Jane: A Jane Eyre Retelling

by Lark Watson

  “No. Well, no more than normal. But, no it isn’t Mrs. Fairfax who is calling for you.” She took another turn around the room, leaning over my window seat to look down on the courtyard, Mr. Thorneton’s room, and the window-lined room of the library. She gave me a little wink when she turned around. “Nice view.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was a view I was actively trying to ignore.

  I could only assume it was Sophie who needed me then. Adelia had been acting up the longer her Mr. Thorne was in residence and she wasn’t allowed to see him. Bedtime preparation must be hell this third night. I sat on the edge of the bed, tying the laces of my knockoff Keds when Fiona shook her head.

  “No, Jane. Mr. Thorneton wants you to join them in the library.”

  I stopped, shocked by the words. “To join them? Whatever for?”

  “I don’t know. He just said he would like your presence in the library as soon as you made yourself presentable for a visit.”

  “Well,” I huffed. “That could take a while since nothing I own would be near to what they’d consider presentable.”

  “Let me see.” Without waiting, Fiona went to the closet and threw it open. “There’s nothing in here!”

  I glanced past her at my belongings. They were all there.

  “You have sweaters, sweaters and more sweaters.” She started pawing through all of them. “Where are your going out clothes?”

  “Well, I don’t go out, so I don’t have any.”

  “What do you mean you don’t go out?” With this she turned and she looked at me with such disbelief that I almost laughed again. Who would have thought having another girl storm into your room and make declarations about your furniture and clothing could be so fun.

  “Well, I don’t. I’m on call here most of the time and I don’t drive and besides, where would I go?”

  She just shook her head then glanced at the bag I’d tossed on the floor under the hangers in denial.

  “What’s in here?” She picked it up and pulled out the dress and shawl for the downstairs dinner. “Oh, this isn’t horrible. I mean, it’s not great, but I’m guessing you want to blend in with the scenery down there anyway.”

  I looked at my holiday outfit laid out there, and knew it was almost as bad as going down in a jean skirt and sweater—which I was sorely tempted to do.

  Making an attempt just gave the catty woman I’d been avoiding since hearing her through the glass door on day one another target. But, Mr. Thorneton had said dress for company, and so I would.

  Fiona headed toward the door, obviously getting the vibe that I’d rather get ready alone, and swung out of the room with a quick “good luck” before pulling the door shut behind her.

  I was probably going to need more than luck, but I’d take what I could get.

  Chapter 27

  I made my way downstairs, the black dress and flats more comfortable than I’d expected. I hadn’t brought my shawl. No matter how lovely I thought it was, I wasn’t putting it out there for the supermodel to judge. And, even as I’d been told to dress for company, the women in attendance were dressed for a different kind of visit.

  At the library door, I paused, watching the crowd through the windows.

  Mr. Thorneton looked overly cozy with Ms. Ingram sprawled across his lap. I was certainly glad my drapes had been shut the last few days. This was not a view I intended to wallow in if at all possible.

  As I went to knock, Micha spotted me across the room from his skulking point beyond the fireplace, and made his way to me.

  “Ms. Byrne, what are you doing down here on this lovely evening?” Micha took my arm and pulled me further into the hallway, back toward the stairs.

  I pulled my arm from his grip, harder than I’d expected to have to. He was less than pleased that I’d made myself present at their hoity toity party.

  “Mr. Thorneton sent for me.” It was a phrase that caused us both pause.

  It wasn’t something I’d expected and if Micha didn’t know about it then perhaps…

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Well, I’m sure Fiona came to my room, told me to change, and make myself present down here at Mr. Thorneton’s request.”

  Micha’s eyes narrowed on me, his gaze showing that he was less than thrilled by that idea and that he still wasn’t sure he believed it.

  “And why exactly did Thorne send for you?” The level of disdain passed on through that questions was so thick I almost couldn’t wade through it to answer.

