Hello all of my lovely readers,
I hope you are all doing exceptionally well, and that life is treating you well. My own life has been very busy lately, but I am writing as much as I possibly can and, as always, I am beyond thankful for every single person who have continues to support me. I cannot tell you what the feedback in your reviews mean to me. I always try to write people back personal notes when they leave a review, but in case I have missed yours, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I hope that you all saw the last chapter? I didn't recieve the normal notification I do when I posted it, so I am hoping you did. If not, then you might have two chapters to read!
All of my love, and more to come soon,
xoxo
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The morning after Jane had waved goodbye to her husband and Mr Eshton on the front steps of their home, she had received a letter from him explaining that they had arrived safely and that preparations were underway to make the house "habitable" for the family before their arrival. She had smiled upon reading the letter, deducing that the house must have been in very poor condition, indeed, if it needed to be made 'habitable'. In truth, she was just grateful that they had been offered a residence which was next door to Anne and her children, for Jane suspected in the coming weeks it would be important to have nearby support.
That same day, she received another letter from Diana who wrote on behalf of both she and Mary to explain that the house their husbands had secured for them was in the city, though it was a few miles walk from the rather central location of the Eshton estates. This arrangement had made Jane feel rather curious, for it had always been her understanding that while the Captain and Father Roberts had always gotten on well with one another, they were not compatible companions over a long period of time. Roberts had judged the Captain rather harshly when he had left Diana alone and gone on his travels, for he had felt saddled with the responsibility of her care at a time in their lives when Ruth had just been born and the stress between him and Mary was already high enough. They had reconciled since, but Jane suspected it was a wound which had never completely healed.
So, with all this in mind, all there was to do over the next few days was wait while the house was put right, yet there was really not much waiting to do, for there was plenty to keep Jane busy. As it turned out, packing for four children and trying to prepare them for the journey to London was no small task, especially as none of them had ever traveled so far before and were immensely excited to be visiting a large city. Of course, Adele was always very willing to assist where she could, yet Jane was conscious of treating her differently than their other children simply because she was older, so she tried to bear the brunt of their care until they were due to depart.
While the days passed quickly with so much to do, nightimes were a rather different story. Caring for her children, playing with them, feeding them, talking with them, brought Jane much joy and ease, but at night, knowing they were comfortably sleeping in their beds, her mind could not help but wander to other things. She had this strange, unsettled feeling about what lay in store for them, and privately wondered what the end result of their efforts in town could possibly be. Would anything good ever come of it? Of course, Jane did not mind what people thought of her. She had long been the topic of conversation, even as far as London, for her marriage to her former master, but without the care she was meant to have for her place in society, these ramblings of other people with little to say were not important to her and thus held no real power. For Anne, however, or for Diana, she worried that they would care a great deal if suddenly they were dragged through London's greatest social circles for their marriages to men who dared to challenge more influential men. And then there was Mary who had endured her own experiences of personal scandal before marrying Father Roberts. What if her son Daniel, alongside speculation of his birth before she was married, became a topic of criticism? How would they all manage such a sensitive thing?
Starting to feel a little weary, and excited to join her husband, Jane awaited his letter telling her that he was returning for them so that they could all begin their journey into town together. What she received, however, was a letter explaining, with much regret, that the house was not yet ready and would need several more days to have everything in order for the arrival of the children. Jane tried to remain as patient as possible, but her unease increased. It was a disconcerting feeling, for she never felt this way, and certainly not ever in her home- even on the occasions when Edward had been absent before. Perhaps it was because by this time everyone but she and her children were in London, and if something were to have happened to them, they would truly have been alone. But Jane was aware that these thoughts were likely the result of being suspended between the future and the present, so she tried to pay them little mind and instead focused on her family she was responsible for.
. . .
One evening, after all of the children were asleep, Jane and Adele shared a cup of tea in the study where the fire was slowly burning out in the grate. There, they had, of recent, been talking over Adele's heartbreak and the disappointment at her Mr Reynolds. It was evident to Jane that this was indeed first love's sharp sting for her daughter and yet, the more they talked about it, the more convinced she became that her daughter would soon forget all about him for the next young man who entered her life. On this particular night, however, they had not been mentioning men at all. They were talking of their own experiences in school, admittedly rather different experiences, when suddenly Adele turned pensive.
"Mother?"
"Mmm?"
"Do you and father have any expectations for the man I marry?"
Jane was a little surprised by the new direction this question took, but she found it was at once both easy and difficult to answer.
"In ways, yes. In others, no. We both want you to be happy, first and foremost. We want you to be married to someone you respect and trust. But you know all of that"
She nodded,
"As for more practical things, you must be aware, Adele, that you have a sizeable dowry which will make you the target of both greedy and helpless men. That is something I certainly never had to contend with and so it is rather unfamiliar territory for me"
"Did you not have money from your uncle's death when you married father?"
"Yes, but that was rather different. Firstly, I gave most of that money away. Secondly, I am not sure any man besides your father ever would have wanted to marry me, dowry or not. I am too much my own person"
"Did not my uncle St John propose to you?"
