This scene should be read at the end of chapter 17.
The morning after their sexual encounter Mr. Rochester leaves Thornfield to attend a party at a nearby estate without any explanation and no reassurance that he will return. Jane finds out where he has gone from Mrs. Fairfax, who also describes the beautiful and eligible Miss Blanche Ingram. Jane spends two weeks pining for Mr. Rochester and comparing herself with Miss Ingram. She concludes that Mr. Rochester must have no interest in her since she is nothing compared to the beautiful, and rich, Miss Ingram. Then she learns Mr. Rochester will return to Thornfield with a dozen guests, Miss Ingram included, to throw a party of his own. The evening after their arrival, Mr. Rochester demands that Jane be present as he entertains his guests. He claims that he wants her to accompany Adèle so she can come to the party, but that is just an excuse; he really wants Jane there so she can witness him flirting with Miss Ingram in an attempt to make her jealous.
The evening had not progressed as I had imagined. Jane had indeed come to the drawing room, as I had bid, but it was obvious she had no pleasure in it. Despite her objection, and the discomfort it caused her, she would not disobey a direct order.
Though she was present, she made every possible effort to remain inconspicuous. She did not speak to me. She would not come near me. Damn her, she wouldn't even acknowledge me. I observed her covertly from my periphery. She was positioned in a far corner of the room, diligently applying her attention to some handwork in her lap, knitting or some such.
Examination proved she was not as inattentive as she would have me believe. Whenever she discerned that my attention was engaged elsewhere her head would turn toward me. Yet still, she refused to meet my eye. She would turn her face back to her work if I so much as glanced in her direction. Well, if she would not give me the courtesy of an acknowledgement then I certainly wouldn't acknowledge her either.
I turned my attention to Miss Ingram, maneuvering her like a pawn to capture my queen. The woman was doing an excellent job of making a complete fool of herself, all that was needed was a little encouragement. She preened before the party like a peacock, displaying her pride and conceit. All the while believing she had charmed me. I allowed her to lead me to the piano. She was eager to show her talents. She sat before the instrument shaking out her ebon curls, her voice laced with affected sweetness.
"Mr. Rochester, now sing, and I will play for you."
Miss Ingram was an accomplished pianist and singer. A duet between us would be just the thing to turn my beloved Miss Eyre green with envy.
"I am all obedience," I demurred.
"Here then is a Corsair-song. Know that I dote on Corsairs; and for that reason, sing it con spirito."
"Commands from Miss Ingram's lips would put spirit into a mug of milk and water."
She chastised me for the bold flirtation, then cautioned me that she would not tolerate an inferior performance on my part. I assured her I would not disappoint.
"One of your frowns would be a sufficient substitute for capital punishment," I jested.
"Sing!" said she, and touching the piano, she commenced an accompaniment in spirited style.
Throughout this exchange I watched Jane; she did not like what she had heard. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line, and she turned her chin up defiantly. Her knitting was abandoned entirely. She made to stand, but halted as the sound of my voice filled the room. She sat back down, momentarily frozen, staring at her hands in her lap, listening intently. I threw all my force and feeling into the song. I didn't give a damn for Miss Ingram. The performance was all for Jane. She would have known it, if only she'd looked at me.
As the last notes fell, she rose and left the room. Miss Ingram began to speak, but I do not recall what she said, for I immediately left to follow Jane into the hall.
She was moving swiftly, she had already reached the top of the stairs. I took the steps two at a time. She stopped to adjust her sandal and I easily closed the distance between us. She saw me and stood.
"How do you do?" I asked.
"I am very well, sir." She responded in her usual quiet manner.
"Why did you not come and speak to me in the room?"
There was a sudden flash of anger in her eyes, but mastering it, she answered calmly.
"I did not wish to disturb you, as you seemed engaged, sir."
"What have you been doing during my absence?"
"Nothing particular, teaching Adèle as usual."
