assistant was a vampyre!
She returned with the lamp and began to show me what she stated to be the differences between one and the next.
"I think I begin to see," I said, holding up one that looked every bit the same as the next. "This one is rather like your eyes. Quite an unnatural hue."
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