How I Met Jane Eyre

Hey, guys. K.J.A. here again. I hope that you all really liked the last chapter, and I have to say that this chapter and the next one are going to be pretty shorter than the others, but I think that's only because Jane isn't in the picture, and that I am going to try and do as brief a summary of what his life was like without Jane in it for as possible, and hope that you will not hate me for doing that. I hope that I have gotten everything in that you guys all want to know about, and I hope that you all enjoy this chapter.

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Chapter 13 – Two Months Alone and The Second Fire

I cried as I remembered such painful memories. I couldn't help it, nor for a very long time could I stop them as they flowed down my cheeks. I had promised myself after I had married Jane that I would put such painful recollections behind me, just as Jane had instructed me to do, and indeed, I have done so for many years now; but when my children asked me to tell them my tale of how I met their mother, all those painful memories were brought back to me. My children didn't know how much it hurt me to tell them such things, and I could not blame my children, for they were not to blame for what I had done, and they had the right to know the full story, but it still did not make the pain go away. I turned my head from them, my pride injured once more, for I did not want my children to see me cry. After a few moments, though, Janet came up to me and put her arms around me in comfort, as she sobbed into my neck. We were like that for a long time, Janet and I, holding each other, and sobbing into each other; and when we felt like we could cry no more, we let go. I gave Janet my gratitude for comforting me, which she returned with a smile before returning to sit next to her brother, who I saw had tears in his own eyes. We spent a few more minutes drying our eyes and steadying our breaths, before I continued telling the story.

"So, Papa," Janet spoke first, "what happened next?"

"Well, my dear," I said, "after I had cried as much as my heart could to try and rid itself of all the pain it was facing, I then went back to my room; and as I knew that sleep would escape me that night – for how could I sleep with the knowledge that your mother thought of leaving me that night? – I started to pace. Pacing felt good, for when I was moving it helped to steady my thoughts slightly and helped me think straight; for if I sat down for even a few seconds, I found that my thoughts were whirling and spinning around so fast that I could do nothing to slow them down, and that's why I paced. I thought it best to give your mother the space she desired in order to think over everything that she had said, and then in the morning when we were both a bit calmer, we could talk about what had happened between us, and that we would be able to come to an arrangement and therefore get rid of the ridiculous notion that she was going to leave me; for the very idea of your mother leaving me, never hearing her voice or her laughter ever again; never to touch her hair, see her smile, taste her lips; never to have her voice teasing me again, and worst of all, to never look into those beautiful, radiant eyes to where her soul lay beneath them, and see the sunlight burst through them, these were all unbearable, agonisingly painful thoughts to me, so therefore I thought that it would be best that she stayed with me, for I could not live without her – but as you'll soon see, this was not meant to be.

"Early the next morning, as the sun was beginning to rise and I was pacing, I thought that I heard the slightest shuffling of a foot outside my door, which made me pause, wait and listen; but as I heard nothing, I sighed and continued on with my pacing. If I had known back then that it was your mother – for indeed, your mother it was, my lambs – outside my door, I would have opened my door at that moment, pulled her into my arms and would never have let her go; but now, now that things have changed and I see reason and wisdom now than I did, I would have let her go, for it was the right thing to do.

"Anyway, when I looked out of the window the next morning and saw that the sun had risen good and proper in the sky, and had reasoned with myself that now was a good time as any to call for your mother, I rang the bell. I then heard a knocking on my door a few minutes later. I told whoever it was to come in, and Leah entered. She looked rather alarmed at the fact that I was still wearing the same clothes as the previous day, but I didn't care for my appearance at that moment; instead, I just told her to go and see if your mother was awake and told her to tell your mother that if she was and when she was looking decent, to join me in the drawing-room, for I wished to speak with her. To my surprise though, Leah came back to me in a minute or so, saying that your mother was not in her room, and that some bread had been taken from the kitchens.

"I wasn't too worried by this point, and seeing as it was a lovely day, I told Leah to send some people to look in the gardens for her. She obliged, and came back later on, saying that she was not there, either. She was also not to be found in the drawing-room, dining room or the nursery, and when I was just about to ask someone to go and look for your mother in the library, Mrs Fairfax came to me and told me that Adele was rather upset, because she went to the schoolroom, hoping to find your mother there, and she could not find her there. I suppose that seeing as Adele had not seen your mother the day before, that she wanted an explanation for why your mother and I were still here and also wanted some comfort to be given to her, the poor child.

