My stay at Thornfield Hall was not as I had hoped; even here, amidst the hot and heavy air of Spanish Town I cannot think on it without awakening a cold shudder of terror. Somehow it is the coldness that first pervades my mind at any mention or memory of the place, the horrific events of that luminous night are less distinct, at once as sharp as glass and confused as a dream. Yet I can recall very well my arrival under Fairfax's roof. As I have said it was a little cold, my journey had thoroughly chilled me and for a long while I was confined to the hearth. I felt peculiarly nervous and uncertain; I thought much of my sister and though I had long wished to see her again I now felt unsure. I earnestly hoped to see some improvement; amelioration, to see that she might one day recover: that she was not forever doomed. To think of her deterioration affrighted me greatly. Not only, I have come to understand, because I have loved her, because I shall always love her, but also because I harbor a great fear: a fear of myself. I feel my fate to be inextricably bound to my sister's: I think upon her life as if it were the omen of my own; she is the glass in which I see my own damnation. Yet so far I have evaded the curse of my family's blood. I believe— I must believe— that I have escaped it altogether.

For a long while Fairfax was absent; he missed a most eventful evening. The young women were diverted for some hours by the arrival of an old and mysterious gypsy woman, and to me she remains a mystery, as she would not speak with the men and so I saw her not, though I witnessed the effects of her predictions. When the host eventually returned he summoned me in all state to the library. I obeyed.

The room was neat and comfortable and the dying embers of a fire were struggling in the grate. Fairfax was not seated but stood, his forearm resting against the mantelpiece, his face lit with a crimson glow that illuminated his dark, somber eyes, imbuing them with a certain wildness. I coughed a little to announce my presence; I would not dare be the first to speak. He turned. He said nothing but gazed at me for a moment before apparently recollecting himself." Richard," he greeted me; his displeasure at my presence hardly concealed, "I did not expect you. You ought to have written". I had, in fact, written twice, each receiving no reply but I said nothing of this." You have come to see your sister?" He enquired, somehow managing to make a question sound as though it were certainty. I nodded. "Well you have chosen an inconvenient time. You cannot see her now."

"I must see her," I replied; from that I would not be dissuaded.

"You will wait until the guests have departed." His countenance told me that on this he was equally immovable and I reluctantly conceded. "How is she?" I asked, though I feared the answer. "As always," he replied and I could see that he was suppressing some derogatory remark. No doubt he was accustomed to use less affectionate names for my sister than 'wife'. "For God's sake don't linger by the door, come in man!" I stepped forward a few paces. There was an uncomfortable silence. "Out with it then Mason," he said "there must be a reason for you sudden appearance in my drawing room."

"It is my sister, that is, I wish to talk with you about my sister; it is a delicate matter."

"A delicate matter concerning my wife, that is ironic. You could not have written?"

"I wished to speak with you in person, as I say it is a matter of some importance...And I wish to see Bertha, it has been some years. "I paused.

"Do continue," insisted Rochester.

"Where is she confined?"

"In an apartment on the third floor. I have told you this."

"Yes. I should like to see it, as soon as I may."

"You shall, as soon as the hall returns to its usual calm and sequestered state."

"Is it comfortable? Is she contented? Why have I ceased receiving her letters?"

"What you call her letters were insane scrawl. I was forced to remove the pen and ink for fear that she would harm herself."

I sighed and hung my head. "Is the room kept locked?"

"At all times."

"She never comes out into the air?"

"I see that my letters have not conveyed the gravity of her affliction."

"The windows of the room are opened regularly then?". Fairfax filled two glasses from a decanter and offered me one; I shook my head. "There are no windows to the compartment," he replied at length, " if there were she would likely have thrown herself from one of them long ago." I blanched.

"No windows," I repeated in horror.

"What would you have me do Richard? For years I have tended and cared for that—(he lowered his voice) for my wife— I have grappled with her violence, I have kept her under my own roof. You have not seen her in her rage Richard, I don't suppose her howls, loud and blood curdling as they are, can reach Spanish Town!" I turned to face the window, though the curtains were drawn: I do not like confrontation of any kind and Fairfax has always had a peculiar power over me. "I should like to relieve you of your— your—burden, Fairfax."

"What in God's name do you mean?"

"I have been thinking: I have been wondering, if my sister may not be more comfortable, that is, if she may be better cared for were we to send her to an asylum. York Retreat it is called: it is a good place of excellent repute—"

"—it is out of the question!"

"You know how I care for my sister, I would never have suggested it if I did not think it for the best. Were you to tend her night and day you could not match the care that she would receive at The Retreat—"

"—Damn it Richard, consider my reputation! How could I possibly prevent it from getting out once she steps out of Thornfield?"

"I would take every care." I met the ferocious stare of my brother-in-law as well as I could. "Do but listen to me Fairfax, that is all I ask." He refilled his glass and resumed his position on the mantle. "I confess," I continued," had you put the same suggestion to me but a year ago I should have, in my ignorance, dismissed it as unthinkable. I have made extensive enquiries, Fairfax, and I do not speak from ignorance now. The place is run on what they are calling 'moral management': there are no restraints, no violence; the building itself resembles a fine house rather than an asylum; it is a far cry from the horrors Bedlam."

"It is not possible," came the reply, "to attempt to move her would be madness in itself. Perhaps you have forgotten your sister; she is stronger than you Richard, though that is hardly a testimonial, and a match even for me. No, it is not possible."

"Perhaps you will change your mind in time," I suggested, and then, angered by his incomprehension, I spoke what I had been longing to speak since my arrival "I am sure you will not want her here after your marriage." He turned then, and looked me in the eye, his face a deep shade of crimson. "My marriage?" He demanded his body verily trembling with rage. I recoiled, and would have made to leave had not I feared than he would have prevented me from such an escape by force. "They are saying— it is widely known— that is— they say you are to be married to Miss Ingram." I readied myself for the ensuing fury but my terror was met only with a laugh. "Miss Ingram? Our years together were obviously insufficient to inform you of my character if you believe I wish to marry that Amazon. Do you not see a marked resemblance between that coquette in the drawing room and, that fiend, my wife?"

"You owe my sister your faith, you vowed it before God."

"I believe those vows were made before the Devil. She certainly disregarded them, and you know it Dick." He threw another log onto the fire and red sparks flew up into the chimney. "You may stay here if you wish," he said, "I think it is time that the host returned to his guests." So saying he strode past me and into the drawing room.

I lingered alone for a moment; watching as the log caught, blackened, and was slowly and silently devoured by the flames.


Thanks for reading! This was written for my transformational coursework and I hope it's helpful for anyone else who might be taking the a-level! I quite like Rochester as a character and I actually think he probably would have allowed his wife to cared for at an asylum if he had known about a good one like York Retreat but I had to make him a little meaner so that it was clear that this was Mr Mason's point of view to make sure I got the coursework marks! Please review with any comments!