Midsummer at Eyre Hall: Book Three Eyre Hall Trilogy

by Luccia Gray

  Now it was John’s turn to stare. “He and his father had been living far too cheaply at the expense of the Rochesters. The estate was in a mess, debts, low tenancies, arrears, cheap sales of land. My mother has ruined the Rochester Estate.”

  “Harry has asked me to accompany him. I’d like to go to London, to a nursing school. I enjoy helping sick children.”

  “That is insane,” said John. “You will stay with me at Eyre Hall until you marry, and you will certainly not move to London.”

  “You will not see the doctor again, and that’s final,” said the archbishop.

  I couldn’t argue with both of them. “I’m not hungry. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go upstairs to my room.”

  The archbishop grabbed my arm. “You’re not going up to your room tonight until you’ve answered my questions.”

  “What questions?”

  “Do you know where Jane and Michael are, Annette?”

  I shook my head and wrought my arm painfully from his grasp. “I don’t know, but if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you, Archbishop Templar.”

  He raised his hand and pulled my hair. “You impudent brat. I should have told him to get rid of you at birth. You ungrateful…” He raised his hand to my face and when I heard the slap, I felt a pain in my chest and a sadness in my soul. He raised his hand again. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the sting and heard John’s voice behind him.

  “Archbishop, perhaps you have drunk too much and forgotten that an honourable gentleman should not strike a lady.”

  I opened my eyes. John held the archbishop’s hand in the air.

  “She’s not a lady. She’s a witch like her mother, John. Keep away from her. I knew her mother well. She tried to ruin me.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked him. What did he know about my mother?

  “You have inherited her beauty and her tempting ways, like Eve,” he answered.

  John dropped the archbishop’s hand, which fell limply to his side and glanced at me. “Perhaps you’re right, but she has done nothing to warrant a slap, at the moment.”

  “She has just been to see that servant girl. She’s conniving with your mother. I’m sure of it.”

  “Annette is under my care. My father asked my mother to look after Annette before he died. His first wife, Bertha Mason, was her mother. It is not Annette’s fault her mother was violated.”

  “Her mother was not violated. She was a sorceress.”

  “In any case, Annette should not pay for her mother’s sins any more than I should pay for my mother’s.”

  “She has refused to marry the Bishop of Leicester and she continues to disgrace the Rochester family by working in a hospital and frequenting the company of a village doctor. Send her away!”

  “Annette will stay at Eyre Hall,” said John, pausing to look at me, “as long as I want her here, and she will not be forced to marry anyone.”

  “What about Miss Jackson?” inquired the archbishop. “She will surely feel uncomfortable when you are engaged. It wouldn’t please her to have another woman running Eyre Hall.”

  “Miss Jackson is returning to Boston. She has decided she doesn’t like England enough to leave her family.”

  The archbishop raised his eyebrows. “She can’t have declined your proposal?”

  “I haven’t proposed. She told me she missed her family, and I have no wish for her to transport her mother, father, and two younger brothers to the estate. I have enough mouths to feed as it is. I suggested she should return.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, John, but anyway, there are plenty of suitable girls in England.”

  “I’m not planning on marrying anyone until this mess with my mother is solved.”

  “I’m sure this witch knows more than she’s telling us about your mother’s whereabouts,” he said pointing at me.

  “We don’t need Annette to tell us where she is. I know her location.”

  “Excellent!” said the archbishop.

  “How?” I asked.

  “Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. Susan wrote to me with her address, which she had managed to discover by questioning an employee of Mr. Dickens’ in London.”

  I couldn’t believe John’s words. “Susan wants her brother behind bars?”

  “I promised Susan he will not be imprisoned in England, but deported to Australia, where he will live as a free man.”

  “And Jane?”

  “My mother will be taken back to the Retreat for the moment. Mr. Poole will be joining me on our journey. We will capture my mother and bring her back to Yorkshire, and Michael will follow us back to Eyre Hall where the constables will be awaiting.”

  Fred opened the door. “Your guest has arrived, Mr. Rochester.”

