CHAPTER TWO
The Secrets Of The House
Over mountains, over oceans
Heaven, take me away
For I long for my liberty
For sweet liberty, I pray
Across the rivers, past the highlands
With God's wind in my hair
"Sweet Liberty" Jane Eyre, The Musical
Susan woke abruptly, feeling the skin on her cheeks tight with the salty residue of tears again. How many mornings would she wake to realise she'd been crying in her sleep? Sighing heavily, she looked at the clock on the wall. Later than usual. She reached up and tugged the cord hanging there, drawing back the curtains and letting the sunshine fill the room with brilliance. The gleeful shouts of the girls in the dormitory below her room drifted up to her, bringing a tired smile to her lips. "It's seven o'clock in the morning," she said out loud, rolling onto her side and staring at her bedside table. Sighing again, she glanced up out of the window, squinting. "I lift my eyes to autumn skies."
She sat up quickly, realising the date. It really was Autumn. She smiled. "I look out through the graveyard. A silhouetted swallow flies." She watched it. "He flies to distant countries..." she said dreamily. "I lose him just behind a cloud." Her smile faded. "I yearn to be that swallow... and go where I am not allowed." She brightened at the thought. "Over mountains, over oceans; Heaven, take me away!" She paused. "For I long for my liberty..." She stood up, straightening the covers on her bed. "For sweet liberty, I pray."
"It's nine o'clock in the morning," Susan said softly, watching the girls chatter away excitedly as they potted the plants and dabbed potions on the spots on the stems. "I teach what's been instilled in me... but is this all we're meant for? Condemned to mere tranquility?" She shook her head.
"Well, women feel as men do," she said decisively, catching a glimpse of fellow professors making their way across the estate grounds, leading classes of boys; shouting, whooping, hollering, carefree. "We must engage our minds and souls!" One of Susan's students glanced up in surprise. Susan smiled gently at her, quelling the unease. "Let us, like our brothers," she whispered to herself, walking the perimeter of the room, looking at the girls' work. "Let our worth define our roles. Breaking custom, and convention... Let tradition give way!"
The students looked curiously at her. "For we all need our liberty," Susan said clearly, her voice ringing in the greenhouse. "For sweet liberty, we pray."
"And I wake from my bed," Susan whispered, sitting bolt upright in her bed. "With the urge to depart and to follow the dreams of my heart." Her words disappeared in the quiet and she fell back against her pillow, the ever present ache threatening to overwhelm her. "It's twelve o'clock in the pitch black night," she said dully. "I can't contain my wanderlust. I seek a new adventure; I search the skies because I must!" She pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes. "I hunger for new faces," she whispered in the stillness. "To find a better destiny... to fly among the swallows far above the troubled sea. Over mountains, over oceans; Heaven, take me away!"
A floorboard creaked outside Susan's room. She ignored it. "For I long for my liberty; for sweet liberty, I pray." Inspired, she slid out of her bed quickly and onto her knees, clasping her hands and looking skywards out of her window. "Across the rivers, past the highlands," she said earnestly. "With God's wind in my hair I look out over boundless skies. My spirit thrives and carries me beyond my past where I find sweet liberty, my liberty, at last..." She sighed, dropping her head. There was a hurried sliding noise as an envelope was thrust under her door. Footsteps hurried away. Susan looked curiously at her. Who was listening at her door at twelve midnight? She reached out for the envelope.
The same conductor was peering at her. "Do I know you, miss?" he asked. "You look very familiar."
Susan smiled, adjusting her hat. "Perhaps," she answered him. "I take this train quite often to visit my family and friends up north."
"Oh, yes," he said vaguely, taking a ticket from the gentleman sitting opposite Susan. "You often look quite sad." He snapped his gaze to her, contrite. "Sorry, miss."
"That's alright," Susan responded. "It's true, isn't it?"
The conductor smiled. "I often worried about you," he confided. "But I almost didn't recognise you today; you look completely different! You're smiling, for one."
"I am," Susan agreed. "I'm starting a new life, sir. I'm escaping the past and going to pursue my dreams."
"What dreams are they, miss?" he asked politely.
Susan shrugged, still smiling. "I have a dream to be happy," she told him.
The conductor laughed, shaking his head. "Best of luck to you, miss," he replied, shuffling out of the compartment. "Best of luck to you."
