Chapter 6 – Edward
He ran from room to room, looking for her. He thought, "If I keep searching, I'll find her. She must be here somewhere, she must! She hasn't left me! She would never leave me! She would never hurt me like that!" The library, the dining room, the hall, the long gallery, the schoolroom, the bedrooms … he searched the first floor, the second floor, the third, his footsteps echoing loudly in the quiet, deserted building. He became more and more desperate as he opened door after door after door, and found only emptiness. She was nowhere to be found.
Wild, anguished, afraid, he stood in the deepening darkness, his heart pounding so hard he could hardly draw a breath. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to calmness. Then it came to him … the orchard.
He ran down the stairs, out the open front door, out into the cool evening air. The sun was setting, a fiery, beautiful sunset. But he took no note as he ran down the winding walk. He ran until he reached the giant horse-chestnut, then stopped, panting and looking wildly around him. "She must be here, somewhere, she must!" he exclaimed. Suddenly he sensed her presence behind him and quickly turned around. There she was. Although the sun was fading quickly, there was still enough light for him to see Jane standing in the shadow of a large laurel tree. Seeing him, she ran into his open arms.
Holding her very tightly he whispered "Janet! Oh, Janet! You've finally come home! Oh, my love.…" then he kissed her, a long, deep kiss, his heart pounding wildly as he felt her slender body pressed tightly against his. Feeling her heart beating just as hard and as fast against his increased his excitement. How he wanted her! He had never wanted anyone the way he wanted her. Overwhelmed with his desire for her, trembling, feeling as if he might faint, he stopped to draw a shaky breath, then pulled back and, holding her face in his hands, gazed down into her beautiful, wondrous eyes. Smiling, he mouthed the words "I love you, I love you, Jane." Also breathless, Jane smiled up at him, her hands flat on his chest, her usually pale little face flushed and ardent, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I love you Edward. I love you with all my heart, with all my soul, and I promise I will never leave you again." Elated at her confession of her love for him, he quickly brought his mouth down on hers again and closed his eyes.
Edward opened his eyes, awakened by the full moon shining on his face. Groaning with frustration, he sat up, threw the sheets off and strode barefoot to the open window. Leaning against the window sill, as a refreshing breeze cooled his face and ruffled his hair, he looked out and saw the moon shining down on the water. It was now late September and he was in his villa on the shores of the Mediterranean, some miles from the little seaside resort of Cassis, in the south of France.
Feeling restless and melancholy, he impulsively got dressed and quietly left for a walk on the beach. Edward slowly walked along the water's edge, the water lapping at his feet. He walked for several hours; finally, at dawn, he returned to the villa for an early breakfast.
Every night was the same, whether he had the rare dream where he was reunited with Jane, or, more often, one of the recurring nightmares that had plagued him since Jane left.
In one of his recurring dreams, he found himself at Jane's schoolroom.
Somehow he was free from Bertha and could finally claim Jane as his own. He walked towards her. She was seated at her desk, looking at some schoolwork, unaware of his presence. She was beautiful. Her hair was lustrous, her skin glowing and smooth. She took his breath away. He called her name. She looked up, her face registering her surprise and pleasure at seeing him. His heart pounding with love and joy he walked up to her and stood before her. He was about to speak, to tell her of his love, when she stood up. And then he saw that he was too late, that Jane was lost to him forever. Jane was heavily pregnant. Completely oblivious of his emotional turmoil, she offered him her hand. Dazed, he took it. "I'm so happy to see you Mr. Rochester! So much has happened since I left Thornfield! I'm married now, to Mr. Robert Wilson. You remember him, don't you? You met him once." Speechless with grief, Edward could only nod. Then, with the crazy logic of dreams, Wilson magically appeared beside Jane. She turned away from Edward and, embracing Wilson, sighed "Oh, Robert! How I love you!" Looking over Jane's head at Edward, Wilson smiled triumphantly. Evilly. And with that smile Edward realized that Wilson knew, had in fact known all along, of his love for Jane. And that he had deliberately courted, wed and impregnated Jane in order to deprive Edward of her forever. Heartbroken, crushed, Edward just stood there, unable to move, and wished he were dead.
Wilson did not appear in his other recurring nightmare, but it was just as painful.
