How I Met Jane Eyre

Hey guys. K.J.A here again. I hope you all liked the last chapter. Needless to say that for me that last one was one of the hardest chapters for me to write, for I had to keep on adding and updating, and I'm pretty sure that it's not one of the strongest chapters that I've done, but I hope that if I have missed anything out, could you please let me know, and I will do what I can to add your thoughts in, as with this one. Thank you and enjoy this chapter.

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Chapter 14 – Crippled, Blind and another 10 Months of Loneliness

My children looked at me with attentive eyes and baited breaths, willing me to go on, but I did not continue just yet; for even though it had been many years since my accident, my pride was still quite wounded whenever it came to this part; and my dear children, knowing that I was not going to be the one to proceed in the story first, had to be the ones to set the ball rolling for me once again.

"What happened next, Papa?" Janet asked me.

"Well," I replied slowly, "I remained out cold for quite some time. I was later told that after a couple of minutes had passed, my servants began to worry about me, so they along with some of the men from Millcote (they had seen the flames rising from the house and knew that something had happened) quickly set about to putting out the flames and then rescue me from where I was lying under the rubble. After I was removed carefully (because I was in a rather delicate position at the time), I was then transported to the Rochester Arms, which as you know is the inn at Millcote. All my old servants had come with me, and would stay with me until I was well enough and would dismiss some of them, which I was grateful for, and even more grateful for one of them for ordering me a room there. In the interim of all this chaos, Carter was called for to attend to my injuries and I awakened in his presence, and he then poured some horrid medicine down my throat.

"I became aware of a throbbing pain in my left arm when I awoke, and when I tried to touch it and found that I could do no such thing; and when I tried to see, I found that there was something blocking my sight. I flailed my arms around madly then, trying to remove the blasted thing that was covering my eyes, when I was stopped by Carter's voice. My mind was moving rather slowly, and when he asked me if I remembered anything, bits and pieces started to slowly form together into a picture: me sleeping in my bed, then awaking to the smoke, seeing the fire, getting the servants to safety, Bertha and then blackness. When I asked Carter about Bertha and Thornfield, he told me that she had died and that the Hall was now a blackened ruin. I was then informed by Carter that I was in the Rochester Arms, and when he told me that I had some injuries, I pressed him to tell me what he knew: he said that my left hand was so badly injured that he had to amputate it and there was a bandage over it (which was removed about a week or two later), and that I was now blind in one eye. I also had a bandage over my right eye, which had been inflamed. I asked Carter whether the sight would improve, and all he told me was that it might, but that in the meantime we would have to sit tight and hope for the best, for that was all we could do for the time being.

"I will not lie to you, my dears," I said, after a few painful moments had passed for me; "these were painful things for me to discover, but none more so than the one which I was about to discover two weeks later."

"Why? What happened?" Eddie asked.

"Well, my boy, I'll get to that soon, but first I must say that for those first two weeks, I felt like a prisoner, confined to my room. I got used to how many steps there were from the door to the window, and thus I took to pacing once more, for I was hoping to get out of that room and recommence my search in finding your mother, for I thought that I could do well with just one arm and one good eye (how mistaken I was going to be proven soon); for I was now a free man, and therefore I could find your mother and ask her to be mine once more. I started to get excited at finding her for myself, bringing her home and making her mine. I felt the waves of the sea of Despair starting to settle, as with each day that passed, the white ship of Hope drew closer to me, as my soul climbed up the rocks and stood on the land steady, willing the ship to come quickly and rescue me from those dreadful seas, as sunlight began to shine through the clouds above.

"At last, the day came for Carter to come and take off my bandage. I was excited at first, and as he removed the bandage and told me after he had done so to slowly open my eye, which I did, I was disappointed for I saw … nothing. All was black. At this, I felt the rocks starting to quake at my feet and start to crumble, as the ship started to turn slowly away from me. The sea of Despair started to rise up once more as the sky turned black and stormy once more, covering up any trace of the sunlight that had once been there, and lightning flashed; its forks hitting the water, which only made it even more angry. This was terrible news for me, for this only meant one thing: I could not keep searching for your mother anymore. At this, my heart sank, and the pain that I felt when I realised this was almost unbearable.