  “You’d have to ask him as that wasn’t part of the message.” I started to add that I was just told to dress for company and arrive immediately, but I figured the less I shared with Micha the easier life was.

  Our battle of wills continued and part of me hoped that for once Micha would win and I could return to my snug room and go back to my book.

  I was just beginning to think this might happen as he took my arm again and turned me toward the stairs, when the library door behind us opened.

  “Micha, I believe I’ve been clear about your hands not touching Ms. Byrne’s person, have I not?”

  We froze, both of us in shocked surprise at the voice behind us. Me at the defense it brought me, Micha more likely at the idea that he was once again being put on notice for someone as unimportant as the nanny.

  Micha’s hand dropped from my arm, slowly, reluctantly.

  “And, Ms. Byrne. I believe I asked for you to join us in the library. Is there a reason it’s taking you so long?” He weighed the question as if he didn’t know, as if he wasn’t watching the reason play out in front of him.

  But what was I to say that wouldn’t make my life between the rock and the hard place even tighter?

  “I wasn’t dressed for company, sir.”

  Mr. Thorneton’s gaze ran down my plain black dress and simple patent leather flats. When it came back up to meet my own gaze, he quirked a brow.

  “And you are now?” The disdain was a slap I couldn’t have missed if I’d tried. Beside me, even Micha stiffened at it.

  I held my head up and looked Mr. Thorneton directly in the eye. If he were in a mood for a squabble, well, fine. He would have one. Was he too humored by his pretty guests? Too many people making him happy was perhaps giving him a need to be miserable?

  “Well, sir, I’m more dressed for the company I’d care for and less dressed for the company I don’t.” His brows climbed higher if that were possible. “And so, if you’re asking for specifics, you have them. For what reason was I summonsed to the room?”

  Micha leaned back against the bottom swirl of the banister and watched the exchange, obviously interested in how Mr. Thorneton was going to handle my dwindling patience.

  “The ladies began a game and the numbers were too even for an outcome. I would like you to join us so we can finish it.” He said this as if playing games with the rich and famous was something I did every weekend and so why not join them as well?

  “Since when are the numbers not even?” Micha asked, suspicion clear in his tone even without my having to turn around to observe him.

  “Since Violet doesn’t want to deal with Skylar all evening and has sent her off to do something with her clothes and such.”

  “Well, that makes two of us,” Micha answered. Apparently he found someone whose presence annoyed him even more than mine.

  I glanced between the men, wondering who was going to win this battle of wills. I knew the best thing Micha could do if he didn’t actually want me in the room was to claim he had to be somewhere else. Obviously, if he wasn’t playing the game, the numbers would be even again.

  But, before he could say anything, Mr. Thorneton stepped back, opening the path to the library and said, “Micha, give us a moment, won’t you?”

  It was anything but a question.

  Micha, with a quick glare at each of us, headed back to the library.

  I stood, not coming to join him in view of his audience, with my back to the stairs, wishin
g I could head up them, climb to my hidden world above, and waited for the snick of the door to open the floodgates.

  But, he came to me.

  “What is it, Jane, that keeps you from joining us?”

  It was with a withheld sigh that I shuffled forward, fearing there was no way out of the night of horror I was sure this would be.

  When I got to the French glass doors, I could see the guests subtly—and not so subtly—studying me through them as if I were some intriguing new toy they were about to be offered.

  Mr. Thorneton pushed the doors open and waved me forward.

  “If you haven’t yet had a chance to meet Ms. Byrne, this is she.” He nodded in my direction and I fought the terrible urge to curtsy.

  I had the feeling these people would see neither the humor nor the irony. They might see the fear I was struggling to hold in, but they would only see what was rightfully theirs: a minion bowing before them.

  I stood, just inside the room, looking them over as well, wondering if there was a safe haven, a place less fraught with sarcasm and dismissal. The only eye I caught was Micha’s.

  It was a sad evening for sure if Micha was the closest thing I had to an ally.

