A/N: All recognizable elements of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre are not mine. Enjoy and leave a comment! Special shoutout to RachelMargaret! :") I'll be posting the next chapter next week!
I had left Edward at the school and had run desperately away from him. My tears had begun to cloud my eyes as I felt his hands slip their grasp in surprise. It seemed I was again running away from my heart's desire; and yet this time it was I who bore an impediment to what is now an otherwise lawful reunion. Why had Fate decided to be cruel?
I ran blindly towards the path, unknowing whether Edward would run after me. I prayed to God that he would not; the task was already too difficult without him pulling me back. I had to escape his tempting propositions or I might grow weak and accept them. He had mentioned he had no care of my status. Well, I cared. I was married. I had to keep reminding myself of my husband. St. John, forgive me… I cried inwardly with anguish.
I had only stopped after I had gauged a far enough distance and spotted a boulder I could lean onto when my knees had grown weak; I could no longer see the humble building when I looked back, and Edward seemed to have not followed me. I sighed in honest relief which quickly transformed into heaving sobs that got lost in the wind. I was thankful that the panorama was deserted and I prayed St. John would arrive later to give me enough time to compose myself. My thoughts and emotions were only too disordered, and everything had been too overwhelming; what with last night's events and St. John's earlier conduct, and now Edward's revelation… It was only too much.
I had to ask why… Why was this happening to me? It was shameful that I regretted marrying St. John at the present time. I regretted the fact that I had rushed into his proposal only to realize that Edward had been seeking for me and that he would find me not three weeks into the marriage, fully emancipated of any impediment. I would have welcomed him with open arms had I not been married myself, I admitted. And the thought of it only served to fuel my upset once more. St. John was good to me. He had been my shelter, my sanctuary… He had provided me peace and he did not deserve any of my current unease; he had not given me any reason to. In fact, he had provided me with every reason not to. He was the right choice; he was the good one… and he was my husband. It shamed me that I had to keep reminding myself of this simple fact. I had no right to be confused for I have no choice. I took a holy vow… I love him… the earlier voice that gave me strength enough to resist Edward's hold seemed to whisper, reminding me of its presence.
But Edward said… a small voice chirped, on the one hand, and I had to denounce it. I had to… it was wrong and lawless and vile. I have a husband, I declared inwardly, trusting to crush whatever hope the small voice started.
My thoughts only dove into a vicious cycle from there, and I had resolved to nothing. I was even surprised that my eyes had already refused to shed any more tears after a while. Any clarification was far beyond the horizon, yet I had grown peculiarly calm and detached. Perhaps I had grown tired or perhaps I feared St. John should find me in that state… I wiped my tear-stained cheeks clean with a handkerchief and stood straight, discarding any more upheaval and instantly wondering where St. John might have been. It was well past noon, it seemed, yet I have not seen him. Where could he be? Here I found that fixating on my husband's whereabouts was an oddly sufficient distraction.
I looked to the path and found it too quiet; there was no one in sight and it seemed too lonesome. Forcing myself into adequate composure, I had decided to walk the remaining way back to the town and figured I should call on St. John by the church instead. Perhaps he had lost track of time, I thought absentmindedly. He did have the tendency to do so whenever he did his work; he was only too passionate about it.
The walk was entirely uneventful, a small event I had taken gratefully for it seemed to calm me and rid me of any source of confusion. I figured it should be due to the fact that I was doing the right thing. I was going back to my husband's arms where I rightfully and lawfully belonged. Yet some sort of fear did brew at the back of my mind as the church grew nearer: I knew not what would happen once I saw my husband again. Guilt was starting to gnaw on me at every step. I had indulged Edward of an illicit kiss, no matter how short it had been, and I had permitted it to render my thoughts disarrayed. I wondered if I could keep it from my husband without him suspecting something was amiss. Now I somehow wished the remaining three days would draw to a rapid close; I felt I had to escape Morton when earlier I had regretted having to leave.
