by Luccia Gray
I was as stunned as if he had really shot me. Could it be true? Why would my sister have done such a thing? I realised only someone from our close family could have convinced Mr. Dickens to give them our address. Why would she do it? How could she hate Jane so much?
“Tell me, why are you here, Michael?”
His question brought me out of my shock. There was no doubt I would deal with Susan, but that would have to wait. I had to manage the urgent business at hand. “I’ve come for Helen. Jane wants me to bring her to Cornwall, and I need your authorisation to take her away from Lowood.”
“Why don’t you just kidnap her?”
“I will if I have to.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you. Have you no sense of decency? Would you kidnap a child?”
“Don’t you think that’s the pot calling the kettle black?”
“I could have you arrested.”
“That’s the second reason I’ve come. You should know that your mother has powerful friends in London. The Asylum, which is a bestseller in Mr. Dickens’ monthly magazine, has been quoted by Lord Shaftsbury in parliament. He has pledged to continue his reforms into asylum laws as a result, and he is interested in meeting the real Mrs. Stewart. Mr. Dickens is confident that your mother’s name will be cleared. A madwoman could hardly write a bestselling novel, mentioned in parliament, could she? Now that your ally, the archbishop, is dying, all those who were forced to give false testimony will speak up. Who do you think people will believe? You or your mother?”
He stormed towards me and landed his fist on the desk. “You want it all, don’t you? It’s her money you’ve always wanted.”
“I’ve told you, we don’t want any money. I feel sorry for you, John. You’ve had the most wonderful woman in England as your mother. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and caring. I praise every day I’m by her side. I’m the luckiest man in the world because she loves me too, but you’ll never understand what I’m saying, because you’ll never love anyone except yourself. And that’s too bad, because you’re a pathetic thing to love.”
Our faces were close enough we could feel our heavy breathing, and our hands were balled into fists, when Annette’s voice made us turn towards the door.
“Please don’t argue, John, Michael.” She approached John and put her arms around him. “John, Harry says the archbishop is dying. He wants to talk to both of us.”
“The sooner you give me the authorisation to remove Helen from Lowood, the sooner I’ll leave.”
“So impatient.” He tut-tutted and shook his head. “Well, you’ll have to wait.”
Annette held her hand out towards my chest to stop me from grabbing his shirt again. “We’ll be back soon, Michael.”
I helped myself to some brandy and waited by the fireplace. I was thinking about Jane waiting for my return, and how much more pleasant our life was in Cornwall than in Yorkshire. I was sure Helen would enjoy living there, too.
I drank the rest of the decanter while I waited for John, but instead I received an unexpected visitor whose prophecies would fill the following months with both joy and dread.
****
Chapter XIX The Road to Hell
Sin-Eaters like myself have the privilege of meeting the most interesting people, and visiting some magnificent mansions. Much had changed in the fifteen months since my last visit to Eyre Hall, after Mr. Mason’s death. It suited me very well. Many new, downcast faces busied themselves around the house, which seemed to exhale a pleasantly decadent stench. The smell of death and evil warmed my senses, and, once again, another terrified maid fled as I walked through the closed door and asked to see the corpse. She told me he was still alive, so I entered the drawing room, where my most valued prey was alone with his decanter of brandy, dreaming about his beloved Jane Eyre.
Michael Kirkpatrick recognised me at once. “Upstairs, Mr. Junot,” he said. “The Green Room, I believe.”
I smiled. He would soon learn I had come to make his dreams come true. “I’m early for the archbishop.”
“I hope you don’t have to wait too long. I’ll be glad to see the back of both of you,” he said, turning back to the fireplace.
“Could we talk, Mr. Kirkpatrick?”
“You’re wasting your time, Junot.”
“I have an interest in your soul.”
He smirked. “I’m sure you do, but I’m not planning on dying yet.”
I approached the fireplace. “No, not yet. I have come to negotiate with you, Mr. Kirkpatrick.”
He turned to me, raised an eyebrow and tilted his face, looking into my eyes. I smiled. He was interested in what I had to offer.
“I’m interested in your sins, because they are what I call ‘good sins’, perpetrated to protect or help another weaker person, in this case your sister Susan, Helen, and Mrs. Mason.”
“What could you offer me that would interest me? You have nothing I want.”
“Everyone has his price. There must be something you want that is out of your reach.”
He stopped to think. Of course there was. There is always something they want. Something I can negotiate with.
“Nothing you can procure, Mr. Junot.”
“Perhaps I can.”
“I shall not waste my time with you. Jane is waiting for me.”
“Jane has something of yours which you want dearly. It will not be easy to reach culmination. She is no longer young, and she has suffered many mishaps already.”
He tried to touch me but I dissolved and reappeared in another corner of the room.
“Don’t you dare approach Jane.”
“She is of little interest to me, but you, my dear, your courageous sins, carried out in the name of righteousness, they are an invaluable prize for me. Most of my sinners are greedy, selfish and proud.”
He was looking around the room frantically. He could hear my voice, but I was invisible to his eyes.
