Chapter 8

I had grown so accustomed to the warm and sunny climate of coastal France that I was growing more intolerant of the chill rain and wind of an English winter. The journey north to Morton was most uncomfortable as I felt stifled and cramped in the coach, but took little relief when I left it. I often felt sick and even faint.

It was a relief, however, to leave the coach when it brought me to a crossroads called Whitcross - a signpost where four roads met. Here I was greeted by my cousin St. John Rivers.

I was quite surprised to see my cousin for the first time. He was nothing like me in terms of physiognomy. He was tall with fair hair and bright blue eyes. His face so symmetrical and his features so regular that one could believe he was chiseled marble made flesh. Could this man truly be my cousin?

"Miss Eyre," he greeted me coolly. "Welcome to Morton. We are most pleased to have your here."

"Thank you, sir," I said. "Are we very near your home?"

He replied, "I hope you do not mind walking. It is not close, but we have no conveyance available to us. You are up to the task I hope."

Normally I would have not hesitated to answer as I had come to love long walks, but the sickness and fatigue from which I had been suffering gave me pause. I was beginning to know all too well just how unfit I was becoming for such strenuous activity. Still, I felt I did not want to displease my cousin. "I am. Please lead the way."

We talked little as we walked. I asked him a few questions about the village and his home and family. He did not give me very detailed answers. He did not appear to be trying to check inquiry, but was also not trying to encourage it. He asked me little about my own journey, but also asked me no questions about where I had been prior to my learning of my inheritance. For this I was grateful.

We finally arrived at Moor House where St. John's two sisters were eagerly awaiting my arrival. They were far happier to see me than their brother had been. The introductions were cheerful.

"Do sit down," Diana said removing my bonnet and taking my gloves. "Mary, have Hannah make some tea."

Mary left the room to do so and reappeared quickly. "Tea will be ready soon. I do so hope you are up to talking. We want to find out all about you. I also hope you are not too fatigued by having to walk the whole way."

I first felt a certain fear when Mary said she wanted to know all about me, but then it seemed I was ready with my answer for how tired I was. Before I had a chance to sit, I fainted.

I came to consciousness on a sofa with Diana hovering over me with a cool cloth on my forehead.

"Stand back," I heard St. John say. "Give her some room."

I sat up slowly as Mary and Diana attempted to protest. "I'm all right," I said. "I'm so sorry to have trouble you like this. I don't feel this is the best of introductions."

Diana quickly responded. "It's no trouble. You are clearly exhausted. We should not have made you walk. St. John, you should have tried to find a neighbor to hire to drive her."

I protested that I was used to walking and things like this rarely happened to me. I assured them I was well. They were finally able to stop worrying. I was able to sit up and consume my tea heartily. I found I had an invigorated appetite if not invigorated energy.

We spent the rest of the evening in lively conversation. The more I talked to my cousins, the better I liked them. I tried to keep my history vague. I told them I had been raised a dependent by my maternal aunt-in-law and sent to Lowood school for education. I finished my story with my tenure as a governess at Thornfiled. They did not need to know anything beyond that, not yet.

When I woke up the next morning I felt as I did when I first arrived. I was tired and nearly sick as well. I met my cousins for breakfast and they all noticed it right away.

"Jane," exclaimed Diana as I arrived in the breakfast room, "are you still tired from your journey? You look unwell."

Mary smiled. "Such a pleasant greeting first thing in the morning, Di. I'm sure all Jane needs is some breakfast."

St. John then chimed in, "Yes, I'm sure some breakfast is all she needs." He then aimed a penetrating stare in my direction. "Is that correct Jane?"

"Certainly, sir," I mumbled, reaching for the tea that their servant Hannah had just poured for me. I felt little hunger, but managed to eat enough to avoid any further questions from the Rivers family.

I began spending my days with Diana and Mary, enjoying amiable conversations, joining them on their quest to learn German, and drawing and painting with them. They were much better learned than I and I derived both greater knowledge and much pleasure from our time together.

St. John kept apart from us. He was tireless in his duties to attend the sick and suffering in the parish, and perform his ministerial duties, and was often out. When he was home with us, he would often sit with us while we talked, but would say little. He often seemed to be examining me. I did my best to hide my discomfort, but there seemed little I could hide from St. John Rivers.

I learned that St. John did not intend to spend his life as a parson in Morton. His intention was to go to India as a missionary in the spring. On the rare occasions he spent time in conversation with Mary, Diana, and me, he would become animated and eager when the topic was introduced. He felt that life as a simple village parson would not use all of his talents and would not truly glorify God properly. He wanted to do something meaningful and heroic. He realized that a missionary life would fulfill all of his desires to be a soldier, statesman, and orator as well as priest.

Diana and Mary were not so pleased with St. John's decision. They had hoped that his new fortune might persuade him to stay in Morton. A local young woman, Rosamond Oliver was quite fond of him and it seemed the feelings were mutual. She was the daughter of Morton's sole rich man and it was always thought that one reason why St. John would not marry her was because he would bring no fortune to the marriage. With five thousand pounds he might be persuaded to stay and marry Miss Oliver. This was not the case. Even with a fortune St. John would not give up his scheme.

