by Amity Cross
“Indeed,” the woman replied. She had a similar look to Blanche though not as striking, and I assumed this was her sister Mary. “It’s rather masculine still.”
“I thought there was going to be some improvements?” Blanche went on. “It looks as if nothing has been done at all! Rocky must review his staff at once!”
Alice nudged me with her elbow and whispered into my ear, “Told you so!”
So this was the infamous Blanche Ingram? I could see why Mr. Rochester would be drawn to her over me. She was beautiful, and her dismissive tone I put down to an unexpectedly long flight delay. Surely she wasn’t so…haughty? I could ponder it all I liked, but it wasn’t any of my concern.
Plastering a smile on my face, I handed out each party a room key, passing unnoticed among the chaos. I suppose I was just another paid subordinate to order around, and I didn’t think much of it. It was my job, so I performed it without complaint.
Once the keys were given out and the bags were on their way, Alice pulled me aside, locking us in the office.
“That was a chore,” she said, sinking down into her usual chair. “I need five minutes before I go back out there.” She fanned her face with a piece of printer paper and gestured for me to sit.
“Your descriptions were accurate,” I said, forcing a smile for her sake. “I was well prepared.”
“They’re having a dinner and party tonight in the main sitting room,” she went on. “Before I forget, I’m to tell you it’s at eight o’clock.”
“Do I have duties?” I asked, already dreading the rest of the summer months.
“No, you are to attend.”
“Attend? When was this agreed upon?” I asked a little too harshly.
“This morning at breakfast,” she said. “Rocky said you’re expected to be in the sitting room after dinner. You poor thing! I don’t know why he thinks to command you. The hotel staff has always been apart from their company.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I murmured, beginning to panic.
“He seems to have taken a liking to you,” she mused, oblivious to my discomfort. “I think he appreciates the things you’ve done for Thornfield and wishes to show you off. I told you when you first started he likes to reward hard work, Jane.”
“This is a reward?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. “It feels more like waterboarding.”
Alice laughed as if I’d told the most hilarious joke in the entire world. “And here I thought I was being dramatic! It’ll be a laugh at least.”
She’d spun the party as a comedic affair, but I couldn’t think of anything worse. I didn’t want to see Edward after our liaison in the library the night before, and nor did I want to see him fawn over the stunning creature who was Blanche Ingram. If it was agreed upon that morning, then it was only an invitation to serve as a deterrent from pressing the matter of his hasty kiss, or it was for pure torture. He needn’t bother subjecting me to either. I was torn in two already.
“Do you have anything to wear?” Alice asked, pulling me back from my downward trajectory.
I shook my head. I’d never had cause to dress up, and I wouldn’t know how or what was appropriate anyway. Invitations to fine parties had never crossed my path, nor had shopping trips to high-end boutiques, either.
“Well, you can’t go in your usual jeans and blouse. Especially not in those big boots!” She looked me over and nodded when she was done. “I think I have just the thing for you. Come with me.”
She grasped my hand and tugged me from the office, through the main gallery that was still half-full of luggage, up the stairs, and into the east wing. She must’ve been certain I’d run in the other direction because she didn’t let me go until we were in her room.
Her lodgings were similar to mine though she’d managed to squeeze a larger wardrobe into the corner, and when she threw open the door, I understood why she needed the space. Clothing was squashed inside, and underneath, there was a line of high heels, shoes, and boots. The entire contents were practically bursting out, and I wondered how she ever got the door closed! The whole scene was comical as she dived into the pile of fabric and began rummaging. I had visions of a door opening up to Narnia in the back or at least to another realm where closet space was infinite.
“How can you find anything in there?” I asked, sitting on the corner of her bed.
“I have a system,” she threw back over her shoulder. “It’s infallible!”
I laughed to myself, feeling a sight lighter than I had moments before.
“I know it’s in here somewhere,” Alice went on, her voice muffled from inside the closet. “Ah! Here it is!”
