All Hallows at Eyre Hall: The Breathtaking Sequel to Jane Eyre (The Eyre Hall Trilogy Book 1)

by Luccia Gray

  “Well, then you’ve done very well indeed!”

  “Stop laughing at me!”

  “I’m not. I’m impressed by you. Brace up now. I think my mother wants to talk to you.”

  Mrs. Rochester suggested the ladies move to the drawing room for coffee while the gentlemen remained at the table, conversing over brandy and cigars. I asked John if I would see him the next day, and he laughed, saying he would see me in half an hour after coffee. He guessed I was terrified at the thought of being alone with her. “Do not worry, Annette, my mother wants to help you. She will want to sort out your future, what you’d like to do. Remember to tell her you’ve worked as a teacher. She loves teachers.”

  “Don’t be too long over the coffee,” I begged.

  “You miss me already, don’t you?”

  “Don’t be silly! It’s because I will be alone with her.”

  “Adele will be there too.”

  The gentlemen stood up as I followed Mrs. Rochester and Adele out of the dining room and into the drawing room, still terrified of the woman who had destroyed my mother and wrecked my childhood.

  ***

  Chapter XXII The Reconciliation

  I followed the woman who was both my tormentress and my benefactress into the adjacent room. The valet drew the curtains, which were hung back behind us as we passed through. Jane sat down first on the divan and waved her hand towards the couch where she wished Annette and me to sit. We could hear the men chatting noisily and chuckling congenially in the dining room while we sat solemnly facing each other in the drawing room. I smiled uneasily and waited for her to speak.

  “Annette, I would like to speak freely and honestly with you, do you agree?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Rochester.”

  “We can speak frankly now that we are alone. Adele knows all the facts, but I would like to spare John the knowledge of the extent of his father’s misconduct. I need to know if you are prepared to keep our conversation secret, for John’s sake.”

  Her lips curled into a smile and her eyes pierced into mine. Probing, questioning, judging, and...hating me? I shivered and spoke hesitantly. “Sometimes the truth makes life easier.”

  “Well, I think we both know life isn’t easy. John is young and impressionable. I don’t want him to bear his father’s guilt.” Her eyes smiled gently for the first time. “I want him to live his life without carrying anyone else’s burden. Don’t you agree, Annette?”

  Her features softened when she smiled and her look brightened when she spoke about John. At that moment she was exactly as I had imagined an English lady would be: elegant, aloof and demure. She was also beautiful and very rich. It was not surprising that my uncle had decided it would be more advantageous to become her friend instead of remaining her enemy. I wondered how my relationship with her would develop once my father died. In any case, there was no point in becoming her enemy, was there? She was John’s mother, after all.

  “If you think that is best, Mrs. Rochester. I am thankful that you have accepted me as your ward.”

  She smiled triumphantly. “I was an orphan myself, Annette, so I can understand how you may have felt during your childhood, and how you may still feel now, alone in the world. I spent my early years with an aunt who had no affection for me, and later at an institution where I was not very happy, especially when I was a child.”

  Her eyes wandered to the window and rested on one of the casements, her thoughts far away as she continued speaking. “I devote a great deal of my time to helping orphans. There are far too many children who suffer in England.”

  She looked back at me fondly. “I cannot change the past, but I can do my best to make your future as pleasant as possible.”

  I was surprised and disarmed by her kindness. “That is very generous of you, Mrs. Rochester.”

  “I consider it my Christian duty, Annette. Would you not help others if you were in a position to do so?”

  I remembered John’s words. “I was a music teacher at the convent school where I was brought up, and I felt it was my responsibility to help the children, who were mostly orphans like me.”

  “It pleases me that you are a beautiful, intelligent and kind young lady. I am sure we will understand each other.”

  She paused before continuing. “Your mother would be proud of you.”

  Her unexpected words shook me out of my seat. I stood by the fireplace, breathless. “You knew my mother?”