Somehow he was free from Bertha and could finally claim Jane as his own. He walked towards her. She was seated on a bench in a garden, engrossed in a book, unaware of his presence. She was beautiful. Her hair was lustrous, her skin glowing and smooth. She took his breath away. He called her name. She looked up from her book, frowning at the interruption. His heart pounding with love and joy he walked up to her and stood before her. She was still frowning, which confused him, but he spoke nonetheless. He had to speak and tell her of his love. "Jane. I must speak to you. I must tell you … I must tell you that I love you, Jane. I love you with all my heart. I have always loved you. You and only you. Please, Jane, please, please, say you love me and will marry me, for I cannot live without you." Jane stared blankly at him for some moments, then burst out laughing. That laugh. It was a cold, nasty laugh, full of contempt and derision. Actually, she laughed exactly like Blanche. He knew what was coming but he just stood there, meekly, quietly, and waited for the blow to fall. As soon as she could catch her breath, with a look of intense disgust contorting her beautiful face Jane snarled "You must be mad! Absolutely mad! I can't possibly marry you! I don't love you! I never have and I never, ever could. You are very, very, VERY old and you know I find you very, very, VERY unattractive." Jane paused for breath, shook her head and then continued, mercilessly. "You ugly old man! You stupid old fool! Whatever possessed you to ask me to marry you? Whatever made you think I would say yes?" And still laughing heartily, Jane got up and walked out of the garden and out of his life forever. Heartbroken, crushed, stunned by her callousness, Edward sat heavily on the bench and wished he were dead.
And then there was the horrific nightmare he had experienced soon after his arrival at the villa. Thankfully, he'd had that dream only once. Even now, some two weeks later, he could not bear to remember that dream.
He was running down the darkened corridors, bursting into and out of rooms, frantically searching the deserted Hall for Jane. He knew she was in mortal danger but he could nowhere find her. Suddenly he heard her terrified screams and her desperate cries for help: "Edward! Edward! Save me!" He ran down the corridor to her room, but the corridor seemed to grow longer the more he ran, and her room seemed to recede from him. Then he suddenly found himself bursting through her door. Jane was pinned to the bed, struggling futilely against the much larger Bertha who was straddling her and holding both of Jane's slender wrists above Jane's head with one large, powerful hand. Bertha looked right at him, a mixture of triumph, cunning and malignant hatred contorting her features. Then she looked down at Jane and laughed as she plunged a long, thin knife between her breasts. Momentarily paralyzed with horror, he could do nothing as Bertha jumped off Jane, ran past him and escaped into the darkness.
Edward dashed towards the bed and carefully picked up Jane and held her in his arms, but he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to save her. Jane was still breathing, but just barely, her breaths coming fast and shallow. The color was rapidly draining from her face; her lips were a bluish grey. She never spoke and only looked at him, her facial expression one of uncomprehending terror. He stared in horrified fascination as the knife, deeply embedded in her heart, quivered with each heartbeat. He watched helplessly as her life's blood flooded out of her, quickly spreading across her chest and down to her abdomen, drenching her white nightgown. Then, as the knife's quivering slowed, then ceased, he began to scream.
Edward's anguished cries woke him and the entire household. Minutes later the cook, the laundress, the maid and his manservant burst into his room, all in their nightgowns and followed by a madly barking Pilot, ready to do battle with the brigands they were sure were murdering him in his bed. If he hadn't still been so overwhelmed with terror and grief, he would have laughed out loud. The cook was armed with a heavy skillet, the laundress with a large iron, the maid clutched a poker and the manservant wielded an ancient pistol that probably hadn't been fired since the War of the Spanish Succession, and would in all likelihood cause more injury to the bearer than to the intended target. He assured them he was fine, apologized profusely for terrifying them and gave them each a large brandy to calm their nerves, and a gold sovereign to reward them for their loyalty and bravery. He also gave his manservant some money and told him to buy a new pistol first thing the next day.
The dream had felt so real that falling sleep again that night had been out of the question. Instead he spent the rest of the night sitting on the terrace, looking out at the sea, smoking and drinking, desperate to shake off the horror of his nightmare but nevertheless compelled to replay it over and over. But he also felt something he could never have predicted: he was deeply thankful that Jane had left Thornfield and him; now Bertha could never harm his darling girl. Even if he never saw Jane again, at least he knew she was safe.
The next day had been no better. At dawn Edward went for a long walk in the hills behind the villa, wandering aimlessly under the ancient olive trees, trying to blot out the image of Jane dying in his arms, but to no avail. He walked for miles along the water's edge, squinting in the bright sunlight, but it made no difference. All day long, no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he could not shake the despair which clung to him and penetrated his mind and his heart. And he knew why he couldn't shake his deep depression and horror. He had seen that exact same look on Bertha's face the last time he saw her, before he left Thornfield forever.
Thornfield. God, how he hated the very name of the place.
Upon his return from Gateshead, Edward had stopped at the gates of Thornfield, momentarily so overwhelmed by his fury and despair at losing Jane that he had been unable to continue. He had stared up at the battlements for a long time, then, pushing down his emotions, he resolutely walked through the gates.
Edward had spent the next several days wandering restlessly through the rooms and grounds of Thornfield, trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. How could he live without his darling Jane?