Pulling on a clothes hanger, she emerged with a black dress that had a dark navy blue design weaved through the fabric. Setting it on the bed next to me, I ran my fingertips over it while she dove back into the closet.
It was beautiful in its simplicity. The hem was short, the skirt flared just a little, the sleeves were capped just over the shoulders, and the neckline dipped low. If I’d been in a shop, I would’ve picked it up and placed it right back, not having anywhere to go to be able to wear something so fine. Could I wear something like this? What would…
Finally, Alice set a pair of black ankle boots next to me, breaking my thoughts before they wandered into dangerous territory. It wouldn’t matter how I looked to Mr. Rochester’s eyes.
The boots looked Western inspired with elastic sides and a wraparound buckle. Fortunately, there was a zipper at the side, or it’d take an age to get into them. The heel was small, perhaps two inches, and wide, so I would be able to walk in them without looking awkward. They suited the dress beautifully.
“There,” Alice declared, looking rather pleased with herself. “It’s in the usual colors you like to wear, black with blue embellishments, and the shoes are like your big combat boots while still looking feminine.”
I ran my fingers over the material of the dress once more and had to agree with her. It wasn’t Gucci, but it was a sight nicer than my usual attire.
Alice waved her hands at me. “Well, what are you waiting for? Try it on!”
“Now?”
“Stop stalling, Jane. It’s just a dress.” She picked it up and thrust it into my hands, pushing me ungracefully toward the bathroom. “Go in there, and hurry up about it. We’re still on call.”
Slinking into the bathroom, I changed into the outfit, my elbows hitting the walls as I struggled with ridding myself of my skinny jeans. When I emerged transformed, Alice clapped her hands together in glee.
“You look beautiful, Jane!” she gushed.
“I feel rather naked,” I replied, smoothing down the skirt.
She shooed me away. “That’s just because you’re not used to wearing dresses. It’s the bare legs.”
I shrugged as a feeling of despair rose within my heart. Why get dressed up to have the last of my soul destroyed?
Alice’s expression fell, and she asked, “What’s the matter? You’re upset!”
“I’m entirely out of my comfort zone,” I replied. It was the truth, though it came with a very large omission.
Alice being Alice attempted to cheer me up with kind words. “You’ll have a good time tonight. I know it.”
I hoped she was right because I felt like a fish out of water.
That night, I stood outside the sitting room, my palms feeling sweaty.
I was early, and I could still hear Mr. Rochester and his guests being served dessert in the dining room. Perhaps I could go in and find a quiet corner, and no one would notice me. They certainly hadn’t paid me any mind that morning, and it would be a fortunate thing to continue to pass my presence in obscurity.
Settling into the window seat, I folded my hands on my lap and waited.
My eye kept flickering to the door as I waited for the party to appear, my heart fluttering in anticipation. I’d done well to push away the memory of Mr. Rochester’s kiss the night before, but now sitting here, waiting for his imminent arriva
l, it was all I could see in my mind’s eye.
The way his hands had grasped my body and traced its lines with a mastery I couldn’t fathom. The taste of his lips and the rasp of his stubble against my soft skin. The passion that had overwhelmed me even before he’d laid a finger on my body. I’d never experienced the like of it before, and I probably never would again.
Activity at the door pulled me away from my indulgent thoughts, and I steeled myself to bear the brunt of the incoming storm.
Fiona, Amy, Louisa, and Lynn were first. All were wearing barely-there dresses, and their male company seemed to appreciate it as they followed them into the room.
Two of the men I knew to be Henry and Frederick, but the others I hadn’t seen before. They must be the current favorites Alice told me about.
Lastly, after all the guests were present save for Mr. Rochester, Blanche and Mary entered, arm in arm and looking thick as thieves in their fine dresses. It was just a dinner at the hotel, but knowing it had been silver service, their dress was appropriate.
The entire room paused to watch their entrance like they were royalty, even the women. Blanche was the Queen Bee, indeed!
