This blasted ankle is driving me beyond the point of madness. With that woman residing upstairs, whilst the cause of my condition continues to blissfully teach my ward from a woman who does not belong to me through either blood or sentiment. Is my house to be always so overrun with the insufferable creatures? The latest to join our party?
A Miss Jane Eyre.
Plain perhaps, but she has the look of another world about her, as though the worries and troubles of here and now are of no concern or bother to her at all. She is young, she is yet to experience what fate can do when angered no doubt.
I see her, wandering around when the Child is asleep or busy. Like a silent bird she searches this cage we are all encompassed in, looking for some escape. I have lived here long enough to know she will not find a permanent one. Regardless, she takes a strange comfort in reading, at first I put it down to the usual whimsical behaviour of young women, such as what Blanche does to amuse her time whilst she waits on some wretch to praise her, and except the more I study Eyre, the less of an ordinary woman I find myself in the presence of.
She has sense, an uncommon trait I've found amongst the fickle creatures. And pride, but she knows when to check it, a talent I wish I possess more of. It's as if, she knows what she wants from this world, but respects how much of it is within her grasp as a governess. What I would give to uncover the truth of her thoughts though. To know the true Jane Eyre.
I have a plan, I shall ensure all other staff and children alike are not present and shall informally question her, how she finds her new position with regards to her old one, that type of notion. See what she accidentally uncovers there.
My candle is thinning, I shall lose light soon.
Edward