“You said I might go, sir,” she responded.
“But not without taking leave; not without a word or two of acknowledgment and goodwill: not, in short, in that brief, dry fashion. Why, you have saved my life!—snatched me from a horrible and excruciating death!—and you walk past me as if we were mutual strangers! At least shake hands.” Obediently, she put her small hand in mine and I covered it with my other hand. If we could have, I would have stood there the rest of the night, her hand in mine, her eyes on my face. I was barely able to speak to her then, though I know I said more of what I owed her, and, too soon, she fled when we heard Mrs. Fairfax stirring.
She had saved my life in more ways than she knew. I would keep Bertha a secret from her, no matter what. I would do whatever I must to not lose Jane Eyre.
Chapter 13
Islept only fitfully for the remainder of the night, and rose from my couch before the servants began their work. Immediately I climbed to Bertha’s hidden apartment and let myself in. Grace was dozing in her chair, but I could hear Bertha pacing and mumbling in the adjoining chamber. Soon after dawn, I knew, she would fall into sleep and Grace would take her daily respite away from that terrible place. I shook Grace awake, and she startled in agitation, as if she expected to see Bertha bearing down on her at any moment.
“A word, Grace,” I said.
“Sir?”
“Take this,” I said, handing her the rest of the sedative that Carter had given me. “Give this to my wife in her usual cup of tea if she seems to you unusually disturbed. It will not make an addict of her if you give her the correct amount. I will get more from Mr. Carter, and perhaps I shall have a stronger lock installed on the door.” I studied the two windows high on the wall—they were indeed too high to see out of…unless… “Have you ever seen her pull a chair over and look out those windows?”
“No, sir, I have not, but it is not impossible. I sometimes must leave, for food or to empty chamber pots.”
I stared up at the windows. I could not paint them over: that would leave the rooms forever dark and airless, more like a cell than I could bear to think. “You must be sure to lock her in her chamber whenever you must leave, even if she is sleeping.Always. Today you will be needed to help repair the damage done in the night: that will be a welcome change for you, I should think. And don’t speak to anyone of this. You know nothing of what happened in the night—whatever tales you hear,you yourselfknow nothing. And one more thing: I have brought you this length of rope. If there is ever a need, we will use it to bind her to keep her from doing real damage. You understand?”
She tried to stammer an answer.
“It was Mr. Carter who suggested it,” I added, for, indeed, he had.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Thank you. I am in your debt; I am well aware of that.”
She nodded. “And I in yours.” A curious response, I thought then and think still.
“Good day, Grace,” I said.
“Good day, sir,” she responded.
***
I wanted nothing more than to see Jane that morning, and I feared nothing more, as well. I wished, in those stolen moments in the night, she had given me more reassurance of our common feeling, had spoken to the companionship I had felt growing between us. But she did not, and I found myself increasingly disturbed by the horror of having both Bertha and Jane under the same roof, risking the chance of discovery, or something worse. I needed to solve the problem, and quickly, but was unable to clear my head.
I confess that in my distress I succumbed to my old habits and fled Thornfield altogether. I told myself that this was for the best, that time away would allow me to avoid any questions regarding the fire and let the whole thing be finished and forgotten before my return.
Fortunately, that very evening there was to be a gathering at the Leas, the home of Mr. Eshton, the local magistrate, and his wife. The major families in the neighborhood had been invited, including myself. I had sent my apologies a few days previous, preferring instead to spend my days in conversation with Jane, but now I sent a message ahead that I would be coming after all. I hurriedly packed my things, went down the back stairs to the kitchen, and had a quick breakfast and was off on Mesrour. My trunk would follow in the cart. It was cowardly, I knew then and admit still, but at the time it seemed the cautious thing to do. And, if I am being honest, a small part of me also wished to make Jane feel my absence, to show her how easily I could leave her, too, after her almost emotionless farewell in the night.
As it happened, it might have been better had I remained at home.
***
Riding across the countryside, I purposely turned my mind to Miss Ingram and reminded myself that this was where my affections should lie. She was beautiful, charming, accomplished in every way, an established and admired member of the neighborhood society. Yet, I did not feel a sympathy with her in the way that I had come to feel with Jane. She did not have the power to intrigue me, as this young girl had, did not bring me the same pleasure—or pain. Still, is it ever wise to let one’s emotions rule one’s life? Did I not do that for all those regrettable years in Europe?
I told myself—sternly—that Blanche Ingram was my fate. That I should value her for her social charms and beauty as I was valued for my name and land and income. With her as its mistress, Thornfield-Hall could once again be bright with candles and elegant women and music. What more could a man want? What more, indeed.
When I arrived at the Leas, the group was just finishing a lazy breakfast. They had all arrived the night before and had stayed up late gossiping, I suppose, and had slept nearly till midmorning. Miss Ingram’s eyes caught on me as I entered the room, and she smiled broadly and patted the back of the empty chair beside her. “I knew you would change your mind,” she called out. “You could not possibly miss the fun!”
Eshton rose and indicated the same empty chair. “Sit, Rochester! So good you could join us after all.”
I gazed around the room: Lord and Lady Ingram and their son, Theodore, and their other daughter, Mary; Lord and Lady Lynn and their sons; Colonel and Mrs. Dent; Mrs. Eshton and the two Eshton daughters. They all greeted me warmly in one way or another, and immediately folded me into their conversation.
This is where I belong,I told myself.These are the people whom I was bred to join.I filled a plate at the buffet and sat down beside Miss Ingram. She was telling a story of the vicar of the local parish, a meek man of limited talents, and imitating his lisp with remarkable accuracy.
“Why, Blanche, do you not indeed find his sermons stimulating?” her brother asked in a mocking tone.
