There was something rather odd about Edward Fairfax Rochester.
John Eshton was very familiar with most of his friend's eccentricities. For example, his insistence on living alone in Thornfield Hall, a drafty and dark old family home, though he could easily afford to build a more pleasant abode; his reluctance to accept company and mingle in polite society, though he was charming and gregarious; and his penchant for travel to places no one else wanted to visit, such as the Mongolian wilderness. Combine all these with his gruff and frequently sarcastic demeanor, and you had a man formed of quirks and contradictions, but a throughly interesting man nonetheless. And a good friend as well, Eshton knew. They had been friends since their school days and understood each other, he thought.
But Fairfax's latest behavior puzzled him to no end. It involved the Ingrams, a family Eshton knew his friend tolerated, but was not fond of. The family was respectable enough and the daughters were handsome – the eldest in particular, Blanche Ingram, was regarded as the belle of the county. But there was a certain pridefulness about them, as if they knew they were handsome and respectable and demanded they be recognized for it. It was whispered in social circles that neither of the girls would inherit much of a living allowance – the estate was to go to the son – so their mother, Lady Ingram, was constantly pushing both of them into the company of rich, landowning bachelors.
Her favorite and perpetual target was Edward Rochester. Thus, when she heard that Eshton was having a house party and was likely to invite his old school friend, she finagled an invite.
Yet, when he was informed that he would be spending a fortnight or more in a house with a family he could not stand, Rochester had not backed out, as Eshton expected him to. Indeed, he said that he would "be rather glad to see the Miss Ingrams," without a hint of sarcasm.
And once arrived at the house, he had not shied away from Blanche, her sister Mary, or even Lady Ingram when they approached him for conversation. Lady Ingram had spent most of this evening before dinner extolling her daughter's musical talents, while Blanche blushed and pretended to be meek. Rochester listened thoughtfully and did not stray from the conversation, though Eshton had tried to meet his eye several times to offer him a chance to escape.
After dinner, Rochester had moved on to discussing some matter quietly in a corner with Blanche and whatever it was must have been fascinating as well, for he nodded and chuckled at all the appropriate moments and seemed entirely focused on her. Curious, Eshton moved over to the window closest to them in the pretext of looking over the grounds, so he might listen to their conversation.
"I do wish we could have gone riding today – 'tis a pity the ground is so wet and unsuitable. But I should hate to spoil my riding habit with mud," she said, pouting.
"Well, perhaps it is for the best," Rochester replied, giving her a charming smile. "It gives us more time to talk – and to continue our guessing game."
Blanche fluttered her eyelashes coyly and Rochester smiled wider. Eshton swallowed his disgust and turned his gaze back to the window, but continued to listen.
"I'm tired of guessing games – tell me, when shall I see Thornfield Hall in all its splendor?" she cooed. "Shall it be soon?"
"Yes, Rochester," Lady Ingram said, butting her way into the conversation. "When shall we see this splendid home of yours? We are all quite curious"
"Yes, indeed – I have not been the most gracious of hosts," Rochester conceded. He paused, seemed to ponder something heavily for a moment. A roguish grin spread across his features.
"Well ladies," he said, raising his voice for the rest of the room to hear. "Perhaps we shall continue our merrymaking there, in a fortnight."
The other women in the room began chattering and gasping in delight. Eshton nearly gasped himself – Fairfax Rochester had not given a party at the hall since he inherited it 15 years ago. And suddenly, all it took was a soft voice and a toss of blond curls to make him relent? He had always insisted that he despised the Ingrams and would never do anything to please them – and now he was going to welcome them in his home? What had changed? Did he intend to marry Blanche Ingram?
"Yes, yes," Rochester said, after the din had quieted down. "I shall write to the house immediately and inform them to prepare for a grand fete a fortnight from now. You are all invited – provided your current host can spare you."
He turned to where Eshton stood and winked, as if he knew his friend had been listening all along.
So in a fortnight, John Eshton was to travel to Thornfield Hall. As he prepared for bed that evening, he wondered if his friend's bizarre behavior would continue once the soiree had moved to his own house. And since Eshton was of a scientific mind, he did what came most naturally to him when he was curious – he decided to conduct an experiment. He pulled out a pocket notebook and wrote:
"The Cause of Unnatural and Peculiar Behavior in Mr. Edward Fairfax Rochester."
Hypothesis: The subject wishes to marry Blanche Ingram