Hello everyone!

Sorry for the long awaited update. I did not mean to take so long, but life really did get in the way. I am really excited for some upcoming chapters in the story and I hope you are too. More soon!

Thank you, again and again for all the love and support. It means more to me than you could possibly know.

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In the week that followed, normality returned to the Rochester household in full.

Rosie cried all throughout Jane's explanation of the Baron's quick and final departure. Although Jane suspected that her tears came from embarrassment rather than sadness, she still felt sorry for her. When Edward stepped in to offer his condolences and his own explanation, Rosie only nodded, not wishing to raise her glance too much from the floor.

She left the room, but as she did so Mr Rochester called out to her.

"Rosie" he said, stopping her in her tracks. She turned slowly,

"Yes sir?"

"I am not sure whether or not the Baron of Kent is a good man. All I have to judge him on is actions towards you, and these do not reflect well for him. But he is also a spoiled man. A man who I am sure has never been accountable for a moment of his life. So, I will tell you that I do believe he had feelings for you, but giving up the life he has been raised in was not a possibility for him. I am only sorry he could not realise that before he dragged you into his life".

She nodded appreciatively.

"Thank you, Mr Rochester".

. . .

In that following week Jane also received letters from both Anne and Diana detailing their time since the party had disbanded from Captain Franklin's residence.

Diana wrote that her life had become significantly less exciting. She said that Captain Franklin had left the day after the party for London disbanded and had not yet written to her to say when he would be back, so she was busy trying to occupy her time until he returned. She also said that Mary had become more of a recluse since everyone had left, spending her days locked in her room reading but really making no process in the various books she held. Anne wrote similarly that her husband was tied up in meetings and research since he returned to his house and that she was busy hosting her cousin visiting her from Sussex. Jane remembered Anne once telling her that Mr Eshton did not much like her cousin very much so Jane suspected it was perhaps a good thing that he was too busy doing research to be around very much.

On Friday morning, Jane was sitting in her husbands office reading over some letters when he entered, a curious searching look on his face.

"Jane, darling" he said, "Did you forget about this?"

He was brandishing a piece of paper in his hand that he handed to his wife when he arrived at her side. Jane scanned over the letters and groaned, slamming her palm into her forehead.

"I did, I completely forgot. Oh no".

It was an invitation from Lady Denver to attend tea at her house that afternoon. Well, it wasn't so much of an invitation as it was a demand that Jane arrive at a certain time to a certain place for tea. She had completely forgotten about it, for when she had intended to reply originally, Henry began to cry and she had been whisked away.

"Are you going to go?" Edward asked, amusement in his voice.

"Well, I do not have a choice, do I? She will be expecting me".

Mr Rochester smiled knowingly.

"I know you will go Jane, for it is the right thing to do. Do not worry about what is happening here at home. I will take care of Henry and Adele".

"I promised Adele we would go strawberry picking this afternoon in the lane, she will not like to be disappointed".

Mr Rochester nodded, "Very well, that is where you shall find us when you return, I imagine".

Jane stood up and kissed her husbands cheek.

"Thank you".

"Of course"

"I am going to go and finish getting ready" Jane said, but she stopped and turned when she reached the office door.

"Oh Edward?"

"Hm?"

"What does formal dress mean for tea?"

He laughed heartily and smiled,

"Well, it would be, for you, the equivalent of what you would wear to an evening dinner at another persons home".

"Oh" said Jane in surprise, "And she wishes me to dress like that for tea?"

"She has said as much, but also I know you, so I will go and call the carriage for you now".

Grinning, Jane nodded,

"I am just going to go and say goodbye to the children. Then I will be straight back down".

. . .

Jane had never been to Lady Denver's house, never having had a reason to travel so far to the south of her own home. Here the countryside was older, and the feeling that the gentry had inhabited this land for generations was vivid as the carriage rolled down picturesque winding roads. Sheep grazed freely from field to field, sparkling lakes detailed the land between rich forests and high hills surrounded the valleys of flat land that ran beside the road. There was not another living soul for as far as the eye could see, and Jane felt for a moment as if she was Jane Eyre once again, lonely and desolate in the world.

