That evening after dinner, I met with Richard, most anxious for his news in regards to the elusive Miss Eyre. At the window seat, we found ourselves, though I would have preferred the outdoors – alas, my charge wished for us all to be in the drawing room. 'I wish to play for you,' she had said, 'And Mademoiselle must remain.' thus I remained, my voice no louder than a hushed whisper.
"What have you found out, Richard?" I inquired, watching with interest as he fiddled in his coat pocket, retrieving a letter.
"She is living somewhere on the Moors, under a different name. Don't ask how I acquired the information, it is of little importance." my cousin told me, opening the letter, "I don't know why you wish to know, Molly, I wish you would tell me." he said.
I smiled, wishing that I could have told him – alas, it was not my place. "It is of little importance, I need to find her, that is all you need to know." I replied, my heart aching from the wish and desire to tell him all. Richard had always been a kind soul, and most accepting of whatever I had to say. However, twas not my place, and I dared not tell. "What did you find out?" I asked once more.
"Jane Elliott." Richard replied, "She has been using that name for the last year. She's living with a –" he looked at the paper, "St. John Rivers. Alas, that is all I know."
"Jane Elliott?" I repeated, "Why would she not tell her true name?" I asked, my cousin shrugged.
"Don't ask me" he told me, "I wouldn't be able to tell you."
I was grateful for the information, however small it was. It gave me hope, and that was worth it all. "Thank you, Richard. I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you." I apologized, for I truly understood the hardship of finding such information.
Richard smiled widely, "Its not inconvenience, Molly. I'm glad I could be of service." he replied as we heard Adele begin to tinker on the pianoforte.
Soon enough, Chopin's 4th Nocturne came pouring out from beneath her fingers. My heart elated with pride, only wishing that Mr. Rochester had had the chance to hear her. Indeed, I wished he were there – if for no other reason than to hear what I had found. However, I was unaware of just how my employer would react. Would he have been angry with me for trying to pry? Or would he go there himself? I knew not, but my mind had questions which could not have been answered.
The Nocturne ended, George was more than willing to play a saucy tune for Adele to learn. Vive la Compagnie – I believe it was called. To say the least, I was less than happy with his selection, but Aunt Fanny told me not to worry. 'He's just trying to be friendly Molly.'
Nevertheless, I managed to catch Richard's eye, he nodded in understanding and spoke to George. With a blush, my brother managed to get Adele away from the drinking song, and soon, the beginning keys of 'The Parting Glass' filled the room. Once more I caught Richard's eye, and smiled in gratitude. He chuckled, as if to say 'Don't worry about it.'
The laughter of the house warmed my soul, but the coldness of the determination which I had to find Ms. Eyre only saddened me. The Moors were not a safe place, and I knew that I would most likely have to wait to find her until I returned to Thornfield. Even then, I was unsure of how to find her without arousing suspicion.
Applause distracted me for only a moment, George and Adele bowing in thanks for the household's approval. I smiled, noting with interest my brother's attentions to my young charge. He had always been the youngest, for once he enjoyed being the elder.
The clock chimed eleven times, informing me that it was past Adele's bedtime. If Mr. Rochester was here, no doubt he would not approve. "Adele." I called, "Its time for bed, my dear."
"But must I go?" Adele asked, "I was having so much fun."
"Its eleven o'clock, Adele. What would Mr. Rochester say if he were here?" I asked, knowing that she wanted above all to do as he would want her.
"Alright, I'll go quietly." she said, turning to my family and saying her goodnight's personally.
My brother was more attentive to her than I would have expected, quickly promising her that he would take her riding the next day if she woke early enough. With a look of request toward me, which I approved, she promised she would see him early, and happily skipped to bed.
After prayers, she was snugly where she ought to have been, sleepy soundly. I smiled as I watched her for a moment, and then silently slipped out.
Georgianna was still awake when I knocked on her door. I needed to speak with her, mostly about my conflict in regards to Mr. Rochester.
"Molly?" Georgianna greeted at the open door, "What are you doing here?"
"I needed to speak with you, do you mind?" I asked, she shook her head and opened the door wider.
"What's on your mind, Molly?" my cousin inquired, lighting a few more candles.
"What would you say if I were to tell you that I was proposed to, and declined?" I queried, not quite sure how to word what I really wished to say. I had concluded that being obvious was the best way to address the situation. She paused, her mind seemingly searching for who I was referring to. Apparently she came up with an answer – and it was the right one, to my surprise.