They all settled into various groups, some overtaking the billiards table, others the couches, and a group lingered by the open fireplace, then lively discussion and laughter filled the room. I sat back in the window seat and regarded it all. I was lonely but glad for it.
Listening to their words, I didn’t understand a thing they were talking about. They talked of international holidays, people I didn’t know, and all manner of fine things rich people indulged in. Even if I were outgoing, I feared I wouldn’t be able to hold a conversation with any of them.
“Who is that?”
I glanced up at the sound of Blanche’s voice and found her staring at me, her lip curled in distaste. My skin prickled at the unwanted attention, but I did not open my mouth to inform her of my status at Thornfield. She’d seen me that morning, but she obviously hadn’t really opened her eyes.
“That’s one of the managers,” Fiona informed her. “She greeted us this morning.”
“Well, I don’t know what she’s doing here. Do you see her dress?” She laughed and the others followed. “The poor thing. She thinks she’s one of us!”
Upon this, they all turned around in fits of laughter and promptly ignored me, but the damage had been done. I’d been expecting it, but sitting there and taking their disgust was another thing entirely. The hurt piled upon the rejection on my heart, smothering the last of my meager confidence. I should’ve ignored Mr. Rochester’s command and remained in my room, no matter the consequence.
I was beginning to wonder if he was going to appear at all—so he could bear witness to my humiliation—when the dining room door opened, and he emerged. My gaze was instantly drawn to him, and the sight of him sent odd feelings ricocheting through my body—arousal, awareness, and longing. The sensations were so keen that I began to flush. Fortunately, I’d already been forgotten so I could easily hide it.
He crossed the room, his eye never wandering, and joined the Ingram sisters. I’m sure Queen Bee greeted him warmly, but all I could see was Mr. Rochester. His back was to me, but it didn’t matter in the slightest. He was dressed like the others—his strong shoulders clad in a light gray suit with the collar of his white shirt peeking out at the top. With his fitted slacks and shiny black dress shoes, he looked the part of a wealthy businessman except for the stubble he refused to shave from his jaw.
I fancied it was a slight rebellion against all the pomp and ceremony his family name held him to, and I smiled to myself.
I hadn’t intended to fall for him, as I was want to keep reminding myself as if it were a mantra, and I had done whatever was in my power to squash the poisonous thoughts, but as I laid eyes on his body, the spark was renewed hotter than before. What a terrible merry-go-round to be trapped upon.
The night wore on, and I remained unnoticed. Mr. Rochester’s attention didn’t turn to me. Not once did he cast his gaze around the room to look for me, nor did he utter my name. I’d had a secret hope he wanted to see me again, but it was as I’d come to expect. He must want to prove the point I didn’t belong and that his body and his heart were off limits to a woman like me. That was closed for business!
I needed to smother my hopes and remember that he didn’t care much for me. I was a curiosity, nothing more. I’d been tasted and found wanting, so now I needed to take my leave of him.
All eyes were focused on Blanche in the far corner as she regaled the guests with an outrageous story of her recent holiday in the Mediterranean where she was certain she was going to be swept off her feet by the Prince of Monaco in her own Cinderella story—which was laughable at best—so I had my chance. No one was paying attention and would not see the movement.
I took a deep breath, slipped from my sheltered corner, and escaped via the side door, which was fortunately near.
The sound of the guests enjoying their outrageous gossiping session followed me out into the empty gallery, the dull clack of the balls as they collided on the billiards table echoing through the stillness. No amount of alcohol would be enough to dampen the pain at having to endure their company for one moment longer. Fortunately, I wasn’t a drunk, nor was I besotted enough with the master to sit through another mean-spirited barb. The whole evening was pure torture.
I was being harsh in my judgment, and maybe I was just as bad as they were, but it was human nature to return that which was given. I’d seen enough.
“Jane.”
I stilled, the gallery seeming to shrink as I turned and beheld the man who had discarded me so wantonly. It had to be true. He was torturing me!
“Why did you leave?” Mr. Rochester asked, his eyes darkening as he regarded me.