"Anyway, when I informed Carter that I couldn't see anything, he told me to turn my head to the window. I obliged, wondering what the deuce this had to do with anything, when I saw a faint beam of light streaming through. When I told Carter about this and asked him what it meant, he told me that it could mean that some of my sight could come back to me over time, or that I could lose it for ever. When I heard this, I was disgruntled; not because I knew that I could never get my sight back (which did upset me greatly, I admit), but also because I knew that I could not find your mother. Something must have shown on my face, for Carter said that I should consider myself to be alive after what I went through. Well, half alive, I thought to myself. And now you know, my dears, of how I am to be what I am now," I finished simply.

My children were terribly upset by what I had told them, and seeing as they had nothing to say, I continued, "I know it's horrible, my dears, but don't worry, I will tell you some good stuff, just give me time. Anyway, Eshton came to see me just after I had been moved to Ferndean Manor, where we are now. This came about by Carter, who told me and the rest of my servants who had stayed loyal to my side after my accident – that when I was fit enough to move, that I should go somewhere else. I knew the perfect place, just ten miles outside of Millcote (I am of course, talking about Ferndean), and Carter agreed that this would be the right thing to do. I then dismissed the rest of my staff – besides John and Mary – thanking them all for their loyal service to me over the years, before I then wished them well in all their future career prospects. Some of them found places to work in Millcote, whereas the others split up and moved to London, to see whether they could find work there. But I am once again getting off topic.

"Anyway, Eshton came to see me, and after telling me that he was sorry to hear about what had happened to me, he then set about telling me that there was still no sign of your mother, but they would not give up trying to find her. I then told him that they should give up, and allow your mother to live in peace, and be free to lead her own life without me in it, painful as it was to say. Eshton started to argue with me, but when he saw that I wasn't going to change my mind, he agreed to do so. We parted on good terms as always, and he left me to carry out what I had instructed him to."

"You were giving up?" Janet said, surprised at my actions. "Just like that? But why, Papa?"

"Because, my dear, with me being the way I was with my injuries, I did not want your mother to have the responsibility of taking care of me, not out of love, but out of pity instead, which I could not bear. Besides, it hurt my heart even more when I realised that if she ever did return to me, that not only could I not force her to remain by my side, as much as I wanted to – for she was free to live her own life and do as she pleased, whereas I could not do so anymore – but also the fact that I would never be able to see her again: her smile, her hair, her form, and above all, those beautiful eyes that I have never stopped falling into, and this latter thought was the one which pained me above all others, which always had the tears springing to my eyes.

"Anyway, before I get back to your mother, I then got a surprise visit from Richard Mason, about a month after I had resided at Ferndean. I could tell that he was shocked by my appearance, but I told him that he had nothing to fear from me, and that I had neither the strength nor the energy to do the man any harm. He asked me what had happened to his sister, and so I told him everything that had happened with the fire and about her death, and that I had done everything that I could have in order to keep her safe, and that I tried to help her from jumping to her death. He cried, of course; and I admit that I did feel sorry for the man, for he did care a lot about his sister when she lived, you know. He asked me where she was, and I told him that she was buried at Thornfield, next to all of my ancestors. I wanted her to be taken back to Jamaica with Mason, so that she could be buried in her hometown (for w had never been husband and wife when she had lived, and I thought that it would have been better if she had been buried in the place where she had grown up and loved), but I was unfortunately told by Eshton that this plan was not possible, for when I was at the Rochester Arms, Bertha's funeral had already taken place. I told Richard all this, of course, and he told me that he was glad that I at least had tried to save his sister; that I was there for her when he was not, that he was truly sorry for what had happened to me and that he hoped that I would find happiness soon. I scorned those last words (for where was my happiness without your mother in my life?), but I thanked him anyway, and that was the last time I saw him.

