= 8 =
The candle burned low and flickered incessantly, casting shadows across the ceiling. I lay upon my bed, watching the flame brighten and darken, creating transient, uncertain, monstrous shapes – the shape of my life. So exhausted was I that all I yearned for was sleep – but sleep was not forthcoming.
Closing my eyes, I tried to let my mind ride the waves to slumber, but hard as I tried, I could not find a way through the treacherous reef of faces that threatened to capsize me: the anxious faces of my friends as I stormed from supper; Jane's horrified expression when I finally revealed the truth; and most disturbingly, Bertha's manic eyes on my last visit to the North Tower – eyes that chanted, "Do not try to cross me – you know that I shall always win."
And she had won – yet again.
I was sick of it – sick of being trapped by deceit, sick of the travesty I lived, sick of slowly dying inside. Was there anything left for me – anything at all?
The answer came in the form of a knock on the door, and the muffled plea of, "Edward, may I come in?"
Blast – it was Arthur! The last person I wanted to see!
I lay perfectly still, but inevitably the knocks persisted.
"I know you're in there, man!"
"Be gone, Eshton!" I yelled.
"You shall not ruin yourself, Edward – I won't let you! Now please, let me in!"
I sighed. Dear Arthur, did he not know what a lost cause he championed? But I could ill afford to turn him away, knowing that he was the only person in the world who could ease my suffering.
Somehow I mustered the strength to haul myself to the door. I unbolted it, and there stood my friend, alone in the corridor. I admitted him silently before re-fastening the latch.
"Where is Blake?" I sternly asked.
"Gone back to The Connaught, but not before he begged me to tell you that his invitation is still and shall remain open."
"How generous of him," I sneered, "And shall you go with him?"
"Yes, I have no reason to turn him down – but I would still like you to come with us."
"And is this all you came here for?" I snapped impatiently. "If it is, then you are wasting your time!"
But he was not so easily turned away, instead saying gravely, "Edward, whoever she is, she is not worth destroying yourself for."
"What would you know when you have never loved?" I spat, before turning hastily away.
"You do not know that." I heard Arthur reply tremulously, "Though I may not have found my soul mate, it does not mean that I have never loved."
His wounded tone made me look back, and at once I saw the hurt I had inflicted on my friend.
I groaned at my own brutish behaviour. "I am sorry, Arthur – that was untoward. Come, let us sit."
I let him lead the way to the hearth where a pair of armchairs awaited. He seated himself warily in one of them while I flopped down in the other.
"Do not blame her for my current state, Arthur," I wearily implored, "For I'm afraid it was all self-inflicted."
"Self-inflicted? How so?"
I sighed. "It is a long and complicated story – are you sure you can spare the time?"
"All the time in the world."
"Alright then." I granted. "I shall have to begin with Jamaica, for to understand the conundrum that is my life you must first understand all that happened there."
I began with my arrival on the island, and how I was met by my father's business associates, Jonah Mason and his son, Richard. I told him how they had wined and dined me at the finest restaurants and watering-holes in Jamaica, and then how Richard had introduced me to his beautiful sister, Bertha. I described how that dark and sensual creature had obliterated all sense in me, plunging me instantly into delirious love, so that a mere month later I found myself at the altar. The aftermath of the wedding – the discovery of my wife's infidelities, her humiliating behaviour and its effects – I did not care to dwell on, but I could not fail to recall the moment when everything came to a head.
"I thought that the first year of our marriage had been hell, but it was only the beginning. It was not long after our first anniversary when I found out that my wife's erratic behaviour was in actual fact symptoms of insanity – insanity of long standing in her family.
"You can imagine how enraged I was. I burst into Mason's house, and wielding a pistol to his face demanded that he confessed to his deceit. To my surprise he had no qualms in disclosing his long-standing arrangement with my father – an ingenious plan to join the two estates through marriage to provide the Rochesters with a vast fortune and his own family with much desired Old World prestige. The bastard actually laughed as he told me all this – because he knew very well that his daughter's mental state made the entire arrangement foolproof."
"Why? Can you not seek an annulment?"
"Not after she had been declared insane. I had five different solicitors examine my case and they all came to the same conclusion – I was bound to her until death – and Mason knew it. I almost used the pistol on myself in the end – until I realised that there was a way out, and that way lay back at home."
"So you brought her back here, and left her at Grimsby Retreat or some other institution before setting off around the Continent."
"Grimsby?" I scoffed, "I would not even put Pilot in that place."
"Then where…?" Arthur blinked. "Thornfield? No, that is impossible!"
