A/N:

Hi everyone,

I'm back with a new chapter. Thank you so much for your messages and continued interest in this story. Please feel free to leave a comment/review. I'm always so happy to read your input.

Hope you enjoy!

Love,

Dreamatorium xx

Chapter XV – The Wrong Rochester

Still reeling from the shock of finding out that I had been living with the wrong Mr. Rochester, as I like to think of him now, I remained in my bedroom until nightfall.

Darkness had already set in after I had left Mr. Rowland Rochester's office and it didn't take long for the night to cast its shadow over Thornfield Hall. What a day it had been! What a disturbing day indeed.

I still could not believe I had been fooled by such a poor excuse of a man, such as Rowland. Who did he think he was? After Mrs. Fairfax had left my bedroom, I had simply flopped down on my four-poster bed fully-clothed and shut my eyes, waiting for morning – waiting, for this twisted dream to end, hoping to wake up somewhere else to a different reality. What had once been a fantasy land, had now turned into a nightmare.

It crossed my mind that I could leave Thornfield Hall at any time, but the problem was, there was no guarantee I would find my way back home. I was afraid of wandering around this world, feeling even more lost than I was now.

And my stubborn streak couldn't yet let go of the idea that things might get better. Perhaps Edward would show up eventually, but just in case he didn't, I needed an escape plan. I at least needed to know if I could still get back to Blackfield somehow if I so chose.

Tomorrow I would go and investigate, I would inspect the hedge I had come through the first time and see if I could get back.

Unfortunately, my efforts to find the entry-way, which had led me to this world, remained futile.

The next morning, I immediately set off on my mission to find the portal, with which I had come through into this world. I headed into the foggy gardens on an empty stomach to inspect the hedge, but there were no traces of the magic I had previously experienced there anymore.

I stayed outside for a while, even though the damp mist clung to my cheeks like a plastic film, but nothing seemed to change. All I could see was a dense row of shrubs and low trees - an ordinary hedge.

The memory of the archway was still fresh in my mind and the way I had been thrust into this world had seemed so serendipitous to me at the time. And yet now, there was no archway, no portal to be seen, even when I sat in front of the very place that had sucked me into this world for what felt like hours. What a disappointment. I hung my head heavily, feeling deflated.

I had always thought that a way out might at least present itself to me if and when I was in desperate need of it. I had assumed, in fact, that I could get out whenever I pleased, only now to realise I had no clue whether I would be stuck here forever.

Be careful what you wish for, they say. Now I see why. But I couldn't yet give up hope, for that was all I had. I clung to the idea that I was supposed to be here in fictional Victorian England, in Brontë's world, in my favourite Brontë story, but I had begun to feel doubtful. What if there was no point to any of this?

And yet, there was still a niggling voice at the back of my mind, screaming: Don't be stupid! There is always a reason. That was how I had always explained bad things happening to myself. I had lived my life in fantasy land, not connected to the real world, always trying to escape, but now I realised I would need a lot more perseverance if I was to make it through.

I needed to pluck up my courage and stop feeling sorry for myself. Life doesn't always make sense, even in the "real world," but it's about making the most of your experiences.

On the other hand, impersonating Jane Eyre was hard enough, but dealing with assault was not something I had bargained with at all. I lingered in front of the hedge until my knuckles were frozen stiff and my limbs were aching. It took me a good while to untangle myself from my cross-legged position.

Yet, just as I was about to head back to the main house, I swore I heard a faint cry of "Ruby!" coming from somewhere across the hedge. I froze in shock, startled, listening intensely for any further signs of life, but I heard only the rustling of the wind in the trees. I gazed into the hedge hopefully, but - alas - nothing further happened.

Maybe I had imagined it, I thought groggily, my lack of sleep making me dizzy.

Then, out of nowhere, I suddenly did hear a cry coming from the other direction. Someone was shouting my name indeed, but it was coming from Thornfield Hall, and it wasn't "Ruby" they were yelling out.

I saw a faint light in the distance as I squinted, trying to see who was calling me. It was probably Mrs. Fairfax, I thought to myself, as I headed back towards the house, feeling drawn to the flickering light beckoning me to return and yearning for the warmth of Thornfield Hall. Warmth there would be, but not safety. I actually didn't know if I would ever feel safe at Thornfield Hall again.

As I approached Thornfield, I could make out a small, dumpy figure in the doorway to the servant's entrance. It was indeed Mrs. Fairfax, anxiously awaiting me.

"Where on Earth have you been, Miss Eyre? You must be frozen stiff!"

Indeed I was extremely cold, so I sat for a while by the fireplace, as I munched my porridge hungrily.

The fire had a tantalising effect on me, as so many things seemed to these days. I was drawn in, hypnotised, watching the flames dance to and fro. As I stared into the blazing heat emanating from the hearth, I could almost make out another faint cry of "Ruby!" coming from the fireplace, but I brushed it off this time as a mere consequence of my lack of sleep. Next I would claim to see Jane's own head appear in the flames…what an incredulous idea.

The next few days, I went about my tasks in a haze, still obsessing over possible signs I could have missed about the false Mr. Rochester - but then again, how could I possibly have known? Rowland was dead in the novel by the time Jane arrived. Perhaps there may have been some smaller tells in the beginning, like Rowland calling me "Jane" and his generally domineering mannerisms and intimidating nature, but there was no way of knowing Edward's brother was actually still alive!

I guess it was a good thing Jane never had to endure meeting him. Perhaps it was due to the fictional nature of this world or perhaps this is what Rowland was really like – I would never know - but from now on, I knew to be cautious around him.

Who knew which other sinister secrets were hiding beneath the surface? If he could so easily sexually assault me (and not just me, as he had seemingly done so before), I didn't dare to think about what else this man was capable of! Yes, I was indeed afraid of him now, but I was determined not to let my fear show.

However, at this point I didn't know if that was really a good idea or if I should just have packed my bags and left there and then, but the hope of circumstances improving remained. And leaving Thornfield would now mean entering a world utterly unknown to me. A world perhaps even darker than I knew.

At this point, I felt I didn't really know anything anymore for certain. The rules of the game had changed, but maybe I could find a way to work my way around them or rewrite them. Perhaps it was time to throw caution to the wind.

There must at least be a way to get rid of Rowland. Maybe I could beat him at his own game. Maybe it was time to turn the tables and make a fool out of him. If he was seen as unfit to lead this household, maybe Edward would be forced to come back, wherever he was at this time.

It was with this thought in mind that I was able to continue my journey here at Thornfield Hall, in this strange, sometimes twisted universe.

I decided to play along with Rowland, so as not to arouse any suspicion. After all, this was the nineteenth century, and a woman who was too rebellious in nature might just end up locked up in an attic, labelled "insane".

I had to tread very carefully now and find out more about Rowland and his role in this world. If he was still alive, I needed to know if I could still rely on my knowledge of the novel or not. I needed to find out why he was here and where Edward was hiding. It was time to investigate.

A/N:

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