Susan settled herself into the green velvet of the familiar seat, tracing the walnut coloured wood of the windowsill. Phrases from the letter rang in her mind. "You've seemed out of sorts..." "People have mentioned your general unhappiness..." "You've been heard muttering about liberty and God..." "We think it would be in your best interests to leave this school for a period..." "We've arranged for you to be a governess to a young girl at an estate called Thornfield in Northern England..." "Your train departs tomorrow at three..." "We send our very best wishes..."
It was like a light shining through the darkness. A chance to release herself, to find some of that liberty she'd been praying so hard for. To truly find God for herself and to achieve the only dream Hannah wanted her to achieve. Who knew, she may even find love and achieve a dream of her own. A world of opportunity awaited her. She remembered the picture of Thornfield that the principal of the school had slipped inside the envelope with reverence. It was beautiful; a great, stone manor set on acres and acres of woods and grounds. The perimeter was marked by a stone wall and the only entrance to the place guarded by great black gates. She felt the delicious stirring of excitement inside her as she pictured the front doors; wooden, twelve feet high, dark red, a brass knocker and a brass bell with a long rope.
"The secrets of the house are just beyond these walls," she murmured. "They hide in long forgotten shadows. Fragments of memories awakened and stirred. I have called, my heart has heard." Sweet liberty would be hers.
Susan stared up at the beautiful doors in delight, wondering whether to lift the knocker or pull the rope. Before she decided, the decision was made for her as the door was flung open unceremoniously.
"Child!" a short, round, white-haired woman in an apron and bonnet declared, hands on her hips. A tall, lanky man in a tweed coat stood awkwardly next to her, both of them gazing at her in astonishment. "What are you doing on the front doorstep?"
"I..." Susan faltered. "I'm the new governess."
"Heavens!" the woman declared. "Come off the front stoop, it's completely unheard of!" Susan was bustled through the doorway, the tall man taking her bags for her. "The front door!" the old woman muttered to herself. "Whatever next?" She extended a plump hand to Susan. "I'm Mrs. Fairfax, dear," she said apologetically. "You must excuse my abruptness but it's just that the servants must never use the front door! They have our own entrance through the kitchens. You'll remember that in future, of course."
Of course, Susan thought, amused. "I'm Susan Bones," she said, shaking Mrs. Fairfax's hand.
"Miss Bones!" Mrs. Fairfax trilled. "Delighted to meet you. This is Robert. I'd say he's the butler only he isn't; he hasn't the deportment."
Robert inclined his head to Susan before hurrying up the winding staircases with her bags. As Susan's eyes followed him, they widened in surprise. The hall in which they were standing was simply beautiful. Tapestries and paintings adorned every wall, the paneling behind them of a deep, rich mahogany.
"He's a very good servant, of course, it's only that he hasn't had the proper training to answer the front door. We have another servant for that," Mrs. Fairfax continued. "Whatever are you staring at? You must come into the kitchens immediately and get acquainted with me over a nice cup of tea. Come along!"
Susan hurried after Mrs. Fairfax through a series of rooms, each more exquisite than the last.
"Here we are!" Mrs. Fairfax shouted behind her, though Susan followed at a mere two paces. "The kitchen is in a bit of a mess, sorry about that. It's the Chef's fault. He threw the peeler on the bench and pieces of carrot sprayed simply everywhere." Susan looked at the bench to see a mere spattering of minute pieces of carrot restricted to one section of the bench.
"Indeed," she said, trying desperately not to laugh.
"Have a seat!" Mrs. Fairfax fussed, pointing at a number of chairs around a small table. "I'll get the teapot."
Susan sat down at the table, marveling at the ornate detail carved around the edges. "It's beautiful," she said softly, running her fingers along the edges.
"It'll be perfectly nice having somebody with whom to converse," Mrs. Fairfax declared, bringing the teapot, two teacups, sugar and milk over on a silver tray. She placed them on the table and took a seat opposite Susan. "The servants are fine but a little perverse." Susan lifted her eyebrow questioningly. Mrs. Fairfax saw that and sighed. "And if I'm a tiny bit terse, it's only because I just fired the chef." She busied herself with the tray.
"Oh dear, that's appalling," Susan said. "Why?"
"Are you talking to me?" Mrs. Fairfax glanced up from pouring the tea into her Susan's teacup. "I'm a little bit deaf. The weather's been rainy and grey," she said, nodding. Susan could only presume Mrs. Fairfax had assumed Susan had asked about the weather and bit her lip to stop herself from smiling mischievously.
