A/N: The idea of writing a story of a 21st century girl suddenly landing in the world of fiction, sprung from the BBC mini series "Lost in Austen". I felt like it had to be done again. This time for my favourite novel "Jane Eyre."I'm excited to hear your thoughts on what I've written so far.

Disclaimer: I do not own the plot or the characters of "Jane Eyre". They belong to the wonderful Charlotte Brontë. The main idea is based on "Lost in Austen".

Thanks for your reviews and general support. Enjoy!


CHAPTER XI - HOME SWEET HOME

Once Mr. Rochester and Jane had finished rejoicing over their union, Jane now placed demurely on Mr. Rochester's lap, wearing some of my clothes (which did not faze me too much, as we had passed bizarre at this point.)

Mr. Rochester had many questions to ask, Jane filling him in on past events little by little from the moment she had run away from him and Thornfield Hall to our arrival in this house.

Jane began by telling Mr. Rochester how she had found her way into my backyard through the hedge, how I had stepped through into Victorian England and what she had occupied herself with during the time I was gone. She gushed about how she had experienced this new world, which seemed to fascinate her quite.

It turned out I must have been gone for several months, my father having sent out a search party, but eventually coming around to believing Jane's story.

"Where is my father now, Jane?" I asked her.

"He is still at work, I believe," she replied. I called my father immediately, feeling guilty that I had been so wrapped up in my own head and this "mission," that I had completely neglected thinking of him and how he must presently be feeling. Once I had given my father a call, assuring him that I was safe, we all decided to head into the kitchen, for Jane had just cooked dinner.

A strange feeling overcame me as we went in there together, like I had finally found a true family. As Jane stood there by the stove, I almost felt like she was a mother-figure to me. I had certainly always looked up to her, and yes, she was presently a little younger than me, but her story was much older and so was her soul. I dare not say it, but Mr. Rochester and Jane were almost like my second parents.

I know this is a bizarre thought, but in that moment while I sat at the kitchen table eating with the both of them, I felt so comfortable and safe, like I was somehow complete or had found what was missing - a home. This must all have to do with growing up without a mother. I am sure that is the source of my often feeling so lost, but enough talk of the past. I could think about the meaning of all of this later. I needed to move forward first.

After dinner, I busied myself with tidying the kitchen to give Mr. Rochester and Jane some more time to catch up, joining them later to fill in the details Jane had missed while I was at Thornfield. A few hours passed by in this form.

By the end of the conversation, Mr. Rochester finally turned to me, "You know, Miss," he began, addressing me with a sly look in his eye, "you never told me why you were visiting Jane in the first place. At the time, I still believed it was all a coincidence that Jane ran away the moment you arrived, but never would I have linked the two occurrences. Never would I have guessed that what brought you here was Jane's running away."

"And her landing in my backyard," I laughed heartily. "Yes," Mr. Rochester said smiling, "but, again, I ask you, what would you have told me if I had asked you why you were visiting Jane? Would you have invented a plausible reason, or would you have simply said that you hadn't seen her in such a long time that you could not go on without having laid eyes on her?" Mr. Rochester posed his question half-jokingly, but I must admit that I had in fact thought of an appropriate response.

"Well," I answered, facing Mr. Rochester earnestly, "actually there is something that Jane isn't aware of that she should know, a piece of information she missed out on receiving due to her running through the door in the hedge.

You see," I explained, "Jane should have had a lot of trouble in leaving you. She would have half-starved to death on the Yorkshire Moors, then in the end, she would have been taken in by a clergyman called St. John Rivers, who would turn out to be her cousin. Jane would have received a letter there, informing her that this St. John was her cousin and that her uncle had passed away, leaving her with a substantial inheritance."

I looked at Mr. Rochester earnestly, continuing, "Her aunt Reed had, of course, always told her that she had no relatives left to speak of. So, I would have said that I had come to pass on this message. I had even thought about trying to find this St. John at Moore House, but I believe the information in itself would have already been enough. And now that we are all here," I glanced at Rochester, then Jane, whose eyes I had avoided meeting until now, "I am happy I could let you know about all this. I am sure St. John will find you, Jane, once you head back, or you could head out and look for him. You are now equipped with the information of his name and I know he lives in a place called Marsh End, so I am sure it is possible for you to seek him out."

Facing Mr. Rochester, I continued, "I beg your pardon, I have not answered your question exactly, Sir. If you had asked me why I had come to visit Jane, I would have claimed that I had come bearing information that would greatly change Jane's life. I would use the information I just bestowed on you as my excuse of why I was visiting Jane, pretending to be the messenger who would have informed Jane of her inheritance, being the bearer of good news. I am not sure how plausible this would have been, and I would have told Jane eventually, but in all the confusion it slipped my mind."

