Warning – this chapter is not from the book. At all. Not even close. Please enjoy and review!
"Flirting is a woman's trade, one must keep in practice."
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
Saturday, Jane decided, was a gloomy depressing day; an awful reminder that there were two days yet that Mr. Rochester would be entertained solely by Blanche. Sitting by the window in the library, Jane sat sketching. Somehow the image was always the same, either of him or of his lady; sometimes they were disguised as angels descending from heaven, or demons rising from the depths of hell. He was the sun, drawing her close enough to burn yet seemingly so far way. Jane found herself feeling restless, like a bird. She focused more on Adele, using any and all excuses to stay away from the group.
Today her pencil drew a scene, of rolling hills with trees cascading along the horizon. It was difficult to emerge herself in such a task, her hands shook as voices reached her ears, the familiar tones of a deep rolling voice made her shiver. The door opened, and Jane forced her hand to move long the page adding details to a tree. She knew she was not hidden, and how she so wanted to be. "Ah, Jane. There you are." He spoke so eagerly, happily. "Is this where you have been hiding all day? I didn't see you at breakfast or lunch."
"I ate with Adele." Jane replied, her hand flipping the page over with a sigh; unsatisfying was the picture.
"You are melancholy Jane." He remarked, pulling up a chair next to her.
"Since when is melancholy defined through the segregation of employee and employer." Jane replied, an edge to her force. "I do not wish to be subjected to such a delineation." Her companion let out a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. She stopped and looked at his, his eyes seem to sparkle with amusement. "You mock me."
"No, Jane." Mr. Rochester spoke, amusement in his voice. "Quite the opposite, I find a startling truth in your bluntness that surprised me. I forget, you see, about the 'delineation'." He watched her, and she returned the gaze with a hardness neither of them liked. "I have neglected you."
Jane set her teeth and turned her head back to her page, her hand not being able to find the inspiration. Attempting to hide her shaking hands, Jane clutched her fingers on her lap, her sketchbook resting on her knees. Looking out the window, her eyes searched his reflection in the glass. He studied her, his eyes not confined to her face.
"Come run with me." She turned her head back to him, her eyes questioning his reasons. "What look is this? You do not trust me?"
"I did not you run, that's all." She spoke, and a smile crept onto his face.
"Ah, well." He leaned in, "I do profess that I do very little, but that does not take away from my muscular form, does it not Jane?"
Jane shrugged, a small smile forming on her lips as she lowered her head. "I was not completely sure it was muscle sir, if so that is very impressive for a man of your age." Hearing a snort as a sort of indignant reply, she chuckled softly. "Running just might do you a great deal of good."
/
The run seemed to go by much faster than those did previous; he kept up easily despite his claim not to engage in rigorous activity. The property seemed to shrink, the distance was not nearly so long or hard, the trees welcomed them and said farewell multiple times. The spoke of many things, and it pleased Jane to no end to feel like they were on equal ground.
"What do you think of London, Jane?" He asked as they started their third lap, a glimmer of sweat starting to appear on his brow.
"It is nice enough, but I never spent much time out and about."
"Ah, the singular creature."
"Do not laugh." She panted, her body slowly running out of steam. "Many people do not like the crowded streets or loud noises a big city has to offer."
He laughed, a smile forming on hips lips briefly as they went along. "You would prefer to spend your whole life locked away like a bird, Jane?"
"Being a bird - implies a - cage in this - context." She replied, "I am not - and shall - never be - caged."
"So you would go and explore the world Jane?" He asked, "You would leave me Jane."
"Adele will - outgrow my - skill - as a teacher." Jane replied, her voice shaky as she breathed between word sets. "You shall have no need of you."
"Nonsense." He replied, his voice low.
"I don't talk nonsense." Jane replied, slowing to a walk as they made it into the treeline. Putting a hand on her neck, she raised her other hand and then frowned. "I forgot a watch, may I use yours?"
