Jane: A Jane Eyre Retelling

by Lark Watson

  It was so typically Saint, that I just smiled at Laura as she shook her head. I rose from the table where I’d been adding my week’s income to the spreadsheet.

  It wasn’t uncommon for Saint to separate us to discuss how things were going. Usually he had these meetings with Laura and, as the outsider, I felt it was fine to take things as they decided them.

  We walked, passing the front of the houses along the street to the center of town, a small park just up ahead. Saint was unusually quiet which began to grow a ball of knots in my gut as I matched his longer stride, hurrying along afraid to break him out of the thoughts obviously eating at him.

  When we reached the park, the cool sunset had just begun and the lights flickered on giving a dance to pale shadows against the children’s village when he turned and gestured to the bench running alongside the sandbox.

  We sat, silent. I think he was more used to Maggie urging him on or Laura’s quiet encouragement. I was more than willing to wait. I was unsure where the conversation was to go, but my fear was with me leaving the house.

  Perhaps that’s what the call had been about. That they had to remove their “renter” before they could move forward with the application.

  “Jane.” Saint reached out and took my hand in a move so surprising I startled. “We’ve come to a difficulty in our application. It was unforeseen and unexpected, but something that you can solve for us. It would settle things for all of us, even you. You’d still be part of our family—even more so—and we’d be able to begin bringing children into Heart Home.”

  Of course it was me that was causing the issue. I had guessed, hadn’t I? And their generosity had gone on for so long. But, unlike at Tower House, I’d never truly let myself begin to trust my place in their circle. And so, it wasn’t hurt or alarm that had me accepting this new challenge. It was more as if I’d been waiting for this shoe to drop and it finally had.

  It was nearly a relief.

  “Of course. I understand completely. If you could give me the week, I’m sure with Laura and I we can figure something out between us.”

  Saint paused, glancing my way before giving my hand a squeeze.

  “I think you misunderstand. I’m not looking for you to move out. On the contrary. I’m looking for you to stay—indefinitely.”

  “You are? As in…hiring me?” I wasn’t sure what they could want me to do. Perhaps my background as a nanny was being looked into as helpful. I had CPR, first aid and other certifications that neither of them had. It might be something to sway the authorities.

  Saint laughed, a sound that always perplexed me. He was someone I never knew if he were laughing at me or with me. At least with Mr. Thorneton—

  No. I stopped myself now from traveling that road.

  Instead, I looked up at my companion, probably the most handsome man I’d ever seen. It was easy to forget in close quarters, but between his looks and his desperate need to save more children, he was an incredibly good man. One that I understood almost not at all, but still.

  I hated to compare the person I no longer thought of and him, but how was it that my heart raced back at each half-thought to the dark, brooding brow and over-bearing looks and personality over the man beside me who nearly matched his name.

  “No, Jane. We don’t want to hire you. I want to marry you.”

  Chapter 46

  The next day, the shock had still not worn off from Saint’s proposal, as it were.

  It had become clear to him that in order to get around the “young people of no relation” being stopped from fostering children, he could easily become a married man with a good job and two people working for him instead.

  It made a frightful bit of sense.

  I should have rushed to agree…and yet, I could not.

  As I considered Saint’s offer, I felt my old life slipping further and further away. It was perhaps the best thing that could happen—not only potentially marrying Saint in a marriage of convenience, but letting go of Tower House and Mr. Thorneton in a way that was final. Of course, his definition of convenience was an actual marriage and I was the convenient part.

  I wish I could say that each day had become easier, that my longing for my old world lessened. I questioned my own sanity. Each day away from Mr. Thorneton had been a sorrow of its own. I woke up from fevered dreams of him coming to me in the night and stealing me back to Tower House. There would—of course—be no conversation, no discussion about what I wanted or compromise. And while I knew that was wrong, that compromise was vital to make relationships work, I still—at least in my dreams—longed for him to come and take the choice from me.

  I’m willing to admit that perhaps there were days I wished I hadn’t worked as hard to keep my name out of searchable venues.

  Had he looked for me? If not, then it was better that I never knew. The pain of being dismissed so easily would perhaps have finished off the feelings my heart had started to feel again for my new family and home. Little by little, I’d allowed myself to believe I might have finally found my place in the world. And with that, I had to begin to push aside thoughts of returning.

  And yet, the dream stayed, each night waking up to it when during the daytime I would never allow myself to consider the possibility, let alone the reality of what I’d left behind her.

  I reminded myself almost daily that I’d made the right decision.

  I’m not ashamed to admit that my feelings for Mr. Thorneton clouded my judgment of the house. Of course, before that final night, everything had been a misty idea of something. I’d known Mr. Thorneton was in business and that the men who came to visit were powerful and a bit darker shade of business men than you’d see commuting on the train. But still, it was all just suspicions and romanticizing the visits.

