The following morning came all too quickly, yet Jane rose and dressed, determined to see their guests off and thank them for all they had done to help out. Although she was not tired of the guests that had come to stay, she was eager to have some time alone in the house. Jane knew that her own mental soundness required time to reflect, and to be silent with herself. With so much going on lately, she had hardly had time to sit down, let alone reflect.

Lord and Lady Franklin departed before breakfast, claiming their presence was immediately needed in London. Jane thought it much more likely that now the wedding was over, they feared that Edward would confront them about their sons unexpected arrival at the reception the previous day. However, they were waved off without complication, and Lady Franklin told Jane she was sorry that she would not be present at every social party with Diana. The kind sentiment left Jane confused, but oddly flattered.

Much of the breakfast conversation was taken up by Anne and Mary, who were eagerly trying to guess what Diana and the Captain were planning on doing in their first days of married life. Edward sent Jane a slightly amused look over the table as the girls spoke of going to see plays and be seen together at assemblies. Jane knew his mind was mulling over what they had done in their first days of marriage, and in truth their priority had not been to be shown as a new couple. The focus of conversation then shifted to the women talking amongst each other while Eshton told Rochester eagerly of his new plans for an experiment he planned to start as soon as he arrived home. Jane thought she saw Anne looking regretfully at her husband, momentarily hurt by his words, before she turned back to Mary.

When it came time to depart, the group all stepped into the cloudy, cold day and bid each other fair well. Jane felt a sort of sadness for Anne in thinking she would return to her large house, which did not complement her naturally social and communicative nature. It was a silent house, and a cold one, despite the warm people who lived there. Anne suggested that soon Edward and Jane come for a visit, but Mr Eshton immediately pointed out that Jane was to give birth soon and they would have no time for things as silly as house visits. Though it was meant in jest, Anne looked dejected.

"Of course" she had said, looking embarrassed, "How thoughtless of me".

As the Eshtons said their goodbye's to Mr Rochester, Jane turned to Mary, who looked complacent. Jane's smile fell, and she turned towards her cousin quietly.

"You are not worried, Mary, of the future?" Jane asked, knowingly, "You know that Edward and I are your family now too, and you shall never want for anything"

"Of course I do, Jane" she said kindly, putting her hand over Jane's, which clutched her arm reassuringly. "It is only that never before in my life have I been alone- truly alone. Diana shall never return to me, and things will never be as they were before. Though I am incredibly happy for her, I feel guilty in wishing things could always remain the same".

"You are not wrong, Mary, to wish for comfort and familiarity. But your own life plan will unfold as it is meant to unfold, and you must be patient until it comes"

"Until my own happiness comes?" Mary asked, sunken.

"No" Jane said softly, "Until it all comes. The good and the bad. We must wish for a full life, not an easy one".

. . .

That afternoon found Jane alone in the gardens, taking a long walk. She was in no rush, for she was eager to see all the flowers and trees that had grown in during the last few sunny, warm days. The world was practically waiting to burst into summer.

Having made her way through most of the garden, Jane found the stump of an old oak tree on which to sit, and take a breather for a moment. The day had cooled even further, but the breeze was not uncomfortable, rather it was refreshing. Jane closed her eyes and listened to the swaying grass and the wind move through the trees. How wonderful it sounded.

Jane thought over much that afternoon- much that had threatened to overtake her over the last little while. She was forced to admit, alone amongst the trees and the plants and the flowers that she was equally excited and frightened for the days to come. Now, more than ever, Jane felt unequipped to be a mother. Was it not only three years ago she sat in Lowood, dreaming of the day when her life would change, and providence would shine upon her face? She remembered in her fervent prayers even wanting just one wish to come true, no matter how small, so she knew that a power lived outside of herself. She needed to know, in those days, that she was not alone. And the prayer had been answered, ten fold over what she would have been contented with. Her life was starting to feel like hers now, and in her silent moments she was starting to question less the authenticity of her own reality. If some divine spirit had granted her more happiness than she could have ever imagined having, then she was set on not wasting it wondering if it was real, or if it all had been some horrible mistake.

At times, Jane felt haunted by the ghosts of her past. Not physical ghosts, but that of old feelings, and old familarities that reminded her so much of who she once was. As she sat on the stump, her eyes drifted to the visible rings of it, made clear by the forester who had cut down the tree which was at one time surely beautiful. She had seen these sorts of rings only once before. Years ago, she had walked through the grounds of Thornfield hall and walked to find the tree Adele had told her had been struck with lightening the previous night. The tree had been split, and the gardener had cut it away, revealing very similar rings to these. The thought made Jane smile, for at that time she had been intrigued by them too.

It felt so long ago, but was it? Not really...not when she thought about it.

When the wind had turned colder, and the warm and sunny day had fallen into cloudy sheets covering over grey sky, Jane walked back towards the house. Walking back, she was painfully aware of how alone she was and she unwillingly thought of Franklin, and of the vile, repulsive way he had sprung himself upon her on a day just like this. Her heart felt slightly heavier at that thought, at the thought of his face. Jane had felt guilty for the way she had told her husband that she felt she could not talk to him, and was still carrying many feelings towards Franklin on her own. But, at the same time, to get it off her chest had been a relief. Having him know was a comfort to her, for she knew he would not let her suffer alone. She even looked forward to speaking to him, to sharing that sacred bond of trust with him, of being given the support she needed in order to heal, and put him out of her mind.