Jane laughed at Adele's mind, which never forgot a thing.
"Indeed he did, but not because of my person and not because of my money. He thought me practical and hard working. That was all".
Adele grinned, but allowed Jane to continue without further interruptions.
"Point being, the dowry you possess will need to play a practical role in the choice you make, but at the same time cannot be the only factor in the husband you choose. Ideally, you would be able to find a man who does not need the money you will bring into a marriage, but that is not always how the heart operates"
"Indeed" Adele agreed, "But I understand you entirely. It is only reasonable that I find a man who loves me more than the money I will have".
'`Exactly" Jane said, "So there is that in what we want for you, an honest union of equals. We also want you to have a husband who will recognise your autonomy. You must see how many women are forced to submit to their husbands, and while that is not how our house operates, many others do in that precise fashion. I could not bear to see you trampled upon by a man over the entire course of your life and frankly I would not have it, let alone your father".
"I know you would not, '' Adele said appreciatively, "But in truth I do not fear the choice I will make in the future. I know that you and father have taught me all I will need to know when the time comes to make the right choice".
"I hope so Adele", Jane said sincerely, "I hope that we have, but your father and I also want you to choose for yourself and to have your own mind in finding a husband. As we have talked about before, marriage is long. And while love is important, it cannot be the only thing a marriage contains.
The room was filled with thoughtful silence while Adele considered her words, but Jane's mind was somewhere else and perhaps her daughter sensed this because she stopped what she was about to say and sighed.
"You are worried"
But Jane shook her head.
"I do not know what I am, exactly. I am worried, I suppose, but it is more than that"
"Do you think that father has taken on something he shouldn't have?"
"No" Jane said quickly, "No, what your father has taken on is very important and in truth, he is well suited to take on the task"
"Why, exactly?"
"Because he cares about doing what is right much more than he cares about the opinions of others"
"But do the others not care more for what will be said of them? Will it not bother them far more? If such is the case, why would they agree to this?"
"I think it is very likely that it will bother some more than others. But you see, Adele, when strong men stand up for what they believe in, men who would not do so on their own feel compelled to join. It is an aspect of leadership I have seen often in life, and always seen in your father".
"But you still are not at ease. That is rather unlike you, mother. I've never known you to feel particularly uneasy"
"Well, that is because we are traveling to London" she teased lightly, "And London is rather uncharted territory".
"Not for father"
"No" Jane agreed, "No, I am sure he is quite in his element, which is why I also will be at ease again once we are all under the same roof. But everything is well, darling".
Adele went to bed shortly after this but Jane stayed up a little longer, thinking over their conversation. It had been an honest one, but she had not wanted to share everything that she felt. Adele did not need to be worried, especially as there wasn't anything definite to worry about. Instead, she climbed the stairs into her own bedroom, undressed, and climbed into bed feeling reassured by the fact that everything always felt better in the morning.
. . .
The next morning, which indeed came sooner than Jane anticipated, began with her son coming into her room telling her that he felt sick. Upon feeling his forehead, she thought he might have had a slight fever, but as James and Henry had been chasing each other around the hallways, and he had worked himself up into quite a frenzy with blazing red cheeks, Jane was hesitant to call it a sickness. After putting him back into bed and telling him to relax for a few minutes longer, she returned to her room to dress herself.
Changing was a quick process that morning, as was the bun she pinned her hair into, but with no callers and no appointments that day, she was more focused on caring for her children. Peter was the next child to get up, sweet and sleepy as he stumbled towards his mother when she opened his bedroom door. He was tired that day and wanted to be held a little longer than normal which wasn't a problem until Emmy woke and needed help getting dressed. With Peter rolling around her bed, Henry flipping through a book on the floor, and Emmy swinging her legs over the side of the bed as Jane helped her pull on her stockings, Adele entered the room to inform Jane that breakfast was ready.
"Thank you, we'll be ready in a moment"
"Where is James?"
"He is in his room resting. I rather think he overexerted himself running around this morning. Do you mind checking on him?"
"Of course".
By the time Adele returned, assuring Jane that James was much recovered and speaking excitedly about his breakfast, all the children were up, washed, and dressed and this in itself felt like a rather significant accomplishment.
The breakfast table was elaborately laid out that morning with food of every kind. This was not a regular occurrence for the children, but as the house staff were anticipating the family leaving for a significant period of time, the kitchen was eager to use up the food there so that nothing went to waste. Jane had assured them before that there was no need for decadence, for whatever the family did not eat before leaving the staff could help themselves to, but they had not seemed to care for that plan.
The tea Jane was served was quite reviving, and she drank it thoughtfully as she answered questions from her children about where their father was and how much longer it would be until they could leave for London. When she had assured them that it wouldn't be much longer, they all dissolved into their own conversations. Jane turned to look for where her stack of letters normally rested beside her at the table, wondering if word had come, but she saw nothing there.