"Mr. Rochester?" she asked. I nodded deftly, "I would have to wonder why you declined, but I'm sure you had a good reason." she answered my previous question.
"How did you know?" I asked.
"It was obvious." she replied, "I think at the ball was when I could truly say that I thought he might propose. When he saved you from dancing with Nelson."
"That was hardly grounds for a proposal, Georgia, he was just being chivalrous." I defended.
"That kind of chivalry only belongs to a man who has intent." she replied wisely, as if she was now Cupid, and knew all about matters of the heart. "Although you have liked an uglier person."
I was quick to defend him, telling her that I had never considered looks to be of consequence.
"No?" she challenged, "I doubt that a pretty girl like you would think that."
"Do you really think me so shallow?" I inquired, she was quick to shake her head.
"No, never. I tease you cousin." she replied, "However, I doubt you came here to discuss your personal tastes. Why did you decline him?"
I then launched into the story that I had found out about Miss Eyre, leaving out only the details which I was not at liberty to divulge. Indeed, I spoke for the better part of an hour as I described my curiosity at Jane Eyre's door, my consequent trust that Mr. Rochester kept me in the dark for a reason, Mr. Rochester's illness, and Bertha's appearance – albeit avoiding the topic of just who Bertha was. 'One of the Rochesters, who Mr. Rochester had not the heart to admit to an asylum.' I instead informed, carefully wording so as to avoid any alluding to a wife. He wouldn't want that, I knew.
"... and so, in light of the previous events, Mr. Rochester told me he loved me, and wanted me to be his wife. I couldn't do it, I refused him most cruelly. And then I avoided him for a week, although my heart and my head were at odds – my heart yearning for such a love as his; my head reminding me he loved another. Finally I had the courage to see him – he was so hurt. Can I ever forgive mysef? Oh Georgia, was I wrong? Have I betrayed myself so much? Will I never be happy?" I asked her my heart clenching at my sorry state. I knew she would have no answer to my everlasting questions. How could she? She loved someone who never had another love before her, a man whose heart was hers and hers alone, and aways had been. No one who cared for me, knew the depth of my sorrow.
It seemed she understood that, and for a moment was silent. "No, Molly, I can't say you were wrong." she finally said after an eternity, "You followed your head, which I must commend you on, for that was your weakness in the past."
"If it such a good thing, then why am I so miserable?" I asked her with honesty, "Why do I feel so hollow and empty?"
She had no answer, but could only look at me in pity. "Do you believe you'll never be happy?" she asked in return.
I scoffed, "I know not." for I didn't, all which my mind had always known and depended upon was disregarded. A special case, Mr. Rochester was. I knew not what to do because in this matter my heart and my mind struggled for dominance. My mind had won, but my losing heart felt betrayed. Was I meant to be happy? Or was I meant to view all those around me, and their happiness, while only feeling fleeting glimpses myself?
"Miss Barbara would tell you that you were meant to be with someone." Georgianna started saying, "Maybe she's right? But perhaps it is these miserable instances which will make you perfect for your last love?" I breathed a laugh, she was trying to help, but I wasn't so sure it was comforting enough. Nothing would be really. "Do you love him?" she asked me, the sincerity in her eyes pleading with me to answer her honestly, nothing barred.
How to answer, Reader, was the question in my mind? For which could answer, my head or heart? However, ever the diplomat, I contemplated the question carefully, and answered calmly.
"I know not whether it is the love I would feel for a man who God has predestined as my soulmate. I dare not attempt to believe that. I love him as a friend, and I want only the best for him. I know that he is not my soulmate, because of what I know of his love for Miss Eyre. I would not want to steal that from him, replacing it with nothing more than a counterfeit." I answered.
"But do you love him? Would you be happy with him if you had accepted?" Georgianna asked a little more clearly.
"Yes, and no." I replied, "I do not think I'd love as I should, and we wouldn't be happy long – if ever. Miss Eyre is who he is destined to be with. He met her long before he met me, and he loved her. To even believe that I would be anything more – would be in vain."
"Always resignation and acceptance. Always prudence and honor and duty. Logic rules you, your head you follow, not your heart. And perhaps you're right, perhaps we should not follow our hearts. But Molly, if you love him, then won't you be just as miserable?" she asked me.
"I don't know." I replied, "I don't know."
The conversation ended relatively quickly afterwards, the clock making it clear that it was nearing one o'clock. That night I was unable to sleep. My only comfort was that Jane Eyre was somewhere on the Moors... I only hoped she would be willing to listen to me as I persuaded her to return to my master.