She was altered, she appeared sallow, and drawn, perhaps even a bit thinner than she had been before.
"And getting a good deal paler than you were, as I saw at first sight. What is the matter?"
Had she pined for me while I was away? As I had hoped she would, as I had for her?
"Nothing at all, sir."
Damn her, she wouldn't give an inch.
"Did you take any cold that night you half drowned me?"
"Not the least," she protested.
She was irritated now. A ruddy hue colored her face, and her brows drew together. This was a sore point, she did not want to speak of our night spent together.
"Return to the drawing room. You are deserting too early." I said impatiently.
She sighed. "I am tired, sir."
I would try another tack. "And a little depressed," I said gently. "What about? Tell me."
"Nothing—nothing, sir. I am not depressed." Her voice was strained.
"But I affirm that you are. So much depressed that a few more words would bring tears to your eyes, indeed, they are there now, shining and swimming, and a bead has slipped from the lash and fallen on to the flag."
It was the same look I beheld the last time I saw her, just after I'd made love to her. I belatedly realized that I could not bully her into confessing her feelings. I was pushing her too far, and too quickly. She would not bend, but she would break if I continued this treatment. I wanted to take her in my arms, hold her close, and soothe the hurt I had caused. But even if she would allow it, this was not the time. My presence in the drawing room would be missed.
"If I had time and was not in mortal dread of some prating prig of a servant passing, I would know what all this means." I sighed with irritation. "Well, tonight I excuse you; but understand that so long as my visitors stay, I expect you to appear in the drawing room every evening. It is my wish, don't neglect it. Now go and send Sophie for Adèle. Goodnight my..."
I stopped, turned abruptly and left. I had come close to ruining everything. I had almost spoken it aloud... my Love.
I confess I was a poor host the remainder of the evening. I could no longer muster the energy to feign interest in Miss Ingram's insufferable prattle. The company was tiring without the diversion supplied by my pantomime courtship. The party was broken up shortly and with little effort. I bid goodnight to my guests and saw them to their rooms.
I retired to my chamber, I removed my shoes, jacket, and waistcoat. I sank down in my chair before the fire with a glass of brandy, and brooded morosely over Jane. I reconsidered my course of action. She felt something for me, I was sure. But I could not forget that look, her eyes filled with unshed tears. It nearly broke me, realizing I had been its cause. I contemplated going to her directly, throwing myself at her feet, and confessing my love. But if I did that, I would never know her true feelings. My superior rank, my wealth, and position complicated it all. How could she refuse such a lucrative offer? She might accept me on monetary inducements alone. I had married for money once, and look what that abominable mistake had wrought. No, I had to make her come to me. But at what cost?
She was pallid, and thin. Was it remorse? Did she regret laying with me? Was she ashamed? Did she believe I had taken advantage of her? It would not do; I had to know. I must go to her. If not to explain myself, I had to at least see that she was well. I needed to reassure her that all was right.
The house was quiet. I ventured out into the hall without a candle. I easily found my way, even in complete darkness. When I reached her door, I rapped quietly upon it. If she slept, I would not wake her. There was shuffling, and a light appeared under the door as she lit a candle.
"Who is there?" she called quietly through the door.
"Rochester," I whispered.
There was a brief moment of unbearable silence, until she unlocked the door, and opened it a few inches.
"Is there any ill news?" she asked, a little wary. She briefly attempted to look past me into the hall.
"No, all's right. Will you let me in?"
She hesitated. I realized how wholly inappropriate it was for me to appear at her door at this hour, but I no longer cared.
"I would speak to you," I clarified.
She opened the door, and I stepped in, allowing her to close it behind me. She was in her nightdress, her hair braided loosely for sleep in a long plait behind her back. Images of her bare skin flooded my brain. I shook my head to clear it.
"What is it you want from me?" she asked.
It was evident from the gravity in her voice that she was not speaking of the moment, but of the undefined situation between us.