"Tom?" she asked, turning to one of the footmen behind her, "Have any letters come today?"
"Yes, ma'am, but I believe they were brought up to your room this morning. Allow me to fetch them for you"
"Oh no" she said, taking one last sip of her tea before standing, "Thank you, but I will go and collect them. It is no bother. Continue eating, darlings. I won't be long".
"Okay mother" James said, not hesitating to take a bite of his toast as she left the room. Smiling to herself, Jane made haste in traveling over the stairs, never knowing what could happen in the few moments she was away from her children. Even though perhaps the worst she could expect would be a few jam finger prints dragged over clean shirts, she didn't want to delay and risk the chance.
The moment the bedroom door closed behind her, Jane smelled him before she saw him. Foreign and hostile, the stench of stale sweat and alcohol hung thick in the air. Turning quickly, she saw a man moving towards her and in a moment she was backed against the window sill, her hand outstretched in a futile effort to stop him from advancing. His face was gaunt and sunken, the papery skin laying just over his prominent bones yellowing and dull where it could be seen, but mostly covered by the dark scruff on the bottom half of his face. In spite of this, the most prominent feature of his face was a large scar which covered the majority of his right eye and his brow. Jane thought briefly that it looked similar to Edward's scar he obtained in the Thornfield fire and thus was likely the result of a burn. But in looking at his scar, in trying to find any hint of his person which could be used to identify him, Jane really saw his eyes for the first time, really saw how blue they were. But their striking lightness was frightening, for they looked empty in their near transparency.
Her first instinct was to scream for help, but then she immediately thought of her children. What if one of them heard? What if one of them came running to see why their mother had screamed? So she closed her mouth, for there was no way to call for help without risking one of them hearing her and she would not endanger them.
"Do not make a sound" he said, his grimey, dirty hand pinning one of her wrists against the window.
"What do you want?"
"Where is your jewelry?"
"Jewelry?" Jane asked, stiffening her mouth in anger, "Take your hands off of me. You could turn this house upside down and you would not find any jewelry"
"Don't lie" he growled, "Tell me where it is"
"I told you" Jane repeated fiercely, "There is no jewelry. Go elsewhere to find it. You are wasting your time here".
"Why would I believe you?" he asked, twisting her wrist and yanking her closer towards him. She tried to resist but her feet, which she dug into the ground, could not keep her from teetering forward. She attempted to draw back, but his hold was firm.
"Ah, and what's this?" he asked, pulling her caged hand toward his face for inspection. The light had touched her gold wedding rings and he had seen it.
"Get out, now" Jane ordered him, and to her surprise she stepped closer to him, raising her chin to his arrogant face. But he grinned, and his cracked and yellowed teeth sent a shiver down Jane's spine as he shook her once, hard.
"Give them here"
"No"
Again, Jane tried to pull her hand free but this time his grip was firmer, for it clasped something now important to him. Fear flooded her system as the realisation was borne upon her, slowly leaking into her chest as she tried to suppress her sense of panic.
"Give them to me now or I'll cut off your finger to get them"
"These are from my wedding, please-"
"Now!"
Shaking slightly, Jane slipped off the two rings which had not left her finger in nearly eight years and passed them to the man who still had her tightly by the arm.
"Let go of me" she demanded, trying to pull free, but this time her voice faltered. There wasn't much authority in it, and she was worried that he could hear the fear that she was trying so desperately to suppress.
"Or what?"
Before Jane could open her mouth, she was thrown back against the window with one hard push. Her elbow hit the sill painfully first, but the momentum of the force was so strong that it launched her into the wall beyond. The picture frame behind her hit the ground and smashed into two separate pieces as she stumbled to regain her balance, her heart pounding in her chest and up into her throat. And suddenly he had her by the shoulders, and suddenly she was forced back onto the bed with him on top of her, both hands outstretched as she struggled to push him away from her. In spite of her efforts, he lowered himself to hover menacingly close to her and the smell of his breath in her face fuelled the rage and the fear suffocating her. She turned her face away, and he moved closer.
"I hate women who don't know their place" he breathed, "And that place is between a man's legs"
And then his hand was on her face, and she could feel his nails digging into her skin as he forced his full weight upon her, but this adjustment in his position was just enough for Jane to slip down underneath him and kick his leg out from under him, knocking him off balance. He hit the floor awkwardly on one knee, but it was enough. Jane rolled off the bed and ran for the door. The second her hand touched the knob, however, the man was behind her and had her by the hair. He took a fistful and smashed her head into the door, and for a moment Jane's whole head spun as the pain of it nearly split it opened. But now she was determined, and in spite of the throbbing in her forehead, she forced the door open, pushing against it with all of her might so that it fell open and she hit the floor.
"Madam?" a concerned voice called, and a moment later James was tearing forward, calling out for more help as he detained the stranger running out of the bedroom door. Jane backed herself against the wall, clutching her shaking hand to her mouth as two more of the footmen rushed forward, looking shocked but not hesitating as they jumped on top of the man and dragged him to the floor.
