And I'm back!

A few quiet days passed. My papers and paints were a boon and allowed me to spend many content hours in my room or out in the open fields at the edge of town. Mr James would sometimes come to talk or bring me a small meal when I had spent hours out in the open without sustenance.

He was a good man, decent and friendly, and he never stayed for too long. Reader, my very limited experience with men always made me believe that they were heartless creatures or authoritative masters or a mixture of both. It was strange and refreshing to realise that men could just be people…and maybe even friends.

I would get daily updates from the clinic, telling me about Adele's condition. She was recovering, and the wound in her head was healing, but doctor Carter had kept her purposefully sedated to allow a quicker recovery so visiting time was limited.

I had gone to see her two days previously and she didn't look as terrible as she had after her first operation. Her head was still covered in bandages, but she looked like she could be sleeping. Sophie was at her side night and day, which was a great comfort to me. Even though this nightmare was far from over, it felt like the worst of it had passed.

The questions still plagued me, however, would Adele ever recover fully? Would she recall her sad life, the loss of her mother and the disdain of her guardian? She was in a foreign country surrounded by strangers at this point and while she had been adjusting well before the accident, she would have to struggle through the readjustment again if she did not remember.

It was a Tuesday morning and I had gone again to the fields to paint. After doing landscapes for a few days, I changed by focusing on smaller objects and trying to paint those instead. However, I could not seem to help myself; I would paint a rose with a little fairy sleeping in its depths or a wide sunflower with a fairy tea party taking place on its vast base. These were not my usual topics for painting, but the fanciful made me think of Adele and a part of me thought that she would be entertained by these images.

My latest image was a fairy bedroom in a tree. I had spent hours painting the walls and furnishings of the bedroom, substituting items like ewers for little acorn cups and carpets for moss.

The fairy looked a lot like Adele and I'm sure she would be amused by the pretty gossamer clothes that I planned to dress the fairy in. I was just mixing the colours for a pale pink petal dress when I heard a cough behind me.

It was Mr James. I greeted him with a smile and a nod that he could approach. He carried a covered tray and my mind flashed to the few measly coins I had left to pay my way. I tried not to think about it and turned on the large blanket I was sitting on. The inn had allowed me to borrow it for my rambles and Mr James sat on the edge of it and placed the tray down.

He glanced at my painting and smiled, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "That is a lovely one, Miss Eyre, both fanciful and realistic."

"Thank you," I responded, "I thought it might amuse Miss Varens once she awoke. She loves fairy stories. Not so much to read herself, but to have the stories told to her."

He chuckled a little, "Which little girl does not love fairy tales?"

I smiled and nodded. He indicated the tray he had bought. "This is just a little food for you. It is already past 4 and you have not eaten anything since breakfast."

"Oh," I was surprised. "I hadn't realised how the time had passed. Thank you, that is so kind of you."

He nodded and motioned to stand, but I held my hand out, feeling a little foolish, "Will you not eat with me?"

He stopped, then shook his head, "I have already eaten, Miss Eyre, but I can keep you company if you wish."

I nodded, "Yes, please, I would appreciate that." He sat down again. I don't know what had come over me. Mr James would sit with me often but I had never invited him to stay before. I think I was feeling a little lonely. I did not really speak to anyone during my sojourn at the inn and the only real human contact I had had was with him.

I uncovered the tray and luckily, it was a simple meal of tea, bread and some butter. He must have noticed that I did not ever order any extravagant meals and kept these trays simple as well. I took a bite of bread and butter and Mr James looked at my portfolio.

"May I?" He asked

I nodded.

He opened the book carefully, slowly pulling out the sheets and examining them. He smiled his approval at a few of my pieces, especially the ones of the village. He looked down at me quizzically when he pulled another watercolour from the set.

I scanned the page, realising that it was a painting of the inn. I had painted it on a day I was feeling a little low and the dull colours of the inn were obvious, especially compared to the vibrant greens and blues of my other landscapes. The only bit of colour on the page was the man chopping wood outside. I had painted him with strong lines and even from the distance; his handsome face with golden hair was obvious, along with the power of his arms as I had caught them at the end of the swing.

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I had not thought consciously about what I was painting and had just painted what I saw.

