= 14 =

"What do you mean by there being 'much at stake'?" I asked Arthur roughly.

He reddened. "Only… Only that I want you to be cautious. Blake might not know the full extent of your situation, but there are plenty of people at Ardfry who are only willing to tell him – like that housekeeper of his who has eyes like a hawk."

"I know." I sighed, "Jane told me that Mrs. Kirwan was lurking about the library the other night when I summoned her there."

"And I have seen her give Miss Eyre a talking to more than once this week. I fear that one slip from either of you and she will be on her way."

"Blake would not send Jane away!" I roared.

"He might if he thinks he is risking the reputation of his household."

I frowned. "Yes, you are right. He would not risk that even for me."

Silently, I mulled over Arthur's warning – a warning that I took very much to heart since the last thing I wanted was to make Jane destitute. Yet despite his seemingly good intentions, I could not shake off the notion that he was holding something back.

I studied my friend closely, this friend whom I have known all my life – or thought I knew until now. He avoided my gaze, instead concentrating on rupturing the earth beneath his feet to the consternation of his horse, who detecting his nervousness, also did likewise.

"You had better secure that animal of yours before it tramples you." I told him.

"What?" he replied absently, "Oh yes, I shall do it directly…"

We hitched our horses to the nearest post and then returned to the shore. Again, I studied Arthur as he picked up a pebble and flung it out into the bay. We watched it skip four, five, six times, before it sank out of sight.

Then I asked, "What do you think of Miss Eyre?"

He gave me a sharp look before picking up another pebble. "You asked me this before."

"I know – back in London – but what do you think of her now that you have spent a good week in her company?"

Arthur skimmed the second pebble, watched it skip thrice, before he answered, "She is still a very bright, very lovely girl."

"Nothing more?"

"What do you mean, Edward?" he demanded, evidently ruffled by my line of questioning.

"I only want to know your true opinion of her." I replied calmly, "Do you like her?"

"Ah, now we come to the real reason behind all this. You are jealous, aren't you?"

Jealous? Was I jealous?

You are and you know it.

"Why, Edward? What do you have to be jealous about? You have her heart – she shall never give it to anyone else."

I sighed. "I may have her heart, but I cannot give her anything in return. And it is killing me, Arthur – killing me!"

Turning away, I muttered to myself, "What a farce this is!"

Ignoring my friend's pleas to stay, I strode swiftly back to my horse. I took the most direct route back to Ardfry, absently leaping over fences, dashing across fields and galloping down laneways, but no matter how fast I rode I could not escape the damning thoughts that hounded me.

Jealousy was a common sin of mine where Arthur was concerned. In our youth, young ladies would gravitate towards him. They found his good looks and cheerful demeanour more attractive than my coarse visage and circumspect manner – that is, until my great fortune and Arthur's relative poverty became known. Now here we were again, fifteen years later, but this time he held all the cards. For the truth of the matter is that he can marry Jane, while I cannot.

Arthur and Jane – an impossibility!

Yet in a twisted way, he had more right to her than I did. Arthur had not admitted it to me as yet – I did not even know if he had admitted it to himself – but Jane had piqued his interest. I had seen him talk to her with great animation, and I suspected that it would not take much for him to develop an affection for her – an affection that in time might lead to something deeper.

And what if Arthur did marry Jane? Through marriage, her safety and comfort would be assured. Arthur was a kind-hearted fellow who would do all he could to take care of her, and if they remained at the Leas then she would not be completely lost to me.

But what of her happiness? And what of yours? How would you feel being on the outer – watching them grow in love, seeing their children grow up?

I could never bear it! Never!

But you cannot afford to be so selfish, Rochester, not when you have nothing to give.

I returned my horse to the stables and slunk back to my chamber. Having ordered luncheon to be served within, I did not venture out until the afternoon when the guests for the party began to arrive.

The crunch of wheels over gravel first drew me to my window, and then the sight of Jane with Blake and his wife kept me there. I saw them warmly greet two lady guests – one a regal-looking woman close in age to myself, the other a young lady closer in age to Jane. I immediately identified them as Lady Martyn and Miss Joyce – Jane's companions on her journey to Ardfry.

Watching Jane compelled me to leave my chamber. I quickly made myself presentable and headed out as soon as I could, but to my dismay I was still too late – Jane and the two ladies had already disappeared within by the time I got outside. My hosts though were still present, and we were at hand to witness the arrival of Baron Trench – an imposing, upright man who brought with him his wife, daughter, and a young man. Strangely, it was the young man, Miss Trench's fiancé, who caught my attention.

