A/N: All recognizable elements of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre are not mine. I hope you enjoy this chapter (longest I've done so far) and I really, really wish you guys would leave reviews. They pump the writing juices out of me and encourage me to write more!
I stood carefully across the mirror, admiring my reflection. Even the plainest of women would look stunning wearing a dress like this, I thought. The pale cream dress hung on to my small frame perfectly. I figured Rosamond was telling the truth when she mentioned my dressmaker. Hannah handed me my gloves, and I slipped them on delicately. I watched as the picture of an elegant lady was completed in front of me, and Hannah observed me in awe as well.
"Aye, Ma'am. You look pretty enough," she said in her crude accent.
I beamed at the compliment, and then remembered St. John. He was against me wearing any of these exquisite dresses for Rosamond's wedding party; he found them too ostentatious. But the women of the house had out-reasoned him with talks of courtesy and status, it seemed, as he had relented with the choice of the simpler dress between the two. He was currently waiting downstairs, fully dressed in a less ostentatious coat and cravat, as he could not very well help me fasten my corset as Hannah could. I sighed. I looked too elegant, I should probably upset my husband's modest nature.
I thanked Hannah for helping me dress and we both withdrew from the bedchamber. I went for the stairs as Hannah turned to Diana's room. I descended the flight steadily, taking care not to make noise with the heel of my shoe.
I walked towards the drawing room, and saw St. John's shadow sitting on a chair by the fireplace, his features glowing mysteriously like embers. He must have heard the rustle of my skirts for he turned slowly towards my direction before he stood. He only watched silently as I closed the distance between us. For a moment, I wished to rip out of the elegant dress and change into something that would make him more satisfied, but his eyes betrayed his own upset, for I saw them glimmer in admiration.
"Beautiful," he whispered, and I beamed despite the flush that crept on my cheeks. "Much more now," he added, his eyes glazed. He had been generous with his compliments since that stormy night. He had professed his love to me and I could only stand there transfixed and dumbstruck. He had kissed me then after he waited for a response that never came, and pretended nothing happened. He had not mentioned it since.
"Thank you," I smiled shyly, still not accustomed to St. John's compliments despite his constancy. "My husband looks more dashing, in my opinion."
"Not as good as you. Especially once you put this on," he answered, taking something out of his pocket. He held it close for me to examine it, and I found that it was a thin golden chain with a sparkling amethyst for a pendant.
I gasped in astonishment. I had not expected this at all. He had been upset with everyone all afternoon.
"A much too lavish family heirloom I had intended to keep locked up in a chest, never to be seen again," he explained. "But my wife needs something on that tempting throat to keep me at bay, or I wouldn't be able to take my hands off her all evening, would I?"
I nodded, still at a loss for words, barely understanding what he had just said. He chuckled softly. "Here, let me." I turned around to let him fasten the chain on my bare neck. When he spun me back around to face him, I almost fell, but he was quick to steady me, his hands grasping my waist as he pulled me close to him. "I shouldn't see you like this too often, Jane. You… make me forget… everything…" he whispered as he slowly lowered his lips until they crushed mine in fiery passion.
The ride to Vale Hall was short enough by coach. The grounds were already teeming with all kinds of horse-drawn carriages, each more luxurious than the next; this was a gathering for the elites, and our coach was only too simple in comparison. An usher opened the door to let us out. The newlyweds were at the hall, welcoming the guests that filed to get inside.
Once we had entered the hall, St. John held me firmly by the waist, refusing to part with me as we walked through a throng of servants and guests. The usher led us to our table; I knew no one beyond my three companions. I had not bothered to look around. I knew there was no one here I could possibly recognize.
The night quickly passed along with the many courses that grazed our tables. The traditional quadrilles had ended, and evening informalities were fast spreading with the rush of more wine. I watched the guests converse dynamically amongst each other, social butterflies prancing from one circle to the next. There were several who knew St. John and his sisters; those were all too surprised to discover that St. John had already married. I figured their astonishment was more for the fact that St. John had married a plain woman, and I only flinched at the thought.