"Anyway, by this point, I was really starting to worry about where on Earth your mother could be, and so I instructed the house to be searched from top to bottom. Mrs Fairfax said that she would do as I asked, and left me. Once she had, I paced harder than I had done the night before, thinking – and hoping – that your mother had not left me, could not have left me; that she loved me so much – she had said so herself the night before – and for that reason alone, I thought that she would never hurt me in that way; but when Mrs Fairfax came back and told me that your mother was nowhere to be found in the house, that was when I saw the white ship of Hope fade slowly but surely away from me, and I felt the rocks start to crumble as the black sea of Despair was slowly rising up and willing to drag me down into its deep, dark, bleak depths: for what Mrs Fairfax said could only mean one thing –"

"Mama had left you," Eddie finished for me.

"Yes, my son, she had left me. I remember that for a few seconds after Mrs Fairfax had told me the news, I felt that everything had stopped and slowed down. I could not comprehend the words that Mrs Fairfax was speaking to me, and indeed, I didn't notice her as I pushed passed her out of my room, and ran down the hall to where your mother's room was at the time. I looked around it, and almost everything was where it had been before she had left. All she had taken with her were a few dresses, some trinkets that she had and her drawings; oh, of all the things she had to take, I wished that she would have left them behind, for her drawings spoke of her soul, and they were the things that would have brought me the most comfort for sure. Anyway, I saw that most of her dresses still remained in her wardrobe, the wedding dress was laid out on the bed, where she must have put it after she had done with it, as was the veil; and when I opened up the drawers to see what else your mother had left behind, I saw the little pearl necklace that I had bought for her to wear on our "wedding day". I felt the pearls fall through my fingers, and then I tied it around my neck. I know it sounds silly, my dears, for me to have done so, but I was determined that I would wear it until your mother came home to me. I then turned to Mrs Fairfax who had followed me from my room, and I told her to get John to have my horse ready; for I was determined to journey to the world's end to find your mother (if that was necessary), just to prove to her that I loved her; and to make sure that she was safe; for at that time, I remember that she had very little money, and little means to take her so very far away from me, and that it was only a matter of time before all the little that she had in the world would be gone. Besides, I was not about to lose her that easily, oh no.

"And so, as soon as my horse was ready, I was off. I do not remember much of where I went , but I do remember that I travelled fitfully that day, hardly stopping in my quest to find your mother. I asked many people, and knocked on many doorsteps whether they had seen her passing, but I was always made disappointed. I then took to looking behind every bush, every big rock, every nook and cranny out there in the wilderness that would have been big enough for your mother's small form to hide behind, but still I found no sign of her; and seeing that it was getting well on in the day by this point, I decided to return to Thornfield, no longer calling it my home; for without your mother's presence there to comfort me, it was once more the prison that it had been before your mother had entered its walls and changed my life.

"So, after a day where I had fitfully searched the surrounding areas for your mother but to no apparent avail, I returned home in a bitter, disappointed state of mind than I had ever been. I was told that my supper was waiting for me in the library, but I told them to send it back, for I could not eat. I was by now too anxious of all the possible things that could have happened to your mother: she could have been abused, disrespected, shunned upon, made an outcast amongst strangers, but above all else, she could have been murdered; and as much as I tried to remove this last thought from my mind, it continued to haunt me, as it did for two months afterwards.

"I went to your mother's room, then (which in the two months without your mother, became a sort of shrine to me, which I visited first thing in the morning when I woke, and the last thing I saw at night, before I went to bed, just memorising every little detail that I could, and thus remembering her, and all the good that she had done to me). As soon as I shut the door behind me, I went to her bed, pulled her wedding dress in my hands and held it to my face, feeling the soft fabric, and smelling her sweet scent of lavender (I'm sure that there is nothing else on this Earth that smells as pure and as sweet as your mother does). It was only then that I leaned my head, with the dress still in my hands – on your mother's bed – as my knees gave out beneath me, and I cried such bitter, anguished tears, wanting to tell your mother with all my heart how sorry I was; and speaking of my heart, I once again felt the icy spikes that had grown there once before, but this time when they grew there, they consumed my heart entirely and left it frozen. Hardened. And there was nothing or no one that could melt the ice, no one, except the person that I wanted to see most in the world, but could not; for she had flown in the night on those wings which had once rescued me from the fiery pit, only to send me hurtling towards it once more; and that person was, of course, you mother: my fairy, my one redeemer and my true angel of light, who had vanished, just as her people had done all those years ago.

