Jane Eyre Austen

by Doyle MacBrayne

  “Ms. Eyre, Mrs. Fairfax,” he grinned wickedly, “I have come to taste the fruits of my peasants’ labors.” He picked up a mincemeat and stuffed it into his mouth.

  One eyebrow rose and Jane said quietly, “I should wonder you don’t choke, sir. Are you sure your peasants haven’t poisoned the fruits you acquire?”

  He swallowed and grinned even more, “My dear Ms. Eyre, surely you are too sweet and innocent to conceive of such malice.”

  Mrs. Fairfax laughed and left to get him a drink. Jane watched her leave and slowly released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Relaxing, she couldn’t help but grin, “Sir, I believe I told you I strive to honor the names of the women after whom I am christened. However there may be more of Lizzie Borden in me than Jane Eyre.”

  His eyes opened wide and his head tilted back as he laughed loudly. The room silenced, shocked by his reaction. Mrs. Fairfax returned and handed him a drink; she was grinning stupidly. The room noise slowly began to return to its normal hum but Jane still felt the eyes on her. A blush creeping up her cheeks, she turned her eyes down.

  “Lizzie Borden would not be so shy, I dare say,” he observed.

  She flicked her eyes to his amused gaze and fought to regain her composure. “Perhaps it would be an excellent defense, to seem so fragile and yet have malevolence in your heart.”

  “I daresay Ms. Eyre; you are incapable of any cruelty, in thought or act. Do not try to deny it.” He winked at her, “Your mincemeats are delicious. Pray, what gift did I bring for Michelle, Fairfax?”

  She flicked her eyes toward him and then back to Michelle who was opening gifts, “$200.00.”

  He nodded, “I suppose I shall have to replenish petty cash?”

  She waved him away, dismissing the idea. Jane giggled, she seemed to simply ignore his eccentricity and he didn’t care.

  Mrs. Fairfax breathed, “That’s beautiful Jane. Did you make that?”

  Jane’s smiled warmly at Michelle and she answered Mrs. Fairfax, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Michelle came over to hug her, “This is so precious; thank you Jane!”

  “You are very welcome Michelle!” Jane hugged her back.

  Mr. Poole reached for the items, eyeing Jane carefully, “A cable knit hat? Did you make the bear as well?” He smiled warmly at Michelle and handed the items back to her. She handed them around, as she had done with the other presents, all of the guests making the appropriate cooing noises.

  His eyes flicked to her, “Did you knit them both Jane?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He grinned, “Quite accomplished.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed, knowing that rolling her eyes in front of Mr. Gray Poole or Mr. Edward Rochester would result in an immediate dismissal. She murmured “Thank you, sir,” and kept her eyes forward, attempting to watch Michelle intently. He made her feel like a small school child when he complimented her that way. He was teasing her, clearly not professional, but at the same time he wasn’t being forward. It left her feeling unsettled, and completely baffled.

  He reached into his pocket and turned away. She watched him press his phone to his ear and bark, “Poole,” as he left the room.

  Mrs. Fairfax nudged her, “I don’t think I’ve seen him laugh in years Jane. Thank you for that.”

  The blood drained from her face, worried she had overstepped her bounds. She nodded, “You’re welcome. But I’ve done nothing.”

  Mrs. Fairfax watched her carefully, “Jane, you’ve done everything. You are a breath of fresh air.”

  She shook her head, “You don’t think… I mean do you think he thinks I’m flirting?” Her voice was urgent and she could feel the blush return to her cheeks.

  Mrs. Fairfax laughed, “No, no, not at all. You are just challenging him. He needs that.” She sighed, “He was different before Lizzie died. He laughed so much more.” Her eyes saddened and she shook her head, “It was good to hear him laugh.”

  Jane relaxed slightly. She hadn’t been flirting. Had she?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Saturday morning Jane’s eyes opened and she recognized the scent of shortbread baking. She threw her hair back in a ponytail, pulled on her shorts and a t-shirt and quietly descended the stairs. Entering the kitchen she grinned. Today must be a good day; she spied her mother in the kitchen baking muffins and fresh squeezed orange juice in pitchers.