If I failed, I was sure that my heart would break – for I would have given up love, when it could have been my own.
And with that thought, I fell asleep, my dreams haunted by Bertha Rochester – lighting Thornfield on fire. The sounds of screaming coming from inside the marvelous house.
A walk sounded good when the sun crept above the horizon the next morning. I hadn't slept well, and I needed to clear my head a bit – with caution, I went downstairs, not at all surprised to find the house completely silent. It wouldn't be long, I was sure, before the household awoke to the new day, but for now I wanted time to myself. With deliberation I went outside, slightly shivering from the morning air. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant thing. The walk refreshed me to be sure, allowing me to think without interruptions.
Firstly there was the new development regarding Jane Eyre, there was the matter of how to find her. To be sure, I knew where she was staying, but how would I tell her what I wished – how would I convince her to return to Mr. Rochester?
Secondly, there was the matter of getting there without alerting Mr. Rochester. My reasoning being that: if she decided not to return, then for him to know that I had seen her would only hurt him more. Yet, the consequence of not telling him – if he found out on his own – would only strain the friendship cord which was about to break already.
Thirdly, if and when she returned, where would that leave me? Adele would no longer need a governess, as the new Mrs. Rochester would be a more than adequate teacher. Indeed, for Miss Eyre would not need my services. That would mean I would need to consider the future.
By the time I had finished my walk, my contemplations finishing in my head, the household of Branhurst was already up and about. I was suddenly surprised by the amount of shuffling the servants seemed to be doing.
"Mademoiselle Marie!" Adele exclaimed, announcing my arrival into the dining room. She quickly left her chair to embrace me, momentarily forgetting her manners.
"Good morning Adele, did you sleep well?" I inquired, ignoring her momentary lapse of judgment.
"Quite well. Merci, Mademoiselle. George took me riding while you were on your walk..." she then proceeded to tell me how she had admired the horses, and how well George rode "But did you hear? We are going to London!" she suddenly exclaimed.
"London?" I repeated incredulously, looking to my family with a dubious glance.
It was Richard who spoke: "Ah yes, Molly, Hetta has decided that she wishes to go to Town for the day. Something about last minute shopping."
"I only wish to make sure that everything is going smoothly," Henrietta replied tersely, "And I concluded that we could all could go. A family outing for the day"
"Except mother and I" Richard retorted, "I have some letters to write, and I'm sure the trip to town wouldn't agree with her."
"You're quite right, Richard." my aunt replied, "But the other children could go in. Adele, I'm sure, would love to see London."
"Oh, oui Madame Polk" the child said wistfully.
I sighed, I had never liked London – twas the bane of my existence in my opinion. What with the crowded streets, the general noise, and the people's haughtiness. To say the least, I have always disliked the place. Besides, Charles had once taken me to London –
"What do you think Molly?" Miss Gold asked, brining my thoughts out of my reverie of London.
"You will come, oui?" Adele added, her little eyes pleading so hopeful. "It would not be the same if you did not, Mademoiselle."
Biting back my dislike for the place, and seeing that Adele was so enthusiastic, I reluctanty agreed. A cheer went around the room, and it was settled that after breakfast we would set off.
By the time we reached London, it was time for luncheon. To say the least, the trip to town was crowded, six people in a carriage – it was bound to be quite hellish. There was Henrietta, Georgianna, Adele, Mr. Gibson, George, and myself. William had, at the last moment, opted not to come – quite a curious thing, but I tried to think nothing of it – therefore allowing for my brother to fill his place.
"Where shall we go first?" Georgianna asked.
"To have luncheon, I'm starved." Mr. Gibson replied, "Aren't you starved, Molly?" he asked turning to me.
"I wouldn't say starved, Gibson" I replied, "but hungry."
It was then decided on going to the George Inn, by Gibson's advice of course.
When we arrived, Adele quickly started shouting in French: "Regardez! Regardez, il est il! Je n'ai pas su qu'il allait être ici? Avez-vous fait Mademoiselle?"
"Who are you talking about Adele? Who is here?" I queried.
"Monsieur Rochester, naturellement." she replied, causing me to look up.
To my shock and surprise, the child had been right – there Mr. Rochester stood, on the stair of the George, looking as surprised to see us as I'm sure I looked to see him.
"Sir" I greeted. "What an unexpected surprise."
"Miss Allen." his gruff voice replied as he took of his hat and bowed.