Disclaimer: The characters of Jane Eyre are not mine, but they are in the public domain these days, so I take the liberty of using them. The names of the towns of Congleton and Great Budworth do exist, but I'm not sure that they are geographically close to each other.
Note: As you can see there are some things I have omitted for the sake of this fanfic, for example the fact that St. John knows of Jane's past relationship with Rochester; in my story Rivers knows nothing of this. In this fiction Jane and the Rivers are not cousins, and she has not inherited any money from her uncle in Madeira...That's about all I have omitted. Enjoy and Review!!!!
Chapter Three
A sharp intake of breath, an enormous weight obstructing my chest as if I had been deserted by life. I felt myself grow cold; I felt my hands tremble as they let go of the delicate teacup they had been holding a few moments ago...and then everything lost its sense in my mind. I was severely perturbed; it was difficult to fill my lungs with refreshing air; I think I must have been paralyzed. No, I did not faint, but I was as pale as a corpse, or so St. John would later tell me; I could see his preoccupied expression as he observed the sudden change which had taken place within me; his last words resounding in my head, echoing in my heart: A Mr. Edward F. Rochester. Oh no...it could not be...
Slowly my voice returned to me, my senses responded again; eventually, my breathing became more regular, less wild; I could venture to talk again, I was able to rely on my voice once more.
"I am sorry" I said, my right hand massaging my temples, my eyes closed; the very image of a distressed young woman. "I...It was foolish to go for a walk today, for I was too weary for exercise; I have been having troublesome nights...I need to rest" I attempted a faint smile to cover my unsettled features; I was not a deceiving woman, but under certain circumstances, I would let myself be tempted by an easy escape.
"But Jane, are you sure you are well?" His voice was full with unacknowledged concern; I was, after all, his wife and sole companion, and he was not a person to wish ill for his fellow men. The library was impregnated by an ominous silence, and for a lengthy lapse of time not a word was said.
"Yes, perhaps you are being too incautious with your health, for it is most unsuitable for a woman to spend her delicate and limited strength in useless, endless walks; you have tired yourself in an unladylike fashion, woman!" John had finally felt the need to break the stillness. His intonation had changed, and the masked worrisomeness had fled his speech, giving place to his customary uncaring language.
My husband was one of those men, so abundant in our days, who considered women to be frail creatures destined to spend their lifetimes imprisoned away from the world, keeping on living only because such was the desire of their fathers, brothers or husbands; but I would never accept such an antediluvian notion, for we are the equal of men, that proud gender who would die rather than surrender their liberty. However, in my present predicament, I was incapable of sustaining an intellectual and philosophical sparring with my religious, traditionalist husband; furthermore, it was for my benefit to play the pathetic part of the demoiselle en detresse.
"Yes, of course, St. John. I have a weak nature, and I deliberately shunned away all concerns for my physical well being, only to spend a few hours in the open; of course it was an entirely unladylike behavior". I had learned, over the years, that nothing gave a greater satisfaction to St. John than an argument easily won. "Oh, but say, you did not finish telling me about this far off little town where we shall live...What is it called, by instance?"
"But in your present state, I wonder if we should postpone this talk". He was clearly dismissing me, for he had already left his armchair, where he had been resting, and was presently leafing a heavy volume, which was clearly a Bible.
"Do not fret for me, I will go directly to bed, and giving me such details could hardly excite my fatigued constitution". Were we to inhabit any place near Thornfield Hall, that old house where I had tasted the sweetness of Heaven for a short time? How could this ever be, Mr. Rochester becoming our landlord? I needed to know more.
"It is not so far off, from here, as you seem to believe, Jane" He did not deign to look at me, while he addressed me those words, for the Word of God, was surely more interesting than my plain visage. "It is an insignificant village named Great Budworth, near the larger town of Congleton...I suppose you have never heard of these locations? That is why I saw no use in telling you their names" He was still absorbed by his evangelical reading.
I was astonished, greatly dumbfounded; he had said that we were to inhabit my former employer's lands, and so I had expected him to announce me that we were to live in Hay, the remote village near the industrial town of Millcote, in the vicinity of Thornfield; but he had spoken of places I had never heard of; a strange feeling grew in my heart; was I condemned to be followed by the memory of my impossible lover? Was he determined to follow me until I expelled my last breath on this Earth?
"Great Budworth? Congleton? And where is that?" I managed to ask, lost as I was, still seated on my low stool, near the mantelpiece.