  “Good morning mother.” Jane kissed her cheek. “What can I do to help?”

  “Set the table dear.” She smiled sweetly, “will you be going to town today Jane?”

  “Yes ma’am, might I get something for you?”

  “Yes, please. I would like some fresh fruits if they are in season. And roses, I don’t like the arrangements that have been sent for this evening. We need at least three dozen to do a proper centerpiece on the mantle.”

  “White?” she asked, knowing the answer.

  Her mother smiled and nodded yes. “Jane, please be back by noon; there is much to be done.”

  “Yes, mother.” Jane leaned over and gave her mother another kiss on the cheek. After setting the table she grabbed her purse, a muffin, and headed out the door. It was seven am. She should have enough time to drive to the city, go for a run, and hit the farmer’s market before all the goods were purchased.

  The air was chilly, even for a late summer day. She plugged in her ear buds and turned on Nine-Inch-Nails. It was early enough that she could probably run a five mile loop. She ran a half mile, stretched, and then started running again. When she passed Gray Poole she knew he didn’t recognize her. Her hair was up; she was dressed so differently, no makeup, and out of their normal element. He on the other hand was immediately recognizable. She was shocked that his body was so toned; he must use weights in addition to running she mused. His scowl was still present though. She grinned as she kicked forward leaving him in her dust. As she approached her third mile fatigue began to set in and she welcomed it, falling into a steady beat, ignoring the pain and instead feeling the music push her forward. He caught up with her and when he glanced over she saw the spark of recognition. She slowed her pace slightly, letting him get ahead of her, too tired to verbally spar with him. Or perhaps just too nervous, she mused. Suddenly in addition to the burning muscles, she now had butterflies to contend with. She watched as his powerful legs carried him forward.

  At her four mile mark a dog ran in front of her. She tried to stop short so she wouldn’t kick it and fell forward instead. She managed to tuck and roll to the best of her ability and when she stood up, embarrassed and humiliated she turned to see if he had seen her fall. He had.

  He was walking toward her as she desperately tried to brush the debris of nature she had managed to pick up like a giant lint roller. He reached her at the same time as the dog owner.

  “I’m so sorry! Bad dog, Bradley! He usually never runs like that. He must have seen a squirrel.” The owner was a woman in her thirties, dressed in yoga pants and a tie-dye polar fleece jacket.

  Jane grimaced, “Its fine.”

  Gray growled, “It’s not fine. Are you injured?” Then, turning to the owner, “Why isn’t your dog on a leash?” He carefully picked a leaf from Jane’s hair and brushed her cheek gently.

  “I said I’m sorry.” The woman countered.

  He ignored her, “Can you walk?” he asked Jane softly.

  She stood evenly on her feet, “Yes, thank you.” She eyed the woman warily who had pulled a leash from her pocket and hooked it onto Bradley’s collar.

  He took Jane’s elbow, “Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

  Jane shrugged, “Other than my pride, I should recover immediately.”

  He grinned, “That was quite a roll. Martial arts training?”

  She batted her eyes, “yes, I took Taekwondo instead of contredanse.”

  He chuckled, “Come on, where are you headed?”

  She pointed, “My car is over there.”

  His eyebrows shot up, “Excuse me, did you drive to
take a run?” An amused grin slid across his face.

  She nudged his shoulder without thinking, “No. I mean yes, but only because I’m going to the Farmer’s Market. I usually run in my own neighborhood.” She looked over her shoulder, “Where the dogs are on leashes or behind fences…”

  She looked at him, suddenly aware that she was being so casual with her boss. And the conversation was normal. Shocking, she thought. She didn’t think she’d ever have the opportunity to have a regular conversation with the man. Suddenly she wondered why he was even here. “Do you live near here?”

  He nodded and pointed over to the row of beautiful and expensive Victorian homes that lined the park. “Yonder. Do you go to the Farmer’s Market every week?”

  She shook her head, “No, just when mom asks.”

  He nodded, his eyes flicked toward her and then forward, “You live with your mother?”

  Ugh, the weight of that question! Should she tell him her mom was slowly going nuts and shouldn’t be allowed to live on her own? She simply nodded and remained silent.

