Mrs Rochester

by Hilary Bailey

  Then there can be little else for us to say to each other – only goodbye,’ I answered.

  ‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘I could not leave without a warning to you. You must realise all Mr. Rochester’s explanations are untrue. Whatever he has said of the past is lies – lies!’ she exclaimed passionately. ‘He will have laid the blame for all on the shoulders of that young girl, a child, indeed. Well, she is dead,’ the woman said contemptuously, ‘and is it not fortunate that once again the explanations are all Rochester’s? Adèle can tell us nothing now.

  ‘Look at it! Look at it!’ she exclaimed. ‘There is nothing said to have been done by Adèle which could not have been done just as easily by himself. Is it likely an eight-year-old child would deliberately set light to a house? A girl of eighteen, with a life ahead of her, try to kill her step-mother? No – in all things Rochester had a motive, even for killing you, so that he could marry Céline. He talked to her of it, I can assure you of that.’

  I stood up. ‘I will hear you no longer. Go,’ I said.

  She turned as if to go, then turned back. ‘I did not come to trouble you. But even as Adèle was breathing her last, I heard him begin to rehearse his explanations. Let me beg you, in the name of my dead sister, if ever you have further cause to suspect your husband – look to yourself, Mrs. Rochester. Be warned.’

  And she went, her malignancy unabated, sweeping off in a cloud of dark skirts. I stood in the doorway as she put her hand on the latch of the front door. ‘Go, crow – fly back to France,’ I cried. She did not look back at me, but left the house.

  I did not tell Edward, on his return, of that vile woman’s visit.

  Later, I sat down to my plans. Though we are going from Thornfield, I shall not leave it completely behind. The first of the big abandoned houses outside the village will be the village school, as St. John planned. The other will become a small factory, with the most modern equipment, for the weaving of wool. It will not be so profitable as the great mills of Halifax or Bradford, but it will do well enough and will suffice to help the people of Hay.

  Our time at Thornfield was one of tragedy and tragedy overcome, but neither of us will abandon the neighbourhood completely. Some good must come from the worst, I believe. In this we will be helped by St. John, who will become Mr. Todd’s curate and will eventually, I imagine, when Mr. Todd retires, take over the responsibility for the parish.

  Soon we shall be at Ferndean, and leading again our old, modest life. Perhaps, some little corner of ambition in me regrets leaving behind the title of Mrs. Rochester of Thornfield, but a greater part of my soul rejoices at the thought of having under our old, familiar, friendly, roof, after so much tribulation, those closest to me – my children and my most dearly loved husband, Edward, love of my life, half my soul, chief reason for my existence – and all my happiness.

  A Note on the Author

  HILARY BAILEY was born in 1936 and was educated at thirteen schools before attending Newnham College, Cambridge. Married with children, she entered the strange, uneasy world of ’60s science fiction, writing some twenty tales of imagination which were published in Britain, the USA, France and Germany. She has edited the magazine New Worlds and has regularly reviewed modern fiction for the Guardian. Her first novel was published in 1975 and she has since written twelve novels and a short biography. She lives in Ladbroke Grove, London.

  Discover books by Hilary Bailey published by Bloomsbury Reader at

  www.bloomsbury.com/HilaryBailey

  After the Cabaret

  All the Days of My Life

  As Time Goes By

  A Stranger to Herself

  Cassandra

  Connections

  Elizabeth and Lily

  Fifty-First State

  Hannie Richards

  In Search of Love, Money and Revenge

  Mrs Rochester

  Polly Put the Kettle On

  Mrs Mulvaney

  The Cry from Street to Street

  Miles and Flora

  The Strange Adventures of Charlotte Holmes

  This electronic edition published in 2012 by Bloomsbury Reader

  Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square,

  London WC1B 3DP

  First published in Great Britain 1997 by Pocket Books

  Copyright © 1997 Hilary Bailey

  All rights reserved

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  The moral right of the author is asserted.

  ISBN: 9781448209200

  eISBN: 9781448209217

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