"Madam!" a female voice called, and the next moment Jenny had her arm around Jane, her eyes wide as she watched the intruder's struggle.
"What is going on up here?" Walters, their butler, called angrily, but the moment he saw what was happening his tone changed and at once he was marching down the hallway towards the struggling men,
"Get him out of here" he ordered, grabbing the man's arm and pulling him up so that he could be wrestled down the corridor by the others. The intruder was still putting up a fight, but with four men against himself, he stood no chance. As he was forced down the staircase, he turned one last time to sneer at Jane, but she was determined that the last he would see of her was not trembling, nor crying, but rather her eyes meeting his. The moment he had disappeared, however, Jane slumped against the wall behind her and tried to still her shaking hand.
"M'lady" Jenny began, but Jane shook her head,
"No, Jenny. I am fine. I have to get to the children"
"But you're bleeding"
"I'm alright" she repeated,
Jenny lowered her voice, looking around them for anyone remaining, "Who was he? What did he want?"
"He was a robber. He was looking for jewelry"
"Jewelry?" she repeated, her face confused and pained, "What jewelry?"
But Jane's mind was elsewhere.
"Jenny, I have to go and see that the children are unharmed."
"Why not take a moment to clean yourself up? I will get the children and bring them up to you, but I am sure that you would not want to frighten them by allowing them to see you in this state"
"No, of course not" Jane agreed, not having much more in her to debate at any rate. She could taste the blood in her mouth and she thought this might have been a bad sign.
"I will go and make sure their breakfast is finished and then take them up to you" Jenny said meaningfully, lingering, or rather hesitating a moment longer before heading down over the stairs towards the dining room.
Jane stopped short at the threshold of her bedroom door. The intruder's repulsive smell still lingered in the air. It made her sick and panicky, but she took a slow step forward, not allowing herself to look at the broken picture frame on the floor nor the messed bed, but rather looking into the mirror before her where she saw the state of herself. The left side of her lip was swollen, split, and raised. Her cheekbone was also marked, a shadowy bruise already appearing there, but otherwise her face looked well enough. Jane took her hair out of the bun which had been ripped out of shape and let her hair fall down her back as she clutched the edge of her vanity, a shuddering breath rising in her throat as she tried to repress the tears burning her eyes.
. . .
The carriage ride to London was a quiet one for Jane, but a rather lively one for all of her children. The decision to leave had been a quick one, for Jane knew if they left any later than they did, then they would be arriving in town quite late and such wouldn't be safe. Already it was beginning to get dark, and she was anxious to situate her children in the house, though in what state they would find it she did not know. Jane had not the time to write to her husband to explain why they were coming, but she knew the address of the house from his correspondence and she simply could not sit in their home, or lay in her bed, without Edward there. So, she had quickly prepared the children while the staff helped pack up the last of their belongings for a swift departure.
Jane was looking out of the carriage window at the amber light colouring the surrounding fields. On a different day, she would have been rather struck at its beauty, but she hardly registered it that evening. Her mind was a strange mix of both active yet empty, and most of her active focus was concentrated on her children. Peter slept in her lap wrapped in a blanket for warmth, but the others were sitting happily together, talking and giggling amongst one another as they flipped through a picture book Jane had brought with not a care in the world. When they had asked about the marks on their mothers face, they had bought the story that she had fallen down and accidently hurt herself. Adele, on the other hand, had been told of the situation and she had worn a rather concerned expression from the moment they had left the house.
"Mother?" she asked lowly, her voice barely traveling over the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel road.
"Yes darling?"
"Where is the intruder now?"
Jane glanced at her other children, but their attention was completely consumed in their toys, and Peter was sleeping in her lap. Even in this small space they were still able to share some privacy.
"He was brought to the jail, I was told, but from there I am not sure what has happened to him"
She nodded thoughtfully,
"And were we forced to leave early because we should not feel safe in our home anymore?"
"Oh no, Adele" Jane assured her, "I do feel safe in our home, but I am not sure how that man gained entrance, and before we know the answer to that for certain I cannot keep you all there. It is that which would not be safe, not our home".
"I cannot believe what happened" she said, still barely speaking above a whisper, "Father is going to be furious"
Jane smiled a little weakly at her daughter,
"Your father will just be relieved that we have all arriving safely after everything that's happened"
"I am so sorry, mother"
She reached for her hand, and Jane could see that Adele took note of all the marks on her fingers.
"All is well, I promise. In truth, it could have been much worse than it was. I am fine, and the main thing is that all of you were unharmed".
"I know, but it was so frightening all the same".
"It was" she agreed, rubbing her hand, "But it is all over now".
. . .
The night was brisk, and Edward could see his breath on the air as he navigated the cobblestone streets. The air was filled with smoke, both from fire and pipes, and suddenly he felt the desire to get back to the house to be away from it. At one time, the smells and sounds of a city were comfort to him, were a pervasive and garish reminder that he was not in the clean country air of Thornfield hall. How many times in the past had he sat in a European cafe, comforted by the environment of the city but never fully at ease in it? There had been times he thought he was almost able to forget, but never fully. There was never a day, never an hour, never even a moment where the guilt and shame of his life wasn't pressing in upon him and now this night air was reminiscent of that suffocating feeling.
