by Luccia Gray
“Do you like me?” I asked him.
“Of course I do,” he answered earnestly. “I like you very much, but I must to do what is right, what is expected of me.”
“And if you were not engaged to Elizabeth?” I said taking both his hands in mine. “Imagine that you were not engaged, imagine that.” He looked into my eyes and smiled. I knew he had imagined being with me. I pulled him closer and whispered, “Would you…”
But he did not let me finish, he covered my lips with his, hungrily, pulling me into his desire. We tumbled on the hay and kissed until we were breathless. He held me tightly, kissing my hair, and I melted into his embrace.
“If I were not engaged, I would kiss you like that every day and I would ask you to marry me.” He held me closer. “But I am engaged, and that is not possible, so this must not happen again, my dearest Annette.”
I understood the finality of his words, but they made me so happy that it did not matter. I knew he loved me the way I loved him, and, for the moment, that was enough for me. We were destined to be together, as family, as friends, as lovers. I did not care whether we were married or not. I needed to be with him, on any terms.
He rocked me in his arms until it stopped raining and we walked back to the house holding hands carelessly. His hands had warmed and his arm swung loosely with mine. He was smiling and calm, at last. The weight was slowly lifting from his shoulders. I knew I could make him the happiest man on Earth if he let me, as he had just done.
“Will you write to me, John?”
“Would you like me to write to you?”
“Of course, I would. I will be so lonely in Belgium. Please, write to me,” I begged, as we approached the house. “I will write to you, Annette,” he promised, squeezing my hand.
He stopped as we reached the top of the stairs which led to the front door. “We should say goodbye now. I will be having an early lunch with my mother and Adele before leaving.”
“Take care, John.” I was not going to say anything else, but he smiled, pulled me closer and brushed his lips against my cheek. I held his arms, so he could not move away and whispered, “I will miss you, terribly. Make sure you write to me, soon, very soon. Remember how lonely I will be without you.”
“I will miss you, too,” he whispered back, and I moved my lips to his and said, “I love you, John.”
He was about to speak, when the door was pulled open. “Good afternoon, Master John, Miss Mason,” greeted Simon. I broke away and rushed up the stairs to my room.
I threw myself on the bed, face down on my pillow and cried. I could not believe what I had said! What had possessed me to say something like that? “I love you.” I told him I loved him. How would I survive a whole year without him?
***
Chapter XXXI Lovers’ Quarrel
The days after the funeral had been long and lively. I had spent most of the time getting to know Mr. Greenwood and planning our journey, which he had promised would be memorable. The drawing room was full of people most of the day, indulging shamelessly in roast meats, pies and Madeira, although conversations were hushed and glum. Jane had confidential conversations in the library with many of the guests. I was duly informed of all of them, except one. She had spoken privately to Mr. Mason and remained quite secretive about the subject discussed. She also made final arrangements regarding Annette's finishing school in Belgium, after which she promised to introduce her to English society and procure her a husband.
John was urged to finish his studies and resume his courtship of Lord Harwood’s daughter (neither of them had attended the funeral due to influenza) with the intention of officially announcing their engagement the following spring. The bishop informed Jane that he would move to London to work at the Bishopry, and he did not hide his aspirations to contend for the seat of Archbishop of Canterbury. Mr. Greenwood was given many recommendations regarding how I should be looked after and treated, and Jane was also adamant that Susan should be well cared for and suitably chaperoned.
Her cousins Mary and Diana and their husbands also conversed privately and amiably with Jane, offering their support and help in the following months. Jane promised to visit them as usual at Christmas. She informed her delighted editors that she would shortly be travelling to London, because she needed to move away from Eyre Hall in order to write another novel about a poor orphan from the provinces, who was taken to London.
Most of the guests had already left. John had left after lunch, Mary and Diana had returned to Morton with their husbands, and Mr. Greenwood had returned to London to prepare his luggage for the journey. Only Mason and Annette remained in the house, keeping to themselves most of the time, except for dinner. I was sitting in the drawing room after lunch with Jane, when Susan knocked and entered.
“Mrs. Rochester, Miss Adele, Mrs. Rosset is here with her children.”
“Where is Michael?” Jane was surprised that Michael had not introduced the guests, as he usually did; he hadn’t served lunch either. It was obvious to me that he was avoiding Jane and I was glad of it. Thank goodness he had come to his senses, even though she was still behaving like a spoilt child with a new toy.
“He’s bookkeeping with Mrs. Leah. She is worried about the accounts. The butcher insists there is money owed to him...”
“Very well, Susan. I’m sure Michael and Leah can sort it out. Please tell Mrs. Rosset to come in and bring us some tea and cake.”
Jenny Rosset was a fine wholesome looking woman indeed. Her scanty bonnet covered her long, curly blond hair, which was tied loosely at the nape of her neck. She wore a blue dress with white cuffs and collar stiffly buttoned up to her neck, a thin brown cape and worn old boots, which peeked out queerly from under her skirt. Her large pale blue eyes looked around the room in awe, as her jaw dropped.