"And thus began the rest of my life living without your mother in it (well, at least that's what I thought at the time, but I'll get to why this was later). I began keeping myself to myself once more, refusing to see anybody who dared come and see me; for the only person whose company I so desperately wanted was torn from me, whose whereabouts I knew not of. My thoughts were the only company I had in those days. I drifted off into my own mind and thought of the old dreams that used to haunt me of her dead; and when I did so, the lightning flashed more vigorously, and the sea of Despair stirred more frequently as it rose slowly up, and before they could drag me down into their deep, black depths, as I was holding on for dear life to one of the rocks, as I scrambled to hold on tight, I quickly shook off those black thoughts, and thought of the other more recent, gentle and yet mocking dreams: dreams where your mother had come back to me in some shape or form, and no matter what happened I always accepted her, telling her that I forgave her, that I should the one who should beg for her forgiveness, and that even though she broke my heart, I was still grateful to her for coming back to me; and then they would mock me, for I woke up; and when I discovered that I had been dreaming about her again, that I was still blind and that your mother was nowhere near me, I cried such bitter tears of hurt and regret.

"During this time, whenever I was awake and was not about to fall into the sea, I began to remember the shrine that I had gone to for comfort in your mother's old room at Thornfield, for I had it implanted perfectly in my memory; and when I went there, I would hope and pray that your mother was safe. Oh yes, my dears, I did pray for your mother in those days," I said, at my children's surprised expressions at this news, "for I at last had seen that it was truly me who had done wrong, and not the Almighty, and that I was the one to blame for pushing your mother away. I began to pray that your mother was safe and that she had not died, and also that I hoped that he would forgive me, as would she. They were brief prayers, but very sincere, still."

"What were you like without Mama, Papa?" Eddie asked me.

"Well, my boy, I became an even worse wreck than I had been before your mother left me. I no longer went out of doors, stayed cooped up inside all alone and hardly ever ate, and would often find myself quite cold, for I paid no proper attention to the fire in those days, my dears. I became cold and distant to John and Mary, and spent my days doing nothing, expecting nothing, leading a dreary, miserable, wretched life in the long months without your mother with me in my life, which had now turned, dark, cold, lonely and pretty much hopeless; for without your mother, I felt like I had nothing to live for: add to that fact that I was now mingling night with day, and the result you end up with is merely that I was a sad, injured man now, who suffered in silence, who felt himself abandoned by the one person who he loved most, and hoped with each passing day that his life might soon be over, so that he could enter the realm of eternal peace, where he hoped that there was a heavenly angel up there who was waiting for him to meet her (seeing as I thought that your mother was dead at the time, you can see why I thought the way I did).

"And my heart, oh my poor, aching heart! It longed for your mother, you know; for her love and affection, as did my soul, also. Craved it constantly. Never ceasing, no matter what happened. For when your mother left me, I became the shadow of my former self; and when your mother left me, she took a piece of me with her, which I could never find without her near me."

"Oh, Papa, that's so sad," Janet said.

"I know it is, my little lamb, but I did indeed think that way. I did do one good thing, though: I gave up on drinking wine altogether; for I began to see your mother's reasoning in those days as to why she left me, and therefore I took to try being a better person for her and for God, and thus started by giving up the drink."

"What was the worst time for you without Mama, Papa?" Eddie asked me.

"Well, Janet, that's an easy one. The answer is Christmas. You see, I've always had a particular disliking to the holiday, seeing no reason to celebrate it properly in my youth, when I wasn't truly happy; but that year was the worst, for your mother was not by my side. I detested it with her not there, and thought about what we would have been doing if we had been married by that point, and of how happy we could have been, our first proper Christmas together; but as you both well know, that never happened. Anyway, to my dismay, John and Mary had invited a few people round to Christmas dinner that year; and when I told them that they knew that I wanted to be alone, Mary said that she saw me lonely, that the company would do me some good and that no one would be staring at me (my pride was wounded, you know). But I was as firm and stubborn as ever, and told Mary that I would wait until everyone had left, before I came down to have my dinner, which is what happened.

