A/N Welcome to the gypsy scene--so far I haven't gone too far off the rails of the original--just you wait!
A SURFEIT OF SOCIETY
He did try to speak to me the next day, but it was impossible as his attention was constantly being called to his guests and their entertainment. I was still required to be in the Drawing Room in the evenings, but it seemed that Lady Ingram's interest had shifted from me to the interesting picture made by her daughter Blanche, and Mr. Rochester as the young lady returned his smiles and encouraged his compliments. It was an odd sort of courtship, if courtship was what it was; he didn't really seem involved with what he was saying and doing. It was almost as if he was acting a part in a play.
Certainly he was attentive to her, but something was lacking in his expression when he smiled or spoke to her. Nonetheless, it seemed likely that he would marry her—she was the most suitable in terms of rank, being the daughter of the late Baron Ingram, Mrs. Fairfax had said that the family was not as wealthy as formerly; and Miss Ingram was now twenty-five, and in danger of spinsterhood if she did not marry soon.
They all went out on picnics and excursions; when it rained they played at Charades, and danced, and played card games. Mr. Rochester had to go away on business one rainy day—everyone seemed bored in his absence. Miss Ingram moped about over a book which I doubted she was actually reading; the older ladies were involved in a game of Whist; the other young ladies were practicing their music and embroidery; while occasional conversation and laughter was heard from the Billiards Room where the young men had congregated; the older gentlemen were to be found in the Library where they could smoke and share the latest County news.
Adele ran up to me and said that there was a carriage arriving; she was sure that it was Mr. Rochester returning; there was a general stir in the room, and Miss Ingram went to the window overlooking the courtyard to see what was occurring. She drew back into the room, saying that it was a stranger, not Mr. Rochester, and gave Adele a look of disdain.
Sam was soon at the door to say that there was a gentleman just arrived, an old acquaintance of Mr. Rochester's, and since his friend was not present to introduce him; he would beg the indulgence of the guests to receive him. The ladies agreed to this and the other gentlemen, who had left the Library for the Drawing Room on hearing of the new arrival, were in agreement also.
So it was that Mr. Richard Mason joined the company there assembled. It seemed that he had known Mr. Rochester for a long time; having met him in Jamaica when they were both young men. I noticed that he seemed to feel the cold—even though he was in the house, he had retained his fur-lined cloak and kept it wrapped about him as he sat by the fireside. In appearance, he was handsome enough and well-dressed; but there was something about him that struck me as being a trifle "off". I could not discern what it was precisely that disturbed me, I just felt somehow uneasy about him.
Soon, there was another distraction as Sam came to say that there was a Fortune-teller who had come to the door, offering to read the Tarot and reveal the future to those who were interested. The young people were particularly enthralled at the notion as a previous plan to visit the Gypsy Camp nearby had been cancelled, due to the rain. Sam was sent to see what the Sibyl's requirements might be; he soon returned to say that the old woman would see only the young unmarried ladies; and those only one at a time; and that she was now installed in the Library, awaiting the pleasure of the Company.
Miss Ingram was quick to seize the opportunity, and put herself forward despite her Mother's nervous objections. Some time passed before she returned, and when she came back there was a frown on her face and she turned aside the eager questions that were being put to her as to her fortune and what the Gypsy was like. She seated herself in silence and refused all conversation.
Meanwhile the other young ladies had entreated Sam to petition in their behalf that they be allowed to visit in a group rather than singly. They at last received a positive answer to their request and skipped out the door in their eagerness to know what they might expect in the coming time. They were not gone as long as Miss Ingram and they too, returned a bit subdued, yet full of chatter about their mutual experience. It was generally agreed amongst them that this was a person of extraordinary powers; for everything the old woman had told them was true; they found themselves much amazed by her clairvoyant abilities.
It seemed that she not only knew what their favorite things were: novels, colors, music; but also she had told each one of them who her favorite person was—a matter that the young men expressed an immediate wish to know—but their inquiries were turned aside with blushes and giggles from the young ladies, who refused to answer their importunings.
I became aware that Sam had returned to the Drawing Room and that he was trying to get my attention. He told me that the Gypsy had insisted that there was still a young lady who had not been in to have her fortune told; he had decided that I must be the person in question. I had been full of curiosity about this exotic visitor and was very pleased to have the opportunity to see for myself what a Fortune teller was like. I, therefore, rose and made my way to the Library.
That room resembled a book-lined cave this evening, being almost in darkness saving only the firelight on the hearth. The old woman was seated by the fire apparently trying to make out the words in a little book that she was holding close to the light from the flames. At my entrance, she glanced up and then indicated that I should come closer with a gesture. Such a strange creature as she seemed to be—all shawls and elf-locks peeping out of her old-fashioned bonnet which was tied down with a scarf which nearly eclipsed her face. Indeed, her face was in the shadow, though she sat so close to the light.