  “And what has your mother asked you to purchase for her from the Farmer’s Market?” he asked, thankfully changing the subject.

  “Flowers and fresh fruit. She’s giving a party tonight.” Her face showed pride, “Mom knows how to entertain; I’ll give her that.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully, “what about your father?”

  “He died six years ago.”

  He nodded but said nothing. “Are you going to your mother’s party tonight?”

  “Yes, I’ll be serving mincemeats and persimmons.”

  He looked at her carefully, “Is your mother hosting the Lighthouse Fundraiser this evening?”

  She looked surprised, “Yes.” The look that crossed his face made her cringe, “Oh my God! You’re going to be there, aren’t you?”

  He laughed, “Yes, my dear Ms. Eyre, I have agreed to attend.”

  Her palm massaged her forehead and she chuckled softly. Her stomach flipped. Tonight should be very interesting. His eyes danced mischievously as he watched her squirm uncomfortably under his gaze. Tonight he was going to see her in her full Regency regalia.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jane headed home with three dozen white roses in the backseat of her Jetta, as well as three bushels of apples, a bushel of oranges, and a bushel of lemons. Her mother was thrilled. They were able to make lemon tarts and apple turnovers and have them out of the oven cooling before two. Her mother had decorated the house beautifully; the best linens were out, and although she was disappointed they had stainless steel instead of silver, she understood that sometimes economy was necessary. There were two legs of lamb roasting along with a large roast beef and twenty pounds of potatoes. Susannah who lived in the guest house out back was making green beans and a cold asparagus soup to accompany the meal. There would be a buffet, followed by an auction in the ball room. Her mother had filled an interesting niche in the area for catering offering a beautiful setting and excellent food, with staff dressed in the Regency Era, and all speaking in their parts. Sometimes the guests also came dressed in costume, but usually, like tonight, they dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns.

  With an hour to go, Jane went upstairs, showered and was thankful for present day hair straighteners and curling irons. She pulled the hair on her crown back into a loose bun and braided the wisps that remained. She tucked them back carefully, pinning them, and then added her pearl clips. Finally, after she had decided it was perfect, she used her hair spray. She hated the stuff, but she would be busy tonight and she didn’t want her hair to fall down into the pastries.

  She lightly applied makeup - no powder, just blush and mascara. She put on a cream silk empire waist dress that had gold and blue trim and complemented her brown hair and grey eyes nicely. She finished with a thin strand of pearls around her neck. Slipping on cream mules, she headed downstairs. She desperately hoped her mother wouldn’t make her wear gloves. Her hands sweat when she wore them, and she found it difficult to hold on to the plates. Her mother looked lovely, this was her element. She wore an emerald green dress with her silver hair piled becomingly on her head. Her mother had slipped into this world after her father’s death. Jane recognized her mother’s need to live in a simpler time, and usually Jane could get her to snap out of it and become lucid when she needed her to, until lately. Lately her mother was having a hard time distinguishing between reality and fantasy.

  Susannah and James had come to live with her parents eight years ago, inhabiting the guest cottage in back. James was a second or third cousin of her father’s and they maintained the property. It was Susannah’s suggestion that they turn it into a bed and breakfast, and it probably saved her mother’s life. If her mother remained occupied, her brain functioned better. Susannah watched over her mother during the day, and Jane took the nights. Susannah and James moved into the house the four years Jane was at college, but now they seemed relieved to have their own home and some privacy again.

  When the first guests arrived Jane kept to the kitchen, replenishing plates as needed. Susannah urged her out, asking her to collect dirty plates and glasses as they were running low. Always the good daughter, Jane chided herself, as she picked up a basket and did as asked.

  Susannah stopped her, “Hang on, put on a mask.” Jane went over to a drawer that held several decorative masks and found a blue and gold one. With Susannah’s help she slipped it over her hair and pinned it in place. Perhaps she would be lucky and not be recognized by Mr. Poole.

  She made her first run through the party without running into Poole. Relieved, she returned with the basket and Susannah sent her out with a plate of pastries. She placed them on the dining room table and stepped back, bumping into a guest.