"It is noble and heroic, but it breaks my heart," Diana said.

"We lost our father. We nearly lost home. Now we will lose our brother," Mary added.

When the subject of India arose, there was nothing I could do to console my cousins. I could only commiserate. I hated that I had found an adopted brother of my own and yet would lose him again so quickly.

I did not know just how quickly I would lose him.

I was rarely ever not in the presence of Diana and Mary, but one afternoon they chanced to be out of the house while I had stayed behind. St. John had stayed behind as well. I was not entirely comfortable with this. I still feared St. John, still felt him watching me, seeming to judge me. Could he see inside my thoughts? Could he see what secrets I hid? I was about to find out.

St. John was at his desk while I sat on the parlor sofa and sketched. He suddenly rose and approached me.

"Miss Eyre," he said (this was odd as I had expressed a wish that he use my given name as he would with his sisters). "I must speak to you about something quite important."

"Very well, sir," I said. "Please sit down."

He took a seat opposite me. He took a deep breath.

"Miss Eyre," he hesitated a moment, stumbled over his words, rubbed his hands together before finally continuing. "Miss Eyre, as a clergyman I spend much of my time among the sick and ailing. I have witnessed much in a short time. I have seen the ways in which women can stumble."

He took another pause. He looked at me as if expecting a response. I could say nothing. He finally continued.

"It appears to me, from all I have witnessed since your arrival, that you are with child."

He spoke the words I never dared say aloud, that I rarely ever dared think of. I realized then that I could no longer outwardly deny what had happened to me. I refused to look at him. I said nothing.

"You don't deny it?" He asked.

"No sir," I replied.

"You have not left anything out of your past. You are not, and have never been married."

"No sir."

"What have you to say for yourself?"

"I have nothing to say. You are correct. I am with child. What else can I say?"

He stood up. His eyes flashed angrily. "How can you sit there and give no account for yourself? Have you no shame? Is there not a shred of decency left in you? What dishonor have you brought into my home?"

I should have been terrified, but somehow I found the courage to not only answer him, but defy him. "I did not come here to bring dishonor to your home. You invited me here, St. John. I did not realize the conditions for accepting your invitation."

My sarcasm angered him more, but his dramatic rages only began to seem more comic and easier to defy. "What brazen words you speak! I cannot believe that you have no sense of shame whatsoever."

I replied, "I have more shame than I ever cared to carry in this lifetime. However, I cannot let shame stop me from living my life and doing what I must do."

"So what is it you plan to do, Miss Eyre? How will you live out your life with your bastard child?"

I answered, "I shall move someplace where no one knows me and pass as a widow. I have my inheritance to help keep myself." Hitherto I had never considered this plan, but as I spoke it aloud, it made sense to me.

"What of the child's father?" he asked.

"What of him?" I replied.

"Is he aware of this? Does he plan to do right by you?"

"He is not aware of this," I answered. "I do not wish for him to know."

"Who is he?" St. John demanded angrily.

I told him the truth. "He was my former employer. He loved me very much and wished to marry me."

St. John was now sarcastic. "Oh yes. He was in love and wished to marry you - just as all men say when they are about to seduce a young girl. Miss Eyre, you are not only brazen, you are foolish as well. I thought better of you."

I was angry now. "He does love me. He loves me very much. He didn't marry me because he was already married."

"Well, that just explains everything, doesn't it?" St. John said. He seduced you and he was already married."

I tried to explain, but the story sounded bizarre even to my ears. "His wife is a lunatic. He had kept her shut up under watch and ward. No one knew of her. No one knew he was married. Neither of us knew that Mr. Briggs was also her brother's solicitor. Uncle John sent Briggs and her brother to stop the wedding - at the very altar."

St. John did not like the story any more. "So this lying, deceitful man was caught in an act of bigamy. Yet you still say you love him."

I finished the story for St. John. "I loved him enough to ignore my conscience and live with him in France for three months."

St. John was silent. He had always been cold and hard and emotionless. This outburst of rage seemed to have exhausted him. He was breathing deeply trying to calm himself as he contemplated what to say to me next. After some minutes, he finally spoke.

"Miss Eyre, I want you to leave Moor House. I cannot expose my sisters to this. I cannot sully my family name this way. You must go and make haste. I wish you luck and I will keep you in my prayers. I hope this is the end of your wicked ways and that you have learned your lesson."

Tears began to drip from my eyes. I had found a family, a haven, a home. Now I was being cast out. I knew St. John would have no pity for me. I wiped my eyes and simply said, "It grows later and it appears to be snowing outside. May I stay tonight?"

"Yes. I do not wish to throw you out thus. Please stay as long as you need to make proper arrangements, but do not tarry."

"Thank you," I said. I turned and left the room.

Mary and Diana returned. Neither St. John nor I said anything to them. I decided I would wait till morning to tell them I was leaving. Mary and Diane both seemed concerned about my health at supper for I looked more unwell than ever. I was grateful that St. John said nothing to them. I did want to tell them the truth, but hoped that St. John wouldn't tell them first.