  I knew that darker things occurred than even I could have imagined. I wondered if everyone was safely relocated, or if the house had been refortified.

  And now, I would be accepting the complete shutting of that door behind me if I went forward with this decision of marrying Saint.

  I realized that this would keep me safe and whole and give me a home and a family. I would no longer be Jane Byrne but Jane St. Michael. And no one would ever look for her—neither Mr. Thorneton nor his enemies.

  I walked over to the library, a surprisingly warm day as the holidays approached having me loosen the buttons of my coat and making a note to buy a lighter one for the spring. Stepping into the library, I glanced around as if breaking a rule no one spoke of. Laura was not here today and that was the only freedom I had on this outing.

  I had to close the door behind me on the old world, the old Jane. I suspected the only way to do that was research.

  I made my way to the back room and signed into the computer in the small nook reserved for online research before pulling up a chair and staring hard at the screen in front of me.

  This little trip was my own small secret in a world where we had no secrets between us.

  Or, no current secrets. My time at Tower House was an unspoken, off-limits zone and all respected it, even if Maggie occasionally wandered too close to the heart of the subject with her innocent questions.

  But, now, I felt as though I had to look back one last time before moving forward into my new future. A future that promised security for not only myself, but for the house we’d all worked toward running.

  My mind knew that returning to the house and saying yes to Saint was the right thing to do. It was the best thing to do…and the absolute safest thing to do.

  But my heart was fighting that outcome with all its power, reminding me of my surge of emotion and lust the one time I’d been in the arms of a man whose name I hadn’t even whispered in near on a year.

  I thought, one last look, one last time seeing his face even if it was on a screen, and I’d put him and that life behind me.

  Marrying someone like Saint was more than I would have ever thought to hope for before—

  I settled back in the seat and re
minded myself that before and now were nearly the same time. That the time between was a step into a world not my own and that I should leave it there in the category of fantasy. And, if I was completely honest with myself, wasn’t now far, far better than I could have hoped for before Tower House? Wasn’t my settled, comfortable life with these people a joy? To be welcomed and loved by the girls and accepted and provided for by Saint?

  I wouldn’t have thought of marriage before, and now I was being offered one—yes, of convenience—but I’d be making not only a permanent place for myself, but a better life for others.

  The only answer that made sense was yes.

  And yet…

  I called up the search engine and sat, staring for a moment, wondering if this was a bigger mistake than I could anticipate.

  I googled first Mr. Thorneton and came up with almost nothing. I checked Ms. Ingram’s Instagram to determine if there were new pictures of them together. Not only were there not, but she’d deleted the ones from the house party. I supposed this meant that things had not proceeded between them the way she had expected or hoped.

  I wondered bitterly if she’d called it off because of the mystic who had visited us.

  Of course, I couldn’t help but hope in my frozen little heart that it was he who had called a halt to their romance, knowing that he was going to pursue me.

  I thought back on his words, they haunted me nightly but I typically kept them at bay when the light shine and people were about.

  But him, whispering those hot words in my ear that he was mine. That I owned him, that he belonged to me and only me.

  I couldn’t help but feel as if those had not been hollow promises. I was not naïve completely in the way of the world. I knew that men used women every day and that women took advantage of men with power too.

  But, I was not a woman who one would think a man would go out of his way to manipulate.

  Not only from my plain appearance, but from my low standing in the house, and in the world. There was no gain for him beyond that of myself alone.

  If I had not known we were in so very many ways of the same thoughts, of the same mind—the way we had grown in our conversations as equals—I would perhaps doubt my resolve. But no. I was sure. And, it was one of the reasons I stayed away.

  If I felt less, or suspected that I meant less to Mr. Thorneton, I would have been able to walk away or even be his mistress with no care for the outcome.

  But, believing that he was—had to be—as engaged as I was in our feelings, I felt that staying gone protected us both.

  When nothing came up on him and no social media feeds from his associate’s girlfriends gave hints of his whereabouts, I began to truly wonder.

  What had started off as a curiosity to close the door, became a mission for an update. I thought perhaps I could trace him through the house and searched for “Tower House” and then the name of the village nearby.

  It took only a moment for the searches to come up, one after another with each headline more dire than the one before.

  The pictures were jarring. But the descriptions given in the subtext were even more so. Of course, I pushed down the panic rising so quickly I was awash with it. I knew a sensationalized headline when I saw it.

  I found the local paper and clicked in, afraid of what I’d see. I got the main gist and then grabbed the bigger papers because there were no photos in the town Herald.

  The picture was the day after the event and I had to wonder who had suppressed the action shots from the night before. I wondered if that horrid Mr. Donovan had had a hand in covering this up as well.

  But there was no doubt of what I saw. Tower House burnt to ruins. The devastation remarkable against the clear blue sky of the photo.

  It stated that the residents had been asleep when the fire had occurred and that no foul play was

  And that the owner of the house is recovering at the nearby hospital.