  Looking down at the floor she saw black shoes and tuxedo pants, “Excuse me, sir.”

  “Ms. Eyre, you look lovely tonight.” His voice sent shivers down her spine. She turned and caught his gaze, those large brown eyes looking at her forcing her to grin stupidly back.

  “Thank you sir. You look quite handsome yourself.” she murmured. And he did! The man could fill a suit nicely. Jane realized she was staring, and not politely.

  “The color becomes you Jane,” he said quietly.

  Her eyes widened, and she felt her pulse thrumming wildly. She curtsied quickly and turned toward the kitchen. She had no idea how to respond. Was he flirting?

  Susannah glanced up as she entered, “Why you are so flushed Jane? Are you well?”

  “Oh Jesus Sue, we’re in the frickin’ kitchen,” she blurted.

  Susannah snorted, placing a hand on her hip, “What the hell happened, Jane?”

  “My boss is out there. It’s just awkward, that’s all.” She watched as Susannah returned to stirring a custard sauce on the stove.

  “Do you want me to take over out there?” Susannah asked gently.

  Jane rolled her eyes, “No, it’s ok.” She looked at the pot, “You know I’ll burn that.”

  Susannah grinned, “Yeah, I thought I’d throw you a bone anyway.”

  Jane filled two pitchers with fresh lemonade and brought them out to the dining room. James was now making the rounds picking up plates. Her stomach flew up to her throat when she realized her mother was talking animatedly to Gray Poole.

  Concerned her mother would say something completely inappropriate, she made her way over to them both.

  Her mother looked up, “Jane, why did you not tell me you work with this fine gentleman?”

  Jane curtsied to her mother, “I am sorry, Mother. I thought I had mentioned it. Mrs. Fairfax is also in his employ. She recommended me for the job.”

  Her mother clapped her hands, “Oh, Mrs. Fairfax! A fine, fine woman. You, sir, must be a great man to have such fine employees.”

  He nodded his head, “Thank you dear lady. I have enjoyed the company of your daughter immensely.”

  Her mother’s brow furrowed, “Jane, you have been in his company?” She looked terribl
y confused.

  Jane shot a look to Gray and he quickly added, “I misspoke Mrs. Austen. I meant at my business.”

  Her bewildered look remained and Jane gently touched her shoulder, “Mother, Susannah asked for your help with the custard.”

  “Oh, of course. It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Poole. I do hope to see you again.” She curtsied and left.

  Jane held Gray’s gaze waiting for him to comment on her mother’s odd behavior. Thankfully he said nothing but instead picked up her hand. “If there were a band tonight, I would ask you to dance, Ms. Eyre.”

  She relaxed and cast her eyes downward, “That is very kind, sir. I am sorry if my mother disturbed your evening.”

  “Not at all, she enhanced it.” He gently squeezed her hand, “Like her daughter.”

  “I’m sure I don’t deserve your flattery.” Her eyes glanced up to a woman in a blue cocktail dress who was watching them carefully. “I believe you have an admirer, sir.” Her eyes still held the gaze of the woman.

  He turned his head toward the woman and back, “I don’t believe it’s the admirer I seek.” She felt herself flush. Groaning inwardly and wondered if there was a pill or something that would stop her constant blushing. He chuckled softly, “Tell me, Jane. Do you think I have an admirer that is deserving of my affections?”

  “I wouldn’t know, sir.” she responded tartly, her eyes twinkling.

  He was ridiculously handsome and Jane realized he was teasing her. This was not flirting for him, this was merely playing. Clearly, he found her amusing and nothing more.

  He grinned and pulled her toward him, wrapping his arm around hers and escorting her around the room. “Really, Ms. Eyre? I believe a woman of your accomplishments should be able to recognize a worthy suitor.”

  She tilted her head, “Am I limited to the women in this room, sir?”

  “No. If you wish we can take a turn in the ballroom.” He led her through the doorway and they ambled slowly among the crowd.

  She sighed, “I do not believe I know you well enough to assist you in your endeavor.” She looked across the room, and while the normal city socialites were there, she couldn’t see him dating any of these women. Or was that jealousy?