Robert, the servant who definitely wasn't and couldn't be a butler, entered the kitchen and tried to give Mrs. Fairfax a plate of freshly picked strawberries. "Robert, stop fussing, you're just in the way!" Mrs. Fairfax said irritably, taking the plate and pushing him away.
Chuckling, Robert headed out. "He's really a dear," Mrs. Fairfax told Susan conspiratorially, "Though a tiny bit queer. There was a time when winter was here- Milk?"
"No-" Susan began. Mrs. Fairfax was pouring it in her cup anyway.
"When no one came by," Mrs. Fairfax continued in weary tones. "No one came near. Sugar?"
"No-" Susan said quickly, only to find Mrs. Fairfax dumping a lump in anyway.
"I was alone for nearly a year!" Mrs. Fairfax declared. Somehow Susan felt that would have been a mercy to someone, at least. "More?" She put two more lumps of sugar in the cup without waiting for Susan's response and pushed the teacup toward her. "And not a creature would come to the house. The vicar came once but he didn't stay long. Or did he come twice? Maybe I'm wrong." Mrs. Fairfax looked despairingly at Susan, who was stirring the three lumps of sugar around in her teacup politely.
"Then as the days went along, like it or not, I was not as depressed. And soon after that, we were finally blessed with little Adele!" Mrs. Fairfax stopped abruptly, catching sight of a small figure at the kitchen door. "Darling, come here!" The child approached. "This is Miss Bones, your governess, dear."
"Bonjour, Miss Bones!" the child said clearly in a French accent, curtseying prettily.
"Bonjour, Adele." Susan smiled. She looked at Mrs. Fairfax. "She is French, then..."
"Yes, I am French. But I speak English frighteningly well," Adele informed her.
"You certainly do," Susan said admiringly.
"Run along now, Adele," Mrs. Fairfax said kindly, smiling at the child. Adele obliged, leaving the room after wishing them both a good afternoon.
"What a spirited girl," Susan said thoughtfully.
"What a story to tell!" Mrs. Fairfax exclaimed. "Her mother is gone! Gone to the Lord. And Mr. Smith took her in as his ward."
Susan's heart melted in pity for Adele. "Mr. Smith, who's he?"
"The owner of Thornfield!" Mrs. Fairfax said, properly flabbergasted. "Did you not know he was called Smith?"
"I thought Thornfield belonged to you," Susan said, intrigued.
Mrs. Fairfax coughed incredulously. "Bless you child, what an idea. I am in charge of the hall. When he's away, I look after it all." She paused. "And he's away most of the time."
"What sort of man is he like?" Susan asked.
"The kind of man who is never about," Mrs. Fairfax replied cryptically.
"Where does he go?" Susan pressed.
"I wouldn't know." Mrs. Fairfax took a large gulp of her tea. "One of a kind, smart as a sage. And like a good wine, gets better with age. Modest and fair, yet one wouldn't dare behave in a manner unfitting one's class. One has a place one mustn't surpass. This is our lot, like it or not." She paused, her face a picture of distress. "I think I've forgotten my thought. What was it? Oh dear, that's not it at all! Did I have a point? I can barely recall. But you'll settle in, read a few books."
"I've brought a few things-" Susan tried to interrupt.
"You've got the brains," Mrs. Fairfax said approvingly.
"Thank you," Susan said, oddly flattered.
"If not quite the looks," Mrs. Fairfax continued.
Susan was appalled. "Mrs. Fairfax!"
"You'll soon adjust, everyone must," Mrs. Fairfax told her, ignoring Susan's protest. "Heed my advice. Let's be precise! Listen to me, I will not tell you twice. You will be in good grace if you face." Susan nodded. "A girl in your place will suffice if she's perfectly nice." Mrs. Fairfax drained her cup. "Finished?"
"Oh," Susan said, startled. "No- I haven't even-"
"Never mind, I'll send it up with Robert shortly," Mrs. Fairfax interrupted her, getting up from the table. "I've got so many things to do this afternoon, dear. We've having a lovely dinner in honour of your first evening, you see." Then she added, "And Mr. Smith is returning home this evening so that's a cause for celebration too. Well, what are you waiting for? Up you get! I'll get Robert to show you to your room. ROBERT!" she hollered. She waited a couple of seconds. Gaining no response, she rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "I'll just have to show you up there myself," she grumbled. "Follow me!"