CHAPTER VII - CAUGHT RED-HANDED

I instantly noticed that something strange was definitely going on with Mr. Rochester when he got back from his trip.

To my surprise there was no Blanche accompanying him. Mr. Rochester claimed she would arrive a few days later, but left the matter open otherwise.

I wondered if I should tell Jane. Perhaps she knew what Mr. Rochester was up to. I wouldn't want Blanche coming to this house. She was a character I could do well with without meeting.

Her supposed beauty, her 'raven ringlets,' her 'oriental eye' and her sneering smirk would all be very much unwelcome here.

When I approached Mr. Rochester later that day, I noticed how uninclined he was to answer my questions. He kept attempting to distract me with unimportant matters, so I knew something was amiss.

The storm of that morning had passed by the afternoon, leaving the garden looking slightly derelict, or for a better comparison, like a battleground where invaders had wreaked their havoc. As soon as the rain and wind had subsided, Mr. Rochester headed out into the garden to check the damages.

The chestnut tree was still standing, splintered as it had been before (from the lightning bolt which had struck it when Jane and Rochester had professed their love to each other). Just one or two branches had been torn off the main stem, one of them had not been completely broken off, still hanging limply in mid-air.

I was watching Mr. Rochester from the study window upstairs where I was teaching Adèle. I saw him skulking around outside like a lion on the prowl. Mr. Rochester's brooding nature had a majestic air to it as well. Everything he did seemed to have a sense of purpose to it, a sense of sophistication, but this was why I found him intimidating.

Nevertheless, I decided this was my moment. I could talk to Mr. Rochester alone, without anyone listening in. It was as good a time as any to talk to him, so I made haste to end Adèle's biology lesson, so I could head outside.

I stood there in the garden for a moment, shivering slightly, as the winter months were just around the corner. It was still autumn at present, the leaves creating an artistic masterpiece, ornamenting the garden. Some of them were still deeply green, others alternating from deep reds to bright oranges.

The chestnut tree was the most majestic of all, its leaves a beautiful auburn colour, now catching the bright rays of the afternoon sun, glinting through the clouds.

As I stood there immersed in this entrancing spectacle displayed before me, Mr. Rochester suddenly addressed me, catching me off guard:

"Come, Ruby! Take a look at this fellow," he commanded out of the blue.

I had not noticed him approaching me. Last I had seen, he was still admiring a gooseberry bush nearby, lifting one of its branches to get closer look at its ripening fruit, growing large as plums.

However, all the while Mr. Rochester had not seemed to notice me and hadn't paid me any attention, so I had assumed he hadn't been aware of my presence. Even now, he kept his eyes glued to a cluster of yellow plants on the ground, which was only a foot away from me. He was marvelling at a red insect, perched on top of the yellow leaves.

Glancing up from his squatting position, Mr. Rochester then pointed at the insect, a bright gleam in his eye: "Look at its wings. Look how red they are. I haven't had the pleasure of sighting a Cinnabar Moth in my garden in a long time. You know what plant this is?" he asked me then.

I had no idea. "No, Sir," I said stiffly, not being very much into gardening myself, although I very much enjoyed spending time in nature.

"This is called a ragwort," Mr. Rochester explained, "You seem to lack knowledge when it comes to flora and fauna. I must teach you." He said this with a such a sense of determination and urgency that I felt obligated to obey him.

Mr. Rochester then indeed began rambling on, now stooping down to marvel at a knot of flowers that took his interest, talking to me about their scent, now pointing out the ripeness of some fruit or other in the bushes.

This was all interesting enough, no doubt about it, but I had come to discuss an entirely different matter, and the longer Mr. Rochester continued his quest to teach me about the plants in his garden, the more I got the impression that he was attempting to distract me, to engross me in a conversation, so I would entirely forget why I had come outside. He was a shrewd man after all.

When Mr. Rochester came to an end, I was finally able to confront him. The gravel crackled under our feet, as we headed back to the house.

