Well then, I can't imagine too many chapters after this one, but maybe a couple. It's going to have to be a modern P&P next, if I ever get my English exam back. Oh well, here you are, Chapter Eleven. Hope you enjoy. Please Enjoy!
She loved him. She loved him, oh so much; and she had to talk to him. She had been stuck in her tiny little room for one week. A whole week where she couldn't even get out of bed without being told off, and her leg was finally starting to support her weight! Soon she would be allowed to leave her chamber, to go for a short walk around the gallery. She would be able to leave the room, at last! Although whether she could survive having to see her master, she wasn't sure. But if she could survive not seeing him, that was even harder to figure out.
She loved him, and missed him. She felt that she couldn't bear not seeing him for that much longer. How could she survive, knowing that she was within walking distance of Mr. Rochester? It would be so much easier if she could just leave.
But in the mean time, she had a letter to read. The reply to her letter to Mrs. Nasmyth had arrived that morning, and she was preparing herself to read it. When she was sitting up in her bed, she slit the envelope open, and began to read through the short letter that can be found inside.
Dear Miss Eyre,
I was pleased to receive you letter, earlier today, and have made sure to respond to the said correspondence quickly. I was pleased to receive news from you, after so long out of contact.
And now, I will attempt to answer the questions posed in your last letter…
As Jane read on, she realised that her old teacher was basically saying what she, Jane, had already determined to do. That she should stay where she had once been comfortable, and hope she would be comfortable once more; she must be aware how lucky she was to be in such a good situation. And finally, her old companion wished her well, and hoped for a pleasant future.
Nothing was wrong, no offence had been taken, she was fine. She had written a letter, asking for advice, and she hadn't been shunned. Glad was she at the thought; the thought that maybe, possibly, she might just have friends in this world, people she can trust. Outside Thornfeild, who did she know? Maybe a few of the occupants of Lowood, but nobody else. It would be foolish to attempt to leave, with no friends outside these walls; nobody she could really contact. I am happy that I chose to stay. I am happy that I have forgiven him.
She was happy she had chosen to forgive him? Where had that come from? Had she really forgiven him? To be frank, yes, she had forgiven him. She had forgiven him rather quickly. She had to trust him. She loved him, and her conscience didn't really have any control of the matter.
But it was still there, at the back of her head; there was still the honourable Blanche Ingram. There was still Mr. Rochester's intended, and it was obvious that the kiss was only a mistake. That her master didn't really care if she trusted him or not. The fact that she still trusted him, after the morning in the orchard, that showed how ready she was to succumb to his wants. But she forgave him, and there was no going back now.
Just in time to spare her dwelling on those thoughts, there was a knock on the door, and Carter, the surgeon, entered.
"Well, Miss Eyre, how is the leg today?" he questioned, calmly.
"It is fine, sir," Jane answered, "I was wondering if I would be able to walk soon?"
"Would you like to see if you can walk?" she nodded, and he took the crutch from the wall. Jane shifted off the bed, and took up the stick, allowing it to support her weight as she put he foot on the floor. It held as she eased the crutch away. It was there, by her side, as she hobbled around; she was limping, but the stick wasn't actually doing anything. She could walk!
Looking longingly toward the door, Carter followed her eyes.
"You can go out into the gallery, if you like."
"Thank you." Jane muttered in gratitude. Carefully, she opened the door, and walked straight out into… "Mr Rochester!"
"Car… my- Miss Eyre!" he was standing there, looking totally unaffected, and there she was, in her nightgown, with only a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her cheeks started to blush, and she leant against the doorframe, allowing that to support her weight. Carter followed her through the door, and sent a stern look in the direction of the master of the house.
"Rochester," he demanded, "Fetch Miss Eyre a chair, will you?" and off he went, round the corridor, probably heading towards the gallery. Now she had seen him, and now she was sure that she forgave him, and would trust him with her life. He was, after all, oft to trust her with just as much.
Her master came back, and placed a small wooden chair by the door; Jane readily fell into it, angry that that was when her leg had to give in. what was he doing there, anyway? Waiting outside her door, almost as if he was waiting for Mr Carter. Had he been that worried about me? But she couldn't allow herself to think that. He probably just wished Carter to check on something else. Then again, why was Carter employed for her aid? It was not usual for a menial governess to be checked on by a physician. People of learning in medicine were employed for the rich, the upper-class, not for her.
She had been able to work, but the shock of him there, that was no longer. She couldn't even support herself with her own two legs when she saw him. What, Carter was going? Why was Carter going, leaving her alone with Mr Rochester? Where was he going?
"Miss Eyre," customary greetings, almost as though nothing had changed. But that was certainly not true.
"Mr Rochester, sir," polite replies to customary greetings, they are never so awkward in ordinary circumstances.
"You did not advertise." There was no question in his voice, no emotion, just fact.
"No, sir, I am in no position to seek a new situation." She replied, and as an afterthought, added, "I hope that is agreeable to you, sir, to have to support me for any longer?"
"Of coarse it is agreeable to me, Janet." Well then, it seems they were back to informalities. "I would never wish you to leave. I never even managed to explain myself properly."
"Explain yourself," she was confused, what was there to explain, it was an accident; no more, no less. "What do you need to explain?"
"Why I…" he was about to mention it, to say it out loud. It had never been spoken of, and he had knelt down, he was at her level, "Why I… why I kissed you, Jane," and it all seemed so much more real. But still, she did not regret forgiving him, not in the slightest.
"Sir?" she asked, because he was no longer talking, just staring at her, an odd, unidentifiable expression in his eyes.
"Jane…" it was all he said. Just one word, her name, but she didn't hear. She was looking back into his eyes. And she was treading round those oceans of darkness, just as she felt him dive into her soul.
There you go, you have read it, Chapter Eleven, please review. Virtual cupcakes. PLEASE.
