Jane: A Jane Eyre Retelling

by Lark Watson

  “And,” she added, “Mr. Micha says that Violet Ingram will be there. He says that she has been waiting months to get her nails into Mr. Thorne and that she had her bodyguard chat him up to find out when they’d be there and that Mr. Micha thought if Mr. Thorne needed a bodyguard for anything it was that hellcat woman.”

  All the adults sat in stunned silence at the recitation until I finally asked, “Did Mr. Micha tell you that?”

  I was going to have a talk with Micha whether he liked it or not. He may be the boss of almost everything when they were here, but he was not going to teach a six-year-old to discuss adult business like she was having cocktails with the other ladies at the country club.

  “Oh, no. Mr. Micha doesn’t tell me anything.” She took a big bite of the eggs she’d been pushing around, as if telling us all the gossip had taken a weight off her shoulders and she could eat again.

  “Well then, where did you hear that?” Because, Adelia’s source of information had a kick to it.

  “Um…” Adelia glanced around, suddenly aware that she’d repeated words that weren’t for her ears and was certainly going to be paying for her eavesdropping again. “I don’t remember?”

  “You don’t remember?” I asked, because this wasn’t an interrogation—yet. “That seems odd to me when you remember so much of what you hear.”

  “Well, my head was filled with words. There was no room at all for other things.”

  The girl was sadly intelligent in all the wrong ways.

  “I see.” I glanced at Sophie and she shrugged letting me take the lead on this. “Well, then, girls who hear things that aren’t meant for their ears have to stay somewhere quiet to learn not to listen to other’s conversations.”

  The horror was growing so quickly on Adelia’s little face that I almost laughed.

  “And so, today you will sit in the breakfast room and read. I will come in at lunch and I will quiz you on the first three chapters of our book.”

  That her chapters were mostly pictures at this point didn’t matter. Her horror was real.

  “No,” she gasped as if I’d proposed waterboarding instead of a morning with a good story.

  “Yes. And you will sit in there alone. No Sophie, no me, no music. Just you listening to the quiet.”

  “But—” Adelia glanced around the table, her eyes going wide when she reached Mrs. Fairfax.

  “And, when you remember what you were doing when you heard things that weren’t meant for you, then maybe you can come out for a chat.” She started to relax so I added, “If not, I’m sure you’ll enjoy the next three chapters of the book after lunch.”

  “But, Miss Jane!”

  “No buts. Until you learn to mind your own business and not that of others—especially your elders—you will have to learn what silence is.”

  She jumped from her chair and ran from the room—most likely seeing it as her last moment on the stage since she’d been banished to the loneliness of the breakfast room.

  Sophie rose and brought both their plates to the sink. “I will set up her studies.”

  There was a small smile fighting to get out and I couldn’t help but appreciate that she was enjoying the takedown of our tiny tyrant.

  I sat back, sipping my coffee and taking a moment to enjoy the silence as Mrs. Fairfax continued working on her morning list of chores. As I finished my breakfast and rose to go, she stopped me, a light touch on the edge of my sleeve.

  “Jane, dear, do you have a moment?” The worry in her voice had me.

  My mind rushed and my heart dropped so quickly I collapsed back in my chair from the vertigo of it.

  She was sending me away.

  That was the only thing I could consider at that moment.

  Mr. Thorneton had told me I wasn’t safe and insisted I take care of myself. And when I did not, he made the decision for me.

  And left Mrs. Fairfax to do it.

  He’d left knowing he would be gone when the word was given and I would be gone when he returned.

  My mind raced figuring out how I would return to my life. I had nowhere to live and no job. But, hopefully he wasn’t so unkind as to send me away without a reference.

  The money I saved would hold me over for several months in a studio if I could find part-time work, it was—

  “I’m so sorry to tell you this like this.” She literally wrung her hands as she spoke and my heart went out to her. No one liked to deliver bad news. “But, it was me.”