Jane greeted her politely while she held out her hand limply. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Rosset.” Jenny shook her hand energetically and spoke enthusiastically. “What a beautiful house, Mrs. Rochester.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Rosset. Please sit down. Susan has told me you have worked at the George Inn.”
“Yes, madam.”
“Have you ever worked in a private household?”
“I’m afraid not, madam, but I can cook, clean, sew and do anything that needs to be done in a house like this one. I’m prepared to work all day, every day.”
“What is your salary at the inn?”
“I do not have a regular salary, madam, it depends on the time of year and the days and hours worked. Mr. Earnshaw calls me when I am needed. That’s why I asked Susan to speak to you. You see, I have two children to feed and keep warm and I can’t do it with the guinea I get at the inn a month. Other months I just get some shillings or some food for the children. I’d like to offer them something better.”
“Where do you live now?”
“We live in a room in Millcote, a room I rent in a small house. The landlady is a widow; she uses one room and rents the other two. The room is getting too small for us; we all sleep in one bed and I can’t afford to rent another room or another bed, it wouldn’t fit in the room anyway. I would be most grateful if I could stay here with my children. Thomas is only twelve, but he can work with the gardener or in the stables, or in the house if he’s taught; he’s a clever lad. Nell is nine; she is small and weak, but she can work, too.”
“Mrs. Rosset, I do not believe that children under the age of thirteen should work. They should be at school.” Jane spoke solemnly. It was a subject she felt strongly about, far too strongly about in my opinion.
“You are right, Mrs. Rochester. I would like my children to go to school and learn a trade, that’s why I asked Susan to teach them, and she was kind to do so, with your permission, not charging me a single penny. Don’t think I’m not a good mother. I am. I would do anything for my children, and I have done many things for them, things I am ashamed of, but they must eat and have a roof over their heads. If they went to school, if I hadn’t done what I had to do, th
ey would have died of hunger and lived or rather died on the streets.”
“Surely you exaggerate, Mrs. Rosset.” She was obviously being overdramatic, as the paupers so often were.
“I assure you, swear to you, Miss Adele, I do not exaggerate.” She spoke forcefully, making me wonder if she would be a good servant.
“Mrs. Rosset, please do not feel offended, I trust you are a good mother and a good person. I am sure you have done what was best for your children.” I wondered why Jane seemed concerned that she should not feel uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Leah knows me, so do Susan and her brother Michael, he taught me to read. They know I’m a good mother,” she insisted, exaggerating an offended tone.
“I think very highly of the three employees you have mentioned. Naturally, I have asked them for references. Susan and Leah have spoken highly of you, and I am aware of your arrangement with Michael, who has no objections to your working here.”
“Thank you, madam.”
“He has told me about your reading lessons, just as long as you understand they are a thing of the past. You will no longer have time for them while you live here.”
“Of course, madam.”
“On the other hand, regarding your children, Thomas will go to school in the mornings, at least until he is thirteen and he will work in the afternoon with Joseph, our gardener and groom. Let’s see how he gets on and we will decide on his future occupation. Do you agree?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Nell will go to school every morning and afternoon until she is thirteen too, then she will follow the same system as Thomas. Do you agree?”
“Yes, madam.”
“You will earn two guineas a month, plus board and lodging for the three of you. For the moment, you will have two beds in one room, until other arrangements can be made. You will have Sunday afternoon free.”
“Thank you, madam.”
“I expect you to behave modestly, reservedly and refrain from spreading gossip.”
“Thank you, madam, for your kindness.”
“When can you start?”
“As soon as you would like me to start, Mrs. Rochester.”
“Leah will see to the arrangements; please speak to her after we have tea. Now I would like to meet the children. Where are they?”
“In the kitchen with Susan.”
She rang the bell and clumsy Simon tripped in far too quickly, as usual.
“Simon, go down to the kitchen and tell Michael to bring the children upstairs, will you?”
“At once, madam.”
“Mrs. Rochester, we can have tea downstairs in the kitchen.”
“Not today. Today you are my guests, and you shall have tea with us in the drawing room. When you are working at Eyre Hall, you will have your meals in the kitchen with the rest of the staff.”
Jane had moved to the window and was absently looking out to the orchard, wrapped in her thoughts. When the door opened, she turned with a smile, which transformed into a stunned expression. I ran to her side.
“Mrs. Rochester, Michael is still busy with Mrs. Leah,” Susan informed her, as she walked in with one child clinging to each of her hands.
Jane gasped and bent over with pain, her look reminded me of her face when she had fainted after Junot's visit, a mixture of pain and horror.
“Jane, what’s the matter?” I cried. Susan and Jenny rushed to her side and helped me carry her to the divan.
“Jane, shall I call the doctor?” I asked with concern.
“No. I’ll be all right in a moment. I just felt a sharp pain, like a stitch in my side. I just need to sit down.”
The children were staring quietly with bewildered faces.
“Jane, you haven’t rested since before the funeral. Let me take you to your room,” I insisted.
“Thank you, Adele, but I’ll stay here for now.”
She winced and I knew she was in pain. She seemed to recover and we all sat down on the couch facing the divan; the table with the tea and cake stood between us. I asked Susan to serve the tea and we all ate and drank quietly. Jane looked at the children intently while she sipped her tea. Finally she spoke. Her question was as unexpected as the answer.