As midnight approached, St. John excused himself, and I was left with no acquaintances at the table. The sisters had both accepted an invitation to the ballroom. I glanced at the bridal table, but somehow saw Rosamond and her bridegroom braving the congratulatory crowd to get to my direction. They had been very admirable hosts; they mingled with their guests and rarely remained at their table.
I looked around and found St. John returning to me. He reappeared beside me just as soon as the new Mr. and Mrs. Gransby reached our spot. I thought I saw disappointment at Rosamond's features as she looked between me wearing the dress she gave me and St. John's dazzling smile. Did she expect something different? I asked myself, although the look vanished so quickly, I even wondered whether it truly occurred.
"I am only too glad you could come!" Rosamond gushed, her pitch only too high for my taste. "And you wore my gift! How charming!" Somehow, I doubted whether she was telling the truth. Her initial reaction still haunted me.
She formally introduced her husband to me and St. John. And again, I thought I noticed her eyeing St. John closely as she entwined her arms around Gransby. What was she doing? Well, whatever it was, I was only too glad that St. John's attentions could not be easily swayed from me. I thought he hardly even noticed Rosamond's actions.
"Oh, there's Father!" Rosamond exclaimed after a while. "Father, come!" she called over the loud crowd. (I supposed she had drunk one glass of wine too many, judging by her actions.) My vision caught Mr. Oliver by the painting only three meters far, determinedly maneuvering through the throng of guests.
At last, Mr. Oliver approached us. He shook St. John warmly by the hand, genuinely gladdened at his presence, I presumed. I knew Mr. Oliver regarded my husband as his own son; he even wanted him for his own daughter. He kissed my hand as he turned to me, and I thanked him for inviting us to the party.
"Rosamond, Gransby. I have a highly esteemed gentleman with me," Mr. Oliver cheerfully addressed his daughter and new son-in-law. "He wishes to offer you his congratulations before he departs." He glanced behind him, and I subtly peered over his shoulders out of my own curiosity. I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach at what apparition awaited my eyes. "The elusive Rochester of Thornfield Hall," Mr. Oliver clapped his back as he pushed him forward, sounding obviously pleased with himself.
I felt St. John stiffen beside me, his hand gripping mine too tightly. He did not look at me at all, but I knew he recognized the newcomer's name. I saw Edward's eyes fall on mine, betraying no emotion. He shook Gransby's hand, and kissed Rosamond congratulations. He then turned to our direction and looked at Mr. Oliver quizzically, apparently awaiting an introduction.
"Ah. This is Mr. St. John Rivers, Morton's most dedicated missionary, in my opinion," Mr. Oliver offered. "And his young wife, Mrs. Jane Rivers, the new mistress of Moor House."
I braved a glance at Edward's face at the introduction and saw nothing in his eyes. He acted the stranger as he shook St. John's hand and kissed mine—a peculiar act only too welcome, in my opinion. I did not fancy spearheading the town gossip this time tomorrow.
"A pleasure to meet you," he murmured, his steady gaze raising multitudes of tension within me. St. John and I returned the pleasantries, playing along with the stranger game Edward seemed to want to play. His eyes momentarily burned fiercely behind his apathetic mask as he studied me, his gaze lingering maliciously on the beaded bodice of my gown and the glittering amethyst that was draped around my neck. I felt St. John stand closer than ever before, as though concerned Edward would take me from him any moment. I wondered whether that would happen, too.
"I've changed my mind, Oliver. Perhaps I'll stay for longer." Edward was eyeing me as I heard him inform the older gentleman. Mr. Oliver seemed pleased and blissfully ignorant of the ongoing struggle that was happening among his three guests.
"I was indeed hoping for it! I've had my servants prepare you a chamber. I would demand that you stay on my grounds whilst you're here. No inns!" Mr. Oliver declared, wagging a stubby finger at Rochester who only barked a laugh in reply. I imagined him glancing at me sideways, his features turning dark momentarily as he witnessed St. John's hand reach protectively towards the side of my waist.