  “Come.” John gestured to both of us. “Let us eat in the dining room. I’ve asked Cook to prepare pheasant today. We have an important guest and a vital matter to discuss.”

  A large, evil-looking man with bulging, hungry eyes peered into the room.

  John smiled at me. “I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Poole, Annette.”

  His name sounded familiar. “Pleased to meet you, sir,” I said, as I offered him my hand.

  “Mr. Poole is the superintendent at Grimsby Retreat.”

  I dropped my hand at once and took a step backwards. He was the monster who had abused Jane.

  “Tomorrow we will be travelling to Cornwall, and the family will be reunited at last,” said John.

  “Cornwall?” asked Poole.

  “Yes, that is where my mother and her disgusting lover are hiding, but not for long. She’ll soon be back at the retreat with you, Mr. Poole.”

  I wanted to tell John what had happened. I hoped he would believe me. “You can’t do that, John. The Retreat is a dreadful place, where the residents are half-starved and chained. I’ve read all about it in a new novel, The Asylum, that Mr. Dickens is publishing in All The Year Round.”

  “Lies, madam. You are invited to visit whenever you like,” said Poole. “Our guests are most respectable and very well cared for. We have warm, well-furnished rooms, wholesome food, and a remarkable doctor. There are some simpler quarters reserved for the poorer residents, but even those are impeccably clean and comfortable.”

  “Annette, do you mean a sensational serialisation by a certain Mrs. Stewart?” asked John.

  I nodded and John laughed. “We have been informed that Mrs. Stewart is, in fact, my insane mother’s new pen name.”

  “Then they are but the ravings of a madwoman, and you should make sure you don’t pay undue attention or you could become a permanent resident there yourself,” warned the archbishop.

  “Archbishop, I’m sure that won’t be necessary. I’ll look after Annette,” said John.

  “Bear in mind she may have inherited her mother’s lunacy. When I think of your poor father, married to two lunatics. Make sure you don’t follow in his footsteps.”

  I shuddered, realising I was not safe from the archbishop’s designs. How well did he know my mother? Could he know who my father was?

  “When are you leaving, John?” asked the archbishop.

  “At sunrise. It’s a long journey and we want to be back soon.”

  “May I go with you?” I asked quietly.

  “Why so meek now?” John paused and smiled. “Certainly not. You’ll wait here with the archbishop.”

  ***

  Chapter XVI – The Agony and the Ecstasy

  I was helping Blains fix a fence when we saw Shirley’s carriage rushing at full speed towards us. Every nerve in my body tensed. I knew something had happened to Jane. I dropped the tools I was using and flew out.

  “Michael! It’s Jane. She’s locked herself in the kitchen.” She breathed deeply holding back her sobs. “She says she’ll kill herself because she won’t go back.”

  I jumped on the wagon and took hold of the reins. “Wait Michael,” she said, “My bother should come, too. There’s going to be trouble. There are four men
in the cottage. I’ve never seen them before. One is dressed like a real dandy, another one looks like a constable, and the other two don’t look friendly.”

  Blains was standing beside the carriage. “I’ll go with you, Michael.” He jumped up with me and turned to his sister. “Shirley, take the large carriage and drive into town. Bring Tom, Pete, Sam, and as many men as you can to Primrose Cottage fast.”

  When we arrived, we kicked the back door open with two sharp thrusts. Jane was crying on the floor, huddled in a corner with a long kitchen knife in her hand.

  I dropped to the ground and tried to take the knife, but she held it, with a wild look in her eyes. “Jane, please give me the knife.”

  “Michael, I’m not going back. I’ll kill myself before going back. I’m never going back.”

  “You’re not going anywhere. No one will take you away from me.”

  She loosened her hold on the knife and I embraced her. She was shaking like a leaf in a storm.

  I heard John and another man’s voice shouting on the other side of the kitchen door, which led to the living room.

  Blains moved the sideboard Jane and Shirley must have managed to push in front of the door, and kicked the door open. “Get out!” he shouted at the intruders.