  She sighed, tilting her head towards me. “We will not be having this conversation again, Annette, so I will tell you all I know, or at least all I remember. It is very painful for me, but whatever happened was not your fault or your responsibility. You are innocent, just as John is. It pains me greatly to bring to mind the tragic events, but I am anxious to share my recollections with you and feel relieved once and for all.”

  She also stood up, walked towards the casements and started speaking to the acquiescent trees. “I arrived at Thornfield to be governess to Adele. I was eighteen years old and I fell in love with Edward. We both fell in love. He always told me he was a bachelor and when he proposed, I naturally accepted. On our wedding day…”

  She stopped speaking to dry her tears and Adele jumped up and flew to her side, embracing her fervently. “You don’t have to remember all this, Jane. What’s the point?”

  “I want her to know, to understand what happened,” she mumbled, as they both cried in each other’s arms until Jane straightened and continued, “On our wedding day, your uncle interrupted the service to inform the Vicar that the groom was already married. Nobody can imagine how devastated I felt. Of course, I didn’t believe him until we returned to Thornfield and were introduced to your mother. She was in a deplorable condition, enclosed like an animal and hidden from the rest of the world. I will spare you the details; suffice it to say that her presence was a shock to all of us. Edward tried to convince me to stay, but I left the following evening and vowed never to return.”

  We heard the murmur of the men in the other room and the wind whipping the bare trees. I waited impatiently for her to resume her account. Could she be telling the truth?

  “A year later Mr. Briggs informed me there had been a fire and Thornfield had been burnt down. I returned to discover your mother had fallen off the battlements. Edward was alive, although crippled and blind. We married and I nursed him back to health. Eyre Hall was built shortly after John was born, with the money I inherited from my uncle, John Eyre, who died in Madeira without direct descendants.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. Adele rushed to my side to embrace me.

  “I’m sorry, Annette, but you have to know what happened. I must tell you what I know, then we can all continue with our lives. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, unable to control my tears.

  “Four days ago, when your uncle came to Eyre Hall, I discovered your existence. Your mother was married to Edward when you were born, so you must be his daughter. Edward has paid for your upkeep at the convent and as soon as your uncle made it known to me that you wished to pay your respects, I made some enquiries with Dr. Carter who confirmed the events pertaining to your birth. Rest assured, Annette, that I will look after you from now on, if you should so wish. You will be procured a suitable husband, dowry and residence in the meantime.”

  If she was telling me the truth, it meant that John was probably my brother, my half-brother, so our feelings were impure. Mrs. Rochester had confirmed what my uncle had told me, that Mr. Rochester was my father. However, his version was different. He had told me that Jane and my father had planned my mother’s death so they could be free to marry. Had Jane been his accomplice, as my uncle had told me? Perhaps she was not aware of his plans. Perhaps it happened as she had just told me, and my mother’s death had been an unfortunate accident. Who was lying? Who was telling the truth? Who knew the truth? Who could I believe?

  Jane returned to the divan and sat down before continuing. “I have only two requirements of yo
u and I am afraid they are not negotiable. Firstly, my son and everyone else must continue to believe that Mr. Rochester is your uncle. Secondly, you will go to a finishing school in Belgium for a year, where you will complement some of the gaps in your education. Your stay abroad will enable you to have a more satisfactory life when you return to England.”

  She paused once more, as if she wished me to digest the information gradually. I looked into the hearth where the flames rose, fell and tangled into a macabre glowing dance.

  “When you return you will stay at Eyre Hall while we decide your options.”

  I wondered what it would be like to live in this remote, vault-like house permanently. Would I have to make polite conversation with John’s fiancée? Would I have to marry a man I did not love? Or remain a spinster like Adele? She seemed to read my mind.

  “You will not be forced to marry against your wishes, although you will be advised as to what is best for you, but you will be allowed to choose how you live. Do you agree?”

  I nodded. What else could I do?

  “Have you any questions?”