"Mr. Oliver, Jane and I should leave you to your other guests now, I suppose," St. John started, ever so politely. "I'm afraid we have a couple demanding days ahead, my wife and I." I could not have noticed if I had not been listening intently, but St. John made sure to stress the word wife as he said it.
"Oh, pish-posh! None of that non-sense! I've only found you and you're leaving so soon?" Mr. Oliver replied. "You wound me, young man."
"Forgive me, Mr. Oliver, but I must insist," St. John said, calmly irresolute. He had now wrapped his arm properly around my waist and drew me ever closer. "The night runs late, and we have an early morning on the morrow."
Mr. Oliver knew my husband well enough to even attempt to sway him and he reluctantly agreed instead. Honestly, I was relieved. My heart was still pounding violently beneath my chest, I was certain St. John had already sensed it.
"I shall see you before India, St. John. That is no request," Mr. Oliver commanded. I imagined St. John could not possibly refuse the old man twice in one evening and he had no choice but to relent. He nodded curtly and led me away from the small group in well-disguised haste.
He led me out of the hall. "My sisters," he whispered as he seemed to only remember his sisters once the chatter was drowned by the walls. I knew he was anxious but he endeavored to conceal it from me. He must have been battling himself with what to do. I did not wish to be left here on my own any more than I wanted to return to that hall, risking another encounter with Edward.
"Stay here, Jane," St. John commanded after a while. "It'll be quicker for me to find Mary and Diana without you in tow," he gently added as he watched my features betray my dissent. "I won't take long, I promise." He kissed my forehead before he turned to leave.
I stood frozen at that spot for a while, not knowing where I should go. Not knowing what else to do, I had decided to occupy myself with the watercolor paintings that spanned the damask-papered walls, purposefully turning my back on the doorway and taking care to place a great sculpture by my side, hoping it might conceal me some. I could hear the endless chatter rumbling behind the walls and briefly wondered whether St. John would take any longer.
I wanted to just leave this place and go back to my new life I had already learned to love. Somehow I resented how St. John had to leave me alone even for just a while. Not now. Edward Fairfax Rochester was here in this very place, and St. John had just left me. I did not trust myself enough to be left to my own devices. Why had St. John left me here? Did he think it wiser than to bring me with him back inside?
The wall that I had almost successfully put in place had been shattered to pieces in one burning look from the very man I had worked too rigorously to put behind me. The thoughts came flooding back and it was all too consuming; I yearned to forget this evening ever happened. Why is Edward even here? I asked myself in despair, knowing I had no answer.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" I heard an only too familiar voice rasp quietly behind me. I had not heard him come near. "There are more beautiful ones hanging in Thornfield Hall. I framed all your works, Jane. They were all I had of you."
I could not move. Edward was here. He was standing behind me while I stood rooted on the spot. He whirled me around, catching my arms before I could fall. My breath caught in my throat when he drew me in a tight embrace. I could feel his longing, and for a moment I wondered whether I longed for him too. I was terrified of what my answer would be.
"Oh Jane. I've searched for you for far too long," he whispered, clutching on me tighter. "I never tired, Jane. I never stopped. I had never dreamed to find you married to someone else. It had only been a year. I counted the days, Jane." His voice cracked with pain and reeked with passion, and I could not dream of what to tell him in return. "Tell me you still love me, Jane. Tell me you were forced by this St. John to marriage." He uttered St. John's name with profound disdain.
I could only look at him in despair. My words were caught in my throat and I realized my tears were already threatening to fall from my eyes at this unwelcome confrontation. He had not let go of his hold on me, and I felt something long in deep slumber stir within me. Edward is here, I thought.
"Release my wife, Rochester." His voice was deathly quiet. I was stunned to see St. John standing so close, his sisters anxiously standing by the doorway, clearly confused about their evening drawing to an early close. His voice was trembling calmly with anger. Edward reluctantly let go of me, and I anxiously stepped closer to my husband, not wanting an awful scene to ensue. I had never seen St. John like this. He was seething yet his features remained cold and calm. He stood full of quiet rage and I could only think of what a terrifying sight my husband had become.
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