“I could offer you money, enough that your future wife could live like a queen, with ten times the comfort and riches she possessed at Eyre Hall.”
“I am not interested in riches, and neither is Jane.”
“Perhaps you are right. Would you be interested in power? What if you were to meet one of the most powerful men in London, as close to Queen Victoria as any man can be? He would make sure you were eventually, and sooner rather than later, named a peer and in a position to influence the Earl of Derby himself and control any ministry you chose.”
“I have no interest in political power or influence.”
“What of fame? We could make sure Jane was even more well-known to posterity than Mr. Dickens, or even Mr. Shakespeare; would that be a suitable present for Jane?”
“Jane is not ambitious.”
“Perhaps not; or perhaps I will give you all three, money, a peerage, and a place in the annals of world literature for Jane Eyre for centuries to come, as well as the thing which you desire most and have not yet disclosed.”
I reappeared to his eyes across the room.
“Why?” He approached me with a tormented face. “Why do you want my soul? There are plenty for you to take.”
“Yes, of course, there are plenty who have sinned greatly with an excess of pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth, but there are not so many who have sinned in the name of prudence, justice, temperance, courage, faith, hope, and love. Your sins are more valuable to me because they prove that Satan was right. Goodness invented evil, because the battle must be fought and won. Evil must be fought with a greater evil, or good will perish, but of course, you know that only too well, don’t you, Mr. Kirkpatrick?”
“Sometimes good people must commit evil acts, because if they didn’t, evil would conquer goodness.”
“Intentionality is everything, Mr. Kirkpatrick. It is not the same to kill a man who is about to rape your sister as it is to kill a man to steal his purse for gin, is it?” I waited for him to nod.
“Nevertheless, in the eyes of the law, and in the eyes of
God, both are sinners. Both will be denied entry into the Kingdom of Heaven. They are a necessary casualty for the sake of the perpetuation of ‘good’. So, you see, good can be selfish and cruel too, making profit from evil, yet condemning it to hell once the service has been done.”
“What is your point, Mr. Junot?”
“You may not go to prison, Mr. Kirkpatrick, but you will go to hell. The question is, will you go to hell having mingled your seed with Jane’s? Will there be a descendent, a young James Eyre Kirkpatrick, who will one day inherit the Rochester Estate and both his parents’ legacies?”
He stumbled, dropped on an armchair and covered his heart with his hands as if I had shot him.
“You have nothing to lose, my boy. You will go straight to hell in any case. However, you could sell your soul to me for a few years of happiness on Earth with Jane in exchange for eternity with me.”
He shook his head. “You are right. There is something I wanted, a child, but I want Jane more. You see, you have nothing to bargain with. I am free again. Jane is already mine. I have enough.”
I wondered if he were telling me the truth. He had dug her grave. If he didn’t want the child, I would have to aim for the mother.
“It’s too late for that I’m afraid, Mr. Kirkpatrick.”
“What do you mean?”
“The seed is there, as I’m sure you already suspect. It’s done.” I watched his tormented face. Of course he knew.
“The question is, will you lose the mother, the child, or both?”
He didn’t try to grab me this time. He didn’t even move. His eyes were bloodshot, their look empty. I smiled. This was going to be so easy. It never ceased to amaze me that it was always easier and quicker when my prey was in love. Love was so weak and malleable compared to hate.
“I want Jane,” he said at once.
“What shall we do with poor little James?” I teased maliciously, revelling in torturing him. “Let me see, there could be another miscarriage, a still birth, or death in infancy. Jane would be so upset. That would be such a pity for her frail heart.”
I watched his face twist in pain.
“Don’t you think she’s suffered enough, Mr. Kirkpatrick?”
My holograph danced with the flames, filling the room alternately with light and darkness. I stopped and materialised beside him. “On the other hand, she could die in pregnancy, in childbirth, or shortly after the birth.”
I disappeared again into the flames and danced on the ceiling. He looked up. “If I have to choose, I choose Jane.”
The fireplace was extinguished and the candles snuffed to my command. My voice rang in the darkness. “What would Jane choose? To live a few more years, or leave you with James for your lifetime?”
“This is my decision. I choose Jane.”
This was my favourite part; the agony of making decisions. Freedom of choice is such a curse. And it was so easy to raise doubts in their feeble minds. Still, he needed one more push before he signed.
I ignited the candles and the fireplace with renewed vigour. The room was as hot as hell and as bright as its flames.
“You can’t have both, but I’m a generous man.” His face was a perfect picture of torture. I waited a few more seconds before continuing. “You can have James.”
Then it happened. Sooner than I expected. He begged.
“You know I can’t live without Jane.”
I watched him battle with his own will, but he had already bent to my desire.
“Please.” His tearful eyes surrendered to mine and he sobbed. I waited for his request, and it came, just as I had expected.
“I need Jane.”
I had won. He had realised that his need was greater than his love, and he knew I satisfied needs, not love. We had reached an understanding, at last.
“I grant you both.”