  “Well, Jane.” Mr. Thorneton had placed himself back within touching distance of Ms. Ingram, his Whiskey back in his hand and his demeanor nothing but that of the lord of the manor. “Are you to join us or not?”

  I felt the less than subtle barb to the core. It wasn’t a tease. It was a challenge. He thought I would shy away from such surroundings, but he had to know I’d been in them before. There was nothing here that was new to me. I knew to be the mouse they expected and hope to get through the evening unscathed.

  It was only the presence of Mr. Thorneton himself and my station as guest-fill-in that was at odds with my typical jobs.

  I glanced around the room and, finding a hard, wingback chair just outside the circle, took my place to watch the play of humanity form in front of me.

  “So, Thorne where is it you went that you had to leave me here alone?”

  My gaze clashed with his over the woman’s head. Her definition of alone was quite strange with the room filled with people and Mr. Thorneton gone all of three minutes.

  “And, why on Earth is the nanny here?” she went on. “None of us is a child, even if some choose to act like one on occasion.”

  I wondered who she was talking about, until she shot a glare at Micha which would have caused a lesser man to melt. All she got in return was dark scowl, as he raised his over-priced craft beer to his lips and drank. Apparently, he didn’t think any more of her than he did of me.

  My gaze followed the line back to Mr. Thorneton, wondering what it was he wanted out of this. Was he just bored? Did he need a distraction? Was there really a need for me to be here?

  Or his to get to watch the baby duck swim with the hawks and watch what happened?

  I watched as he ran the tips of his fingers up and down her thigh, the shiver that rushed through my body a complete betrayal of anything real or possible.

  “She’s here to play judge, darling.” The endearment was a slap. A reminder.

  “Oh.” Violet sat up, her stalking-cat smile back in place. “I like that. A judgment. But can she be neutral?”

  She rose from Mr. Thornton’s lap with more grace than I could stand up from a simple chair and walked round the room, touching each man as she went until she got to Micha who crossed his arms and gave her a glare I was more than a little familiar with.

  “Don’t worry, Micha. I’m sure you’re safe back here in your corner from dangerous little old me.”

  Ms. Ingram pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of him.

  Without flinching, Micha’s hand swung out and ripped the phone from hers.

  “You know the rules, darling.” He glanced down, paging through the photos she’d taken. “No photos of guests.”

  He hit a button with such force I was surprised the glass didn’t shatter in his large, hard hands.

  “Oh, Micha.” She ran a finger down the scruff of his face. “As if you’re a guest.”

  “Violet.” Mr. Thorneton’s voice came behind her, a command. “Don’t tease the help.”

  My gaze stayed on Micha as Ms. Ingram laughed and turned away, taking her phone with her. I was glad it did, because I almost laughed when Micha gave Mr. Thorneton the finger behind her back.

  If anything was clear, it was that Ms. Ingram did not understand the hierarchy of the house. For once, I was glad that I was under Micha’s oversight in some ways. I knew that, if the photo rule was real and they had it for a reason, my privacy would be granted as well.

  Micha, cool as usual except when dealing with me, glanced my way and winked.

  I felt myself relax for the first time since Fiona knocked on my door. I may not be safe here in this room, but neither was I in danger.

  “So, the nanny is going to be the judge.” Violet took her seat again on Mr. Thorneton’s lap and I couldn’t help but wonder if he appreciated being one step up from furniture. “But, can we trust her judgment?”

  Her gaze raked over me as if my appearance alone showed I was unworthy of whatever game they were playing.

  “And, does the winner receive a prize?” Her voice dropped, setting it back in that sultry, purr kitten range she seemed to enjoy bringing out.

  “A prize seems fair, don’t you think, Thorne?” The question came from a man to my left. He sat, sprawled out in Adelia’s favorite overstuffed chair. “But, whatever would the winner want?”