Reaching the end of the quiet walkway he had been taking, he rounded the corner onto one of the main streets, so vibrant and busy at this late hour that without the black sky above, one could almost have mistaken it for midday. Edward would have preferred remaining on the quiet, empty streets to this one, but this was the fastest way back and he had no desire to delay his returning. Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, he maneuvered his way through the sea of people stumbling with drinks in hand across the crowded pavement, passed by the men with women splayed across their laps, and stepped around the men carrying the deliveries which had to be made for the morning.
"Mister" a woman said, approaching from out of nowhere and waving her hand in the air as she made contact with his arm, "Mister?"
"Excuse me" he said, bowing his head and continuing past, looking around at the buildings surrounding him in order to gauge exactly where he was. Taking a left, and then a right, and then another left, he arrived on the street where he was currently staying. The houses were all the same height, colour and style, and so locating the exact one took a moment. But then he saw the familiar and rather unique serpent door knocker before him and climbed the steps toward the house. As he reached for the doorknob, however, it was pulled open for him, revealing one of the man servants employed under Eshton's uncle who was still relatively unknown to him but left behind in the house for rather unknown reasons.
"Cold night, sir" he commented a little too enthusiastically as Edward stepped through the threshold and unfastened his heavy cloak.
The house was, on the inside, rather smaller than it looked on the outside. Edward suspected that much of the architecture of the house had been poorly laid out, for the wide staircase before him took up the majority of space in the main hallway, leaving a small amount of room to walk down the already narrow corridor. The dark colours, too, made the space feel smaller than it was, but Edward did not mind these things very much. If anything, the small and almost claustrophobic townhouse was preferable to a large and vast house which had more empty space to remain him of his current isolation. Still, here he did not have what he wanted, so he could not be content. Though it was true that they had already made much headway in the few days they had been in London, and even though Edward only had only had his faith in their collective aim strengthened, he missed his family.
The man was standing with his arm outstretched and, in understanding what he was asking for, Edward passed him over the cloak.
"Thank you- I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name"
"Glenn, sir"
"Glenn. Thank you".
The man bowed, disappearing down the end of the hall long before the sound of his footsteps fully died away.
Sighing, Edward walked slowly and without much intention into the study on the right of the hall, another dark and claustrophobic room where he had spent the majority of his time since arriving in London. The fire was still lit, and he reflected that at night the room actually had more charm, for all of the smaller details which made the space feel almost eerie were more difficult to notice.
Everything in the room was dark- the carpet, the dark wood panels on the wall, the darkly painted bookcases, the singular leather armchair beside the fire. Above the mantle was a painting of a man who wore dark clothing appearing to be furs and a hat that obscured any sense of a body so that the portrait merely looked like a disembodied head with a blank, empty expression. The desk, too, in the corner of the room was piled high with parchment, scrolls, and quils with an inch of dust covering them. When Edward had first arrived, the staff who were still employed at the house, though with no master to serve for close to a year, were all too happy to move the items of the desk so that he could have a place to work, but he had not wanted to disturb this man's paperwork, albeit entirely neglected.
So, he sat down in the chair by the fire and unstoppered a glass decanter of wine beside him, pouring the crimson liquid into a glass and taking a slow sip. He smiled to himself a moment, thinking of Jane's reaction when she would see the place. He knew what she would say, of course,
"It is a rather odd place to be sure. It certainly has the markings of a lifelong bachelor, and certainly is no place to raise children, but I am grateful for its use in the present"
And then he would tease her, prompt her to admit that she rather thought it a mysterious and intriguing place to which she would agree, and he would smile at the look on her face which always told of the knowingness they shared.
He took another sip of wine, throwing his head back and rubbing his eyes. He wasn't tired but his eyes were, for he had spent much of his time reading in low lighting in the evenings. He had considered doing so again tonight, but he thought against it, not wanting to give himself a headache before bed. So, instead, he crossed his legs and stared sightlessly into the fire, bringing the glass again to his mouth thoughtfully.
He did not know why, but for a fleeting moment Edward was hit with the profundity of how different his life was from anything he could have imagined. If he, twenty years ago, had imagined himself in the future sitting in this room in London, free to do whatever he liked, and yet he chose to lament the fact that his family was not with him, he would never have been able to conceptualize a path forward which would have allowed for such. He had not known real contentment then, not ever, so he couldn't have imagined the kind of ease he would feel in being content all of the time. He did know, however, fleeting, passing pleasure which was about as close as he ever got to peace of mind.
Earlier, he had walked past one of the Gentleman's clubs he used to frequent without thought of it, but now the memory of one night he spent there flashed through his mind, vivid in detail but emotionally dulled with time.
. . .