  The older man spoke. “We have no business with you, sir. We have come to take this madwoman, Mrs. Mason, back to Grimsby Retreat and that murderous criminal to prison. You will not get in our way.”

  I pulled Jane up and led her into the dining room. “Jane isn’t going anywhere. You had better go back from where you came. You are not welcome here.”

  The older man turned to Blains. “My name is Mr. Poole and I am warden at Grimsby Retreat. This lunatic escaped and that man is a murderer,” he said, pointing at me. “If you aid these criminals you will be accused of being their accomplice.”

  Poole; the man the keeper had said had broken Jane. I looked at the rings bursting to be set free from his overgrown fingers, and heard the sounds of his bones cracking as I broke them off one by one.

  “I’ll cut your tongue out before I kill you if you accuse Jane of insanity once again,” I said.

  He raised his arm and pointed a finger at me. “You killed one of the keepers.”

  “Michael killed no one,” Jane said.

  “Mother, the keeper was found in a yard, ripped to pieces by a pack of hounds, and he was seen in the vicinity.”

  “Michael knocked him out so that we could escape, that was all. He was alive when we left him.”

  John turned to me. “How did you manage to escape?”

  “I gave the keeper a guinea.”

  “You expect us to believe you bribed the keeper with a guinea to set my mother free?”

  Jane squeezed my arm. “Tell him the truth, Michael. Tell John why you gave him the guinea. He has to know.”

  I spoke to the two grim-faced men standing behind Poole. “Wait outside if you value your lives. This has nothing to do with you.” Blains and I were twice their size, and furious enough to carry out our threat. Poole saved their lives by waving them out.

  I put my arms around Jane, who was still shaking. “I offered him a guinea to let me rape her in the garden shed. I found out it was common practice in the Retreat. When we were in the shed, I knocked him unconscious.”

  “You are a liar. That does not happen at Grimsby Retreat,” said Poole.

  I turned to John. “Did you know your mother was chained to a bed in a dungeon and attacked by this man, who is about to die?”

  Poole waved his warms wildly. “She’s a liar and a madwoman.”

  “I warned you, Poole, you’ve just lost your tongue, so what you say in the next few minutes better be a confession or you’ll burn in hell, after a very slow and painful death.”

  Poole was sweating profusely. “Mr. Rochester, call the constable at once. We are not safe. They are both criminals, liars and lunatics.”

  “I have proof,” Jane whispered.

  “Proof of what, Mother?”

  “I have proof he forced me.”

  Poole smirked. “This is outrageous.”

  Her fingers dug into my arms. “He has a tattoo.”

  “Jane, you don’t have to tell them,” I said.

  “Do you believe me, John, or do I have to tell you how I saw it and what it looks like?”

  Her son was silent.

  I lowered my lips to kiss her hair. “Jane, you don’t have to prove anything.”

  “I’m afraid I do, Michael. I have to tell you all what happened. I haven’t told any of you yet. I thought I’d forget, but I can’t, Michael. I see the dragon every night in my dreams. I can’t get it out of my mind. The dragon has a long sharp tongue, which tastes vile.”

  I buried her head into my chest. “Jane, don’t, my love.”

  “Michael, he has a dragon tattooed on his thigh.” She turned to her son. “I was very close when I saw it. Why do you think I was so close, John?”

  Poole dismissed Jane with a wave of his hand. “Anyone could have told her I have a tattoo on my thigh. She could have heard the guards speaking. Everyone knows I have a dragon. I even boast about it.”

  “I pierced it with a hair pin, one of the silver butterfly ones you gave me, Michael. They had inadvertently left it in my hair. I stuck it in the centre of the dragon’s head and pulled it down towards its tail with all my strength. He bled profusely and then they chained me to the wall.”

  So, this was the reason for Jane’s nightmares. This was why she wouldn’t let me make love to her.

  She was wiping her tears. “There must be a recent scar running through the tattoo.”

  “Pull down your trousers. Now,” said Blains.