“Mrs. Rosset, do the children have the same father?”
“No. I had three children, each have a different father. My husband and my first child, a baby girl, died of typhus when she was a baby. Nell’s father is dead. Thomas’s father is Mr. Rosset, who left me shortly after he was born. His whereabouts are unknown to me. I tell most people I’m a widow, to avoid gossip.”
Jane was oddly quiet, looking at the children intently. They were indeed very different. The boy was tall, dark and well-built while the girl was fair and extremely pale. Neither of them took after their mother. They were eccentrically dressed with grotesque clothes, which were clean and pressed, but at least two sizes too big for them. The girl's coat swept the floor like an odd wedding dress train, and the boy's long jacket sleeves were rolled up. They looked quite in awe of Jane, lowering their gaze as she scrutinised them. She finally spoke.
“I’m very glad you came today, Mrs. Rosset. It will be nice to have children in the house again. You have fine-looking children. I would like to offer you a month's salary in advance, in order to buy clothes and anything else you may need for yourself and the children. We must make sure Nell is warm and well-nourished; she is too pale and thin for the approaching winter."
“Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Rochester. Nell seldom has a good appetite and it is in her nature to be pale, unlike her sturdy brother.”
“Susan has told me that you read very well, Nell.”
The little girl nodded, pushed a piece of cake into her mouth and smiled amiably at Jane. After that, the conversation continued on civil terms. We discussed the wet weather, the bumpy ride to Millcote and the children’s progress with Susan’s lessons. When they left, I sat by Jane while she dozed on the couch, wincing occasionally, as she folded her hands over her waist.
Michael knocked on the door before dinner, when night had fallen. He stood at the threshold, looking serious and asked far too politely, “Mrs. Rochester, are you feeling better this evening?”
“No, she’s not,” I answered sharply. “She nearly fainted earlier, and I can see she is still in pain, but she won’t let me call the doctor. Don’t you think we should call Dr. Carter, Michael?”
“What’s the matter, Mrs. Rochester? Are you unwell?” He walked in and approached her.
“I’m feeling a little dizzy. I did not sleep well last night, that’s all.”
“You haven’t slept well since the funeral, and you look ill, Jane,” I insisted.
“Would you like me to call Dr. Carter?”
“No, thank you, Michael.”
“Mrs. Rochester, I heard Christy say you were sick again this morning, perhaps the doctor should see you.” I was relieved, but surprised that his tone was distant and seemingly unconcerned. Jane shocked me by losing her temper and shouting fiercely, “Christy is a gossip and I will dismiss her if she dares to...”
“Jane, you will make yourself ill again if you shout like that. It is so unlike you, what’s the matter?”
“Just stop fussing and leave me alone, both of you!” She continued with her unexplainable rage and walked once more to the window. After a few moments, Michael insisted again,
“What would you like me to bring you for dinner, madam?”
“I’m not very hungry. Whatever Adele wants,” she replied with her gaze fixed on the cloudy sky.
“I can’t eat. I’m so excited about my trip to Italy.”
“Mrs. Rochester, shall I bring you some fruit?” His voice seemed more concerned.
“Bring whatever you like. I shan’t eat it,” she snapped, refusing to look at him.
“Will Mr. Mason and Miss Annette be having dinner with you this evening?” He was looking defiantly at her back as he spoke.
“I hope not! I have no idea where Mr. Ma
son is dining today, but I have no patience for his company, I’m afraid.”
Jane spoke dryly into the window. “Mr. Mason is packing, because he is leaving for London tomorrow with Annette. They will be making arrangements for Annette’s journey to Belgium.”
“We will be leaving for Italy next week. John has returned to Oxford. Your cousins, Diana and Mary, left too. Everyone will be gone soon. Jane, what will you do when we have all gone? I can’t bear to think of you all alone. Michael, will you be here to look after her?”
“Mrs. Rochester has made her choices. It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves.”
Jane turned around when she heard his words, with a furious look on her face. “I am very tired and most unwell, Michael; please do not vex me with your riddles, or I shan’t be able to sleep tonight either.”
“By the way, Michael, did you know that Jenny Rosset was here this afternoon?” I interrupted, changing the subject. “She will be moving in with her children. I thought she was a little uncouth, but Jane seemed to like her enough to offer her a job. I can’t think why. She’s had three children with three different men. It seems to me she is some kind of easy woman. I really can’t see what Susan, or you, could like about her unchristian behaviour. What is it about her that you liked?”
“She works hard to feed her family on her own and she is truthful. She is what she seems; some women seem truthful and are much less faithful.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Jane walked towards us, but had to steady herself, leaning on the back of the armchair. “I do not know what has possessed you since yesterday afternoon, Michael. You have been avoiding me, and now your behaviour is exasperating and driving me close to.... I suggest you reconsider your absurd words and actions. Now, if you will excuse me, I am retiring for the evening.”
She started walking to the door, but he stood in her way and spoke sternly. “Mrs. Rochester, you are unwell and you will not see the doctor. You have not had dinner and you refuse to eat. You will make yourself ill.”