"Getting back to the point of the matter, though: this was the next ten months without your mother in my life (and if you are keeping up, you will have noticed that these ten months, added to the other two that I spent without your mother before the fire broke out, means that a year had gone by since your mother left me), and one night at the end of that long, hard, intolerable year, where I was sitting by the window in my room, with the window itself open, I felt refreshed to feel the sensation of a gentle summer breeze playing on my flesh; and by a vague, luminous glow, I knew that the moon was up. I am telling you this, my dears, because at that moment, I felt so wretched and so utterly miserable that I longed for your mother with both soul and flesh; and that if it pleased God, I asked him that I should be taken from this world and enter the one beyond the Veil, where I thought your mother would be waiting for me; for having had no word of where your mother could be in the world, I thought that she was dead."

"Oh, Papa," Janet said sadly, looking at me through such sad, sweet eyes.

"I know, dearest, but the good part's coming: for you see, my dears, I felt like I had been tormented enough, and had lived without your mother and tried to go on without her as much as I could, but I could not go on living like that anymore, and no longer could I endure such a life of misery and pain; and so the alpha and omega of my heart's wishes pleaded, as I cried your mother's name out loud, with such frantic energy that if anyone had been listening to me, they would have thought me mad. Anyway, as I said your mother's name, I succumbed at last to the black sea of Despair, and let go of the rock to which I was hanging on to, as the sky turned a fiery, blazing, burning red, and the white ship of Hope was almost fully out of my vision, when something most peculiar happened ..."

My children looked at each other, with looks of confusion and mixed excitement edged on their faces, for they detected some excitement to the last words I spoke; then they both looked at me, and Eddie said, "What happened, Papa?"

"Well, my boy, what happened was this: as I felt my soul letting go, its hand unconsciously grabbed on to a piece of rock and held on to it tightly, for at that moment, everything changed: the sea calmed and settled, the sky stopped being stormy and its hellish, reddy hues subsided, as the sunlight started to slowly shine through the clouds once again, and the white ship of Hope came back to get me, as my soul clambered up the rocks to the land which held steady, as a voice, a soft, sweet sounding voice said: "I am coming; wait for me", and then, a few moments later asked: "Where are you?" Oh, you cannot imagine how sweet and precious those words are to me even now, my dears; for without them, I would have given up on all hope completely, would not be where I am now and I would have fallen into the sea of Despair, never to rise again, for those words saved me that night, as the voice to whom those words belonged to had saved my life all those months ago from the first fire that Bertha had started."

Janet gasped, before she said, "It was Mama whose voice you heard! Mama answered your call, didn't she?" she finished excitedly, as she and Eddie looked at each other with the excitement that they were both feeling.

I smiled at their excitement as I said, "Yes, Janet, that was your dear mother's voice I heard, replying to me in the wind. I did not know where she was, nor how her voice came to me at that moment, but I do know that they were hers; for even though a year had gone by without me hearing the voice of the woman I loved so well, I knew at once that it was her voice that answered mine, which not only gave me comfort, but it gave me strength, strength that I had long needed. I did not know then what was going to happen, but if I did, there would not have been enough words to express the power of my feelings and emotions, as I would have sent up a big thanks to God for granting me another chance at life, and for forgiving me at last for all the hurt and the wrong that I had caused. I did not know then what was going to happen as I have just said, but I was sure that whatever happened, it was going to be good; for Hope was coming back to me, slowly but surely, sailing across the now calmer sea of Despair, which was slowly etching away from my soul."

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Well, that's the end of chapter 14. The next chapter will be the soul mates reuniting. Please R&R and I hoped that you enjoyed this chapter. Until I write again.