All right, here is part two. It's been interesting to re-read this, since it's been so long. One thing I hadn't predicted is that one of the character names in this story became my name when I got married. Also, the date that I turned this in would eventually become my son's birthday, seven years later. Funny concidence!
Mary and I had just been shown to our chambers, and were opening our ancient leatherbound trunk the size of a small boat, when Mother came in, and looked at us critically. Already I suspected what thoughts were being produced in her head. ''Well, my girls," she said, ''do you find Mr Rochester handsome?"
Mary looked down at the embroidered scarf in her hands, so I felt obligated to speak. "No,'' I said, "I do not."
Mother opened her mouth, and closed it again.
''If you are honest you do not either," I said. "He looks as if he may have been handsome once, when he was younger, but probably was not, and he certainly is not now."
"It does not matter," Mother said quickly, "if a man is handsome or not, as long as he is a good hus – person."
''You meant to say husband, didn't you," I said calmly.
"Mr Rochester has been a bachelor long enough,'' Mother declared, in the tone of voice she used when determining other people's fates. "I see no reason why one of my daughters should not be made his wife."
Mother left after several minutes and Mary lifted her stricken face to me. "Blanche,'' she said passionately, "I can never marry Edward Rochester."
"I know, dearest," I said. Mary had fallen in love on the sly with the second son of a neighboring estate. "Anyway, you're much too young. He must be twice your age."
"But Mother will be so angry -" Mary said. She was near tears. "You know how she is so set in her ways -"
"I know," I said, kissing her pale cheek. "If either of us is to go to the altar, it will be me."
''Thank you," Mary whispered, for Mother was coming back in.
"Naturally, I don't need to remind you of the importance of maintaining the proper appearance before Mr Rochester," Mother said. "Our financial situation must be carefully concealed -"
Or he will know what we are about, I thought but did not say.
"And you must never or ask too many questions, or appear too bold, or speak out of turn," she continued. ''Remember, we are ladies." Mother continued in her tirade, but we had heard it all a dozen times before; Mary and I exchanged amused glances, and continued unpacking. Mother reminded me of Cinderella's wicked stepmother, plying her two daughters on an unwilling Prince.
By the time Mother finally left us again, ten minutes later, I had become wholly resigned to my fate. I was not overly fond of Mr Rochester, but he would do. I had long ago put away my own maiden hopes and illusions regarding matrimony, and replaced them with Mother's lofty ideals: my husband must be rich. Mother had determined that one of her daughters should become Mrs Rochester, thus securing, no doubt, her own comfort; and condemn my dear Mary to such a fate, I would not.
We remained at the Leas for two weeks. It was a very gay time, occupied by much lively talk, and livelier music; when it was fine we were permitted to go riding. The riding-party generally consisted of Theodore, Henry and Frederick Lynn, Mr Rochester, and myself. Every morning when I rode out I would see Mother glaring at me from the window by the breakfast-table. Mother heartily disapproved of ladies who rode, and always had; yet she would not forbid it, since it was an opportunity to be near Mr Rochester. And near him I was - nearer than anyone else, at least, for the moment we were out of sight of the house, Mr Rochester would break away from our party and gallop away at a great speed. We never knew where he went, but he always rejoined us just as we reached the stables.
After two weeks Mr Rochester announced quite suddenly that we would leave for Thornfield the next day. I was very much gratified, for that would make my work easier; certainly Mr Rochester would be absent less often if he was playing host.
That night Mother came into my chamber. I was nearly asleep, when she came in, quite without warning; in her night shift and wrapper and with her hair streaming down, she did not look like herself. For half a second I thought she was an intruder, and stifled the urge to scream.
''It's only you," I said with relief, as her candle cast gruesome shadows on her face. "I thought you would be asleep.''
"Tomorrow we go to Thornfield,'' Mother said, as if I hadn't known.
"Yes,'' I said, "and I should like to sleep before then."
''Thornfield is a very fine home," Mother continued. "A house like that without a mistress is a shame."
I groaned and rolled over in my bed.
''Such a mistress must be capable of so awesome a responsibility," Mother said, sitting on the edge of my bed. I remembered when I was small, she would sit on the edge of my bed and stroke my hair and sing to me. I searched her face now for any of the signs of affection I had once seen, and saw none.
"I trust I have raised you right," she said. ''You will not fail."
"I will not fail," I repeated. I was trying out the words, but Mother took it for a vow, and I let her believe so.
''You will not fail," she said again, and I disliked what I saw in her eyes. Hard, glittering like a rat's - I saw my mother as proud and selfish; as a woman who would sell her own daughters into slavery to secure her own comfort. For the first time I saw that my mother was growing old, and her beauty was almost gone. She was a stately womanly but at that moment I despised her.
''Good-night, daughter," she said.
"Good-night, mother," I said as she left, and tried to go to sleep. But her interview had quite spoiled the night for me, and I lay awake for many hours more.