She passed in front of the old and poorly kept gate which marked the end of her houses property. This gate was far beyond where anyone would ever see, unless they walked past the full length of the immaculately kept gardens. Jane pushed the latch of the gate apart, even though it did not fully hold the gate together when it was closed. It was hard to manoeuvre, but she latched it again behind her in spite of its ineffectiveness. She felt she owed it that. It was an old habit, and she kept the gate out of a wish to remember the people who had lived in the house before her. At times, she felt her own sentimentality was silly. She could not blame this strange attachment on her pregnancy because she had asked for the gate to be kept long ago, when they had just moved in and the gardener had suggested tearing it down. When Edward had asked her later that night after speaking to the gardener why she wanted to keep it, Jane replied that somebody had once built it, and been proud of the way it was, and opened and closed it as they moved through their life as she did. The sentiment made her husband laugh, but he did not object, and he did not grant the gardener permission to tear down the gate in spite of Jane's wishes.

. . . . . .

Edward was waiting back at the house for Jane. He did not accompany her on her walk for he wanted to give her space and time to think. Jane knew he was waiting to speak with her about Franklin, and that nothing else would matter to him until such happened. When she pushed opened the sitting room door, she found him standing inside, leaned against the fireplace, his arm on the mantle, the other on his hip. He was deep in thought.

He brought his face around to Jane, looking warmly at her as he approached.

"Was it a nice walk?"

"Very nice, but rather chilly now, I'm afraid"

"Which is why Ron has been kind enough to light us this fire" he said, sitting down on the sofa in front of it. The hearth was enormous in this room, and Jane wondered if he chose to speak here because she loved it in particular.

Jane sat beside her husband, pushed her back against the arm of the couch and stretched out her legs, lifting them over her husbands legs so that her feet could nestle into the other side of the couch, between the cushions. She never would have sat this way had there been the possibility of someone entering. But Jane suspected her husband asked that they not be disturbed. It was one of Edwards most wonderful qualities, that such a thing never would have come to his mind as something unladylike. It made her comfortable, and that was what mattered.

He waited for her to speak, and Jane searched hard for words that did not come. She looked into Edward's face, sighing.

"I do not know that I will be able to find the words"

"Yes you will. You already have the words. It is only me"

Jane's heart warmed slightly. His confidence gave her fresh courage.

"Edward, at first I thought that the initial shock of the event had simply not worn off. When I lay in bed that night, I was tormented by reminders of what had happened, the feelings of what others must suffer who go through far worse, and I attributed it to- well, I do not know what I attributed it to. I woke the next morning still feeling like a lead weight was pressing on my chest and felt immense guilt. Nothing, in reality had actually happened. It was the thought of what could have happened, and what he wanted to happen. But I did not wish to afflict anyone. I felt silly myself, even though I was sure you would not think me so. Besides, there was a wedding to finish planning, Franklin's parents were staying in our home, and I did not want to take away from the excitement of the upcoming days. I pushed all feelings to the side and decided to put my focus into something else. But all these feelings just bubbled beneath the surface- they affected me far more afterwards than if I had simply told you when I first felt it. During the wedding, I felt so on edge and angry at myself that I could not fully appreciate the day that was not meant to be about me. I did not feel that I had a real reason to be so upset, which only made me feel more guilty. I was determined that he should have no more claim or power over my life. Then Franklin arrived, and my new wish to conquer any fear of him was dashed as I was sent inside, unable to defend myself and unable to address any of what I was feeling. I think, perhaps, it was the right place for me, for I do not know what I would have said. Still, anger and pain and confusion all came to a breaking point when I was told I could not confront something I did not have the ability to face alone, and I took it out on you. I told you of my pain in an unfair way, knowing that me hiding this from you would hurt you very deeply. I am so sorry. I should have told you, I should have told you from the start. I ask you for honesty in all things, yet I cannot keep up my own end of my condition for marriage".

All of her thoughts had flowed from her without thought and without effort. What a relief for him to know. It made every difference in the world to have someone to tell who did not scold her, who did not look sympathetic, who did not look mad, or pitying or proud, or happy she had told him. Her husband's face just looked intently, and then spoke.

"Jane, this was not meant to be about me. Do not apologise for having wished you told me, for my sake. Our condition for marriage is honesty, but sometimes it takes us a while to reach a place of honesty with ourselves. You are honest now, that is more than enough".

Jane nodded, her eyes burning with rising tears. As they fell slowly from her eyes she was thankful he did not pull her into an embrace, or kiss her. He merely placed his hand on her knee, and waited for her to reach for his hand.

"It was not your fault, Jane. I am so sorry that someone of your great love had to suffer such an act of hate. But look at me- no, do not turn away, this is important"

Jane looked back at him, breathing deeply. Another tear fell onto her face.

"You do not need to burden yourself with his actions. Jane, you are the strongest person I know. You face every challenge with such a fierce wish to do right, and to rise above what is wrong. Do not push away that strength now, do not make yourself believe that you do not deserve your own kindness".

Jane's fingers hooked tightly around the top of Edward's fingers. She did not notice how much she had been nervously playing with them as he spoke.

"Thank you" Jane said, feeling the air trapped in her chest release slowly. She was quite unable to say anything else. To confide in him meant everything. To feel his unwavering support meant everything. To feel his thumb moving over her hand meant everything.