Ch. 2

Shortly after Michaelmas Edward, I, and the entire Ferndean household relocated to Atherton Hall, near Dovecote, --shire. It was not as arduous a task as I had originally feared, because most of the fitting and furnishings were left at Ferndean for future use. Mrs. Fairfax and I were able to arrange it so that we only had to take three carriages and four wagons full of our personal belongings on the move. Fortunately, although the October weather had turned blustery, the roads were dry and we made a comfortable journey.

Adele was so excited at the prospect of a new situation that she bounced up and down on the carriage cushions until I was obliged to remove her to Mrs. Fairfax's coach lest Edward lose completely that day's good humour. But other than that we arrived safely and none the worse for our journey.

I will spare you the great upheaval of the next few days, reader. If you yourself have ever moved house you know well the veritable avalanche of boxes and packing paper that ensues; the commotion as household members decide where they will sleep and arrange quarters to satisfaction; the difficulty of having an army of painters and paperers underfoot as all the rest goes on. Mr. Canby had arranged for the hiring of several more servants from surrounding villages to help, and training them properly kept Mrs. Fairfax on her toes. But within a fortnight both Mrs. Fairfax and I could declare ourselves satisfied, for the time being. Maria was delighted with her new kitchen, which had modern conveniences undreamt of at Ferndean, and John pronounced the coach house and stables first rate, though the latter was a bit short of horses at the present.

Every morning I bundled up Adele and sent her out to play in the gardens. She protested at first, wanting to stay by my side, but a mere look from my master was usually enough to move her. I firmly believe that it did Adele no end of good to run and walk about on the gravel paths with the cool wind on her face, even if the only roses to be seen this time of year were those on her cheeks. She always came in cheerful and with a hearty appetite. Edward continued to grumble about sending her to a new school, but this would of course have to wait until I had time to find the right one.

Adele had recently passed her tenth birthday, and was showing every sign of developing into a sensible English woman. She still occasionally lapsed into French out of habit, and she still took perhaps more time with her morning toilette than was strictly necessary, but her loving nature made up for any deficiencies. I was determined that no school should damage that precious spirit. Nor did I want to send her someplace that would encourage only vain feminine accomplishments, and produce a woman who cared only for herself and her own pleasures. Did I think of Blanche Ingram when I pondered thus? Perhaps.

Edward and I delighted in organizing Atherton's library. He directed me in carefully cataloging each book before finding a proper place for it on the shelves. Often I would crow so over the discovery of an old and forgotten friend that Edward would insist I pause and read to him for awhile. Many an agreeable afternoon was spent in this manner after we had together attended to household and estate business.

Those first few weeks we heard but little from our new neighbors. The curate in charge of the local parish sent us a very kind note inviting us to Sunday services as soon as we were settled. The mistress of a family named White some five miles off (Mr. White, Mr. Canby informed us, was the local magistrate) also wrote to welcome us and to propose tea as soon as I liked. I could tell from the tone of the letter this Mrs. White was not certain if my master would be interested in such things, or able to attend if he were.

I sounded him out about it one evening after supper.

He laughed. "Dear Jane, I hardly brought you here to keep you cloistered up like a nun. Certainly you should go and visit this Mrs. White. Or invite her here, if you wish. Sadly, she is unlikely to be a sensible woman. Few country folk are—you, my love, are shaking you head at me, I can tell, but I have seen more of the world than you and that is the truth of it. But she may be a pleasant enough neighbor."

In truth I had little experience meeting strangers, and my apprehension at so doing was such that I wrote back to Mrs. White and kindly put her off for a few more weeks. I will confess I was also wondering what news of us was already abroad. No doubt Canby or the new servants had told those they knew about my husband's injuries. Dovecote was a small town. It was also entirely possible that the tale of what had passed at Thornfield had already reached this part of the county. Although I was too happy in my new life to care about the approbations of others, I was not entirely sure how either Edward or I should be received.