  At the odd statement, I paused, confused at the unexpected statement and trying to rediscover what the conversation was.

  “Adelia’s words.” She blushed and looked away. “I was the one Micha was talking too. He comes here to the kitchen to steal cookies and vent occasionally.”

  I sat back, letting out a breath. I wasn’t being let go. That was the only thing overriding the conversation. I couldn’t even think through her words yet as I was still recovering. After a moment, I finally was able to speak.

  “Mrs. Fairfax, thank you for telling me.” I leaned forward, trying to make the conversation go in the right direction. “I understand you thought you were speaking privately, but obviously we’re none of us a match for the miniature spy living amongst us.”

  She breathed out, letting an awkward laugh go along with the guilt. “I’ll be more aware of her from here on out.”

  I took another sip of coffee, hoping she might continue.

  “Frank and I, well, we’ve been here so long just the two of us when Mr. Thorneton and Micha are away that it’s still an adjustment in some ways to have others in the house.” She smiled, a polite apology. “But, I have to say, we both enjoy having you here. It makes the house so much more alive and these big structures along the lake need that.”

  Somehow I doubted Frank felt the same way, but I wasn’t going to mention that.

  “Micha, he needs a bit of spoiling if you ask me,” she went on. “Cookies and an ear are good for a man. He’s a hard worker, he is. Not a complainer. Does what needs doing and holds his tongue—well, usually. Reminds me a bit of you if you don’t mind me saying.”

  I glanced back up from the breakfast I’d begun to pick at again.

  This was not a path I’d expected to travel, but in the old way of things, Micha would be considered a good match for the nanny. Probably above me in many ways.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d wonder what century these old houses and keepers lived in.

  “I’m sure he’d be pleased to hear you say so—about the work. Perhaps not about the cookies and the ear.”

  “Well, no. Men need to feel invincible for some unknowable reason.”

  I wondered on that. It was something to ponder later in the quiet of my own room.

  “So, is there a reason you don’t like Ms. Ingram?” I asked, figuring that was as good an entrance as any.

  “Well, besides those tasteless pictures she posts of herself on the internet, she was here for a weekend once and so incredibly rude, I couldn’t wait for them to leave.”

  “Wait.” I was suddenly feeling a bit nauseous. “Violet Ingram, the supermodel?”

  “Well, yes dear. Although, I don’t know that prancing about naked and putting pictures of yourself in compromising situations on that website is modeling.” She sniffed, a move I’d only seen in little old women in the movies. “In my day, those types of pictures were private.”

  “Mrs. Fairfax!” I gave her a sidelong look. “Did you send private pictures to Mr. Fairfax when you were younger?”

  “Well, if I did, you’d never know about it, now would you?”

  With that, she rose, taking the rest of the dishes to the sink and closing the conversation.

  Chapter 22

  After checking in that Sophie had set Adelia up, I stood in the library, glancing around and considering my future.

  Too many times today I’d thought I was being let go. Each time, I was far from the mark. I tried not to let that give me a sense of security, but it wa
s comforting to know.

  Perhaps I’d become part of the household after all. It was a risk to believe that, a risk I’d never dared to take starting with my days in the system. But part of me—a larger part than I cared to admit—hoped it was true.

  I glanced down again at my phone, thinking about the information Mrs. Fairfax had given me that morning. It was…tempting.

  I settled into the large overstuffed chair by the fire Frank had started that morning and pulled up Instagram, creating an account so I could snoop.

  It was lowering to know I wasn’t above snooping.

  Violet Ingram’s account was incredibly easy to find. I typed in “Vio” and it automatically came up. She had so many followers I wondered if it was possible to even meet that many people in a lifetime. And, of course, it had one of those little blue checkmarks telling you she was a verified important person. I glanced through the photos and found that Mrs. Fairfax had been right. Most of them were of her in as little clothing as she could get away with. It was amazing how many ways you could be naked in a picture and not show any of the banned parts.