He stepped closer to her, removing her hand from her neck only to replace it with his own; his touch burned, her heart seemed to flood in her ears more than the running could inspire. His eyes did not linger on his wrist, but locked on her own. She could not speak, she felt weak and dizzy as he stepped closer. Suddenly their faces were very close, and she felt unsteady, unsettled and yet…
Finding the words to speak, she finally asked. "What is it?"
"Oh.' He said, breaking out of the trance they were in. "I have no idea, I forgot mine as well." He grinned, standing straight now, squeezing her slightly before removing his hand. "Shall we race back to the house?"
Jane was thankful for the opportunity, bolting for the door. He barked something and followed suit, reaching her as she made it to the door way. She felt his hands go round her waist as he pulled her backwards, a sound escaped her lips in frustration and surprise as he slipped in front of her. She followed running to the stairs, reaching him and trying to get past, unaware of the ruckus they were causing, or the grins on their faces.
He succeeded to block the way up, until Jane resorted to kicking the back of his knee. As his lurched forward, she sprang over him. It did not take long to reach the hallway, she reached the top of the stair to grin at her accomplishment as a hand grasped her ankle; pitching her forward. She squirmed as she was held fast, a weight on her as she turned on her back. His elbow rested by her ear, her thoughts were no longer on running, or water. She had teased him before, but she could feel his body now – his face lingered over her own. His eyes were dark, something lingered there she did not fully understand, but she felt it, knew it – and longed for it.
No sound startled them, no movement to disturb them. His lips seemed to hover over her own, his eyes searching; almost for permission or forgiveness. "You transfix me Jane." He whispered, "What spell have you bewitched me with?"
"No spell, sir." She replied, her voice as soft as his own.
"No." He breathed, moving back, standing and offering her a hand. She took it, and he pulled her up and into his arm easily. His arms went around her softly, like he was afraid Jane would break, his head buried in her neck. She felt her knees go weak as his lips brushed a spot she had not known existed, a small sound escaping her lips. Her hands pressed against his chest for support, and she felt his muscle contract to balance her.
The air was suddenly cold; he was not beside her. Jane blinked, rubbing her arms as she turned her head to watch his figure walk away. His gate was brisk and determined, yet his shoulders seemed hunched and heavy. He ran a hand through his hair as he disappeared into his room, leaving Jane in a state of utter wonderment.
/
That night, like clockwork, she sat her little hiding spot as the rest of the group sat chatting. She tuned them out easily tonight, her mind preoccupied with the events of earlier. She was trying to sketch, the images, however, were clearing restricted to the human body, the muscular form. She decided it was Hercules, and not some mortal man she pictures as she drew. The thought, however fictional, was easier than the truth and far less distracting.
"What a wonderful idea!" Blanche exclaimed, "How wonderful of you, Edward."
"What is it Blanche, and is it worth all this noise?" Her mother asked in an unpleasant tone.
"Edward has gotten us tickets to see Phantom of the Opera, Mama."
"How droll. Mr. Rochester I did not know you were an art's enthusiast."
"Normally I am not, but since we rarely have a moment to enjoy these things as a group, I saw it as a privilege."
"How kind you are Edward, all because you heard me say I liked musicals." Blanche crooned, and Jane rolled her eyes in silence. "You did buy more than enough tickets, actually you bought too many; there seem to be two extra."
"Not at all, Miss Eyre and Mrs. Fairfax shall be joining us."
"Really Edward." Blanche said sharply, "Do you always invite the servants?"
"If you dislike the decision, you are free to stay behind." He replied, his tone warm. "I have booked us all rooms at a hotel, and I made dinner reservations."
Jane had been watching him ever since it had been publically announced she was to join them. To what end? Her heart fluttered in panic and dread, her eyes watching his face. His eyes returned the look, locking with hers briefly before turning his back to her. I do not understand, what am I to do? She called out, her soul aching for an answer.
Jane. The place seemed to creak, a whisper reaching her ear. She watched as Blanche touched his back, her hand sliding down his spine in an intimate gesture. She clenched her teeth, rising from her spot as the pain in her heart welled up higher than she could control. Slipping out of the room, she shut the door softly, removing her heels and running to safety.