CHAPTER FIVE

The house on Chapel Lane West was far more extravagant than Jane had previously imagined. It was a mansion, in all senses of the word. It was a large, looming white house that very well surpassed all of the other houses' heights, with dark grey shutters and an elegant red brick chimney. There were many windows to let natural sunlight into the house, all of them equipped with velvet curtains that could be drawn to block out the light when that was desired. Jane's curtains at her own home had been quite ordinary, perhaps a bit frilly at the bottom, but nothing this lavish. There were an abundance of bedrooms on the second floor of the house - one large room that she and Larkin would share once they married that coming May, and then four smaller ones. Jane assumed that these would be guest bedrooms, left for visiting friends or family. Even the smaller bedrooms were larger than the one that Jane's parents had once shared at her current home on Epworth Court.

She was secretly glad that she would be living at home with her father until the wedding - two more months to be ordinary, simple Jane. This house seemed far too big for a woman from humble beginnings such as herself. It felt like somewhere you might visit every so often - perhaps the house of a relative that you don't know very well, or a distant friend - not a house you yourself would live in. It was too extravagant for that, too upper crust to be painted any shade of ordinary.

She imagined it would be quite an empty feeling place to be in alone. The high ceilings and uncarpeted floors made every sound echo here, adding to the atmosphere of emptiness. "And, there are certainly enough bedrooms for all of our children," Larkin said, jolting Jane out of her thoughts.

"Children?" she asked, having never heard him talk about children before. She was quite nearly incredulous. He did not strike her as a man that would want to be a father. He was far too swept up in his career, his status, his wealth, and well, himself to be concerned with fatherhood. She had a sinking feeling that he was indeed not the kind of man that wanted to be a father - and that she would be raising their children, that she was unaware that they would be having until now, mostly alone, with only his monetary support. She did not particularly want children, but the ways of married life would likely see to it that she had some. And, with the money of the Edwards family, she could see to it that all of their children would be well educated. She could seek some solace in knowing that this meaning of two completely different lives would at least provide their potential children with education.

"Of course, Jane. We'll be married, and you'll continue going to university - until of course, you become pregnant," he said, as if this should have been common knowledge to her already, "And then, you'll remain home, with the children. But don't fret, we'll have a housekeeper, so you'll be able to relax a bit." Jane was tempted to scoff at this. If they were to have children, there would be no relaxing - housekeeper or not.

The sinking feeling grew stronger. He knew how passionate she was about her education, and about the research she and her father did together. He knew that she would not easily be kept cooped up in a house, raising children and cooking meals. The idea of having a housekeeper was foreign to her, but not completely unpalatable – she was kind, and would make their job easier by helping a bit, too. She could never simply sit back and have someone clean up after her. That went against everything she had been taught by her parents as a young girl.

Although - this is what was expected her - as the future wife of a wealthy doctor, she would be expected to sit at home, passive and subservient to her husband. She had no interest in being the pretty lady on some rich man's arm. The thought of this made her shudder.

"Oh," she said, trying her best to sound happy, "I didn't realize you had this all so well planned out." Jane secretly hoped that this tour of the house would be over soon.

He nodded. He had made these plans, alongside his parents, whilst she was in Africa. The path for them was set already, their whole lives planned out, already. It was going to be a beautiful life — the vacation house in Monaco, the money, the finest things in life; the quiet, conventional life they were expected to have. He kissed her, cupping her face in his hands. "Jane Porter, I'm going to make you the happiest wife and mother in all of London."

...

Jane returned home, having been escorted back by Larkin, despite her protests that she was an adult now and could very well walk home alone in broad daylight - or any time of day, for that matter.

Her father greeted her as she came through the front door. "Ah! Janey, dear - how was the house? Do you like it? I've walked by it several times but never did I imagine that you - my daughter - would live there one day. The biggest house on all of Chapel Lane West, my goodness, it's truly unheard of."

"Mm, it's a lovely house," Jane said. There was much enthusiasm to be desired from her tone.

"Is something…troubling you, dear?"

"No! No, not at all, Daddy," Jane assured, "I'm quite alright. Just tired, that's all. I might go to bed early this evening."

Archimedes Q. Porter was not a naive man, and he could see that Jane was not being entirely truthful. He decided to let the issue be for now, though. It was most likely nerves. All of this was so new to her. After all, he recalled his wife being nervous about the future when they had been engaged - but they had lived a blissful married life for nearly 30 years. The same would be true for Jane. It was simply nervousness, he concluded.

Jane did retire to her room early that night. She pulled on her long, white nightgown and allowed herself to become one with her bed. She would miss this bed. The blankets had been hers since she was just a young girl, and though they were well worn, they kept her warm and reminded her of simpler times. She wished that she could take her bed and her blankets to the house on Chapel Lane West, but Larkin had insisted on buying everything new — everything top of the line. And anyways, two adults would not fit in her bed made for one, she reminded herself.

At some point, she drifted off into sleep - not a restful one, though.

—

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees that the treehouse rested upon. It was a morning much like any other - the sun was out, and the jungle was a cacophony of sound - like it was on any other ordinary day. Tarzan awoke, but not where he usually did. He was curled up in the small cot that was in the corner of the treehouse - not in a nest of leaves amongst the rest of the gorillas. The cot had not blankets, and only a thin pillow on it, but this did not bother him, it was warm enough in the jungle on its own.

He sat up and observed the treehouse around him. It appeared untouched. Nothing was out of place that he could notice immediately. Upon closer inspection, he realized that he had fallen asleep here whilst flipping through the pages of Jane's sketchbook, as it was laying on the bed next to him, open to a page with a drawing of a house.

She had told him that this was a drawing of her house in England. She had talked at length about how much she loved this house. Though, it was vastly different from the treehouse Tarzan found himself sitting in now. The house in Jane's drawing had a front garden, a porch, and awning over the porch, whereas the treehouse was old and blanketed by vines and leaves.

He examined the drawing more carefully. He wondered if he could ever get to England and see this house - if he could ever see Jane again. Perhaps, if he could get to England, he could find her. He imagined himself, dressed in his father's suit like he had been the day that they were all meant to go back to England together, walking up the front steps of the porch, and knocking on the door of Jane's house - waiting with flowers for her, like he had done that day that he first had asked her to stay in Africa with him.

But, how could he possibly get to England? He had never seen a ship before or after the Porters came. And, even if he could get to England, he knew it would be nearly impossible to find Jane or her father. They had told him how many people lived in England, and they were only two in that mass. The more he thought, the more he was disheartened. The treehouse always comforted him at first, but it always made him rather melancholy after a while.