St. John, lazily leaning on a bookshelf, lifted his face towards me, a bored gaze marring his Greek, symmetrical looks. "Eh? You are still there? I thought you would be gone, by now". This man had the unnerving capacity of being rude while remaining polite, always conducting himself in that calm demeanor of his.
"I know you are eager to be left alone, but I beg you to bear with me for a while longer". I was by now fully recovered from the surprising blow I had received, my practical spirit reigning over my pitiful sensibilities. "But I am rightly interested to know more about this new location, which we are soon to call "home"; it is just natural, for it concerns me as well". My observation skills were back, and so I became aware of the frightful disaster I had made in those minutes where I had lost my reasoning, where my body had been deprived of its faculties; my teacup, the one I had been holding, lay now shattered at my feet, amidst a pool of tea bathing the wooden floor.
"I cannot see why you are so very inquisitive about this village where my new parish stands. I guarantee you that you have never set foot on those unknown lands..." His neutral voice trailed off, a manner of his to indicate that he wished to end the dialog.
I knew I had to be satisfied with those vague answers; I had to be patient to learn more about this unwelcome twist of fate. I stood up and went directly to my bedchamber, not paying attention to the spilled tea, not minding the scattered pieces of the broken teacup, and fully ignoring my husband's bewildered glance as he saw me leave the library without cleansing the offended wooden floor.
"Jane," his implacable voice said, "I do agree that you are not quite your usual self today; you are forgetting to mend your earlier little misfortune with the tea." St. John was a meticulous, orderly man, and so he was greatly annoyed by any minuscule breach of cleanliness; however, he was not a man of action himself, but had the habit of ordering others around to keep his humble abode spotless. In that day though, I was so completely entranced by internal vicissitudes, that I was not aware of his demanding words...or was it simply that I did not feel in the mood of taking heed of them?
My chamber was cool in that enchanting spring afternoon, an odor of wild flowers assaulted my sanctuary, carried by the mild wind which came from the garden just beneath my window. But I was too immersed in my musings to perceive that simple beauty, drowning as I was in the dirty waters of hopelessness. What a mocking trick of life, to be reunited with him again! I had endeavored to escape his very shadow, and yet we were to be confronted once more. I was convinced that when the dreaded day of recognition came, I would be incapable of raising my eyes to his, fearful of the agony he would read in my artless regard; and his eyes...I could never permit my senses to be lost in the abyss of those eyes; oh, I knew my hands would ache to feel the warmth of his skin, to trace the lines of his jaw, and my fingers would feel the impudent need to follow the exciting path towards his lips...Stop it, Jane Eyre! Free as you are in your mind, savage as you are in your heart, before God and men you are now in the possession of another, his wedded prisoner until that secret hour when death shall have mercy on you; these unlawful thoughts of elysian bliss will only take you the sooner to Hell.
An obnoxious headache was beginning to insinuate itself upon my poor brain, and my temples were on fire. I lay down on my bed, fully clothed, contemplating the unadorned ceiling, a thousand images flying in and out of my head, trying to solve the riddle St. John had presented me with. We were not to occupy the rustic church in Hay, but if that was the case, how were we to be connected to Thornfield? Great Budworth and Congleton? During the months I had been Adele's governess, I never heard someone refer to those foreign places, so I could gather that they were not in the surrounding fields of Mr. Rochester's manor. But then, was my master going to adopt the role of a distant landlord to us?
I felt myself drifting off to sleep, the warmth ambiance inducing me to drowsiness; but I was snapped out a deepening slumber by a sudden realization: he possessed another home, erected in a different region, far from the ancient house of the battlements! That had to be the solution of this mystifying enigma...What was it called? He had not mentioned that other estate very often, perhaps out of dislike for the place, and I could not recall the given title of this hinted emplacement, but I was sure that he had indeed told me of it. Had he installed his entire household there to abandon Thornfield Hall to the ravages of time and inattention? Why so? He had once implied the fact that he could have locked away his...I had an unexplained difficulty thinking of these words... his wife...yes, he could have forgotten her there, left in that country house, but he had judged its remote location too prompt to promote illness and decay. What was it that had pushed him to establish himself in such an unkempt environment? Unless he was searching for an escape from the pains of disappointed love; if that was so, I was extremely qualified to comprehend the reasons that were urging him onwards, all the way to the edge of his world.
A wooden trunk that creaked on its rusted hinges contained all of my worldly belongings. St. John had also prepared his luggage, but his possessions filled all of three trunks, for although his garments were few, the important number of his precious books occupied quite a large space. Happily we did not have the necessity to encumber ourselves with sturdy, voluminous furniture, for the chairs, tables and other such items that were distributed around the rectory did not belong to John but to the presbytery; a carriage would suffice largely to carry us along with our sparse material goods.