  “I will not show my thigh because of a false accusation from this madwoman.”

  Blains’ fist landed on Poole’s mouth, knocking his front teeth and tumbling him to the floor. Poole pulled his sleeve across his bloody mouth and dragged himself up.

  “You better pull your trousers down now, Poole,” I said.

  “There’s a scar on my dragon, but she didn’t do it. It was an accident.”

  “What type of accident Mr. Poole?” asked John.

  “In the river. I hit a rock. It happened recently.”

  Blains grabbed his coat and spat into his face. “A rock which conveniently cut you from the dragon’s head to its tail?”

  I turned to Jane. “You don’t have to see this again.”

  “Michael, I want to see it again, while I’m safe with you.”

  That was all I needed to hear. I turned to Blains who tugged his belt, shaking him vigorously. “Your trousers. Down. Now.”

  Jane cried when she saw the dragon image sliced down the centre by a swollen pink scar.

  “Are you happy now, John? Have you humiliated and hurt your mother enough? What more are you planning on doing to her?”

  His eyes bulged and the veins on his neck throbbed. “It’s your fault. I didn’t want her to marry the likes of you.”

  “Of course, you had her incapacitated so you could take over the estate. Very convenient for you.”

  “I did it to stop the wedding.”

  “Did you know where your mother was? Have you ever been to Grimsby Retreat? Have you seen where you sent her?”

  “The archbishop said…”

  “Blame someone else, John Rochester, as you always do. When are you going to admit that you’re a coward and a thief? Stealing from your own mother. A mother you never deserved.”

  John turned to Jane. “Mother, I had no idea. I did it for your own good. Come back, without this scoundrel. All is forgiven. Come back.”

  “I never want to see you again, John. I’m never going back to Eyre Hall, ever. That’s what you always wanted. Keep it, all of it. I don’t care about it anymore.”

  Poole pulled up his trousers. “Let’s go Mr. Rochester. We are not safe here.”

  “You heard your mother,” I said to John. “Get out before I change my mind.”
>
  John walked towards the door with Poole at his heels. I held up my hand and Blains caught Poole’s arm, pulling him back. I turned to John. “This criminal will stay here with us. Make sure that the Retreat gets another superintendent, because this one won’t be returning. I’ll also have you know that complaints about Grimsby Retreat have reached London, as has your appalling behaviour with your mother, who as you know, is well known and loved in the city. You had better look into that devilish place, where you had your mother locked away in order to have her declared insane to manage the Rochester Estate ahead of your time, or your reputation and honour will be at stake.”

  As he turned to leave, I made sure he was scared enough not to bother us again. “And make sure your back is covered from now on, John Rochester, because one day…”

  Jane held my hand. “Michael, please,” she said and turned to her son. “Go. Leave us alone.”

  When John turned to leave, Poole cried out, “You can’t leave me here Mr. Rochester. Call the constable!”

  “Go back to Eyre Hall and don’t look back John,” I said as I pulled open the door. I watched John get into his carriage with the two men who had been waiting outside as Shirley’s wagon arrived. Blains’ helpers jumped out and rushed into the house.

  Blains had secured Poole’s hands behind his back and now turned to me. “What shall we do with him?” he asked, smiling at the men who had just arrived.

  “Take him to the hidden cove and get him on a boat. Make sure it has everything we need for a short trip. I’ll be there tomorrow at dawn.” I moved away from Jane and whispered some more instructions to Blains. They all left, ignoring Poole’s pathetic pleas for mercy as they dragged him out to his gruesome fate.

  When they left Jane asked, “What will happen to him?”

  “Nothing he doesn’t deserve.”

  “Michael, promise me you won’t kill him. I’ll die if you’re hanged.”

  “I promise nobody will kill him. We’ll teach him a lesson and let him go. It’ll be up to him to survive.”

  “What if he returns?”

  “Believe me, Jane, he won’t be returning, ever. Trust me.”

  “Of course I trust you, Michael. At least now you know everything. You know why you can’t make love to me anymore.”