I am the worst person to keep my writing consistent. My apologies for the delay and thank you to the people who reviewed the story during my own procrastination-fuelled hiatus.

I stared down at the little girl, wondering if I had heard wrong. Had Adele just asked for her mother? But her mother had abandoned her. That was what had prompted Mr. Rochester to take Adele in the first place, despite the question of her parentage.

I heard a carriage pull up outside the clinic. I hoped that was Dr. Carter and I moved towards the door to see.

Two pairs of boots tramped on the stone floors. Dr. Carter entered with a quick nod of greeting to me and moved towards Adele. Behind him was…my breath caught in my throat. It was Mr. Rochester.

Despite the shock of seeing my master's face again, I tried to keep my face blank and turned away to look at Dr. Carter and Adele. Sophie had stepped back and the doctor was checking Adele's eyes. He moved his fingers from right to left, up and down, watching Adele's little eyes following them.

"She asked for her mother," I said from behind him. He nodded but continued his hand movements. As I approached him, he turned to me, "Miss Eyre, can I ask that you remove yourself and her nurse from this room so I can speak to Adele alone?"

I didn't want to but Adele's scared little voice and drawn face had been upsetting. Was her request for her mother just a frightened girl's plea for comfort or was it something more? Adele had gotten more used to speaking in English as well, but I could not blame her for reverting to her native French in a moment of anxiety such as this.

I indicated to Sophie and turned to walk out but Mr. Rochester strode past me. I did not want his acknowledgment and yet, I felt a little twinge in the selfish part of my heart that wanted some notice. What a confused creature I was.

"Carter, what is happening?" Mr. Rochester demanded.

"Well, my preliminary tests seem to indicate that she's healthy physically…" he trailed off.

"Adele," Mr. Rochester leaned down and spoke in a softer and kinder tone than I had ever heard him use before, "do you know who I am?"

Adele sounded surprised, "Comment?"

"Et savez-vous qui je suis?" He repeated in French.

"Non," she replied.

"Je suis Mr. Rochester," he continued kindly, probably hoping that it would ring a bell for his poor ward.

"Non," she just repeated. I couldn't see her face but her voice but so monotone and blank, it scared me.

"Carter, what is this?" Mr. Rochester looked at the doctor again. Carter looked down at Adele, seemingly in deep thought.

"Adele, en quelle année est-on?" What year is it, he was asking her.

"Ummm…1826," Adele replied, a little hesitant.

"What?!" Mr. Rochester and Sophie exclaimed. Dr. Carter was shaking his head.

He straightened up and turned to Mr. Rochester, and noticed that we had not left the room. He seemed displeased but I do not think it was because of us. There was something wrong with Adele.

Dr. Carter cleared his throat. "I will have to conduct more tests to confirm, but I think that Adele is suffering from a type of amnesia."

I knew what amnesia was. When I had been with Mrs. Reed, she was prone to forgetting the year and time as well. She would often bemoan her son's behaviour as if he was still alive, forgetting the events of the past few months. But this was something different…Adele had forgotten a large portion of her young life.

Adele had come to Thornfield a few months before my arrival in April of 1928. Is that why she called for her mother? In her confused mind, she had not been abandoned by Celine Varens and her mother was still with her. Poor child.

Mr. Rochester had just continued to stare down at Adele. "Will she always be like this?" His voice was hoarse.

Dr. Carter continued, "I have to conduct more tests. I don't know how permanent this is."

"There's a chance she might recover her memory?" I asked.

"I don't know. Do not expect it. There cannot be any expectations in a case like this," he replied brusquely.

"Where…mama?" Adele asked in broken, hesitant English, "Mama!"

Her voice was pleading and cracked on the words. Sophie rushed to her and took the little girl's hand. Sophie had been her nurse during the time of Celine Varens. Maybe Adele would remember her.

"Sophie! Où est maman?" Adele was struggling to sit up but Sophie gently kept her flat. She held her mistress's hand and cooed to her quietly in French. Adele seemed to calm down.

"What now, Carter?" Mr. Rochester asked.

"Now…you both have to leave. Adele is still weak, and waking up to strangers will have been a big shock to her. Neither of you can stay here. Sophie can but I will speak to her about what she can reveal to Adele."

"But-" I broke in.

"But nothing. This is not up for discussion. You and Mr. Rochester are both strangers to Adele and her condition is delicate. She still needs to face another operation." He was glaring at me now.

I took a deep breath and nodded, "I will pack my things and then I sha-" I broke off, realising that I wasn't sure where I would go next. I couldn't go back to Thornfield. But Adele had not completely recovered yet. Where was I to go? I only had a few shillings left from the last salary Mr. Rochester had paid me before I left for my aunt's house.

Mr. Rochester turned to me and gestured that we should leave the room. I quietly walked out in front of him. Outside, I looked up at him, willing my heart to behave.

"Jan-Miss Eyre, I humbly request that you return to Thornfield. You will be cared for there." Mr. Rochester spoke, his eyes soft. "I swear upon my honour, I will not touch you or approach you in any way. You will be safe…from myself and all others." The 'others' hung between us. We both knew who he referred to.

"It is your home." He finished simply.

Thornfield was not safe. It was not his wife that worried me; it was not even Mr. Rochester. I was most scared of myself and my feelings.

"I- I will only return once Adele returns home. What is a governess without her ward?" I countered. "There is nothing for me to do there and people will talk…"

"Let them talk!" There was the Mr. Rochester I knew and loved. His eyes were dark and crackling, and his temper was returning. The gentleman confused me but the man was a familiar creature.

"Mr. Rochester," I said in a business-like tone, forcing my voice to remain steady. "A few days ago, you told me that I only teach Adele a few spelling words." I knew I was throwing his own angry words back at him and he would be far from pleased. But what did I care about the pleasure of this man's life, who had taken all the pleasure from mine?

I continued, "I don't think there is any requirement for me to stay at Thornfield at the moment. I will find a place in Millcote until Adele is ready to return home, and then come back with her." My voice did not waver.

"With what money will you stay in the village?" That was a challenge and his eyes flashed.

Mr. Rochester did not know about my financial situation. He had given me ten pounds before I had left to my aunt's at Gateshead and he knew not how much I retained of that.

I turned my chin up a little, "I have money. I am not as destitute as you think. I can look after myself."

His moods were so changeable and once again, he simmered down and looked at me with an expression that took every particle of my being to ignore. His eyes were gentle again and I could read the love within them. There was even a sense of ... admiration?

He sighed, "Yes Jane, I know you are capable of looking after yourself. I just wish you did not have to." He was resigned, "Where will you be staying?"

"The inn at Millcote," I replied promptly, hoping that they had the place for me. "Then I can easily visit Adele when needed at the clinic. Thornfield is too removed from the village." I was making up excuses as I spoke, but all rang true.

"Fine," he turned on his heels. "I will send John with more clothing for you to stay."

He was striding out and I stood there, alone, wondering what I was doing.