But then her mind instantly thought of her family surely occupied at her home, preparing themselves for lunch and then eventually for strawberry picking in the late afternoon. If this tea was as long as she guessed it may be, which was the respectable time of an hour, Jane could be home again in time to find them in the field. At one time, Jane would have found it perfectly pleasant to travel in this carriage alone to an unknown place. At that time, travelling in a carriage meant that something was changing in Jane's stationary and stalled life. She could admire the passing trees and streams and birds freely, and hope that one day she would be able to sketch them, in some private moment. There was no meaning of time in her life, for time evolved around a schedule which was an unchanging fixed point that did not budge. Now, however, she had a family at home, and she was no longer completely content to sit in the silence and the solitude. Perhaps it was not very temperate of her to miss them so much, and perhaps it would be better if she spent more time outside of the house with female companions as other women did. But it could not be helped, she missed her home.

These thoughts were still running through Jane's mind when the carriage made a wide turn down a straight drive who's ultimate view was obscured by high stone garden walls. Eventually, turning out of the closed in shrubbery, the house came into view. Jane was not sure whether to call this a house or a castle. The enormous stone facade was frightening in its grandeur, and the towers which flanked the house were like two giant lookouts, scouting out the land and people surrounding the house. There was no growth around this house, rather the land was flat and barren and bleak for as far as the eye could see. The hills which rolled behind the house stretched endlessly with no sight of any other life. Observing this all, the carriage stopped in front of the door and there was instantly a swarm of servants opening the door and helping Jane step down from the carriage.

A man who was standing in the doorway stepped forward immediately towards Jane and bowed deeply. He was distinguished, dressed well but was incredibly stiff and just polite enough not to be considered rude.

"Ms Rochester, I presume" he said bowing, "Hello"

"Hello" she replied, but the butler looked only briefly towards her and simply continued,

"Please, come through into the sitting room'.

Jane followed him, not daring to disobey his ordering commands. Inside, the house was equally as intimidating as the facade. The floor and walls were the same cold grey stone as the exterior, and with only a few high windows the house felt very dark. Long since faded tapestry's hung on every wall, certainly to keep the heat in, making the place feel oddly contained and confining. Though it was late summer days, there were large fires burning in every hearth, making the space sickly hot and perfumed. The small of drying flowers overpowered Jane's senses as she carefully walked forward, conscious of the uneven flooring. Eventually, after what seemed like a long walk, they arrived at the entrance to some room with a massive wooden, iron handled door which the Butler did not enter.

"Just in here, madam".

When the door closed behind Jane again she found she was quite alone. This room was slightly more pleasant to Jane's tastes than the rest of the house was, though it still had the same claustrophobic, sweltering feeling. Occasional bookcases were lined around the wall, but other than that there was very little furniture. There were no windows here, though if there were they would similarly be covered by wall tapestries. There was the sound of voices in the hallway and the door opened. Lady Denver appeared and then behind her Father Andrew appeared. Jane stood and Father Andrew suddenly looked quite awkward and out of place, especially since he had nothing natural within him that helped disguise such feelings when they came.

"Ms Rochester, you know Father Andrew of course?"

"I do indeed. How are you, Father?"

"Oh, very well, very well". There was a slight pause and then, I'm sorry" he blurted quickly, "But I think it is best time I take myself off. I have much to do for the sermon this week and they do not write themselves. Good day to you both, it was nice seeing you. I hope to have the pleasure of your company again soon, Ms Rochester".

Picking up his hat and hovering on the spot for an awkward moment, he was off.

Jane was still thinking of his sudden departure when Lady Denver mumbled for her to sit. Jane looked at her, and she sighed,

"Please sit Ms Rochester. I am an old woman, and cannot stand forever".

"By all means" Jane replied, sitting in the chair across from where Lady Denver indicated she would be sitting.

Lady Denver drew a pocket watch from an inside pouch and clicked it opened. She observed the time and nodded to herself.

"You are on time"

"I try to be when I can, yes".

"It is not often people are on time when visiting me. It upsets me, quite. But seeing as you have not committed this offence, I suppose you think I should stop talking about it".

"Not exactly, I think you can speak on whatever you like"

"I see" she said slowly, "Well I do not wish to speak on it any longer so, tell me Ms Rochester, why is it that you think I have called you here today?"

"In truth, I am not sure. I did not think too much about it knowing I could not answer the question myself".

"Then did you consider why would I not invite Anne Eshton? For I like her too and she is a little more to the taste of the women I have traditionally kept in my life".

Jane glanced at the old woman sitting before her, covered in lace from head to toe and looking rather miserable.

"If she is more to your taste, Lady Denver, then perhaps she would have been the better invitation for you today".