"And so, the start of my life without your mother in it had begun."

"You didn't give up trying to find her that easily, though, did you, Papa?" Janet asked.

"No, I did not, Janet. I was determined to find her, but just to make sure that she was safe; for I knew that if I went to her, trying to bring her back with me, she would be just as stubborn as ever, and would have told me straight that we could never be together as long as my wife was still living. So I wrote to people, who knew others in lines of businesses where they could find those who were lost. I also asked people in neighbouring towns and villages to ask them to help me find her, for I was a desperate man and I needed all the help that I could get.

"This was not the only thing that happened at Thornfield, oh no: for you see, my dears, that for the first two months after your mother left me, and after I had got into bed at night, I always had dreams that an officer of the law would come knocking on my door, and would tell me in some way or other that something terrible would have happened to your mother. When I woke and found that it was just a dream, I was relieved of course, but then I remembered that there was no sign of her, and for two straight months, day-in, day-out, I would sit in my study, hoping for some word of her, and when none came, I grew angry in my desperation, turned to drinking (which didn't help, because I still remembered what had happened when I woke the next day), visited your mother's old room as I had in the morning's, go to sleep, have nightmares about your mother, and thus, the cycle repeated itself for two months.

"During these two months, I also started to take care of the household: for no matter where I went, I was always reminded of your mother: in the form of Adele, her old student, or of some book she had read to me that we had talked about when I asked for her opinion on something. I also heard the servants talking about your mother in the hall; they would stop whenever they saw me coming out of fear of hurting me, but it didn't do any good. I therefore took to removing some of the servants, sending Mrs Fairfax away to some friends of hers at a distance, and settled an annuity with her for life; for she was a good woman, who deserved it. I then sent Adele to school – she did not take that quietly – and Sophie went back to France, after I had found another position for her. I then took to making sure that all the curtains were shut; for when the sun shone through the windows, their rays always reminded me of your mother's eyes, and they seemed to mock me, because the sun could shine on me, whereas your mother could not do that anymore; and indeed, in those days, I did not feel the sun, for black clouds were always over me, and the only true, pure burst of the sunlight that I see before me is in the shape of your mother; for only she has the power to outshine the very sun itself.

"I also received letters from some of the old company I used to keep (seeing as my secret had now been revealed, I knew that it wouldn't be too long before people started talking about me), and they were all to the same effect, really: that I was a despicable, old brute, who had no right in deceiving a poor, young girl the way I had and deserved everything that was coming to me. The Dent's and the Lynn's have long-since apologised to me and have wished me well, but the Ingram's have wanted nothing more to do with me, nor I them; and that is why they will not be mentioned for the remainder of this story. Oh, and do not ask me what happened to Blanche, because I do not know, and nor do I really care, either."

"What about Mr Eshton, Father?" Eddie asked.

"I was just coming to him, actually. Eshton decided to pay me a visit about a month after your mother had left me. I was looking a mess, which was true, seeing as I never ventured out of doors anymore, took to drinking more than I have ever done in my despair, had not eaten properly since your mother had left me and slept terribly at night, for thinking that she could be dead; for what pleasure lay out there in the world for me, without your mother with me, I might ask you?"

"I'm just curious, Papa, but did you ever think of finding it with other women? Sorry, if I've offended you or anything, it's just …" Eddie finished rather lamely.

I looked at him silently for a few moments before I answered him, "To be honest, my boy, I did think of that thought only once, before turning strongly against it. As I have told you both before, I did not wish to return to that life after your mother met me, and besides, I was by now too strongly in love with your mother to try and distract my thoughts in the presence of another woman's arms; for your mother's arms were the only ones that I wanted wrapped around me now."

Janet nodded in agreement at what I had just said, clearly relieved that I had not gone back to that life as her brother was before she said, "And Mr Eshton?"

"Well, me and Eshton talked for a long time. He said that he was disappointed in me for what I had tried to do after I had told him my story (for he did not listen to the rumors, because he did not know what to make of them, and wanted to hear the tale from the mouth of his good friend instead, so that he could hear the truth of the matter, instead of all the insults and such that came out of people's mouths when they spoke of me, after friend had told other friends about me and what I had almost done), but that he would not turn his back on me, and nor would his family. When I asked him why this was, he told me that it was because we had been such good friends for a really long time; and that when two friends are true friends, they always stick beside one another, through the good times as well as the bad, and he went on to say that he was here to help me find your mother, too, in order to get me some peace of mind. I thanked him for this, before we parted good ways as usual, and he went off to join the search parties."