The atrium had been crowded with men both sitting at tables and standing between them, and if he had been less familiar with the room, Edward wouldn't have been fully sure of its architecture. Earlier, when it had been less busy, one could have easily seen that this long room was extraordinary, lined completely with archways on both sides with exotic palm plants in every second arch and a vaulted, high ceiling paneled in three large gold sections which matched the elaborate floor. The men, too, blended into the remarkable atmosphere, all wearing the same top hats and tailcoats and white collars with very little to differentiate them from one another. But that was the way this place had been designed to be. These men wanted to be identified as part of a group, but they did not want to be seen as individuals. Here, who they really were came second to who they wanted to be.
That particular night a rather long time ago, Edward had been sitting with a group of young men who were tiring in their baseness and their vulgarity, but well enough in the sense that they were just as decent and indecent as any other of the men present. They had little to say, and what they did say revolved around drink, money, or women and was boring and crude.
"Rochester" one of the young men called, blowing smoke from his cigar into the already thick air.
He turned, taking the last swig of his drink before laying it on the table.
"Can I interest you?"
He tilted his head in the direction of the bar, but he was not referring to a refill of his drink. There was a line of young women leaning over the bar who had only just arrived and already there was a swarm of men surrounding them.
Edward smiled to himself, turning back to the man in front of him.
"Amuse yourself. I won't be participating this evening".
"If only I could" he said, rolling his eyes as he stood, "My mother is having a dinner this evening and I have to return before her full wrath is unleashed upon me. Perhaps I will return in time for pudding and the surprise that I have come at all will spare me her lectures on Miss Phillipa Pratt".
"Pratt?" another of the men asked curiously, "The Baron's daughter?"
"Yes" he droned lazily, "Lord Pratt is one of father's friends, though if you were to ask me, I rather think he is rather a bigger fan of my mother"
The group of men chuckled to themselves,
"Anyways, Pratt's youngest is pretty enough. Rather innocent. Would make a very good...wife. Our parents have been trying to arrange the union since birth and it might work yet, for she might be the very type to believe a happy union is possible".
A few more words had been exchanged between them before the young man was waved off, but Edward did not pay much attention to the direction he took, nor the conversation the ones left behind struck up with one another. His eyes drifted absently to the women at the bar who were all bathing in the understanding that they were able to choose whatever man's interest they wanted for the night. While Edward was aware he was not an attractive man, he did have money, and that money was enough to rival the attention of any man in the room. At one time that had meant something to him, but not now. There was nothing meaningful in winning a prize that you could withdraw from the contest whenever you liked by bribing the participants. At any rate, Edward did not want to win anything, nor anyone. He had been that man before and hated himself for it. There was some dignity left in him, even if it was bruised and fragile and prone to corruption.
He stood from the low table and approached the bar, thinking he would have one last drink before departing for his hotel. He flagged the bartender who knew him well enough to pour his drink without asking what he wanted, and nodded in thanks as the light amber liquid was placed before him. He took it back in one swig before returning the cup to the bar, but the moment he did a soft voice appeared at his side.
"Hello there"
The woman who had slid in beside him was certainly his type; dark, sensuous, confidant. Her lips were painted with a dark rouge and her eyes lined with dark charcoal, but it did not overwhelm her features. On the contrary, it suited her.
"Evening" Edward said as the woman picked up a brandy bottle on the bar and refilled his glass.
She smiled at him from under her thick lashes as she replaced the bottle to its original place, propping herself up on an arm as she sized him up.
"Not interested in one of the girls tonight?"
"No, I don't think I am"
"Maybe a woman then?"
Edward grinned to himself, looking slowly over at her.
"No, not even a woman could tempt me tonight"
"So, what would you call me, then?"
He turned fully to face her now,
"Foolish"
"Is it really that foolish for a woman to find a man attractive?"
And yet, in spite of himself, Edward felt the old stoking of pride inside of himself, the alluring flame of feeling wanted, and although he knew better, that fire fuelled his next words.
"I'm beginning to think I can appreciate a woman who lies"
"I have been known to do that" she said, "But like you, I'm not interested in the others tonight. I'm interested in only you".
And she had been, in the end, for several pounds left on her nightstand.
As Edward descended the large and elabourate staircase several hours later, still lined with hopeful men bidding their dalliances goodbye, he felt the old stinging regret which was much more familiar to him than the fleeting surge of masculine pride which had guided him before. Pointless, useless, wasteful existence.
He had left the gentleman's club that night, but he did not leave a reformed man. It would take several more years, many more meaningless encounters, and some which he even thought could mean something, before he would finally admit to himself that perhaps the love he was capable of was not sustainable in the world he existed in. Vapid, empty women were all he attracted because he had started to believe that is all he would ever find. And then he knew what had changed him- had changed everything. One person, in one moment of meeting, in one conversation had given him the one thing he had long since buried inside himself.
. . .
"Sir?"
The voice pulled him from his reverie, and for the first time in quite a while Edward drew his gaze away from the fire. The same man who had taken his cloak was standing in the doorway, looking hesitant.