Once Jane was gone, his son would prove useful in keeping him under my grasp, and I wanted his sins to grow for as long as possible.
“How do I sign this deal?”
“No signature, just your word and my mark which I will lay on you to seal our pact.”
“Where?”
“That will be my decision and you will not refuse.”
“As long as it is somewhere Jane will never see or touch.”
I nodded and contained my joy. He was mine at last. I would brand my initial on his heel that very night.
“Imagine if you had a magic potion which could separate the good and evil in a person, one would be totally good, and the other totally evil, what would happen? Which one would be stronger? Could good survive without evil, or evil without good? Would they both survive, or would they both die? Think of yourself, Mr. Kirkpatrick, where would you be, where would your sister be, or Helen, or Jane, if you had been only, and totally, good?
“I know what you are thinking. Was it your evil side, which seduced Jane? Because John is right. If you hadn’t seduced her, if you hadn’t told her you loved her and kissed her first, she would never have maintained a relationship with you. You would still be her servant and she would still be running the Rochester Estate. You were her temptation, her potion, and look where it has led her.”
“Jane has not behaved in an evil way.”
“She has not committed the crimes you have, certainly, but she is not completely innocent either. She was unfaithful to her husband and encouraged you to do evil.”
“I did what I wanted to do. Jane didn’t encourage me. Mr. Rochester had lied and cheated and been unfaithful to her for years.”
“Then she should have left him. She chose to stay, so she should have behaved loyally.”
“Who are you, evil personified, to judge Jane’s behaviour?”
“Do not despair. Jane has a small amount of evil that all good people need for their own protection, no more.”
“In any case, she was not unfaithful. We did not become intimate until Mr. Rochester had died.”
“True, but the intentionality was there while he was alive. Intentionality is everything, as we have already established.”
“What are the consequences of this pact while I am alive?”
“You will have money and power, and your wife will have fame for generations to come. You will have a son called James Eyre Kirkpatrick, who will be master of the Rochester Estate, and Jane will live, for a time.”
“Until the child is an adult.”
“You are not in a position to bargain further, and in any case, that will not be my decision.”
“And once I die?”
“I’ll absorb your sins and your soul, and I will give you the option of travelling with me instead of going to hell, but you will have plenty of time to think about that before the time comes.”
“Will I see you again?”
“Probably.”
“Jane mustn’t know.”
“There would be no advantage for me in telling her, would there?”
My image swirled towards the door and, before disappearing, I bade him farewell. “I must leave you, Lord Kirkpatrick. I have another urgent matter to attend.”
He brooded and drank himself senseless. When he woke, he would wish it had been a nightmare, but he knew he had made a pact with the devil, and his itching heel would remind him he had been branded for eternity.
***
Chapter XX – First Love
Helen. Manderley, Easter 1866.
Michael saved my life twice. The first time was when he discovered Jane was my mother, and the second time was when he returned me to her side after my brother had me sent to Lowood Institution.
Our life in Cornwall was very different to our life at Eyre Hall. Our house was pretty and clean, but it was even smaller than the servants’ quarters at Eyre Hall. I spent all day with my mother, doing my homework while she was writing, and later reading together. I often helped Shirley in the kitchen, especially baking cakes. We went to the local school most afternoons for French and music lessons, and took long walks by the beach wi
th Michael before sunset. I told her everything I had learnt at Lowood, and she said she was very proud of me. Michael brought my school reports, which were very enthusiastic and full of praise for my hard work.
One day, my mother had to visit Mr. de Winter, who sponsored the local school, so that he would donate some more books and money. She took me with her and asked me to wait in the garden. There were swings and a lawn but after a while, I decided to walk down to the beach. I had never been so near the sea. I sat by the shore and made shapes with the pebbles and seashells on the sand.
“What are you doing here?”
I jumped. I hadn’t heard anyone approaching. Of course, with the strong wind, which was blowing that day, I could hardly hear anything. A young boy, who looked a few years older than me, was pointing at the seashells.
“I’m playing.”
“I can see that, but why are you playing here?”
“Why not? It’s a beach. I can play here if I like.”
“It could be someone’s beach.”
“Beaches don’t belong to anyone. They’re free like the sun, the air and the wind.”
“That’s how it should be, but it isn’t. This is a private beach.”
“A private beach? I’ve never heard of a private beach.”
“What have you got in your hands?”
“Some seashells and pebbles.”
“That’s stealing. They’re not yours. They belong to the sea, or to the owner of the beach.”
“How do you know the beach has an owner?”
“Because it’s mine. I’m the owner.”
I dropped the seashells, jumped up and took some steps away from him. “Do you want me to leave?”
He walked towards me and picked up the seashells. “No, please stay.” He held out his hand. “Here, these are your seashells.”
“No, they’re yours.”
“Not anymore. You found them. Take them.”
Our fingers brushed as he placed them in my hands. I felt a tickle and moved my hands away. The seashells fell back on the sand. He picked them up again.
“Please don’t be afraid of me.”
I held my hands behind my back and fidgeted.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
