A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter. This is a re-upload, because I wanted to add this note.

I currently put this story on hold, because I worked on a rewrite in between times, which I uploaded seperately under the name "Lost in Bronte - A Jane Eyre Story." If you could read that story and let me know what you think, I would be very grateful. To continue this story, I would have to rewrite the beginning to make it more fast-paced. I hope you can be patient with me and head over to the other story in the meantime. I'm sorry for being absent for so long.

I'm always grateful for your feedback and your reviews help me so much. Constructive criticism is much appreciated!

Thank you so much! :)

Love,

Dreamatorium

Chapter XII - Mr Rochester

"Mr Rochester awaits you downstairs," Sophie said briskly, after tweaking the last stray strand of hair back in its place. All right, then, I thought. Let's get down to business. Let's meet him. Let's meet…the man of my dreams? Maybe.

The idea frightened and enthralled me at the same time. I hated being so riled up, but I loved the sense of excitement that was building in my stomach.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, I distinctly heard French music flowing from one of the rooms downstairs. Following the Parisian theme, I headed down the servant's stairs and along the corridor until I reached the living room, my giant gown billowing at my ankles. Drawn in by the familiar melody, I crossed the threshold with bated breath. I knew who must be sitting by the window, eyes glued to a gigantic encyclopaedia, dark curly hair grazing his shoulders. There he was in all his glory: Mr Rochester. I cleared my throat to make my presence known.

"Mr Rochester?" I asked quietly, hovering in the doorway, conflicted by my desire to meet him and my fear of being disappointed.

"Yes?" he said, darkly frowning up at me.

"I'm Jane Eyre, Sir. Your new governess. I was told you wanted to meet me."

"Yes, indeed," he said, now properly beholding my formal attire and stiff posture for the first time. "Come, Jane! Sit down," he commanded, gesturing towards the window seat beside him.

Beside him. Next to him. So close to him! I wouldn't be able to sit still.

My hands trembled as I closed the distance between us, taking one shaky step at a time.

"No need to fear me, Jane. My bark's worse than my bite!" Mr Rochester said sternly, yet coaxingly.

"Oh!" I gasped, taken aback by his direct manner. I thought I had succeeded in hiding my sweaty brow and trembling knees, but nobody could fool Mr Rochester, apparently. He watched me intensely while I took a seat by his side. His unwavering gaze made me drop my eyelids in bashful shame.

Get a grip! I told myself. Look at the man. You don't want him to think you can't stand up for yourself.

So, following my inner voice, I did look up at him, and it took me a moment to regain my composure. His eyes were the deepest blue I had ever seen. They sucked me in with their eerie glow and made my heart pound heavily in my chest as I lost myself in them. He was an attractive man, indeed, but wasn't he supposed to be quite the opposite? I had been expecting someone more rugged, more coarse in their exterior, but this Mr Rochester was very well-groomed, very poised (well, that fitted!), very confident (like I had expected), but instead of seeming dark and tortured, I could only see contentment in his eyes when I looked at him...even self-satisfaction.

I hovered next to the armchair hesitantly before sitting down at its very edge, as if I were ready to flee at moment's notice.

"So, Miss Eyre," he addressed me expectantly, still staring, and a little too pleased with himself, "what's your story?"

"My story, Sir?" I asked, puzzled, recognising the question, but unprepared as to how best to answer it.

"Everyone has a story, Jane. Tell me yours," he said with a surprisingly entitled edge to his voice that provoked my immediate dislike. I shrugged it off as part of his mannerisms.

"Well," I began, noticing for the first time that my hair was bound too tight, tugging at my scalp. "There's not really that much to tell, I can assure you," I frowned in discomfort. I wish I could stand proud, even impersonating someone else, but my lack of self-worth keeps popping up everytime someone takes interest in me.

"Oh, come now! No need to be modest. I'm sure there's a lot to tell. What do you like to do? What are your passions, your likes, your dislikes? Tell me about yourself, Jane," Mr Rochester prompted.

The French music was still playing in the background. Where was it coming from, I wondered. "Is someone playing the piano?" I asked abruptly, immediately realising how rude I must seem to "the master of the house." Evading his question. Probably not a very good idea.

"Now, don't try to distract me, Jane. Answer my question, and I'll answer yours."

It must be someone playing. The music was coming from next door, though, so I couldn't be sure. I decided I could no longer avoid his steely stare, so I began: "It's all a bit of a long story. What do you want to know exactly, Sir?" Sir, it sounded so strange, so submissive, to constantly address him thus. But somehow, I liked it. A little too much, I venture, but I discarded all thoughts of physical intimacy and suppressed sexual desires, for now, I needed to focus, to stay calm, rational.

"Where are you from?"

"Lowood Institution, Sir." Why did it turn me on so much? Really, pull yourself together! This isn't Fifty Shades. Although, it was more his authoritative voice rather than his looks that appealed to me, but he scared me a little as well. He was a very intimidating man.

"How long were you there?"

"Eight years, Sir."

Mr Rochester looked astonished. "That long? Didn't they feed you? You're so thin."

"No, Sir," I said rather seriously, recalling Jane's terrible time at Lowood. The emotion visible on my face was real, but I knew Jane wouldn't reveal too much of the inner workings of her mind, so I relaxed my facial muscles. Even frowned a little. It was a serious matter, after all.

"Well, I am sorry to hear that. And what about friends? Do you have any friends?"

"No. None, sir." Again with the serious face. Both of us staring at each other, seizing each other up. I wondered what he was thinking, if I appealed to him. I wondered what he would do to me if we were alone…upstairs in the bedroom. Oh, the fantasies I had always harboured. Such thoughts only an inexperienced virgin could have.

Fantasizing about her "master." I would gladly give myself to him.

Dear, Lord. I really needed to get a grip. Did I really only have our intertwining bodies on the brain?

He could probably see right through me. I couldn't take my eyes off him, salivating like I was beholding a sumptuous feast.

Mr Rochester smiled at me crisply. "What is preoccupying you, Miss Eyre? Please sit comfortably. Relax. I'm not going to bite."

Maybe I'd like that, I thought saucily, as he held me in place with his forceful stare.

I tried to do as I was told and composed myself, sitting upright with my legs crossed at my ankles, knowing I couldn't slump back in my chair like I was prone to do at home. I straightened my robe and attempted to smile. Even if I appeared frigid and cold, that was far better than appearing over-eager and weak-willed.

It's all good. You'll get there, Ruby, I heard my inner voice say. I was able to fill Jane's shoes, I knew that, but I was beginning to realise that it was going to be a bumpy ride. This wasn't a game anymore, it was my new reality.