"Excuse me, sir. I'm sorry for the interruption but before I turn in for the night I wanted to explain that the other bedrooms haven't been finished yet, though the linens did arrive this afternoon. Tomorrow morning it will be the first priority of the servants''.
"Thank you, Glenn"
"We do extend our apology to Ms Rochester"
"I shall answer for the delay when I write to her tomorrow. If the rooms will be finished tomorrow, I shall tell her to come with the children the following day".
But the man furrowed his brow as he opened his mouth and then closed it again, hesitating.
"I thought you had been told?"
"Told what?"
"Ms Rochester is already here, as are your children"
"What?"
"They arrived rather late this evening" he explained wearily, "We had the one room, the smaller room, ready for Miss Adele, but the other children I believe are in the room you have been residing in-"
"Excuse me" Edward said, not waiting to hear the end of the man's sentence before he rushed up over the stairs, looking quickly into the small room at the top of the landing where he found Adele sleeping, and then into the large room at the end of the small hallway where he found everyone else.
The large bed in the center of the room, which had felt remarkably empty over the past few days, was now filled with four of his five children, all sleeping soundly. Small as they were, there was still room in the bed, but his wife did not fill the extra space. Instead she was half sitting, half leaning in the chaise lounge, asleep but not looking restful. Instantly his mind raced with questions. Why would she have come before he had said to? Was she still in her traveling cloak?
Something was very wrong with the scene.
He moved toward her, crouching down to her height, but the moment he did his heart pounded thunderously in his chest. Even in the low light cast by a few sparse candles around the room he could see that her lip was somehow swollen and cut, and her cheekbone was bruised under her right eye. Rage flared red hot, burning and scorching his throat, but this rage was eclipsed only by his need to know what had happened. Reaching forward, he touched his wife's hand, and the second he did she roused instantly. It had not been a deep rest, for the moment she laid eyes on him her face softened with the kind of relief which would make any man's heart break. Tears welled in her eyes as he took her into his embrace, holding her close against him as she silently shuttered against him.
"I'm here now, darling" he whispered, not knowing what had happened but needing her to know that he was never, ever going to leave her again, "I'm here"
Lifting her up into his arms, he carried her from the bedroom down the hallway into a small sitting room, a very small sitting room, which only had the room to contain one couch, one chair, and several book cases. Originally Edward had considered working out of this room, but there wasn't enough natural light. This point was proven as he laid his wife down on the small sofa and bent forward to light a fire, not just for warmth, but so that they could actually see one another. When he turned back around he found that Jane was lighting several candles too, but he took them gently from her hands and lit them himself before laying them into their holders. The room now was a warm mix of light and shadow, but it felt small and safe.
Edward sat down slowly beside Jane and reached for her face, observing every mark on her, every difference in her appearance since he had left her a week ago. He ran his thumb gently over her cheekbone and then over her lip which trembled under his touch.
"What happened?"
"Edward" she said softly, taking his hand down from her face and holding it between her own, "There um-", she stopped, clearly trying to still her unsteady voice,"There was a man who broke into the house. He was waiting in our room, he was looking for jewelry, or so he said"
He closed his eyes against her words as if this could have undone everything and made it possible to repress the anger, and rage, and hatred searing his throat. But then he heard the softest sniff from his wife, and he looked upon her face to see that it was now soaked with the tears which had fallen from her brimming eyes.
"Jane, what exactly did he do? Because regardless of your answer, I will end him"
"He did not" she stopped herself, but then willed herself to proceed, "He did not do the thing which you are most worried about"
"He put his hands on you. That is what I am worried about".
She looked up at him, taken aback at the venom in his voice.
"But are you telling me that he was not sexually violent with you?"
"No, he was not. Though I believe that would have been his intent, had I not fought"
Edward's jaw tensed threateningly, but he took a breath to steady himself before he spoke again.
"Tell me everything"
"He, um" she began, and Edward could see her hand trembling slightly, "He was waiting in our room when I went up to get my morning letters. He was vile. I could smell him the second I stepped into the room, and he smelled of stale drink and stale sweat. His teeth were yellowed and cracked, his skin was like paper, and his hair was long and greasy and hung around his face. He grabbed me and told me to give him all of my jewelry, but of course you know that we have none, or at least none in our home. Because he did not like my answer, he threw me back into the window and then the wall where I broke a picture hanging there in a frame. And then I was suddenly on the bed, and I don't know how, for everything happened so fast, but he was on top of me and I was struggling, and somehow I managed to break free of him, but not before he chased me to the bedroom door. He grabbed me by the hair and smashed my head into the frame, but by that point I had pushed it open and fell into the hallway where several of the footmen pried him off of me".
The tears spilled silently from her eyes as she lifted up her hair in the front so that he could see the lump where she had been slammed into the door, and although he was angrier than he had felt in his entire life, and though that anger threatened to consume him, he reached forward as gently as possible to hold the hair which exposed her bruise.