"Mr. Rochester?" I began, "might I ask a question? It may seem a delicate matter." He nodded his approval.

"Why did you ride off to visit Blanche. I mean, what is your exact intention in inviting her here after all you have been through with Jane? Jane is not lost, you know. Why would you want to invite Blanche, knowing this would hurt Jane?"

"Now, now, Ruby," Mr. Rochester brushed off my accusation disapprovingly, "Who said my invitation had any ulterior motive to it? I certainly do not intend to hurt anyone's feelings, but I am lonely and I have few friends, so why not invite them?" I scoffed, "Surely, it is not all that innocent?"

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't," Mr. Rochester said slyly. "You intend to confuse me," I retorted heatedly, "but you will not succeed."

As we stepped inside, I stormed off briskly without saying a word, angered by Mr. Rochester's evasiveness. I could hear him chortling behind me. What the hell was that all about? Did he enjoy riling people up? I was so frustrated with this man.

Here I was, doing my best to get him and Jane back together, and what was he doing? He was planning on having a party with a former potential spouse-to-be. There was something off about this whole situation.

As I stomped off upstairs, I didn't really know where I was heading until I had almost reached my destination. It was as if Jane was calling me, drawing me to her. I felt an urgent pull towards the attic and the mirror through which I had been able to see Jane.

I halted at the foot of the stairs, reminding myself that I couldn't simply barge up there without knowing how to excuse my presence there. I seemed to be in luck, though, because just then, I heard the heavy footsteps, which could only be Grace Poole's, approaching me from upstairs.

I hid behind a wall in the shadows until she had passed me by. Then, I quickly leapt up the stairs as noiselessly as I could and planted myself in front of the mirror.

XXX

"Jane!" I whispered urgently staring at my own reflection. "Jane! If you're there, please come out."

There was no response at first. After a few minutes, though, I breathed a sigh of relief, as I heard Jane's reply before her face came into view: "I'm here, Ruby." It took a while for her face to become fully visible in the glass, but I did not waste any time: "Jane!" I cried urgently, "I need your advice. Mr. Rochester has invited Blanche Ingram and some of his friends to come over in a few days. What do you think I should do? What does this mean?"

Jane looked puzzled. "Well, that does seem rather odd," she began in a careful tone, "but I'm sure there is no need to fret. I trust Edward. I am sure he has not lost hope that I will find my way back to him or vice versa. All I can think of is that he means to distract himself or create some kind of disruption due to his frustration. Either way, he would never choose to marry Blanche. He told me so himself when he proclaimed that he loved me like his own flesh," Jane finished. "Yes," I said quietly, "I remember that."

"So, Blanche is no threat to me and my future. Even if she should attempt to win Edward's favour, you need only remind him of who she really is," Jane paused briefly, then continued more sternly, "I am fretting much more about you, my dear Ruby. You are in the wrong place and the wrong time. I am sure you desire to return to your home. I feel now I have glimpsed the future, and as wonderful as it is, I too am feeling homesick. This day and age is so different from mine, I feel overwhelmed most of the time and it drains me of my energy, but I am happy to have been able to travel into the future." I grinned, "And I am equally happy I have seen your world Jane, but I also feel it's time to return home."

"So, we are agreed, then. We need to find a way to exchange places again-" Jane broke off suddenly, her face turning white as chalk, her eyes wide.

"BEHIND YOU!" she shouted before the image of her face evaporated into thin air.

Wondering what was going on, I stood there dazed for a moment, my heart pounding a mile a minute, until I felt someone tapping on my shoulder. "Ruby," a stern female voice said. "What in God's name is the meaning of this?"

I knew, of course, even before I turned my head around, that it was Grace Poole who was now standing behind me.

I admit, my current location did not make me look at all trustworthy, and I wondered how dire the consequences of a breach of trust like this were when it came to an unforgiving man such as Mr. Rochester.

I was sure, though, that I would soon find out…whether I liked it or not.