  I slid through the photos, looking at a life I’d never imagine was a real thing. Even seeing it, I had to believe most of it wasn’t. No one’s life was this easy—this perfect, was it? Each one hinted at wealth and seduction. There were other famous people making cameos in her shots. About sixty photos in, I paused. Struck.

  The setting was hot and exotic, the pale blue water of a warm ocean in the background. Violet sat stretched languorously on the lap of a man settled into a comfortable outside chaise, a whiskey dangling between the fingers of one, the other wrapped around Violet’s thigh, half-hidden under the thing she was passing off as a skirt.

  I slammed the app shut—or I just closed it, angry that apps weren’t doors that you could slam.

  The photo was burnt on my eyes. It was clear that they were lovers. No one was that comfortable with another’s body without the type of express access to it that lovers had.

  I stood, tossing the phone down behind me and wandering up to my room. There was nothing to do but walk off my unwarranted dismay. He was not mine. He never would be.

  But, the photos brought into scope one thing I had not considered in my time at Tower House: One day there could be—most likely would be—a Mrs. Thorneton to answer to.

  I knew in that moment that I would not survive it. It would be a hell to live under the thumb of Mr. Thorneton’s wife, no matter how kind she was. I would not stay to live with a woman who had legal and moral rights him.

  Would it mean it was time to leave? Or perhaps Adelia and I would be kept here. That I could contend with. Being left in the country with the child. I was, after all, a nanny and it was what would be expected of me—perhaps of both of us.

  No matter how lavishly Adelia showered Mr. Thorneton with attention and adoration, he had not warmed up to her. And, without knowing the full story of their past, it was hard to judge. Adelia was, at best, a difficult child.

  The walk cleared my head. Jealousy had no place in my world because, as anyone who knows their place understands—emotions destroy the wall you build around you. Safety only exists by keeping things close to your heart and hidden away.

  There was no room in a life such as mine for fear or hope…or love.

  Chapter 23

  The week went by like the ones before it—with the house falling back into its normal pattern of work and study and daily events. I fought the urge to look at Instagram again, deleting the app from my phone because, while I may have been stupid about Mr. Thorneton, I was not a foolish girl typically.

  I found myself drifting down to meals each day expecting some type of update—waiting for him to return. But, no word came.

  The construction repairing the private wing was completed and the fence added to the courtyard was in place. I’d half expected at least Micha to come back for the final inspection. But, no. Even Micha remained elusive, the new wall just one more thing unimportant to them in their absence.

  The household slid into the next week, quietly losing expectations of Mr. Thorneton’s return. Frank, of course, the only one unaffected by the wait.

  And, as the holidays drew closer, the report of our first snow came.

  “Jane, dear. Do you need to send for your winter clothes?” Mrs. Fairfax was making a list of the holiday contacts at the table, sorting through business cards and brochures. It looked as though Christmas had slam-marketed her with everything she had spread out before her.

  “No. I brought everything with me.” The one suitcase had stayed lean while I was here. It had taken me the first two weeks to unpack, afraid at any moment I’d be sent back to the city, and the effort would be wasted. I was too used to short gigs and unreliable employers.

  But, as I realized that—especially with Adelia’s special circumstances—I’d be here for a quite a while, I had let myself relax and make my little suite become a home. A picture I’d quite falling in love with in a different room had been moved to mine. A small bookshelf had magically appeared one day while I was out, all the books I’d collected from downstairs set on top of it. The comforter for the autumn season switched out to the winter one, my choice of those sent up for the rooms above.

  It had become a room I desperately loved. My favorite addition had been a throw blanket that awaited me each evening in the window seat I did my reading in.

  And yet, I hadn’t purchased anything that would add to my own belongings. It seemed too hedonistic to add to all that I had here now.

  “But, Jane, I haven’t seen you with boots. Or a heavy jacket.” She started to fret and I knew this was going to be a longer conversation than I’d care to deal with.