She pointed to a place before her, on the hearth-rug, and told me to kneel there, so that she could see my face. Filled with curiosity, I obeyed her directions. She said nothing more for a while, being content apparently to meditate upon her mysteries while she studied me. I became restless after a bit as the fire was hotter than I liked. She spoke finally--"You are a most extraordinary young lady, little Miss—have you no wish to know your fortune? You ask me no questions—is there nothing you wish to know?"
I spoke in my turn, "The fire is too hot—I am not comfortable. As for knowing my future—you expressed a wish for me to come here—presumably so that you could tell it to me."
I was justly scolded, "Impertinent! I knew it would be so when I looked at you! But, you have not paid me yet!"
I sighed, pulled out my purse, and held out a penny. "Put it there on the table," said she, "Now, as to the method: show me your hand--no that will not do, the lines are so small and fine I can scarcely make them out. Well, we shall see what the cards say--pick up the pack there and do as I tell you." I did so reluctantly—the cards were very old and greasy. She directed me to cut the pack several times and then to lay the cards out in a certain pattern. I followed her instructions.
She peered intently at the pattern the cards made—picked one or two of them up and studied them closely, and then sat back in the chair to made her pronouncements. "There is something you want very much; if you had it, your life would be completely different; but you do nothing towards achieving it. You are too passive—you should act with more decision, be bolder to seek your objective. See, here is the Queen of Hearts, and here is her King, but between them I see the Jester and the Knave—and here I see a journey beset with troubles—yet all may come right in the end."
By now, I had become a bit suspicious of this seeming Fortune-teller. Something about her was wrong—her speech was not that of an ignorant country woman. I assessed her appearance, the face that kept to the shade, the bulk and size of her, and—the ring on her finger! I had seen that ring many times before this—it belonged to Mr. Rochester! I went on the attack—I had been told that I should be bold—very well, I could follow instruction as well as the next person. "Now," said I, "We shall see a thing or two! Either you are a thief or—you are Mr. Rochester! Which is it?"
There was a sputter of laughter from the chair's occupant, "I am unmasked indeed, you little witch! How did you do it?" With that, he stood, and began shedding shawls, scarves and various articles of disguise until he appeared in his usual garb. I stood at a safe distance from the disturbance, until I seemed to be free of the threatened encumbrances of the "Gypsy's" wrappings. He came towards me still chuckling, and threatened to put the old hat on my head, but I stared him down.
"I am most annoyed with you, sir! You have presented yourself under false pretenses and have been making game of us all."
"Not of you—I can assure you that what I saw in your cards was true—every word of it!"
"I take leave to doubt it—there is no truth in you—I am certain of that!"
"What's this? All these fireworks and it's not Guy Fawkes Night—are you really so annoyed with me! I apologize for any anxiety I may have caused you, but I only meant it as a joke of sorts—just a little diversion. Please forgive me, I didn't intend to alarm you."
"It was not very kind of you—whatever did you tell Miss Ingram, she looked quite grim when she returned; and the others were so full of giggles we couldn't get a sensible word out of them."
"Ah ah, those are the Gypsy's secrets, they may not be revealed!" said he with a reminiscent smile. "Come, sit down, no one knows I am here—it's been so long since we could talk."
"It's your fault, after all—you invited these people—you will have to suffer their company until they go home!" A heavy sigh was my answer. "Oh, by the way, speaking of company—did you know that you have another guest?"
"What? Who could it be? I was not expecting anyone else!"
"This is a very unusual specimen—says he has known you for a long time—he comes from the West Indies, and his name is Richard Mason."
The effect this announcement had on my Master was as shocking to me, as it evidently was to him. His normally olive complexion went paper-white, his eyes were staring without seeing, he somehow stumbled his way to a chair and sat down—his head in his hands. "Jane, please, could you get me some Brandy from the Dining Room?"
I hurried off on my mission—they were all at dinner in the Dining Room—several of them glanced up as I came and went as quietly as possible on my quest for the wine. Miss Ingram in particular, frowned at my activity; I suppose she thought I was taking a liberty. I hurried back to my Master's side with the requested remedy for his sudden affliction.
He was looking better when I returned—some of the color had come back to his face—he stretched out his hand for the brandy-glass—downed it in one gulp as though it were medicine—closed his eyes for a moment—then taking a deep breath, he thanked me for my assistance and asked me what they were doing in the Dining Room.
"The usual, I suppose, they were laughing and talking—nothing out of the ordinary."
"Was Richard Mason there?"
"Yes, they seem to have accepted his as one of the company; he was laughing at something Mr. Eshton said."
"Please, would you go back there and taking him to one side, ask Mr. Mason to come here to me? After that, you may go about your usual routine. Thank you for your help and Good Night my little... friend."
I did as he had requested, and went on my way; but I wondered at his actions. The Gypsy scene had been strange, but his reaction to the news of Richard Mason's arrival was even more peculiar and what had that odd little hesitation meant when he had called me his "little...friend"?
Next will come Mr. Mason's mishap--the really good stuff is not far ahead, oh patient readers. Gotta do the build-up first, y'know.