  His gaze went back to Violet, making it clear what he thought the winner would want. I realized then how far in over my head I was. This wasn’t simply a make the nanny uncomfortable evening. These people used and toyed and discarded so easily that they spoke about openly.

  “As if, Franco.” Ms. Ingram rolled her eyes and settled even further into Mr. Thorneton’s lap if that were possible.

  Mr. Thorneton let them bicker about it between themselves for a moment, his watchfulness sweeping the room and taking me in alone on the far side.

  “Enough.” Mr. Thorneton stood, Ms. Ingram in his arms as if he were rising with a kitten, and turned and set her down.

  “I have a Glenfiddich 40 Year Old Single Malt in the vault, and the winner of the judgment gets it.” He gave a pointed look around the room. “Anything else is not part of this particular game.”

  The men mumbled, all of them seeming to think they were the winner. It was interesting, how self-assured each of was. There was no doubt or coyness. Each man saw himself as the alpha of the room, but as you glanced around even their body language belied that.

  Mr. Thorneton stood out not because of his looks—which were less than all the men in the room. Or his money—which had to be roughly the same for him to be keeping the company. Or his clothing—there was nothing flashy about him.

  But, everything about him said the same thing. The way he moved, the way he watched, the way he commanded…he was the predator in every situation that could play out here.

  I was the bottom of the food chain and beginning to worry how this evening and their complicated social games and structure would all fall into place.

  “Well then.” Ms. Ingram clapped her hands and sauntered across the room to join the two other women there.

  Between them, she looked even more stunning. And since they were both incredibly beautiful on their own that right, that was a striking reminder. But, the two brunettes framing her just made her shine all that much brighter.

  “Well, nanny,” she shifted around to face me enough that it appeared we were looking at one another. “What makes you worthy to make the final call on an argument that we’ve had?”

  She gave me a look which obviously said what she thought of my abilities.

  I glanced toward Mr. Thorneton, wondering if I was to answer. At his nod, I spoke up, unhappy to have the full attention of the room on me.

  “I wouldn’t know. I don’t know what th
e judgment is, so how can I weigh my ability?”

  I looked at her, watching the annoyed reaction flit over her face even though she was looking past me, or through me.

  “Well, then.” She shifted back around and waved a hand. “Gentlemen?”

  The two men I hadn’t met stepped toward the center of the room to follow the conversation. I studied them for a moment and realized they had been to the house before, with the men Adelia had called the strong men. Or, what Frank would probably call connected. I’d learned as I’d stayed on, that things were even less like you’d expect here. What lay beneath was the question… and one that I didn’t traipse too far down the path to find.

  Ms. Ingram rose from the seat, making sure all eyes were on her, and placed herself in front of the fireplace.

  “As all of us know—well, all of us who are actually guests.” She gave me a pointed look as if I’d barged in when all I truly wanted was to slip back away. “Earlier, there was an argument between the ladies about which of the men was the most attractive. There are three ladies here and each of them chose a different man.”

  I didn’t bother to flinch at the stress she put on the word lady. After all, I’d heard Mrs. Fairfax’s opinion in my mind as she said it.

  I had hoped that Mr. Thorneton would not allow these petty attacks, but I was wrong. He sat back, watching me through her entire monologue, watching for my reaction.

  And so I gave him none.

  “And so,” she continued, “we have had to call someone from outside our circle into the room to make a decision for us. Hopefully she’ll be able to do more than sit in that chair and look mousey.”

  The other women snickered. Who knew what they truly thought, if they pitied me, disdained me…or perhaps were just pleased that her ire was not directed at one of them for once?

  “Nanny—”

  “Ms. Byrne.” Mr. Thorneton interrupted her.

  “Excuse me?” Ms. Ingram gave him as much of a scowl as she would allow herself.

  “Her name is Ms. Byrne. Ms. Jane if you are her charge, which I assume you are not.” Apparently there was a line—or Mr. Thorneton was the only one allowed to call me nanny.