But on the first day of November, the first fine day in a week of gloomy ones, Mrs. Fairfax came into the study where Edward and I were writing our daily round of letters.

"Beg your pardon, sir, ma'am, but there are two young men who have come. They say they are from a nearby place called Lansdowne Manor, and they've brought flowers for you, Mrs. Rochester."

Edward tilted his head a bit, something he often did when listening to someone speak. He had told me it made him feel as if he could see them better, although of course he saw nothing. "I did not hear a carriage."

"No, sir, they road up together on one horse. Shall I bring the flowers up to you, ma'am?"

"Indeed," Edward interjected before I could speak. "And bring them both into the drawing room, if you please. My wife is of a mind to meet new neighbors, and this is as good a start as any."

"Very well, sir."

As Mrs. Fairfax left the room, I turned to my husband. "Edward, what are you about?"

"I am in a peculiar temper this day, my dear Jane, and I wish to be amused. Perhaps these visitors will provide some diversion."

I was not so certain, but I took my husband's arm and led him into the drawing room. He took his usual chair by the fire, with the damaged side of his face turned away from the door. I stood with my hands folded before me, and a moment later the door opened.

"Master Chauncey Wheeler and Master Caleb Spencer to see Mr. and Mrs. Rochester," Mrs. Fairfax said grandly.

In came two young men—although in truth one was barely yet a man, and the other no more than five or six by his appearance. The older boy approached me and handed me a fine bouquet, made of golden mums, asters, and daisies.

"How do you do, Mrs. Rochester?" He said politely and with a slight bow. "I am Chauncey Wheeler, of Lansdowne Manor, just over the hill there." He pointed out the window in a vaguely westerly direction. "I have been commissioned by my sister, Mrs. Spencer, to bring these to you. They are among the last from her hothouse, and she thought you would like to have them, though she herself is indisposed at the moment." He took a breath after that rather long speech, and I seized the moment to observe him.

Although yet too young to grow whiskers, he was already taller than I. He had a fine face and a gentlemanly appearance and manner.

I accepted the flowers. "They are lovely, thank you." I turned my eyes to the youngest of the pair, who had hung back a few paces, closer to Mrs. Fairfax. "And this is…?"

Young Wheeler gestured the smaller boy forward impatiently. "This is Caleb Spencer. He is my nephew, and he insisted on accompanying me on this errand. Go on, Caleb," he urged. "Make your bow to Mr. and Mrs. Rochester."

The child did so, quite neatly, and offered, "Hullo."

"'Hello' to you, young man." My husband spoke for the first time. "You both rode here?"

"Yes, sir," Mr. Wheeler answered. "This may be the last fine day for riding until the spring. It's only a mile or two across the fields to get here. A bit longer, if you take the roads."

As the men in the room discussed the state of the local roads and the distances from place to place I handed the bouquet to Mrs. Fairfax. She departed with it in search of a proper vase.

Not to be left out of the conversation taking place, Master Caleb offered up his own opinion to me. "We took Chauncey's horse." He spoke in a piping little voice. "I do not have a horse of my own. Papa says I am too little yet."

As this point our tête-à-tête was interrupted by the barking of Pilot, who, roused from napping on the stairs, had nosed through the open door looking for his master. The large dog bounded up to the small boy, but I am glad to say Master Caleb acquitted himself heroically—he even knelt down to allow Pilot to lick his face.

"Dogs like me," he explained in his queer little way as he stroked the animal's fur. Pilot wagged his tail enthusiastically at the attention.

"I am sorry to hear your sister is indisposed," I offered to Master Chauncey.

"It is nothing serious. But my brother Spencer is away on the North Sea, and not expected home until after Christmas."

"Your sister's husband is in the Navy, then?" My master asked.

"Yes, sir. " The young man's slight chest seemed to swell a bit with pride. "My own people are seafarers as well, for generations back."