  She watched aloofly while Adele consoled me. I suddenly realised how much I missed my life back home at the convent. I wished I could return to the order, the regularity and the security therein. I wanted to recover my previous life, the life of a boring music teacher within the safety of the convent walls. The idea of returning and recovering my innocence empowered me and I was finally able to stop crying. “Mrs. Rochester, thank you for your kindness, but I miss my school and my life at the convent. I fear I will be unhappy in England, as my mother was…”

  “I promise you will have a more pleasant life than Bertha Mason.”

  The voices in the next room were noisier and merrier, while in the drawing room the silence was broken only by the crackling coal. She was silent and I dared not speak. I wondered if our conversation had concluded, but Mrs. Rochester spoke once more. “I cannot promise you a happier life, because happiness is something you must search for within yourself. Nevertheless, I hope you will find peace and contentment at Eyre Hall.”

  I smiled, but she was wrong. I had found happiness in another person. He would be sitting with me, chatting amiably in a few minutes. His eyes would be searching for mine, as his hands had been chasing my waist in my bedroom just a few hours earlier. What would she say if she knew?

  “If you accept my proposal, Annette, it would please me greatly.”

  I was trapped. Under the circumstances I had no alternative. They all wanted me to stay. Perhaps I should learn to make the most of my captivity. Perhaps I could be happy at Eyre Hall, although I could never marry John.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Rochester. You are most gracious.”

  “You have made a wise decision, Annette.”

  It seemed to me that I had not made any decision myself. I had only agreed to my uncle and Jane’s wishes. I remembered my uncle’s financial worries and instructions.

  “May I ask you for something, Mrs. Rochester?”

  “What is it?”

  “My uncle has been the only relative I have ever known. He is the person who saved my life. I would like to be able to repay him. I understand his finances are precarious…”

  “Your concern for your uncle is touching. Rest assured I will not abandon him, either.”

  I had signed my life sentence. My future lay in her hands. We watched each other’s faces for a few minutes, searching for the words we had not spoken until she broke the silence, making an effort to reassure me once more.

  “You have suffered enough, Annette. I hope you can find some happiness here in England. I will certainly do all I can to make your stay as pleasant as possible. Remember, I am not your enemy, and I trust we can understand each other.”

  I had not yet decided whether she was telling the truth or whether I could trust her, but I had realised she was my only option, so I smiled and nodded. She suggested we should have some Madeira wine before the gentlemen joined us, and we toasted to the year ahead, which Jane predicted would be, “Full of joy, travel and pleasant surprises.”

  I surrendered to the sound of her voice and the warmth of the wine, and allowed myself to imagine an eventful and pleasant future at Eyre Hall.

  ***

  Chapter XXIII Expiation

  It had been done. It was not the first time I had killed someone who deserved to be dead. I remembered the beast at the workhouse who had tried to take my sister by force. I was just a boy then, but I knew what I had to do to protect my only sibling. Once again, I felt the relief and satisfaction that justice had been done. The demon was dead.

  I had followed his own instructions: any discreet means, such as suffocation, will be sufficient, and covered his face with his own pillow. As he had predicted: he is old and weak, therefore, he will not resist. He offered no opposition, saying only, “You have come at last,” when he saw me approach his bedside, closing his weary eyes.

  The worthless, worn cadaver, which lay limply before me, would soon be buried and forgotten. I hated him for having had the most magnificent woman in the world and not honouring her as he should have. She did not deserve such a heartless companion and I had mercifully put an end to a life, which was already in its last moments. I had merely anticipated what would have been a reality in a matter of days.

  I had restored the balance. He was at rest and my mistress was free, so I would be able to claim her for myself at last. The moment I had dreamed of for five years was approaching. All the hardship and humiliations I had undergone since my parents died seemed insignificant. I would go through it all again a thousand times to feel her hand on my face and her lips just a whisper away from mine. She was the goddess of my dreams and I would be her slave for the rest of my days.