Mary, Diana and Hannah, after having learned of our impending departure, came to stay with us for a few days. They did not hesitate to help us with our hasty preparations, expressing at every opportunity their desolated feelings, provoked by what they considered to be a very cruel desertion of ours; but their insensitive brother would not fail to rightly point out to them that this was but the first and lightest of several trials to come, and he tried, to no avail, to prepare them to the idea that one approaching day we would sail across oceans for the salvation of those who still lived in paganism and sin.
The days passed with an amazing rapidity that made me forget the slow monotony I had experienced not long ago. I had seen a number of letters travel between John's new vicar and my husband, but I was not told of the new informations I supposed to be sealed in those envelopes; the Reverend Rivers was a man who kept generally to himself.
Dear reader, in those days from the past, my heart was surrounded by a mist of anxiousness, for I could very well fear the threatening closeness of disaster; my reckless nature was torn apart, divided by the lugubrious promise of doom and the foolish, yet life infusing, certitude of being at his side once more, even if it cost me my life.
The appointed day presented itself, and I woke up long before dawn, accompanied by the shining stars decorating the inky night. Not half an hour later I was washed and ready to join St. John downstairs. I found him outside, dressed in comfortable clothes that suited him well, giving his elegant silhouette the allure of a fine voyager; he was discussing with a short, stocky man who would later reveal himself to be the coach driver.
Di, Mary and dear old Hannah were earnestly laboring in the kitchen, putting their efforts together to provide us with a basket full of fruit marmalades, hot bread of different kinds, sour pickles, ham sandwiches and other such delicacies; St. John and I would be mighty grateful of their thoughtfulness when hunger would torture our empty stomachs on our trip.
"Oh, Jane, do you think I have put enough sandwiches to last for the day?" asked Diana, a concerned tone filling her voice, as she was diligently cutting more bread, her beautiful hands covered with flour. "I would never forgive myself if St. John and you were to be famished! Oh, it must be an awfully long way...!" Her pale blue eyes looked at me, a saddened shade veiling their brilliance.
I inspected the box, and was amused of the exaggerated quantity of food that it held. " But Di, you could feed an entire battalion with all these concoctions!"
"Nonsense! It won't do for you both to go hungry!" She knew of her brother's unenthusiastic appetite, but I believe that dear Diana needed to be occupied by some self imposed task on that early morning of saying farewell, and so I let her be.
Mary's face showed her inner desolateness, and on Hannah's motherly eyes I could also discern a pitiful expression, and so I took it upon myself, even thought I was severely intimidated by the prospects of this trip myself, to cheer their spirits up.
"I promise I will write as soon as I cross the threshold of this new parish." So far I had entertained a fairly good epistolary relation with my sweet natured sisters-in-law. "And of course, you must promise that you will come to visit as soon as you are able to do so!" My attempts were rather successful and a weak smile illuminated Mary's handsome features.
"Oh Jane, but we do know how very occupied you shall be when arriving to your new home, so we do not ask of you to report to us as soon as that! But you must be certain that we intent to come to your side as quickly as humanly possible. I daresay Di and I will enjoy the change of scenery, and Hannah will need to make sure that St. John is eating well."
Hannah's regard was now humid, and some thin tears were already making a path down her rosy, full cheeks. "Ye must take care of him, mum...Ye know how he has no care for his health, and 'tis true that he eats very little; he was always like that, since he was a wee thing! Ye look after him..."
I put my arm around the matronly figure of the old woman; I knew that my husband was a most lucky man, for he had a handful of persons who held him very dear to their hearts; as for myself, I had never felt the wonderful sensation of being loved by my next of kin.
St. John's decided steps resounded in the corridor, and I knew that it was time to leave this kind women who had showered me with their affection since I had come here.
"I shall miss you all." My voice was almost a whisper, but it did not tremble. "Mary, Di...you are like sisters to me!" I took them both in an ample embrace, as we effusively kissed each other's cheeks.
"Silly, you are our sister!" Diana was laughing through her tears.
"Jane, the coach is ready, we must leave now." John's authoritarian voice cut short our sisterly adieu. Both young women turned towards their beloved sibling, and literally rushed to him, sobbing in a low, pitiful voice.
