Jane Eyre Austen
Doyle MacBrayne
Copyright © 2013 Doyle MacBrayne
All rights reserved.
ISBN:
ISBN-13:
DEDICATION
To Leslie and Frank, I love you both so deeply. I thank you Frank for making my sister happy and loving her so completely.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE………………………………………………………………1 CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you, Leslie for reading and editing. Patiently. And not calling me an idiot.
CHAPTER ONE
Wednesday morning, Jane sat in the waiting area of Poole Enterprises, a large windowless room with lighted white paneled walls. She tapped the wall wondering if it was frosted Plexiglas with lighting behind it or Lucite. The furniture was chrome and black, and the floor was painted black wood, very sixties modern Jane mused. There was one painting on the wall. It looked like a Kandinsky, or possibly something done by an ambitious toddler, she wasn’t sure. She wore her best suit, a grey worsted wool suit designed by Edith Head in the fifties. Conservative, professional, no nonsense, and a little quirky. Her portfolio was sitting in her lap, balanced on her knees as she sat up extremely straight. Her keys were digging into her thigh settled in her skirt pocket, and she wiggled her hand in and slipped them into her jacket pocket hating the bulge that it left, but sometimes function had to override form.
“Ms. Austen? Mrs. Fairfax can see you now.” The very pregnant woman nodded to Jane and she stood up and made her way through the door. Inside was a different world, it was like she travelled from the 1960’s to the 1860’s. The furniture was warm cherries and walnuts, and the walls were painted a dove grey with beautiful watercolor and oil paintings covering them.
Mrs. Fairfax stood up and shook Jane’s hand, “Jane, you look wonderful! Emily and Madison miss you so much; you were always their favorite babysitter.”
“Thank you Mrs. Fairfax. You haven’t changed a bit. I appreciate you considering me for the position.” Mrs. Fairfax pointed toward a chair in front of her desk, and instead of going around behind her desk, she sat at the other one putting Jane at ease immediately.
“Of course! You know I thought of you when Michelle became pregnant. I was hoping you would be available.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I know that this is supposedly a temporary assignment, but Michelle has confided that she may wish for more than eight weeks of maternity leave.”
“I would be happy to stay as long as I’m needed.” Jane pulled her Curriculum Vitae from her portfolio and handed it to Mrs. Fairfax. “I’m thrilled that I can work so close to home.”
Mrs. Fairfax nodded, “How is your mother dear?”
Jane’s brows furrowed, “She’s well, about the same. Physically she is as healthy as a horse.”
“I’m sorry dear, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Oh no, Mrs. Fairfax, you’re one of the few people who seem to understand her. She still considers you a friend and asked me to pass on her salutations.”
Mrs. Fairfax arched a brow, “Jane, I think you would be perfect for this position. I should like you to start immediately. Michelle can train you over the next few days. She’s scheduled to leave this Friday. Would that suit you?”
“Oh yes! Thank you.” Jane sat back immensely relieved. She had been dreading meeting Gray Poole, his reputation as difficult, brilliant, and eccentric had intimidated her. Mrs. Fairfax, on the other hand, was sure she would be fine and that Mr. Poole would like her.
Jane spent the morning in Human Resources, filling out forms, going to meetings about company policies. The rules seemed archaic, but she didn’t care. She needed the job, it paid incredibly well for a receptionist. She wanted a job that she could work nine to five, and leave at the office. No complications, no scheduling conflicts, just out the door and on to her own life.
The afternoon passed quickly enough with Michelle explaining her filing system, and although it made sense to Michelle it seemed to have no organizational system that could be deciphered by another human being. However, this was a temporary position, and therefore reorganizing Michelle’s system was out of the question.
Around four o’clock Mrs. Fairfax buzzed Michelle and asked her to have Jane come inside the office. Jane smoothed her skirt before entering and stood before her desk.
“Jane, he needs some computer help. Trust me, you can handle it. I should warn you though; he has certain peculiarities which run in the same vein as your mother’s.”
Jane’s eyes widened, “should I indulge him?”
Mrs. Fairfax smirked, “oh yeah, let him have it.”
Jane nodded and stood before the door, suddenly feeling slightly weak in the knees. Pooling her courage, she knocked on his partly closed door and waited for an answer.
CHAPTER TWO
“God dammit Cooper, get in here!” came the reply.
She cast her eyes down as she entered, “I’m sorry sir. Cooper isn’t available. May I assist you?” She entered the room quietly and stood patiently by the door.
“And you are?” he asked impatiently. Not Cooper, clearly. The young woman was dressed in an expensive suit, clearly designer, yet her shoes were inexpensive. Her huge grey eyes seemed to be assessing him quickly, and he realized she didn’t appear to approve of what she was seeing.
She watched him warily; he was younger than she had assumed; perhaps late twenties. His suit hung perfectly on his athletic build of a swimmer or maybe a runner. His brown eyes alarmed her; they were deep chocolate, full of ire, surrounded by long lashes that seemed to be urging her closer. He smirked, his upper lip thin and curling, his lower lip pouting slightly. She felt a strange pull from the pit of her stomach and it pulsed with each beat of her heart.