"Entirely possible."
Arthur swallowed visibly. "You are in earnest, aren't you? And is she still there?"
"In the North Tower."
"All that time? But I have visited dozens of times and heard nothing!"
"Are you sure that you heard nothing?"
"Yes, I … No, I may have heard something. At your house-party for instance – oh my Lord – Mason! Was that her brother that we met – and his screams that we heard?"
I smiled grimly. "Correct on both counts. My venerable wife stabbed and bit her own brother when he tried to approach her. So now you know why I don't host parties often."
"Good God!" he exclaimed in horror, and then more gently, "Edward, I am sorry. If I had known-"
"But I made certain that no one knew! I could not stand to be so shamed again, hence only the carer and the doctor know of their patient's true identity. But even they do not know the whole story. You, Arthur, are only the second person that I have told whole sad history to."
"The first being?"
"The first being… Miss Eyre."
I turned away to study the fire, not wanting to see my friend's pity, or worse, revolt. But when I allowed myself to look back, to my astonishment I saw neither.
"So you do care for her." Arthur merely said.
Alarmed, I gasped, "You know?"
"I suspected, particularly when I noticed that your mood-swings coincided with Miss Eyre's departure and return. I have had a little conversation with her, and she seems a very bright, very lovely girl, Edward – but she is a girl, and not in your league."
"Is age or station of consequence when it comes to love? Here was an intelligent girl, unspoilt, and completely without artifice. Here was a young girl who in some ways had suffered more than I, for her upbringing had been harsh in the extreme, and yet she possessed the warmest and most generous of hearts."
"She sounds like a remarkable creature."
"She is." I replied wistfully, "A brave, little thing who was not frightened by anything I did or said. In fact, I found out very quickly that in her presence I felt so completely at ease that I was able to tell her anything, while she listened without judgment, and replied with thought. Much of the time I did not even need to speak since she could divine my thoughts with a single look. I was piqued, then bewitched, and soon I could not deny my love for her. And the more I loved her, the more I wanted her to love me. I wanted her to feel the same passion, the same desire, but discrete, sensible creature that she is, she would have none of it. So I took to what you might call – unorthodox methods – to make her love me."
"And did this method involve Miss Blanche Ingram?"
"It did."
Arthur shook his head. "That was completely unprincipled! How could you do such a thing to an innocent?"
"Because I wanted her more than anything in the world!"
When Arthur gave me a look laden with disdain, I quickly added, "You mistake my intentions. What I feel goes far beyond desire and lust – it is the deepest, ardent, most genuine feeling that I have ever felt. She is as much a part of me as I am a part of her. Her essence purifies me, infuses me with hope. I thought her my saviour, one Heaven sent to save me from myself and my damned life – my only hope of happiness. I wanted to share my life with her – and yes, I wanted her to be my wife."
"Oh, Edward…" Arthur sighed.
"I wanted her at any cost – I was prepared to commit bigamy to do so – but when she finally declared her love, I found that I could not go through with it. I looked at her tearful face, filled with an agonised love that completely mirrored mine, and realised how much hurt I had already inflicted. How much more hurt would I inflict if I continued on with my farcical plan? I realised then that if I truly loved her, I had to let her go."
"So you sent her to Blake."
"Yes, but for Jane's sake, I have not told Blake about any of this."
"Of course." Arthur said before pausing in thoughtfulness. "Unfortunately, if you cannot explain your situation to Blake then you have no choice but to accept his invitation. He is keen to help you as much as I am, hence why he has been so persistent about you coming. Can you turn down a good friend's help, especially one you have known for so long?"
"No, I cannot – but being in the same house as Jane Eyre would not cure my broken heart – in fact, it would be pure torture for us both!"
"But you cannot avoid Miss Eyre forever, not when there is a great likelihood of your paths crossing in the future. See this as a step to mending that broken heart of yours. Besides, you both seem to know where you stand with each other, and since she seems not the type to do anything untoward, where is the danger? You might not even be each other's company very often if she is with the children. Two or so weeks shan't do any harm, and at the end of it I shall be on-hand to accompany you back to England. Does that sound like a plan?"
Breathing in deeply, I conjured up Jane in my mind once more – fair, pure and lovely.
What shall I do, my darling? Please tell me!
Come to me, Edward, come!
How can I, my love?
You can and you shall!
Jane had spoken, and as always I could not deny her. So swallowing the lump of apprehension in my throat, I replied to my friend, "Alright Arthur, you win – I shall come."
Well, that's all from Edward for now. Next time you'll hear what Jane's been doing.