As I stepped past the churchyard, my heart had begun to thump restlessly. I yearned to lay my eyes on St. John, hoping it should calm my senses; the mere sight of him always had. I walked past the double doors and strode instead towards the back where the meager office and lodging were situated. I took a deep breath before I knocked on the wooden door, and heard the familiar steps on the wooden floor as someone paced to bid me enter.
It was not St. John but the man who could only be his replacement who welcomed my sight. I knew not his name, and neither did he know me. He furrowed his brows. "Good afternoon, Miss. What might I offer you?" he asked. He seemed out of his element, for some reason. He clearly did not bear the same demeanor as St. John did. And I inwardly admired my husband at the stark contrast.
I gave him an encouraging smile, if only to ease his seeming nerves. "I have come to call on St. John… Mr. Rivers. Is he here still?" I politely asked. The replacement had yet to invite me inside.
"He had left, Miss. Who should I tell him asked if he returns?" he replied.
It was now my turn to furrow my brows. Where could St. John be? "Oh, it shouldn't matter, I suppose. Thank you, sir," I managed to say, not waiting for any more reply as I quickly retreated, no matter how discourteous it might have seemed. My feet led me across the churchyard and out into the road once again. I looked to the direction I had come from and tried to search for St. John. Did I miss him on the road? I asked myself although it seemed unlikely.
The sun was high up, and I had just then begun to feel its scorching heat for the clouds had cleared. I had decided to walk up to the bread shop a little ways down the road for some form of shelter. I figured if I had indeed missed St. John, I should see him pass by the shop's window on his way back to Moor House. I had entered the shop and its owner immediately recognized me; I had come here before with Diana and Mary, and I had taught her daughter at the school. She bid me sit down as she went inside to fetch me a glass of water, which was only too welcome. I had not recognized how thirsty I had gone from the long walk and the shameful emotional upheaval.
Once the lady had returned, I thanked her. I drank the water and was grateful that it had been cool as I scanned the bread that neatly lined her display, wondering which I should purchase to earn me a seat long enough to wait for St. John. I put down the glass empty, feeling my thirst quenched, and pointed to a delicious-looking shortbread as I worded my request. The lady smiled and reached for it, situating the cake in a delicate-looking china before placing it in front of me. She asked if I wanted some tea with it, and I affirmed. It seemed not too long ago when I had stumbled into this very same bread shop without a penny to my name, and I thanked God of my good fortune.
I ate in silence, taking in small bites of the shortbread as I watched the window for St. John's familiar stature. But I had already finished the cake and the tea in a dragged fashion and St. John had yet to make an appearance. Where could he be? I asked myself a tenth time, knowing no answer.
I waited patiently and was startled as the bread shop's clock chimed thrice. I had been waiting almost two hours and the lady had begun casting me curious looks, though she was well-mannered enough to disguise it. A few minutes more and I had decided to leave with only a growing sense of unease. It was not like St. John to go back on his word; perhaps something had gone wrong…
I thanked the lady before I had left, handing her my payment in slight excess to cover for the long wait I managed to put her through. She bid me farewell with a broad smile. As I stepped on the road, I looked to the school's path once more. Nothing. Perhaps he had gone somewhere else in haste: a parishioner in need or something of the sort, I rationalized. I was far from appeased but my mind considered the thought. I decided then to walk back to Moor House on my own. At the end of the day, he would go home after all, wherever he might have gone, I surmised with slight disappointment.
I arrived at Moor House flustered in the wind; I had left my travelling cloak in the school in my haste to leave Edward, and in great misfortune, the evening breeze had decided to be unforgiving. Hannah hurriedly brought me inside and situated me at the nearest fireplace she could find. The early evening winds had been too sharp for me and I worried I might have caught a chill for I felt too weak and strained. She had left me a moment to fetch me some tea, and I asked her of St. John when she returned.
"I thought he should be with you, Ma'am," she answered confusedly as she handed me a soft blanket to warm me some more.
I thought that too, I answered inwardly. "I had not seen him since morning," I whispered and she only looked at me with growing confusion.
"Something with the church, mayhaps," she surmised passively before she excused herself (she was making dinner, I assumed). Yet somehow, I doubted this conclusion. Something was amiss. Where could my husband be?