"I needed to assure myself that you are well. I was shocked to observe the change in you this evening, and I cannot help but own that I am responsible for it. I regret that my disgraceful conduct has caused you pain. I believe– I presume to know your thoughts on the matter. You are ashamed, you fear that your reputation, and your integrity, have been sullied beyond repair. Therefore, it is incumbent upon me to assure you that that is not the case. You are not to blame, and no one need ever know what has taken place between us."
She seemed unmoved by my speech. She stood still as a statue, a solemn look upon her face. Even so, my body was responding to her, aching for her.
Good God man, maintain some control! I silently chastised myself.
Exasperated, I raked my hand through my hair to stop myself from touching her. My apology had fallen flat. Restless, I paced the small room, then stopping at the window, I rested my hands on the sill. I surveyed the dark grounds. I had to explain. I groped desperately to find the correct words. But I could not stop myself; my desire for her was inescapable.
"My actions were reprehensible, yet I must own that even now, seeing the damage I have wrought, I can not force myself to regret them. It is useless to try to fool you or myself. You know what I want, why I have come to you tonight. Though, deuce take me, I have no right to ask it of you.
"When I touched you that night, you gave me something I've experienced with no other." Turning towards her, I looked into her eyes.
"Honesty," I sighed despondently. "When I was a younger man, I naively flattered myself, believing that the attention I often received from the ladies of my acquaintance was the result of genuine interest. Age and experience have since cured me of my ignorance.
"Without exception, every woman I have met since I came into possession of Thornfield has had no regard for me outside of her designs on my wealth, and property. Except you, Jane. You have been my friend. I believe you would show me the same kindness, the same consideration, had I been the master or the meanest servant."
I crossed the room, taking her hand in mine.
"I should never have touched you, I admit that. But when I did, your response was so unexpected, so different than anything I had experienced before, I was overcome. It was not calculated. My caresses were not merely endured, but desired, even cherished." A wicked smile curved my lip at the recollection. "Your cries of passion were genuine.
"I was a parched man with nothing but fetid brine to quench my thirst; then you, my little fairy, led me to a font of fresh water, sweet and pure. I partook liberally, more than was my due. Though I drank to repletion that night, I find now that my thirst is not sated." I pressed her hand over my heart.
"Jane, let me lie with you, let me lose myself in you."
Her eyes remained fixed to the floor as she spoke.
"You are mistaken sir... it is not regret of that night that has me so forlorn. It was the thought that once you'd had me, you would no longer want me."
I placed a finger under her chin, lifting her face up, forcing her to meet my gaze.
"I want you so dearly, the effort to restrain myself is tearing me apart."
She wrapped her arms about my neck, and kissed me eagerly. Relief, and elation, flooded my soul. I was mad with my desire for her. I kissed her ardently in return. I lifted her, and set her on the small writing table near the window. Bunching her nightdress up around her thighs as I wrapped her legs about my flanks, I hastily freed my cock from my britches, sliding the head up and down her cleft to find her opening. If I had any doubt of her sincerity it was quickly banished; she was as aroused as I, ready for me. I thrust, sinking fully into her depths.
She gasped, and I groaned.
"Oh God Jane... I need you," I gripped her hips as she held fast to me. Forgetting myself, I drove into her recklessly, with a succession of strokes that made me shudder with ecstasy, my eyes closed, my brows knit in desperate effort. I became insensible to anything but my need, and the sensation of her body wrapped around me. Moving faster and faster, using her savagely, I grew tense as my hunger for release rose. My breath came in ragged gasps. When I reached my climax, I reluctantly tore myself from her, and groaned as I spent on her thigh.
I wrapped my arms about her pressing her cheek to my chest. I tangled my hands into her hair and held her close, as I waited for my frenzied nerves to calm.
"Oh Jane, my glorious preserver," I whispered, as I kissed her forehead gently.
I nuzzled her neck and nipped at her ear. I had come here to comfort her, and now what had I done? I had been so overwrought with my own need, I was incapable of giving her the attention she deserved. I meant to remedy my avarice directly.