She held his gaze finding her courage to speak, “I am Jane, sir.” She watched his expression soften, amused. His dark hair fell into curls at the ends, longer than she expected for a millionaire mogul.
His eyebrow arched, and he turned to look at the other man in the room. He was older, probably in his fifties, avuncular. Mr. Poole’s gaze swung back to her, “Just Jane? Like Madonna?” The sarcasm of his words slapped the air.
Not quite the impression she was hoping to make on her first day with her new boss. The words of Mrs. Fairfax, suggesting she let him have it tickled her brain. She regained her calm, “my mother christened me Jane Eyre Austen, sir.”
He chortled and she could feel the blood rise to her cheeks. “Your mother is fanciful I take it.”
He said the words to be artful, but it was a painful truth. She bristled, “My mother hoped I would have some of the same qualities.” She wished he would just get to the point, “how may I assist you, sir?”
Instead of answering he leaned back, a small smile playing at his lips and his eyes so
ftened and warmed. “How was it for you dear Jane, growing up with a name of such import?”
She held his gaze realizing he wanted to play a game she was definitely suited for. She tilted her head slightly, her brown hair cascading to one side. “In my early youth sir, I found it cumbersome. Now I am proud and strive to honor the women for whom I was named.”
“From whence do you come?” his eyes twinkled now, and she relaxed.
“I was born in Atherton.”
“Where did you do your schooling?”
“Agnes Scott College.”
His head tilted, “I assume your program of study was Liberal Arts?” He grinned, her answers were short and polite, and yet he wanted to see if he could rile her.
“Yes sir.” She wished he would quit studying her so carefully.
“And did you excel?”
She raised her eyebrow and tilted her head, nodding slightly to answer his question. “Sir?”
The gray eyes blinked at him, and his eyes traveled from her eyes to her form. She was average height, and her suit hugged her curves nicely. She looked professional and yet feminine. Very feminine and much too young. His eyes flicked to his computer, “I am unable to print. Has your liberal arts education prepared you for handling such a situation?”
She bit her cheek to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. “I believe so.” She moved around his desk but he refused to move, so she waited patiently. “Shall I investigate the matter?”
“I wish to be your pupil, tutor me, Ms. Eyre.”
She refused to smile and instead asked tartly, “Ms. Eyre sir? Do you think yourself Mr. Rochester?”
He chuckled, “I prefer Rochester to Brockwurst. Who do you see me as, am I Darcy or Rochester?”
“I know not your character.” She pointed toward his screen, “please sir, left click the windows symbol in the lower left hand corner.”
“My physiognomy then, what is your perception?”
“Having never met either man sir, I cannot say.” She answered airily, her eyes fixed to his computer screen.
He finally pulled up the window and she continued, “Please left click the devices and printers.” She looked over at the printer on the corner of her desk. “If you right click that icon there sir, and then select set as default printer it should work.”
He followed her directions and she stood up. He pulled up the document he’d been attempting to print, and printed it once again. This time his printer started humming and spitting out the pages.
“My Ms. Eyre, you are wise.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Tell me; are you accomplished?” he asked.
She returned to the other side of the desk and looked at him puzzled by his question. “Sir?”
“Did Agnes Scott prepare you in languages, art, music, sewing, embroidery?”
She felt the flush return to her cheeks, “Yes sir, I have been well educated to the best of my natural talents.”
He grinned stupidly now and clapped his hands, “A wonder to behold. Tell me; when did you begin your employ?”
“This is my first day.” She clasped her hands in front of her, wondering how long they could go on like this. The other man stood almost gawking at their interchange.
“I am well pleased; might I ask who brought you into my employ?”
“Mrs. Fairfax.”
He laughed again, “Then I suppose I am Rochester, and you are Ms. Eyre. Good day, Clayton and I thank you for your help.”
“Good day, sir” she curtsied quickly and closed the door quietly as she left.
Clayton looked at Gray, “What the hell was that?”
Gray leaned forward, grinning, “That was an amusing diversion!”
Clayton scoffed, “She’s a little young, don’t you think?”
He scowled at Clayton’s admonishment, “Just a diversion, verbal sparring.” He nodded at the papers, “Have you read them?”
“Not yet.” Clayton turned his attention to the papers while Gray mused about his new employee. She had managed to entertain and surprise him. Very unusual for such a young woman, but she was unusual. Peculiar even. Finally, someone who piqued his interest. Clayton was right however, she was young. He would have to find out how young. And how the hell did Fairfax find her?
Mrs. Fairfax looked up expectantly as Jane closed the door. “How did it go?” she asked warmly.
Jane relaxed, her shoulders shifting downward, and she let out a breath she had had been holding, “It’s working; there’s an HP 5500 with probably a bunch of copies of the document he was trying to print.”