  “Well, I don’t have to really go anywhere.” Which was true. We stayed to the house for the most part. Occasionally Adelia had a play date, but if the girls didn’t come here, Frank drove her and Sophie to their house.

  “Is this why you haven’t been taking your walks?”

  “We’ve been busy around here,” was my only answer. But a warmer jacket and some mittens and a hat and…well, yes. I guess that was why I hadn’t been going for my walks.

  “You know, Frank has to go to Home Depot a few towns over for road salt and such. He’s going this afternoon. There’s no reason for you not to go with him.”

  Except for the extreme awkwardness of any time spent with Frank.

  I hadn’t thought to purchase anything. The idea that I was able to squirrel away all my earnings was too beautiful a thing for me. But, a jacket at the minimum was important. If there was a Home Depot, there’d be a Wal-Mart as well. A few needs could be met at an easy price to pay.

  “Plus, you’re going to need a holiday dress,” she went on as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “I’m sure I won’t.” I hated these conversations. They always led to uncomfortable pity. “I’ll be staying here for the holidays.”

  “Oh, well I should hope so.” She said this as if dismissing my ability to go home was obvious and not something that every foster kid wished for at some point. “We’ll be needing you here with the guests to wrangle Adelia. And I’m sure we’ll have our own little holiday down here as well.”

  I paused, struck by this new piece of information. How had a party and guest slipped by Adelia?

  “Your holiday pay has already been added to the budget, so I’m sure a nice jacket and dress won’t break the bank.” She gave me a cheeky grin as if she knew that spending money was exactly what I didn’t want to do. “Frank is leaving at elven-thirty. I’ll tell him to meet you around front. Oh, and don’t tell the girl. We’ve decided we can’t mind the chatter for that long and she has enough dresses.”

  And with that pronouncement, she went back to her planning, clearly dismissing me.

  At eleven-twenty, I was out front with a list of things I’d need to get. Frank wasn’t one to wait, so I expected I’d have to speed shop if I wanted to get everything I needed.

/>   The car pulled up in front of the house and I jumped in, shivering at the cold leather. Frank gave me a stiff nod and pulled out. The ride was silent, but it allowed me to shop on my phone on the drive. By the time he’d dropped me off at the shopping plaza I was able to run into Wal-Mart and grab everything I needed except for a holiday dress.

  Next door was a Sears and they were having a dress special, so I was able to get a plain black sheath dress I’d be able to wear to anything for the next few years. I splurged twenty dollars on a brightly colored floral shawl that felt exotic and rich to me. I’d never owned anything with such a slim measure of use, something made of such delicate material, but the shawl made me so happy I considered hanging it in my room as a splash of color.

  As I stood in the foyer of the shop waiting for Frank, I tried not to do the one thing I knew was too dangerous to my heart—I tried to imagine if Mr. Thorneton would notice my pretty shawl and dress. If they would make me less plain. But I knew that of course not. That wish would lead only to sadness and heartbreak.

  I was, if nothing else, glad to have the new dress so that if we had a celebration below stairs—and if I was called to bring Adelia to see him—I was prepared.

  It would be simpler to blend in and my simple dress would allow that.

  I’d also taken the time to buy gifts for each of my housemates—even Frank—and so was loaded down with bags when he arrived.

  He looked at the pile of bags overflowing with necessitates and hurmphed like I’d been out buying champagne and fascinators.

  The ride home was equally quiet, but with a peaceful satisfaction from having completed all my holiday errands in one run.

  It would be my first time since being on my own that I had others around who would celebrate with me and I found myself looking forward to it.

  Chapter 24

  I laid in bed that night with the self-knowledge that my sleeplessness was caused by knowing Mr. Thorneton would arrive soon. He’d be back under the same roof and I would be able to see him from the safety of my perch as he paced with his evening cigar each night.