"But that is not the worst of it" Jane said, and now her voice cracked painfully as she took in a horribly ragged breath, her lip turning down into the most devastating frown, "Edward he took my wedding rings. I did not want to give them to him, I told him no, but he threatened to cut my fingers off to get them. I didn't know what else to do, but now they're gone and maybe if I had fought more to keep them, I would still have them-"
But she couldn't continue, and Edward's heart plummeted in his chest as he realised the emotion in his wife which he had only seen a handful of times before. This was grief. And as violent, and sick, and hateful as he felt towards the thing which had laid a hand on her, he felt an overwhelming desire to ease her.
"Jane-"
"It was all my fault, Edward"
"Jane Eyre, you listen to me" he said seriously, "I do not ever want to hear you say again that this was your fault. Do you understand me? Not ever."
"But Edward" she said desperately, "Your wedding rings have never left my hand in all these years, and now they are gone-"
"It does not matter" he said simply, shaking his head as he wiped the tears falling fast from her eyes, "It does not matter that they are gone. All that matters is that I have you in my arms, and that you know that you are safe, and that nothing like this will ever happen to you again".
She shuddered silent sobs against his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck as he held her in his embrace.
"You are my whole life" he whispered in her ear, his own voice cracking as he tried to repress the claustrophobic emotions pressing in upon him, "You are my entire world, Jane. We can replace those rings, but you..."
He could not- or rather would not allow himself to imagine that, so he spoke on what he could imagine, what he was sure would haunt him forever.
"This is all my fault" he said, fighting back a bitter, acidic taste flooding in his mouth, "I am the one to blame. You wanted to come with me. I made you stay at home"
"No" she said quickly, lifting her face to look into his eyes.
"I never should have contested you. I never should have allowed for us to be separated"
"Please, don't" she repeated firmly, and there was a defeat in her voice which pained Edward more than he could say.
"You did the right thing" she proceeded, reaching up and stroking his cheek with her thumb, as much to soothe herself as it was meant to soothe him.
"You were keeping us safe. You were protecting us. Why should we pretend it was anything other than that? That man breaking in could not have been anticipated. And I know what is going through your mind right now" she accused, her tone changing, "I know what you are thinking. You will not continue this conversation with me now, nor ever, because you do not want to hurt me, and you do not want me to feel worried about a thing. But your mind will turn, and you will blame yourself- torture yourself, even, and I just need to hear you say that you know this was no one's fault, but especially not yours".
He knew she was right, but he could not accept that he was blameless. He took vows, made her promises as her husband to protect her and keep her safe. As long as that was true, he could never allow himself to feel blameless.
"I will not hurt you more than you have already been hurt," he said sincerely, "I know that this was not my fault, that it was the man who assaulted you alone who is guilty, but I am still to blame. Had I let you come with me as you wanted, had I remained with you until we could all leave together, this would not have happened. I must live with that".
"I am asking you not to. I am asking you to see this for what it is so that this might not come between us. All told, I am well enough. My head hurts, and my lip hurts, and I am terrified of what the children might be thinking, especially Adele who I could not lie to, but it all could have been so much worse. And now we are together, so I am afraid of nothing in the entire world".
And he could not deny this truth, for the eyes with which she looked at him were so trusting, and so honest that she might as well have said nothing, for her look was just as communicative as words.
His consideration of such meant that there was a long pause between them, and there was so much which could be said, so much which Edward wanted to say, so much which clawed desperately inside of him, but instead he opened his arms.
"Come here, sweetheart. Let me hold you"
She moved between his legs without hesitation, her head resting against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist. As he pressed his lips to the top of her head he saw a singular silent tear roll down her face.
"I am so sorry" he whispered, meaning so much more than he was capable of putting into words, "But you are safe now, my love".
She nodded, slowly rubbing her hand up and down his arm.
"In a way, I was glad you were not there. I believe you would have killed the man, and then you would be taken away and locked behind bars, or worse, until the end of your days and the problem is I find that I still have need of you yet".
"I am glad to hear so" he said against her ear, "Because I have missed you more than I care to admit. If I had not been scared to death when I heard you had arrived rather suddenly with all the children, I would have been the happiest man in London tonight".
And then she curled a little closer into him.
"I've missed you too. Horribly".
He smoothed her hair, laying his cheek against hers and kissing her slowly wherever he could, savouring her closeness, even under these circumstances.
"You must be tired, darling"
"I am, a little"
"Let me take you to bed".
"There is not enough room for us both in the bed and I slept a little earlier. You should sleep for a little while"
Edward shook his head,
"But I would rather stay with you".
Hearing his always strong and resilient wife ask to remain with him was the beginning and the end of that conversation. So, she lay in his arms under her traveling cloak, trying hard to stay awake but not lasting for very long. Her sleep was sound, and undisturbed, but Edward did not close his eyes once. His mind could not stop, would not stop planning what to do next. He thought over how he would make it to the police station to confront this man. He did not want to leave Jane again, promised he wouldn't, but he needed to make sure that punishment was served. There was no other option.