It's a very strange experience to be alone in the world when you're so young. I wanted adventure, but I sook security at the same time. As the carriage took me towards my new home at Thornfield Hall, I had plenty of time to think. I could only pray that my new employer, Madame Bonnefoy, was better than my stepfather. 'But if worse comes to worse, I can leave.' I thought.
Thornfield Hall was outside a small village. The house was dark when I arrived, as it was night-time, except for one candlelit room. Inside that room was a cheerful fire. Madame Bonnefoy was an elderly lady with greying hair, dressed in white and red. She was kitting a small blue outfit, and I felt happier as she reminded me of my mother.
"Am I meeting Miss Bonnefoy tonight?" I asked her.
She nodded. "Oui, one of them." she said.
"Is she your daughter?"
"Non."
I didn't ask any more questions. I didn't want to seem rude in Madame Bonnefoy's home. We talked for some time, as she was a lively woman who loved talking about everything and nothing and had a French accent, and when I went to my room I felt happy and safe at least. In the morning, I got up early and walked in the gardens. There I met Madame again.
"Thornfield Hall is a pretty place," she said. "I wish that my son would live here all the time."
"Your son?" I asked.
"He owns the manor," she replied. "Inherited it from his father. Your student is his niece, my granddaughter Michelle. She's just come here from Seychelles. My daughter Lucille lives here as well, but she'll be leaving soon for Monaco."
As she spoke, a girl ran across the lawn. She was about seven or eight, slight with dark skin and black hair falling to her waist. She was polite to me, if energetic, and I spoke in French to her to put her at ease. I assumed that since her grandmother spoke with a French accent and had a French surname, the family must be French. When we had eaten breakfast, she sang to me and recited a poem that her mother, the master's sister, had taught her before her death. It was about fish and fruit juice. I taught Michelle only in the morning. That afternoon, Madame showed me around the house.
"My son's visits are rare," she told me. "He spends a lot of time with his friends, so I never know when he'll arrive, so I have to keep the rooms ready all the time."
"Is he a good man?" I asked, slightly nervous about asking a mother about her son.
"Usually, unless someone insults his cooking," she replied. "But I don't know whether he's serious or not when he speaks."
We reached some small rooms at the top of the house. From there, we walked out onto the roof. The view was wonderful. As I came back down and wandered along the corridor, I suddenly heard a laugh. It stopped. Then it began again, even louder. Madame caught up with me. "One of the servants," she explained, "probably Tolys Laurinaitis. He usually does this. He sews in one of these rooms."
As she spoke, the laugh sounded again. It was unhappy and chilled me. The door nearest to me opened and a man came out – he was tall with a meek face.
"Too loud, Tolys!" Madame called out.
I often went up to the roof to enjoy the view – and I often heard Tolys's laugh. Sometimes, he spoke in a low voice, although I couldn't understand what he was saying.
One afternoon in January, Michelle was ill and I agreed to let her have the day in bed. It was a fine but very cold day. I offered to post a letter for Madame to her daughter because I wanted to walk. About a mile from Thornfield Hall and halfway to the village, I sat down to rest on a bench. I stayed there until the sun sank crimson behind the trees and the moon was rising. I liked the countryside. The noise of a horse broke the silence. Suddenly, it slipped on a sheet of ice, throwing its rider to the ground. I ran over to him.
"Are you okay?" I asked. "I can get help from Thornfield Hall." Though I doubted I could run fast enough to get help before he died of exposure.
"Non je vous remercie," he replied. "I haven't broke any bones. Only sprained my ankle."
I could see him clearly in the moonlight. He was a man of about twenty-six, although his beard made him look closer to thirty-five, with pale skin but a handsome face and thin eyebrows, not bushy like my own. I offered again to go for help.
"Do you know Monsieur Bonnefoy?" he asked.
"No," I replied. "I haven't met him."
"Es-tu…?" he stopped and looked at my simple green clothes, not black like a governor's should be because Mrs Bonnefoy thought black looked gaudy.
"I'm the governor there," I told him.
He set off again, leading his horse with a bird cage strapped to its side (I felt sorry for the poor bird) – and I went to post the letter. When I returned to Thornfield Hall, there was fire burning brightly in Madame's room – but no Madame. Instead, all alone, sitting on a table near the fire was a bird cage with a white bird inside like the one I had seen strapped to the horse's side. It looked at me and chirped happily. A servant, Laura if I remembered correctly, entered the room.
"Whose bird is this?" I asked her.
"Pierre?" she replied. "He's just arrived with Monsieur Bonnefoy. Poor Francis fell from his horse of the way here."
'So, I've finally met the master of Thornfield Hall," I thought to myself.
A/N: Characters introduced:
Mrs Bonnefoy = Gaul (she's France's mother, her given name is meant to be Lea)
Michelle Bonnefoy = Seychelles (she's France's niece in this fic)
Lucille Bonnefoy = Monaco (she's not based off any character in the Bronte novel, but I had to add her in since France treats her like a sister in the manga)
Tolys Laurinaitis = Lithuania (according to HetaFacts, this is a more accurate spelling of his name)
Laura = Belgium (I know she's usually called Bella but Laura is actually one of the names Himaruya suggested for her)