"You mistake me girl" she said sounding angry, "I said that she is traditionally more to the taste of the women I kept in my life. Now I am at the end of my life, I crave a different kind of company. One that is more honest and more truthful with me. I am tired of being flattered- of people tip toeing around me in order to ensure they remain in my good graces. When I meet you, you did none of these things and I did not realise how much I appreciated it until I returned home and really thought about it. When I heard of the scandal that Mr Rochester had married his once governess, then run away servant, I cannot tell you what I felt. Surprise, shock, even. I wrote to my friend to tell her of the news when I had heard it immediately, but that is when I learned she had passed. Well, regardless, you see I knew old Ms Rochester a long time ago. How much she would have disapproved of you-"

"Lady Denver-"

"But, she would have disapproved of anything which would have ensured young Mr Edward's happiness. She always favoured her older son, Rolland. You of course must know the story by now-"

"Lady Denver" Jane repeated, not unkindly. "I am not sure why you are telling me of the disapproval that my husbands family would have had for me, nor that you were shocked at our union, nor that you disapprove of our marriage. It seems an odd way to greet a guest. I came here to have tea with you, not to have my life placed under the analysis of your moral and social conscious. I am happy with my life, and so I must ask you to please not continue down that train of thought".

Jane did not know how she would react for a moment, but then she nodded.

"Very well. And, so you know, I do not disapprove of your marriage. I have a tenancy to ramble, for I am an old lady with many thoughts and no one to talk to share them with. Where that particular conversation was going was that I am glad you married Mr Rochester. I was speaking to Mr Eshton, Captain Franklin, Anne Eshton, Diana Franklin and Mary Rivers during the ball held at the Franklin's house. I am interested in you and your husband. You could be of use to me, I am sure. I asked all of those people about you and your marriage and they all told me exactly the same thing- that he loves you and that you love him. In this world of gossip and status do you know how rare that is, Ms Rochester?"

"I do not much care for gossip, so I could not say very honestly how rare it is".

"It is rare, I tell you it is. I was wrong to think his marrying you was for any other reason than love. But I had to know. Mr Rochester's mother and father were selfish, conceited, low people who cared only for money and only about image. His brother was the same and they all perished. Good riddance, I say".

Jane stifled a grin and nodded.

"Well, I cannot speak ill of them because I did not know them. But may I ask why you are interested in me and my husband? You said there is something we may be able to do for you, and indeed I am sure we could if I knew what it was".

"Not now" she said firmly, "Later".

Jane would have sat pondering this last thought but Lady Denver spoke again without missing a beat.

"And do you like this home of mine?"

"It is very impressive" Jane answered honestly, "I am sure it has served many noble families before yours"

"I wouldn't know, it certainly wasn't our family home. We never had any family to speak of" she said dismissively, "It is my husbands home. I moved in when I was sixteen. By that time most of his family were dead from the fever, and so I never meet them. I never much liked this place"

"But you never made much of a point to try and make this house your own" Jane commented, surveying the room, "You told me once you did not like reading, and yet those bookshelves are the only furniture in this room besides these chairs".

"Where was I to put the suits of armour and the paintings child?" she asked

"Into storage, perhaps, into guest rooms which no one sees but on a rare occasion. If you do not much like a house, and you have lived here since you were sixteen with little family to interfere, I imagine that it was difficult for you to feel completely comfortable".

"I didn't care much at the time. Though I do not like this house I am too old to change it now. Besides, you speak of being comfortable, and I think comfort is a very dangerous thing for a woman to feel. She is not meant to be comfortable, she is meant to be a good wife- and sometimes that means being uncomfortable. Though, knowing your nature, I wonder that you are not disagreeing with me right now in your mind".

"I certainly cannot wholeheartedly agree with you, though I understand the validity of what you say".

"Go on then" she urged,

"Well, marriage is a complicated union of two complex individuals. By nature, then, there is no simple meaning to what makes a good marriage. It depends on the circumstances of ones character, and the circumstances of rank and station. For example, a farmer may love a woman for her character very much who is far above his station, and she may love him equally. Even if she had her families support, and even if he was willing to marry her, for other reasons it may not work. A farmer needs a wife who is willing to work with him, as well as keep the house, for it is a job which requires much labour. If a woman is raised in privilege, unaccustomed to hard work or personal sacrifice, even with the best intentions it probably would not work out. In a different case, a man may need a wife who is stimulated and lively, for perhaps he is shy himself and in need of assistance during social events. That sort of relationship requires a strong driven woman, not a submissive one. With that being said, what you say is also true of some women. Some may not want to marry for love, or for money or any sort of social gain- some simply wish to marry for comfort. If a woman has an uncomplicated nature, and wants no fuss or issue in her life then being a kind and quiet wife to her husband may be the best thing for her. So in my eyes, what makes a good wife, and a good marriage can be drastically different".