I turned to Jane, saying triumphantly: "That is why I am happy to have been given the chance to tell you now, Jane." She beamed back at me.

"Well, it seems there is a reason for us to return to Thornfield, after all!" she sounded delighted.

"I was wondering how I would be able to decide, if given to chance, whether to stay here, in this gloriously modern world, or whether to head back home to my little life."

"If you are meant to go back, you will find a way," I said assuredly. "That is how everything has happened until now. All of this seems to have a purpose-"

"Yes, indeed," Mr. Rochester interrupted me. "The purpose was you, Ruby. You brought us back together, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart." I could have shouted out "group hug!" in that moment and it would have been hilariously funny in my mind, but I refrained from following this inclination, as neither Jane nor Edward would find this very amusing, now would they, dear reader?

"I would like to see this wonderful new world you were gushing so much about, dearest Janet, while we still have the chance. Let us go for a stroll outside and explore!" Mr. Rochester suggested gleefully.

And so, I said my goodbyes to the both of them, not knowing that this was the last time I would see them again.

You see, they were never to return once they had left the house, heading for the town centre - but, because I lacked this knowledge, our goodbyes lacked the heavy burden of finality. I simply wished them well and told them to enjoy themselves, giving each of them a big hug.

I never would have guessed that this would be the end, but as I waited for them to come back, even ringing Jane's Blackberry a few times (my previous phone), which she had taken to town with her, so we could stay in contact in case of emergency. When hour after hour passed by and it finally grew dark, I decided I needed to jump to action.

Perhaps something had happened to the both of them or maybe they had lost their way. I was beside myself with worry at this point. Jane hadn't answered any of my calls, so I headed outside myself without further ado.

XXX

At this point my father had returned home, so he joined me as I walked into town. I remember thinking that it was a small place, so Jane and Mr. Rochester could not have gone very far. It was only about six pm, but as it was winter time, it was already fairly dark outside.

We asked passers-by if they had seen Jane and Mr. Rochester, describing them in as much detail as we could, and a few of them remarked that they had seen a rather old-fashioned gentleman and a fair, young girl walking about town. They seemed to have last been seen near a bookshop.

Word travelled fast in small towns when anything or anyone out of the ordinary was sighted and, luckily for me, my two friends seemed to have stuck in people's memories.

When we reached the bookshop, I instinctively knew what must have happened, for Jane had dropped her Blackberry inside the shop. I found this out by asking the shopkeeper if he had seen an old-fashioned gentleman and a young girl in the shop, perhaps asking specifically for the novel "Jane Eyre." This was what must have happened, for the shopkeeper seemed quite baffled when he recalled: "The two of them asked if we sold the novel Jane Eyre. Yes, they did," the man said nodding.

"But it was very strange." he had a puzzled look on his face. "What do you mean, Sir?" I asked curiously. He replied: "It was so strange, because they did leaf through the book for a while and seemed quite taken with it, fascinated even. They were huddled in the reading corner over there, giggling like schoolchildren," the shopkeeper said, pointing towards that very spot, then continued, "but when I turned around for one moment, they had suddenly disappeared, the book still lying open on the bench where they had been sitting before. They must have left in a rush, because the young girl had dropped her phone."

The man paused, then whispered, "But I swear I heard the slightest swooshing sound when they disappeared, as if they had simply evaporated into thin air in a gehusst of wind. It left me with chills running down my spine," the man said, seeming slightly shaken up by the experience.

He handed me the Blackberry when he realised it was mine. "But I never saw them disappear," the man continued. "Maybe they were ghosts," he laughed.

I ended up buying the copy of Jane Eyre that Jane and Rochester had been reading, just in case, but I knew that they were gone for good now. I just had a feeling.

Still, I had the book as a souvenir, even if nothing else came of it. Mr. Rochester and Jane must have literally been sucked back into the novel.

I had to trust that this was what had happened, so I could get some form of closure, and I hoped that the both of them were safe there. Of course, the evening didn't end before my father and I had searched high and low.

We continued walking about town, looking for Rochester and Jane, but even when we shouted out their names, reminiscent of how Mr. Rochester calls out for Jane in the novel, it was all to no avail.

By the end of the night, I told myself that I had to accept that my little adventure was over now and that I had to find a way to move on, even if our parting had been a tad abrupt.

As I lay in my own soft bed again, staring outside at the moonlight, streaming in through the gap in the curtains, I almost felt like Jane was with me again. Perhaps, in this moment she, too, was looking up at the moon, thinking of me.

When I finally drifted off to sleep, I felt content. It was in this world that I belonged, but I had a long way to go before I would truly find myself.

Until then, I would need to begin by appreciating what I already had.


A/N: Now that you've come this far, please leave a review! :) Thank you for your support and constructive criticism.