Edward had folded his hands on his knee. "And you have such aspirations for yourself as well, do you not?"

The boy's pale eyebrows rose a bit, but he smiled. "Indeed I do, sir. But my brother Spencer and my own brothers have agreed that I must stay here until I am sixteen. Then I shall be sent out to one of them and, if the life suits me, and I daresay it will, if I wish when I am eighteen my brothers will assist me in purchasing a commission in the Royal Navy."

"And how old are you now?"

"But fourteen, sir."

"Ah."

There was silence in the room for a moment, but not an uncomfortable one. It was broken when Master Caleb finally rose from Pilot's side and asked if there were any little boys or girls in the household.

Edward laughed, and Master Chauncey hastily shushed his nephew, but Caleb was not to be gainsaid.

"There might be, you know," he corrected his uncle. "They might be in the nursery." He turned serious eyes, the color of a cup of morning chocolate, to me. "I have a new baby brother at home and he is always in the nursery."

This made Edward laugh harder, and Chauncey blush, but I laid a hand on top of the Caleb's downy head.

"There is indeed, a little girl, named Adele. She is at her lessons presently but I am sure you shall meet her soon."

"Is she old enough to play?"

I suppose I should have found the child impertinent, but in fact his frank manners charmed me. "She is just ten."

"That is old," he observed. "And a girl is not so good a playmate as a boy would be. But I imagine she will do."

"Well said, Mr. Spencer, well said," my master told him.

Master Chauncey cleared this throat. "Caleb, that is enough." To us he added, "I do apologize. He is so little that he does not know how to behave on a social call. We should probably be going. My sister made me promise we would not make a nuisance of ourselves."

"Nonsense. Both your presences are most diverting," Edward corrected him. "You may stay as long as you like."

"I am sure they are expected home soon, sir," I corrected my husband gently. To Chauncey, who still looked a trifle embarrassed, I said. "Please tell your sister we were most glad she sent you and your nephew. We are heartily glad to meet with such kind people so near to us."

The young man's cheeks turned as red as apples. "Thank you, ma'am."

I rang the bell, and Mrs. Fairfax and Pilot escorted both uncle and nephew out of the room. I watched from the window as John brought their horse, a fine brown mare. He then helped Master Caleb mount up behind his uncle. As the unlikely pair trotted away down the lane I turned back to my husband.

"So there are two of our new neighbors. And are you amused, my dear Edward?"

"I am indeed, Jane." He patted the footstool in front of him. "Now tell me all about them."

I sat and did as he bade.

"Master Chauncey is a fine looking boy, already quite tall for his age. He has a quantity of fair hair that rather hangs in his eyes, and bright blue eyes. I am afraid his cravat was a bit crooked. But I daresay in a few more years he will quite a handsome young man indeed."

"And the little jester?"

"Small and round and sturdy, like a proper boy should be. His hair is also fair, but in a riot of curls around his sunny little face. He has a wide rosy mouth that smiled near the whole time he was in the room."

"Cherubic?" Edward suggested.

"Hardly. One knee was stained with what looked like berry juice, and his freckles lend him a decidedly mischievous air."

"Good. I cannot bear a boy that is better than he ought to be. And I like his manners."

"Of course you do. They are rather like your own. But I am sure he shall be a fine playmate for Adele."

Edward nudged me with his boot. "Perhaps some boyish enthusiasm may take the last of that French fussiness out of her. And you know, even Master Chauncey may tolerate having her about."

(I shall confess to you now, reader, because you may be curious, that although Edward and I could not have known it at the time, Chauncey Wheeler would in nine years time become Adele's husband. But that is a story I shall relate another time.)

"Perhaps. I shall write to Mrs. Spencer this afternoon and thank her kindly for sending them."

Edward laid a hand on my head for a brief moment, then rose. "A good plan, I should think. And I am glad to see that there may be some sensible people in the neighborhood after all, even if they are all under the age of eighteen."