"Even if everything you say is true, time changes all things" Lady Denver argued, "Just because a man likes a strong willed woman when he is one and twenty, who is to say that he will like the same at fifty".

"Well, as you say, time does change everything. But, if you can be opened to changing with it, and you communicate to your partner along the way, then I suppose you have the best chance at making that change an easy one".

"Ms Rochester, you say such based off of the assumption that men and women are equal, and we are not. Men are meant to be providers, protectors, the head of the house. Women fall to his side in all he commands, for that is our role as wives and mothers".

"But Lady Denver, even accepting the role of wife and mother, why can we not be equals in that role to our husbands as fathers and protectors? Do we not bring all life into this world? Are we not the strongest force of love? Does that not make us equal to men?"

Lady Denver looked thoughtfully down at her lap. The normal rapid-response she spat at Jane was replaced with reflective consideration. She folded her hands before her and looked up at Jane- her confidence unshaken.

"Even if I do not believe you, I am happy that for some reason, you can believe it to be the truth".

There was a quick knock at the door and the tea tray entered with a young servant. She laid the tray between them on the table and left the room again. There was quietness between the women as tea was poured, and when Lady Denver handed Jane her cup, she observed her momentarily.

"And what do you do with yourself in free moments, Ms Rochester. This topic is of great interest to me since it is all I have myself".

"I spend most of my time with my family, and especially now since my husband's ward Adele is staying with us too".

"Apart from that? What do you do in your alone time when the nurse is with the children?"

"I have no nurse"

"You have no nurse?" Lady Denver asked sharply. Jane guessed she would have been more surprised if she had the energy for it.

"No, I do not"

"And why not? I suppose the one tradition of the upper class where the mother is given help is too much for you to accept too?"

"Well, in my experiences nurses do not help the mother, rather she raises the children while the mother indulges in her own life. I was raised by a nurse in my aunts home, and I wished very much my mother had been there to raise me. Besides, I enjoy it very much. To be a mother has been the keenest pleasure of my life".

"You continue to surprise me, Ms Rochester. I cannot imagine why you should take on such a task on your own, but if you say you enjoy it, then I would have no power in persuading you".

"No, you would not", she smiled.

Lady Denver tilted her head inquisitively,

"I am afraid your answers are rather extraordinary. I am not sure how to process the half of them. Though for you to have such a blatant disregard for the traditions of the life you have been brought into is refreshing for me. I never dreamed of straying from what was expected of me, and yet you seem to do it with a natural ease that is disarming".

"It was very frightening at first" Jane admitted, "Though I may have been raised into such circles at a younger age had circumstances been different, I was wholly unacquainted with the the customs of the upper class having been raised in an orphanage away from all civilised society. The staff at that school were as miserable as the students, and that was all I ever knew. When I met my husband, he too had a natural disregard for formal custom outside of what was polite and gentlemanly. In that regard, we have always been similar".

"What is this of your past? You said you were raised in your aunts home by a nurse, but now you tell me you were raised in an orphanage away from all civilised society. What of that?"

Jane proceeded to tell Lady Denver all of her young life, how her parents had died and she was left in the care of a loving uncle who died soon after them. This was followed by a period of misery in her life in which she was tormented, teased, belittled and pushed aside by her cousins. After her aunt had had enough of her passionate temper, enhanced by the cruelty of her children, Jane had been sent to the orphanage Lowood. Lady Denver listened with keen interest, asking questions wherever Jane left out a detail of the story. Jane could see in her eyes that she sympathised with the loss of Helen, and that something inside of her softened at the image of impoverished children who were orphaned.

"And you advertised to leave, under the advice of your friend Helen?"

Jane nodded,

"It was the advice which I held closest to my heart. Perhaps Helen knew innately that I would stay at that school for much of my life without the encouragement to leave. When I was a teacher for two years, saved some money, and lost the only other friend I had made there besides Helen in the form of a teacher, I left".

"And that is when you were hired at Mr Rochester's house?'