She nodded, picked up the phone and held up a finger telling Jane to wait. She spoke briefly to someone asking them to bring the copies immediately to her office. Putting the phone down she smiled warmly again at Jane. “Did he comment on your name?”
She rolled her eyes and grinned, “Yes. He’s decided to call me Ms. Eyre, as you are Mrs. Fairfax.”
She laughed quietly, “I thought he’d get a kick out of it. Did he have a conversation with you?”
Jane moved in front of her desk, “You are curious Mrs. Fairfax. Yes, we enjoyed a verbal tango.”
“I hoped so Jane. His wife Elizabeth had a quick wit that kept him on his toes. I know he misses it. He’s a good man, eccentric, but good. I think you two will suit each other.”
“Thank you Mrs. Fairfax, that’s very kind of you. I hope I don’t disappoint you, although I’m sure he’s used to sharper repartee.”
She shook her head, “Jane Eyre Austen, you have the wit of Wilde. It would be nice for the rest of us to see him puzzling for a rejoinder for once.”
She grinned, saluted Mrs. Fairfax, “I shall endeavor to do my best.”
She skipped lightly outside and returned to the desk with Michelle who looked at her curiously.
“What?” Jane asked innocently.
“He scares the crap out of me; I have never, ever left his office without needing to go to the restroom to stop myself from crying.” Michelle admitted.
“Oh, I’m sorry. He wasn’t exactly nice; in fact I think he inadvertently called me ugly.” She puzzled over the Ms. Eyre comment and then laughed, “Oh well. I’ll get him next time!”
Michelle’s eyes opened wide, “I’m impressed. What do you mean he called you ugly?”
Jane rolled her eyes, “He called me by my middle name, Jane Eyre – she wasn’t known as a beauty. In fact, for most of the book the nicest thing anyone says is that she’s plain.”
Michelle looked shocked, “You’re adorable! How dare he!”
Jane shrugged, “He did refer to himself as Mr. Rochester though, also not known for his looks…” She contemplated that for a moment.
“Ugh, don’t tell me Rochester and Eyre get together…” Michelle looked disgusted at the idea.
Jane blushed slightly, “Uh, well, yes but I don’t think that’s what he was saying. There’s a Mrs. Fairfax in the book too.” She scratched her head, “He’s not married?”
Michelle shook her head, “Wife died three years ago in childbirth.”
Jane’s mouth dropped open, shocked that could happen in this day and age. She wanted to ask Michelle more but Clayton left the office. He nodded at her and shook his head smiling as he made his way out of the office.
Michelle sat down and began explaining the organization of her office supplies. Jane secretly wondered if Michelle was a little ADHD.
CHAPTER THREE
The office had planned a Baby Shower for Michelle, it was a pot luck affair scheduled for lunch. Jane made individual mincemeat pies and spent the previous two nights furiously knitting a cap and teddy bear to give to Michelle on Friday. Arriving early she brought in her present wrapped in tissue paper and tied with yarn, and set the silver tray with pastries next to it on the desk.
When Mr. Poole approached his office his head was down, and he was reading something on his phone. He looked up and nodded to Jane and then stopped, glancing briefly in the direction of the i
tems and appeared to be unhappy with their presence. He gave her a questioning look and slipped his phone in his pocket. She watched his demeanor change from curious to amused.
“Are those mincemeats?” he teased.
“Yes sir,” she answered evenly.
“And why are there mincemeats on your desk this morning Ms. Eyre?”
She held his gaze, “There is to be a party today sir, for Michelle.”
He looked confused, “Michelle?”
Her eyes widened in wonder. How could he not know who Michelle was? She nodded slowly, “Yes sir, the woman whose position I am filling while she is on maternity leave.”
Understanding washed over his face followed by concern, “When is this party?”
“It is a luncheon.”
He nodded, still having a look of concern on his face. He turned toward her office and he heard him call out, “Fairfax, a word if you please.”
Jane waited nervously for Mrs. Fairfax to call her in and tell her she was fired for bringing mincemeats. Instead nothing happened. Michelle spent the day visiting friends and she caught up with Jane right before lunch. They headed to the conference room together and Michelle was sweet enough to introduce Jane to everyone there.
Jane chatted with (you just said she was introduced to everyone!) a few people but found herself sidling over to Mrs. Fairfax. She smiled warmly at Jane, and Jane noticed Mrs. Fairfax’s plate had three of her mincemeat pastries. Jane grinned, “You must really like mincemeat.”
Mrs. Fairfax shook her head, “Oh no, I was instructed to make sure I saved these for Mr. Poole.” She grinned. “He’s planning on sticking his head in as soon as he’s done with his conference call.”
“That’ll scare the crap out of Michelle.” Jane whispered.
There was a sudden chill behind her back and she turned; Mr. Poole stood behind her. She blushed immediately, “Hello sir,” and prayed that he hadn’t heard her.
Jane Eyre Austen Page 1