He was torn, conflicted, unable to decide what to do. One moment he felt that he wanted nothing more than to flee Thornfield forever, to put as much distance as possible between himself and the woman who had forever deprived him of love and happiness, and he would begin to pack. The next moment he felt that he wanted to stay at Thornfield forever because this was where he met and fell in love with Jane. Everywhere he turned, every object in every room, everything reminded him of Jane. To sit by the fire and look at the chair where she sat all those nights, talking with him, laughing with him; to walk the grounds and picture her by his side … these precious memories were all he had left of her and he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Thornfield and losing his last tie to her.
And if he left Thornfield, what then? Where would he go? What would he do? Edward knew he could never return to his dissolute, useless life on the Continent. He could never again engage in meaningless, heartless affairs, making love to women who meant nothing to him and who cared nothing for him. Even before he met Jane that life had filled him with self-loathing and disgust. Now that he knew what it was to really love someone, it was absolutely impossible.
Finally, after he'd been back at Thornfield for a week, Edward began to take steps to move on with his life. He began to search for a good school for Adele and after placing her in one of the best schools in the area, he then took it upon himself to find a position for Sophie, who had no wish to return to France.
In a determined effort to occupy his mind and stop dwelling on his loss, Edward immersed himself in the work of managing his estate. He had always been dutiful in managing the land and all his investments, but now he really devoted himself to it, spending long days and nights poring over endless paperwork. When he got sick of reading bank statements or going over the accounts, he read books from his vast library.
But all of Edward's efforts to forget Jane were unsuccessful; she was all he could think about, dream about, long for. Always Jane. Nothing mattered to him except Jane. But Jane was gone. Often, after his work was done, Edward would sit on the seat at the base of the horse-chestnut late into the night and think about Jane, his heart somewhat soothed by the beauty of the summer evening. He would dream of the life they would have had, a happy, safe, secluded life, where they would have been completely devoted to each other. He would dream of how he would have lavished all the love in his heart on her. He envisioned all the countries they would have visited and how he would have enjoyed watching her delight as she discovered the world and its many wonders. He would dream of how happy they would have been, even naming the children they might have had.
By the end of August, Edward felt that he could no longer continue living this way. He had no choice but to leave Thornfield; living in the same building as the woman who had destroyed his life had become absolutely unbearable. Then he remembered his little villa in the south of France and decided to live out the remainder of his life there. Perhaps there, in the tranquility of his villa by the sea, he could begin to come to terms with losing her forever.
The night before he left Thornfield he visited with Grace, to tell her of his decision to leave and never come back.
"Grace, I've come to a decision," Edward said softly, as he stood facing the fire in Bertha's room. Grace was sitting at the table, looking at him. Bertha, apparently asleep, lay curled upon the bed at the far end of the room, her back towards them. The bed was in darkness, outside the circle of light given off by the lamp which hung from the ceiling by a chain.
He turned and faced Grace. "I can no longer bear to remain here at Thornfield. I'm leaving and I'm never coming back. Living here … I just can't bear it any more. Thanks to her," and he jerked his head in Bertha's direction, "thanks to that evil, disgusting.…" He paused, then continued, angrily, bitterly, "Oh, God, thanks to her, I have lost everything that has ever mattered to me. Because of Bertha, I can never be with…." He stopped.
"Yes, sir, I know," Grace said, looking at him compassionately.
"You know? What do you know, Grace?" Edward asked, surprised.
"About Miss Eyre, sir."
At his look of astonishment, Grace continued, "Forgive my boldness, sir, but I must tell you that we all knew. Mrs. Fairfax, the servants … we all knew you cared deeply for Miss Eyre. Servants see everything. They saw how you were always with her, talking to her, laughing with her. I know you love her, and I'm sorry …"
At that moment Bertha attacked. Edward and Grace, believing her to still be asleep, had not noticed her silently creeping towards them until she lunged at Edward. Taken by surprise, he was nearly overpowered. Grace jumped from her seat and fought to pull Bertha off Edward. They both struggled and with great difficulty finally got the better of Bertha. Edward finally managed to pin Bertha's arms behind her and pushed her down onto the chair and held her there as Grace tied Bertha to the chair, Bertha lunging and shrieking the whole time. Edward stepped back, still gasping for breath, and stared at Bertha, a look of intense disgust on his face. Bertha stared back at him, her face contorted with hatred and hissed, "I hate you! I hate you! I will kill your whore Miss Eyre. I will kill her right in front of your eyes. And I will laugh when I kill her."
Horrified, Edward simply turned and walked out of the room, determined never to return.
The following morning he left Thornfield.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Briefly, in the War of the Spanish Succession (1701–1714) several European powers combined to stop French succession to the Spanish throne and the resulting shift in the European balance of power. It was a major European conflict. The war was fought not only in Europe, but also in North America, where the conflict became known to the English colonists as Queen Anne's War, and by corsairs and privateers along the Spanish Main. Over the course of the fighting, some 400,000 people were killed. (Wikipedia)