"Indeed"

Lady Denver hesitated before the next question, but proceeded in spite of her doubts.

"Did you love your master straight away?"

Jane laughed,

"No, indeed I did not. He was changeable, burdened, sarcastic, and unpredictable. I did not know what misery his life was- how low a life can become when you know that your life is to be truly void of happiness forever. But, overtime, he showed me the truer aspects of his character not affected by the circumstances of his life. He was intelligent, very funny, thoughtful, passionate and honest. He treated me as an equal in every respect, in spite of the fact that no other person in the house gave me a second look".

"I loved my husband right away" Lady Denver said decisively, "From the first moment I met him. And he loved me. No matter how things may have changed over time I am sure of that".

Jane smiled, nodding to her companion.

"I am sure he did love you very much'.

"If I had been able to have children he may have loved me for longer. I will never know the answer to that now, but I think of it from time to time. Because I failed in my wifely duties, there will be no continuance of his family line. Not from me, anyways".

"What do you mean, Lady Denver?"

"Only that he had children with other women".

Jane looked sadly at the woman sitting across from her "You sound sure of that".

"Well, I don't know what else a man does alone in London for four months at a time while his wife sits at home, but I can well imagine he found ways to entertain himself".

Jane started apprehensively, but with much heart.

"If such is true, then he was a bad man, no matter whether or not you could give him a child, and not deserving of your love".

Jane thought she saw the smallest grin move over her face.

. . . .

When the carriage pulled back down the drive of Jane's home the warm sun was starting to drop in the sky. The house was illuminated by the glowing light of the late afternoon and Jane could not help but smile.

"Jacob" Jane called, "Would you mind stopping the carriage here?"

"Are you sure my lady?"

"Yes please, I want to check in the lane for my family".

"Very well miss, I believe that is where they are."

Jane listened to the carriage drive back towards the house as she set off for the path which lead to the overgrown lane. As she approached, she heard voices. She would have known them anywhere in the world.

"What do you mean?" Adele asked in a high pitched voice.

"If you do not wait for the strawberries to ripen they are bitter and harsh. Try this one"

Jane rounded the corner to see Adele biting into a small lightly pink strawberry. Her face contorted at the taste.

"But that is not sweet at all".

"Exactly. You must be patient and wait".

Edward manoeuvred his son to his other arm and rested him on his lap.

"How much longer will I have to wait for these to be sweet?"

"Perhaps another week, or more?".

"Hopefully not that long" Jane said, alerting everyone to her attention, "They look far too good to leave for that long"

"Jane!" Adele called, jumping up and running to meet her.

"Hello" she replied, hugging her tightly, "How was your afternoon?".

"Very well indeed. We picked many strawberries but I think I left my basket over there somewhere. One moment, I will show you!"

She bolted off around a hedge before Jane turned on her husband and son.

"Hello"

"Hello love, how was your tea?"

The happiness in his face and the warmth in his voice at seeing her made Jane almost blush. He kissed her lips and then her forehead as she sat beside him in the grass.

"Hello my little one" she said, taking Henry form her husbands lap and kissing his cheek. She bounced him happily as she responded to his question.

"My tea was good, thank you. Better than I thought, in truth. Lady Denver surprised me".

"In what way?"

Adele spun around the corner again, her basket swinging recklessly at her side and spilling strawberries all over the ground. Jane smiled at her husband,

"I will tell you later".

Adele knelt down in front of Jane and showed her the now significantly less filled basket.

"Wow, how wonderful Adele. You must have been working a long time".

"I have been. And Mr Rochester was eating some of my strawberries so I worked even harder than it looks like I have"

"I hope that is not true" Jane said, glancing towards her guilty looking husband, "I hope at least he picked his own to make up for the ones of yours he ate".

"He absolutely did not"

"How terrible of him" Jane said in mock frustration, "Well I promise you Adele that I shall speak with him later on the subject, but for now I imagine you are hungry"

"I am! I am going to run back to the house and tell Leah you have come".

"Not run" Jane corrected Adele, "A lady does not run"

"Very well. Can I walk quickly?"

"I think it is best you do" Mr Rochester said, nodding authoritatively.

When she once again the corner of the lane and vanished behind the tall bushes, Edward stood and offered his hand to his wife to help her up.

"Come, let us get some supper. I imagine you are hungry after all day"

Jane took her husbands arm and walked towards the house, listening to him tell her about his afternoon with Henry and Adele.