"Richard Eyre, sir." he replied when Blake asked for his name.

My hosts glanced at each other.

"Eyre?" asked Blake, "My, this is quite a coincidence! Our governess has the exact same name, though she is from England."

The young man laughed. "So was my family originally, but now they are as Irish as can be having been in Galway these past two hundred years. But I would like to meet your Miss Eyre. Perhaps we have ancestors in common?"

Blake patted him on the back. "I guarantee that you shall do so tonight. She shall be in the drawing room with the children after dinner."

I managed to have a little conversation with Mr. Eyre not long after at the tea Lady Blake had arranged to welcome her guests. He was a slight, unremarkable-looking man of about thirty. But though he dressed well and was pleasant enough to talk to, I thought him, well, rather dull. An avid sportsman, he talked about his thoroughbreds and hunts with a little too much relish, going on and on about the recent hunts on his father's estate. Thus it was some time before I could steer him toward the subject I was most interested in – that of his relations.

In reply to my query about how he and his fiancée met, he said, "Oh, the Trenches are our nearest neighbours, hence I have known Frances – Miss Trench, I mean – since we were children. But my family originally came from Wiltshire with Cromwell. I have met my Wiltshire relations once or twice when I read at Cambridge, but I know they are not the only Eyre's in England. There is a northern branch, I believe, though I have only ever met one person from there – at college there was a fellow from Yorkshire whose mother was an Eyre. And now I shall meet another English Eyre. Tell me, do you know Miss Eyre at all?"

"Yes, quite well." I replied with a hint irony, "She was the governess of my ward, until she went to school not four months ago."

"Splendid!" he exclaimed, "And do you know anything about her family – where they are from?"

I realised then that I did not know much about Jane's family at all. Given the nature of her upbringing, it was not surprising that she hardly talked of them, not when it brought back so many painful memories. Yet I dearly wanted her to share them with me, for I dearly wanted to ease her pain.

To Mr. Eyre, I replied, "I am afraid that is something that you must find out for yourself. All I know is that her mother's family is from the North."

"So she is possibly from the northern branch." he said to himself. "May you introduce me to her tonight?"

"As you wish, Mr. Eyre."

The dinner that awaited us that evening was a lavish six-course affair, beginning with Galway Bay oysters and ending with an exquisite end-of-autumn pudding. The food was sumptuous to a fault, but I had little appetite for it or the company beside me. Arthur and I were placed on either side of the Miss Lynches – undoubtedly by Blake's design – but it was their misfortune to be seated beside two gentlemen as completely indisposed for conversation as we were.

Arthur evidently was not his usual self. He might have behaved impeccably, but he lacked his usual liveliness, and the tension that had sprung up between us in the morning was now tangible. As for me, there was only one person that I wanted to see, and she was nowhere in sight.

Miss Roslyn and Miss Alicia were well-bred ladies enough – handsome, intelligent, interesting – a cut above many of the ladies that populated most drawing rooms. A year ago, I might have taken to engaging in a little flirtation, but there was no such gregariousness from me now. I said only what was polite, and even that was trying. As the dinner wore on, I could detect that Arthur was also itching to get away.

Unfortunately, our release came three tedious hours later, when the table retired to the drawing room for coffee. But my perseverance was soon rewarded, for upon entering the room I was arrested by the most enchanting sight.

There was Jane Eyre, sitting on the settee with the Blake children. Though dressed simply in a pale, blue dress, she was more beautiful than the Miss Lynches with their French-style gowns. Her eyes sparkled in the soft light, and her hair – her hair was delightful, flowing down the side of her face and neck in soft trestles.

How I yearned to run my fingers through it, to undo the pins one by one so that it fell freely, as it had on the night she saved me from being burned in my bed. How I wanted to toss out all the room's occupants so I could have her all to myself! Of course, there was no possibility of that, but I could not resist being drawn to her.

I began to make my way toward the settee, but to my exasperation, Miss Joyce got there first. As I watched them strike up an animated conversation, I became aware of a presence beside me.

"Is the girl in the blue dress Miss Eyre?"

I acknowledged to Mr. Eyre that it was.

"Humph, I see no great family resemblance." he remarked with a tinge of disappointment.

"Apart from the fact that you are both small and slight brunettes?" I replied sarcastically.

"Oh yes, I suppose that is true, but her eyes and other features are quite dissimilar. Still, would it be any trouble for you to introduce me to her now?"

"No trouble at all. In fact, I would be delighted to."