  I walked out of the room and down the stairs feeling light-headed. My feet floated over the dark carpet as if I were alone in a soundless dream. When I opened the drawing room door, the brightness and hubbub shook me back to reality. The moon cast its strong white beam through the casements and onto the floor, challenging the furious flames, which radiated a golden glow from the hearth while the chandeliers and candlesticks illuminated all the corners of the room. The dinner guests were all conversing congenially in their diverse selected nooks. I walked over to each group offering to refill their glasses, inadvertently overhearing fragments of superficial conversations.

  Surprisingly, Mr. Mason and Mr. Greenwood conversed amiably, drinking brandy and smoking in the corner, discussing business opportunities in the colonies. Adele and Annette were sitting on the couch, chatting unenthusiastically about fashion and cosmetics, and my mistress was standing by the fireplace, talking to John and the bishop about the success of the Ragged Schools, but her heart was not in the matter, as it usually was. She spoke distractedly, looking relaxed, no doubt because the evening had run smoothly in spite of the tensions Mr. Mason and Miss Mason’s visit could have provoked.

  I approached my mistress and inquired as arranged, “Pardon me, Mrs. Rochester, will you need the hearth in the library?”

  “Yes, Michael, I shall be writing a letter shortly.” I heard her speak to the bishop as I walked away. “Please excuse me, Bishop Templar, but I must write a letter to my cousin, Diana, Mrs. Fitzjames, who is expecting news, and I cannot postpone it any longer.”

  Minutes later she walked into the library while I was poking the coals. She locked the door and put the key in her skirt pocket.

  “Michael, please draw the curtains and put out all the candles except the one on the desk.” I complied.

  “Now come here,” she added, and I moved to her side by the hearth, looking into her restless eyes.

  “Show me your hands, Michael.” She turned my palms upwards and held them for a moment before kissing them.

  “You have soiled them for me.”

  “Nothing I do for you is soiled.”

  “Did you tremble?”

  “My hand will never tremble in your service.”

  “Was
it… hard?”

  “I think he was grateful. He was suffering physically and spiritually. Nothing unexpected or unnecessary happened. He was compliantly expecting death.”

  “Did he speak?”

  “As I approached his bedside he called, ‘Jane Eyre, is it you?’”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “He said, ‘Can you forgive me, Jane?’”

  “And then?”

  “And then he said, ‘Find my little Jane, your little Jane.’”

  She broke into tears. “I can’t believe he’s dead. What have I done? I can’t live without him. I’m lost.”

  I embraced her, asking her not to cry, but she was taken over by dismal feelings. “How can you love me anymore, after what I have asked you to do? I shouldn’t have asked you to commit such a sinful act. How could I spoil you like that?”

  She moved nervously towards the desk, leaning forward in distress. “Michael, I can’t breathe.”

  I realised there was no advantage in saying the truth, so I stood behind her and told her what she wanted to hear. “Don’t cry, mistress. I killed no one. When I approached the bed, he gasped three times and stopped breathing.”

  “He stopped breathing?”

  “Yes, he did. He asked for your forgiveness and died.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I approached his side.”

  “How do you know he is dead?”

  “His eyes lost expression and his body flattened. He became as white as snow and as cold as ice within seconds.”

  “Did you see his soul leave his body?”

  “I heard his last breath.”

  She gasped. “Did he suffer?”

  “He did not. He embraced death willingly and then his soul was taken away.”

  Tears continued to rush down her face. “Michael, I’m so cold.”

  I felt her trembling uncontrollably in my arms. “Sit by the fire, mistress. Have you a shawl I can bring you?”

  “Look in the cabinet.”

  I found a woollen mantle, which I wrapped around her shoulders, then I brought her a glass of brandy and sat down beside her. “This will warm you. Try not to worry, believe me, he is at peace. Simon is bound to find his corpse shortly, when he goes up to put out his candle and kindle the fire.”