"It would not do to have you think me an insensible lover. Now that I have taken my share of pleasure, I must ensure yours." I gave her a scandalous grin, and I saw her shock.
I retrieved my pocket handkerchief and wiped my leavings from her. I must admit, it gave me a thrill of pride to see her beautiful skin marked with my seed. Better that, than risk another bastard upon my hands.
"The past fortnight has been an endless trial. I have striven in vain to keep your body from my thoughts, but each time I closed my eyes, I could think of nothing else. I longed to embrace you, to touch you, to slide my cock into your tight, velvet heat." I sank to my knees before her, hooking my arms under her legs and pulling her closer to the edge of the writing desk. "I've wanted to bury my face in your cunt and ravish you." I pressed my face between her thighs. My tongue stroked agilely over her freshly fucked cunt. She whimpered, and her delicate flesh pressed against the sides of my face.
She ran her fingers through my hair, pressing my mouth firmly against her. I groaned and devoured her, gratified by her response. I beguiled her with my lips and tongue, building upon each new sensation until she was quivering with heady anticipation. I slipped my fingers inside her, and stroked steadily, bringing her to rapturous release. I grinned with pride as I watched her shatter with ecstasy, as she climaxed for me.
She was fascinating; her propensity for passion was astounding. To see her now in this state, one would never recognize my polite, quiet little governess. The stark contrast was intriguing. I wondered—
"Jane, tell me, do you pleasure yourself?"
"Hmm?" Her mind was still hazy; she did not at first comprehend the question.
"When you are alone, in the privacy of the dark, do you touch yourself?" I smiled wickedly, flicking my tongue out, lashing at her bud. "Here?"
She was so sensitive, my little tease made her jump. I strummed rapidly over the spot, causing her to gasp and giggle. I paused suddenly, waiting expectantly for her reply.
"No sir," she said.
I chuckled to myself. "No, my innocent schoolgirl, of course you wouldn't." I took her hand, guiding her fingers to the proper place.
"Do it now. Touch yourself," I demanded. "I want to watch."
She blushed; the color spread down her face, and bloomed across her chest.
"Sir! I couldn't possibly," she protested incredulously.
"You will do it. I desire it." I moved her hand away, and stroked her with my tongue again.
"Like this, just here." I flicked rapidly over her, driving her mad. "Spread the petals of the flower to reveal the delicate bud at its center."
Indulging me in what she doubtlessly deemed a ridiculous request, she proceeded. She spread her lips open for me with one hand, as the fingers of the other slid experimentally over her gorgeous little bud. Then a faint smile curved her lips.
"Yes, just so, Jane." I encouraged.
She continued, teasing her fingers slowly at first, then earnestly increasing the intensity. She began to writhe and moan as I watched her discover how to pleasure herself, right before my eyes. The sensation brought such a beautiful smile to her face; she was irresistible. I had to have that mouth. I stood to kiss her, lashing her tongue with mine.
"I can taste myself on your lips," she moaned.
"Yes—" I groaned, "now play with that delicious cunt for me. Allow me a glimpse of that passion you try so hard to restrain." My hands groped her breasts, pinching her nipples firmly while her fingers rubbed ruthlessly. She gasped at the overwhelming convergence of sensation.
"Yes. Make yourself come." I demanded against her ear. I wanted nothing else in the world than to see her come undone with pleasure. She was close to release.
I slipped my fingers inside her, gently stroking. It was just what was needed to tip her over the edge. Her pleasure peaked, and she moaned as her body shook with the force of it. I covered her mouth with mine, muffling her cries of repletion.
She was glowing with contented pride. She leant against me, and I was content to comfort her in my embrace.
"Tell me I may come to you again," I said.
"Yes," she sighed.
I was lost in my love for her. In that moment, I would have sold my soul to burn forever, unrepentant, if she only asked it of me.