  Chapter 47

  The girls understood and wished me well, hoping to drive me home themselves.

  Saint was not as forgiving. He saw his plans being dashed. I knew that he would blame me for my inability to say yes to his offer, but I saw nothing down that path that would please either of us. It was a short-term solution to what was hopefully also a short-term problem.

  I had to go to him. I had to know. He could be dead and yet I knew that my life, my full life, was not here.

  They’d become my family, but just like any family there was a time when you had to leave the next.

  I was desperate for true news of Mr. Thorneton and couldn’t wait another moment, couldn’t take Saint’s suggestion to call or inquire with the local authorities.

  Instead, I packed and was ready to be off in less than twenty-four hours.

  We said our goodbyes, promising to speak as soon as I was settled. It was the first time I’d left somewhere—someone—with the knowledge that it was not an end, but just another path we’d see each other on.

  I waved, watching Laura dab her eyes and Maggie grin at the idea of my grand adventure (since we’d left most of the facts between me and Laura) as I climbed into the car I’d ordered the night before.

  I knew without question that Saint would leave the farewells to the girls as he went to work.

  And so, as the car service pulled away, I waved once more knowing my life was both ahead and behind.

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  I waved the car off as I stood at the end of the drive, looking up past the gates to where the lane wound into the woods. The same dark foliage-shedding limbs as the previous year settled over the way like nature’s version of a gothic arch—hiding and decorating at the same time. Twilight was falling, letting the sun cast my shadow up the walk from behind, both of me paused in time—one on each side of the gate.

  It was different returning than it had been arriving that first time, long ago and in the back of Frank’s car an unsure girl and her desperate need for security… The last time I’d been filled with uncertainty and excitement for adventure. Cold and exhausted, I’d been there for a job. A job that would come and go, just this month’s way to pay the bills—and then move on.

  This time, as I pulled my little suitcase behind me, climbing the sloping paved way and waiting for the house to come into view, it was with a different set of expectations. This time I knew the house like I knew my own person. I knew that, just like myself, it had been changed in my absence—a desperate dark scorch where it had been burned to the ground. Or, so our news articles had reported.

  But, as I came around the lower curve where the house stood against the horizon, the lake glistening in the setting light in the background, I saw that there was still a profile to it … It felt very much like visiting an old ruin. A wall left here, a tower reaching to the sky there, bits of light coming through where one would expect there to be solid stone.

  I stood, shaking off the feeling that I dreaded the entire time, the feeling of reluctance to return battling with a desperate need to be present.

  I wanted to race up the lawn stretched out between me and my former home but dare not leave my luggage behind. I appreciated the pause to let me retain my dignity for anyone who might be watching out the front. I circled around, following the drive the rest of the way and coming to the front where I stood staring up at the archway that used to make the front wall into the foyer. I stood between the pillars of it resting my hand against the outside where it was heated by the warmth of the sun. It was a sharp contrast against the cold I’d felt upon seeing the home in such decay.

  I knew the master and staff couldn’t possibly be present, not with the wreck of a ruin the house was.

  At the same time, I feared they would be in residence as strongly as I feared they were beyond my reach somewhere outside the realm of the world I’d known with them. I stood inside the foyer with my bag still in hand and paused, considering the ruins around me.

  I held back a moment, looking around, taking
it in. I thought I’d been prepared, that Tower House had been just a building to me. And yet, the depth of my feelings could not be measured in the expected ways. I let myself lean there a moment, shocked to find the space where my heart had learned to let go of caution dissolved into a shell of itself.

  I pushed away from the wall, oddly satisfied with how solid it felt. I walked through the library where the glass wall should have looked out into the courtyard and then followed through to where the formally beautiful garden between the U of the wings grew. In some spots the ground was scorched dirt and the rough bones of shrubbery littered the ground. In other places bits of late season grass and rosebushes grew wild.

  Had my absence stretched my memory far longer than was possible, for how could such change come to my beloved home in such a short span of time? I had expected a fresh feeling of destruction, but this desolate abandonedness was more surprise than expectation.

  As I stood there, my focus became looking to see if either Frank or Mrs. Fairfax had refused to leave the grounds, that they had stuck to their duties as they always had. This would leave them only one place to be.

  A place I'd always longed to see them now dreaded setting foot in now. I made my way down the back lawn to where the path began that typically led me around to the lake. Instead of taking a sharp turn where the shrubbery had been planted to block the little cottage, I noticed that the barriers had been removed and stepped through the new gap.

  It reminded me of one of my favorite childhood stories, The Secret Garden, and I wondered what lay beyond it that I was now being granted access to.

  I passed through the gate, getting my first close-up look of the little house that I dreamt about for so long. The magical place in the mystical forest which apparently had not held a princess but a witch. My heart broke for the woman even as I couldn't help myself from my feelings of anger concerning her. The news reports had alluded to a tragic past, one I didn’t dare guess at.