"Papa, was there ever a time when you stepped outside the house?" Jane then asked me.

"Only at night, my lamb, when I walked through the gardens, smelling all the fresh, sweet scents that the Earth has to offer (although, none is more sweeter to me than your mother's is to me, that's for sure). Your mother and I both find the evening and the night rather pleasant, you know, and that was the only time when I allowed myself to think of your mother, when I was enjoying the peace and the serenity of the garden, whilst looking at the moon and the stars, if there were any shining, that is. I thought of all the pleasant times your mother and I ever had together, brushing aside the memories of the nightmares for the time being, and wondering if she was safe, and if she ever thought of me and if she still loved me, as I hoped she did. I did not pray to God back then, oh no; I blamed him instead of myself for pushing your mother away from me, and told Him that if your mother ever did die, that I would blame Him even more so, rather than blaming myself; even though I see now that in reality I am the one who is to blame for all that your mother had to endure; but as I was desperate for happiness, I defied everything that I had done, and instead blamed it on someone with a higher power than my own. It was foolish of me to do so, I know, but I was angry at the world and at God for taking away my then only treasure at the time, and that is why I kept myself to myself in those days.

"And so, the days turned to weeks, and before I knew it, two months had gone."

"So you keep saying, Father," Eddie said. "But how is it that we are here now? And why are you without an arm, and only have one eye; and speaking of your eyes, what on Earth happened to your other eye?"

I took a deep breath and said, "Well, my lad, that brings us to just after the first two months had gone by after your mother left me. I remember the night well, as if it were only yesterday. It started off peaceful enough, until I was woken by one of my nightmares. Then I smelled smoke lingering through the air, and curious to know who was starting a fire at this time of night – after all, I was still half-asleep when I got up – I got out of bed, put on my robe, went out the door and looked up and down the gallery, and it was then that I woke up good and proper; for there was smoke billowing profusely from your mother's old room, and I could just see through the smoke, the form of a woman with black hair, who was laughing as she made her way back up the stairs to the third-storey room."

"Bertha had set fire to Mama's bed?" Eddie said incredulously.

"The night of the second fire," Janet breathed.

"Yes, my dears, you are both correct. Bertha had indeed kindled a fire for the second time, but in this case, it was your mother's old dwelling place that she went to, and not mine. I was glad that your mother was away from her, and that she was not in her bed then, and angry at Bertha for starting a fire in your mother's old room; but then I remembered the servants and that they were still in danger, so I quickly rushed around from room to room, waking them as quickly as I could before getting them all safely out of doors; for the fire had well spread by this point; and as much as I did not want to do it, some small part of me did not want Bertha to perish in the flames, too, so I rushed back inside. I then heard people below shouting that she was on the roof (she thought that she could fly, you see; that's how mad she was), and I knew what she was going to try and do, and I knew that I would have to stop her, for I did not want her to die that way."

"What happened?" Eddie asked.

"Well, I tried to help her, but as soon as she saw me she yelled one last yell of hatred before she jumped off the roof, her brains and blood splattered on the pavement below her."

"Oh, how awful," Janet said, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Then what happened?" Eddie asked.

"Well, seeing as there was nothing more that I could do about Bertha, I started to head back downstairs, and as I reached the main staircase, a voice in my head said, "Why don't you just stay here and let the fire consume you? After all, your Jane could be dead by now; what more have you got to live for?" Maddening thoughts, I know; but then Reason took over and said: "But what if she still lives? Surely she would not want to find you dead?" I acknowledged that Reason was right, but I realised that I had been standing still for far too long; for the next thing I knew, I felt the floor move from under me, and I was plunged into unconsciousness ..."

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So, that's the end of this chapter. I know, it's another cliff hanger, but this is my story, so just deal with it. Anyway, I hope that you all really enjoyed this chapter, and if you would like me to add anything into the next chapter - which will be about when Rochester discovers that he is blind and talks to his kids about the next ten months were like for him - then by all means, let me know. Alternatively, if you would just like me to keep going as I have been by making this stuff out of my head as I go along and hoping that I have done this timeless story justice, then please let me know that, too. Don't be strangers and please R&R. Thank you.