Chapter 3
Reading over these recollections brings me no pleasure; and I might say as little pain is heralded now at the distance of I will not say how many years. If pain there be, it exists only in my actions following and the consequent worse harm I suffered and caused by them. As well I do not wish to dwell upon so distasteful details as those I intimated until now. It is sufficient to record that, though I felt no peace or contentment for five minutes together with Bertha, I considered myself bound to her one the magistrate gave to me the position of the law. I took my bride, therefore, to myself and found a villa that was to let on there in Jamaica. I shouldered my duty but found it no friend; only a heavy yolk with which I could barely plod forward, having no equal burden-bearer beside me to ease the work and make light of the hours.
In public, when we ventured thus into society, she was calm enough, even entertaining and charming. When her father or brother visited she was gay and a perfect hostess. I contrived to become a socialite, much as I abhorred this busy, flighty existence, if only to keep her in good spirits. She was so entirely conniving and manipulative that even I, on those occasions, felt some change about her. To my self-disgust, I was e'en charmed at those times and danced with her at balls, simpering though not her slave as she showed off her numerous accomplishments in public.
On evenings such as this I could all but forget her rages at home when in hours that ought to have been quiet were instead rent with her yells, both at me and servants who too soon gave their notices. And, disgusting be the thought, on such nights I ventured to see her once more as the bride of my youth, and something stirring within, I found myself in the night approaching her chamber—for we slept separately—to seek connubial bliss for an hour or two. I approached her door cautiously, my ear pressed to the wood to divine her actions, for I would not burst in upon another scene like that of our honeymoon. If all was quiet, I would approach her carefully. At times she would rage, at others she would welcome. How many times did I again and again bring the cup of poison to my parched lips? For no matter how long the spells of sweet lasted, and worry within reminded me that it would not last, and the reality would rush in upon me soon following with her curses and screaming, mocking my very manhood and throwing me from the room.
I would not be violent with her, though with a single blow I might have halted her tirade. Though she angered me, though I began to hate her, I could not but pity the feebleness of her condition. Aside from her womanly form that was not equal to mine in strength, her mind was diseased in such a way that by turns I felt I must hate yet succor it as a mother with a deformed child must yet bring it to her breast for nourishment.
In such frenzy and teetering upon a walk where calm reigned on one side and rage on the other, four years passed. As afore mentioned, my bother then father perished, and I was now my own master, and quite rich. Four years of this! How it sped I cannot tell. In my eagerness to keep Bertha congenial I kept us in company as much as possible, and the whirlwind of parties and escapades with the fashionable class of Spanishtown made the hours short. The lonely nights of her ravings and my inability to sleep were the lengthy part of those first years.
A thought entered my heart then, and I resolved upon cleansing myself of this mire, though the means I lighted upon were not of heavenly origin. It is often said that demons take on the appearance of the angel of light, and certainly my demon did so. When it did not tempt me with self-destruction, it brought before me images of a free life on my native soil; or at least the Continent if not my very own England. Even America held its charms for me, were I to consider a visit. The Antipodes would be a welcome change were I free of this shackle. Three more years passed as I wrestled with duty and the freedom I craved. By the age of twenty-six I had tired of the revolving world of social doings and private angst—and truth be told, Bertha was no longer up to the strain and performance of being in society. Her madness deepened, and a part of the house was reserved for her to live in with nurses and men guarding her by day and night. The town and the country of Jamaica now knew of her excesses and madness. It seemed that the world knew we as well, and I was a poor dupe, the honest target of mockery.
But my demon and angel reminded me one night that Jamaica was not the world, nor even any but a tiny portion of it. In my own kind of madness I carefully loaded my pistols and placed both in my mouth, though the thought of a worse hell than this somehow seeped into the cracks of my thoughts, and in hopelessness I lowered the weapons once more and wept bitterly. "God," said I, for though I felt forsaken I believed in Him yet. "If I cannot die and I cannot live… what then can I do?"
The answer came on that night, as softly as you please. Like Elijah in his cave, the voice of God was not in earthquake or destruction, it was calm and cooling and simple as it came to my ear, prompting me to recall Thornfield. That was all the Almighty said, and it should have been enough, if I had not already opened my soul to the demon in disguise as well. At first, it agreed with the heavenly voice, "Yes, Thornfield is the very place to bring her and shut her in. And then… what is to stop you from taking to your bosom a true bride?"
Gilead's Balm laced such words for me. God's directive to return to my native home would have been enough, but the idea of marrying again came to my mind so quickly upon the divine mandate that my own fevered heart took it up. "Yes," I said aloud, though no one else was in the room. "I am not married. This is no union I have. I am not culpable for choosing to abolish it." Though I justified to myself the actions I was about to take, the relentless voice reminded me, the two shall become one flesh and what God has joined let no man put asunder. I spoke again, arguing with God's own law. "But You did not join us, Lord," I reasoned. "How could You?" I believed, or thought I believed which is very different, that He would bless my means and lead me to a blissful shore if only I could take up the fortitude and make the first step.
I would, I resolved, and from that day listened no longer to Conscience or Providence which checked my action. I listened only to the stirrings of my own heart, forgetting even the holy writ which affirmed how deceitful that organ is.
In less than a fortnight I gave up this house and booked passage home to England. I planned it carefully, and in two months' time had her installed in Thornfield. Had I stopped here, or merely sought a guardian for her and live the remainder of my years shut up there or perhaps Ferndean Manor, I might not have sinned further; and might not have met… well. Would have is a phrase that sullies what is.