"St. John, say that you will take care of you! And you must find the time to write! And forget all those insensible ideas of going to India! We will be so miserably alone without you! You are going so far from us!" Their voices mingled together, their vehement words were not letting any opportunity to the composed man to respond to them, and so he just held them close to him, his chiseled features reposing against their heads. After a few moments Mary and Diana relented their emotional outbreak and became calmer.
"May God stay with you, may He protect you and keep you from all evil, my sisters." A brotherly kiss on their beautiful visages, and he released them.
"Hannah, will you keep an eye on them?" His cold demeanor had not changed; a casual witness might have thought that this religious man had no soft feelings for his two devoted sisters, but it would have been a lie, because his was a deep love towards these fine young women; however, he was not in the habit of demonstrating it.
The motherly servant agreed to the reverend's request; my spouse abandoned the kitchen with us following him as we made our way to the front door. The coach was already loaded, the driver gripping the reins of four strong horses that seemed to be ready to take the route towards other horizons.
I climbed into the carriage as best as I could, an accomplishment that was not easily won due to my small stature, and accommodated myself near the window, the basket containing our provisions beside me. St. John did the same but he preferred to sit in front of me, a bible between his hands. I heard the whip coming down on the animals, and we started our travel.
I turned my head to see one last time the homely group left behind us, their hands waving, and I slowly waved back, uncertain of what was to come, ignorant of what my Creator had prepared for me, fearful and hopeful of encountering the lord of my heart again.
The rhythmical oscillation, caused by the horses' swift pace, did not fail to induce me to a deep lethargy, silencing with its languor my irrepressible preoccupations.
Reader, our crusade was long and tedious, so I shall not extend myself on its description. Suffice it to say that it was tiring. We ate when we were hungry; St. John read for hours; I either slept or contemplated the dull landscape, but very few words were crossed between my scholarly husband and I. It was almost nightfall when our carriage stopped near a cemetery; not far behind the bleak tombs, the shape of a low church could be discerned, its stone walls were dark with age; the place exuded a forlorn atmosphere, and the last dying rays of light bathed the temple with a melancholic aura. We alighted from the coach; a path leaded to a modest building, inconsequential in size.
"That's it, Reverend Rivers. Evenwood Parish."Tis grander when one sees it by day, ye will see." The stocky driver introduced us to my husbands new pastoral charge by these simple words. Even though it was ancient, the rectory was plain and unimpressive, and so I doubted if sunlight could restore to it what it did not possess. On sunny days the place was surely well shaded, for a score of trees surrounded the resting inmates of the cemetery, extending their shadowy protection to the annexed house on the right side of the church. The said abode was still plainer than the church; its deserted aspect gave an impression of unhappiness. There was no populated areas around, but a tiny village was perceived one or two miles down the road. Such was our new domicile.
A discreet light poured out from one of the windows; there was someone inside. I was instantly apprehensive; no, my God, do not bring me face to face with him so soon, for I am not yet prepared, I prayed. I was dismayed by the thought that in that depressing little house our new squire might be waiting for us, an unknown parson and his wife. I knew he would be utterly surprised, I could almost imagine the betrayed look in his eyes when I would be presented to him as the wife of another man. But, perhaps, I was only flattering myself, for he could have forgotten me after our ill fated separation; perhaps he was no longer captivated by the quick tongue and common place looks of Jane Eyre, with her inelegant face and elfish, childlike figure.
But if it was indeed him, this could only predict sorrowful disgrace for me, for I would be exposed before my lawful husband as a woman who had a hidden past, while being despised, by the only man who had ever mattered to me, for marrying to someone else. What could I do? I could not move, but was somehow aware of John walking all the way to the door; I, myself, was drained of all will to follow him, for incertitude was a strong paralyzer. The short, stocky man who had conducted us here was hurriedly unloading our trunks, making his way amidst tombs.
I glanced around, looking for a horse or a carriage, for our visitor had indubitably not come on foot...Had he brought Mesrour? Was he followed by Pilot? Because I did not doubt that the stranger who was expecting us was no other than Mr. Rochester, he who held my bruised heart in his tender hand. I found neither coach nor beast, but maybe that should not astonish me, since my Edward...Oh, I must stop thinking of him in these terms! ...for he had a marked penchant for taking long walks in the fields; he was very fond of nature.
The resonance of St. John's fisted hand knocking on the wooden door fetched me back to the kingdom of reality; his tall frame obscured me almost completely, as I was behind him. The echoes of a heavy stride reached my sharp ears. I almost closed my eyes, as if preparing for the shock that was sure to come.
I awaited, knowing full well who would open that door, that insignificant barrier. And then the door was thrown opened, and a face revealed itself.