Mr James laughed, "Well, this is an unexpected surprise. Is this supposed to be me?"

I nodded, taking a long sip of my tea, trying to hide my discomfort. What would he think of me?

"I- I was painting the inn one day and you happened to be outside. Sometimes my fingers work without thinking, I had not been watching you, and it just happened that you were there. Pardon my intru-"

He shook his head, "There is nothing to pardon. It is a lovely painting, and I have never seen myself except in the looking-glass…" He continued to gaze down at the picture.

"Would you like to keep it?" I asked without thinking.

He considered me, "Are you sure, Miss Eyre? This is clearly the work of a few hours and…I sense something deeper in the painting than just the picture your eyes saw."

"What do you mean?"

"This painting…it's different from the rest. Everything is dark, the inn, the ground, even the sky. It's almost like it speaks to your feelings. There is a sense of hopelessness in this. Everything is a little bigger, making the viewer seem small. Closed in. You were not happy when you painted this. You will have to pardon me for my invasiveness…but this makes me feel like you wanted to run away."

My breath caught in my chest. How did he know? I was staggered and my expression must have shown as he quickly put the painting away.

"Forgive me, Miss Eyre, it was not my place to intrude on your feelings like this."

I shook my head and while I collected myself, Mr James put the rest of the paintings away. He started to talk of the weather, the village, his inn – safe topics that allowed me to be at ease again. He was a good man who did not delight at my discomfort.

"May I watch you paint?" he asked, once the tension had passed.

I hesitated, and he smiled, "I promise I will be as silent as a mouse. If you find you cannot paint in my presence, then I'll leave without you asking."

I took up my brush and he was true to his word. I felt his dark eyes on me as I began but I soon forgot them as the painting took me. I painted in silence, feeling the usual thrill when the brushstrokes moved as I wanted and the small flicker of irritation when they took a life of their own and did not follow my hands and thoughts.

I don't know how much time had passed as the fairy took life, her pale pink dress showing all the delicacy and shimmer that a little girl would desire. A cool breeze passed by and I shivered slightly.

"Would you like your coat, Miss Eyre?" I lifted my head and realised Mr James had moved closer to me as I painted. Not enough to disturb me but as I sat up fully, his face was very near mine. The brown eyes were warm, his wavy hair a little tousled by the wind, and he had a small smile on his face.

"What?" My cheeks were aflame again at his proximity.

"It's getting cold, would you like your coat?" He asked again, and his warm breath blew over my face.

"I- erm…I-" I could not collect my thoughts into any coherence. I was just aware that this very handsome man with kind eyes was near me.

"Do you know that you make faces as you paint?"

I blinked, "I do?"

He laughed and nodded, "You smile to yourself when your painting is going well, and frown slightly when it isn't. Your brow furrows before you start a new section of your painting and you squeeze your eyes shut when your brush doesn't co-operate with your thoughts."

Who was this man? I did not know him and yet he seemed to know me. It confused me that he could so easily understand me.

I peered up at him and he was still close, an easy smile on his lips. Well-formed lips, like those on the Greek statues of old. His smile faded a little as I stared at him, his eyes travelling down my face to my lips.

"Jane," my name was a whisper; caught in the breeze and tugged away before I was even certain he had said it. I felt a heavy warmth on my hand and glanced down. One of his big, brown hands was covering my small one.

I could not react at that moment. My mind was filled with conflicting, confusing thoughts. All I could do was stare up at him. I'm sure my eyes were wide and green but his remained soft and steady. He didn't move closer. He was waiting for permission – a permission I wasn't sure I had the power to give.

I couldn't breathe but his breath was shallow. His eyes raked my face, hoping for a sign or signal, something to indicate that he could come closer and be welcomed. His hand tightened on mine and the rough warmth of it reminded me of Edward. Without thinking, I closed my eyes at the painful recollection and Mr James had his signal.

I felt his warm, strong lips on mine for a split-second before-

"Miss Eyre!" There was no question about the veracity of this call. I jumped back, wrenching my hand from beneath Mr James'. We turned to look at the owner of that voice.

It was Mr Rochester and he stood a few feet away, towering over us.

I love cliffhangers but I swear I won't make you wait too much longer for the next chapter. Please let me know what you think, good or bad, in the reviews.