He cannot be serious!
“I’m tired,” I replied cordially.
“Are you…” He held his breath, stopping himself from saying more, but he needn’t bother himself.
“It wasn’t my place to disturb you,” I said. “Truthfully, I don’t know why you insisted I attend your little party.”
“I needed you to be there,” he said, donning his sphinx mask, the one that irritated me more than anything in the world.
“You do not need me, Mr. Rochester.” I lowered my gaze, attempting to protect what little of my heart I had left intact. “Goodnight.”
I promptly left him there, returning to my meager lodgings and ridding myself of the dress Alice had loaned me. It didn’t feel right. None of it did. My feelings, my desires, my position at Thornfield, and my attempt at slipping into a character with which I was wholly unfamiliar.
I didn’t belong. I never had, and I probably never would. I was a solitary being, singular and whole, and I had thought no man would be able to crack my shell. Well, once I had repaired my outer defenses from the damage Mr. Rochester’s sledgehammer had wrought, it would be impenetrable once more.
No matter how I spun the tale in my own mind, I couldn’t help falling into the grizzly maw of depression. I’d been treated to one tiny shred of passion, a sliver that I now saw had been given by mistake, and I was obliterated. All the strength my life had served to build up inside me had been destroyed by one kiss.
One kiss and I was a slave.
12
Thornfield was overrun.
As the days turned into a week, all sense of stillness had ceased its hold over the hotel. The kitchen, the concierge desk, housekeeping, and even Alice and I, were run off our feet. The main gallery and entrance were bustling as people went out to enjoy the sunshine or the close company of the sitting room with its projector screen and billiards table. Couples had begun to pair off, groups had formed, and the walls were alive with gossip.
The staff had begun to show signs of wear and tear, not just from the extra work but also from the particular treatment at the hands of the guests. It harkened back to the days of lords and commoners, the rich and the poor, and the class lin
es that were not to be crossed. Equality was in short supply.
Thornfield was aiming to be a five-star hotel, so the extra attention was warranted, but no one was used to such demands in quick succession. Long days with empty rooms had lulled everyone into a sleepy way of life, and with a full house, it was bedlam. Every soul, which was employed, was exhausted.
Once all the guests and the master had retired for the evening, everyone remained in the kitchen and gossiped about their day. Their words were all as bad as the treatment they had been given, and I suppose I couldn’t blame them for wanting to blow off some steam, but it felt toxic to me. Hate was such a strong word to use in mere passing.
I disliked the way we were spoken to and the things we were ordered to carry out just as much as the others, but the ire that was so present once the lights were dimmed was extraordinary. So I sat in a corner of the kitchen—next to Alice, the bartender, and the concierge but still apart—eating leftover cake, macaroons, and fruit from yet another fancy dinner and keeping my thoughts on the rabble upstairs to myself.
And what do you suppose I secretly thought about most, reader? It did not take a rocket scientist to figure out the complexities or nature of my greatest torment.
Mr. Rochester was a grand host when he decided to turn on the charm, but there were times when he’d glance away, and his mask would slip, and his exhaustion was apparent. Like his treatment of me, it was yet another game, and in my depression, I began to wonder if I’d ever glimpsed anything of the real man at all.
What did it matter? After the first night I was commanded to attend the after-dinner festivities, I’d become a ghost. I wasn’t commanded to appear again, so I’d gladly remained apart, but it didn’t mean I was free of his presence. He was still my employer, and he still had control over my movements, along with Alice and the rest of Thornfield’s staff.
Arrange this hunting excursion, arrange this meal, arrange a cocktail party in the gardens.
I could be in his presence for hours and he would not turn to notice me, nor had he acknowledged my work, not once inquiring after the progress of the retreat. I’d devoted so much time to it, and he’d invested quite a considerable sum of money, so I was confused at his indifference. He didn’t care much about Thornfield at all. Only impressing his fancy friends and wooing Blanche Ingram seemed to command his whims.
