Though afraid of rejection I ached to ask him why he was so distant, why he had stopped holding me once the worst of the pain had receded. But after that first time, when he called out my name in joy of seeing me alive, no words had passed his lips, not to ask how things were in the house, not to vent his anger or his pain, not to whisper endearments to me, though he had been so free with them at a time when they were forbidden. It was getting harder and harder not to show my growing dejection at his distant attitude.
Then after one week, the surgeon pronounced him out of immediate danger.
The burns were closed far enough to no longer need such a rigorous regime of cleaning, though they were by no means healed or painless. Mr Rochester was allowed to get up and use the privy and wash and groom himself, and best of all, he could speak again, but with moderation.
I helped him dress, and he sat on the bed to receive the chief of police from Millcote, who confirmed his wife's death a suicide. There had been plenty of witnesses who had seen her jump.
The chief of the fire-brigade followed, he told Mr Rochester how there had been several fires on the top floor of the house, but none below. With the help of the driving rain of autumn they had managed to save most of the house, though the roof, the top floor and his and my room below that would need extensive repairs.
After that, my master was tired, though he had said but little.
But still he insisted on seeing Mrs Fairfax as she reported on the state of affairs in the house. Mrs Poole had stayed until after the internment of Mrs Rochester's remains, after which she had left for her own house. Her job at Thornfield had come to an end. Adele and Sophie, and Mrs Fairfax herself, now had a room in the same wing as where we were lodged, but on a
different floor, to give the master his rest. For the other servants, nothing much had changed.
Everything in our rooms had burned, furniture, clothing, personal effects, there was nothing left. I was glad my portfolio and drawing-materials were kept in the library, nothing else I possessed had value to me, though I needed some decent clothes badly.
Mrs Fairfax could see that Mr Rochester was not well and she took her leave rather quickly, certain to speak to the master again soon now he was out of danger. Before she left the room, she embraced me and whispered, 'I'm so glad you're all right, Miss Eyre; you saved my life and the master's. Please come down sometimes, Adele misses you, and I want to make an appointment with the seamstress for you.'
She was such a good lady, with a loving heart and still always practical.
After she was gone, my master had no energy left in him. He was heaving for breath, his face spoke his agony clearly, and there was something else torturing him. My resentment of the last few days melted and I sat on the bed next to him and helped him to lie down on his pillow.
'Do you want me to call Miller to help you undress, sir?' I asked.
He shook his head, apparently he hadn't kept from speaking by will alone, it must hurt to speak. Still he managed a few words, but they did sound decidedly husky.
'Will you hold me, Jane?'
There was nothing I wanted to do more, so I prepared to sit close to him and have his head in my lap, stroke his hair, and his unhurt cheek. But then he looked at me with a plea in his eyes; not like that, he wanted me to really hold him, and since that was what I wanted to do even more, I didn't think, but laid down beside him and took him in my arms altogether.
By now, I knew exactly where the burns were, on his body as well, so I avoided touching those spots, and held him against me as if this was our last time together. Tears threatened, and I let them fall, I had been brave for a long time, I just couldn't anymore.
'Oh my poor, dear Jane, this last week has been so hard on you.'
He still sounded husky, but not as if talking hurt. More as if he was affected, very much so.
This time it wasn't me giving comfort to a man in agony, he was holding me, and I snuggled against him and indulged in a good cry.
'Thank you so much for saving my life, Janet, and for everything you did for me this week. I have not been a good patient, I know, I have given you a very hard time. But I'm nearly better now, and then you can finally do what your heart tells you to, be free, and live you own life.'
That didn't help. Why didn't he just tell me he loved me, and asked me to marry him, so we could be together forever? Didn't he want someone as his wife who had at some time browbeat him into eating sick people's food? Had I crushed his love for me by forcing him to accept the surgeon's instructions?
What had I done wrong to make him stop loving me? How could such passion as he had felt for me be quenched?
I buried my face in his shirt and coat, and let him pet me and soothe me.
'It's not as bad as you think, Jane.'
His voice was mild, loving.
'You think you love me a great deal, but you've never met any other gentleman besides me. And I'm old, Jane, you deserve someone better, you're young, and rich, you can do better than a scarred old man who wheezes when he has to climb a stairs.
Carter tells me it will get better, but what if it doesn't? I knew I'd be hideously maimed, Jane, I felt the pain of those burns right there, in my face. But I never saw the real damage until a few hours ago, when I dressed myself and looked in the mirror. It was even worse than I imagined.'
Was that it? Was that all the reason he had been withdrawing himself from me for the whole week? That he would be scarred? That he might not regain his former strength?
All this pain, because he wanted to be handsome and thought I should think the same way?
How would I ever get it into his great, big, thick-skulled head that I had a right to make my own decisions? I'd make him suffer for a change!
For a few moments, he must have thought his reasoning effective, for my tears dried instantly, and I lifted my head to look at him really well. To me he seemed still the same man, unforgiving, stern, not handsome, no. But neither was I, and I didn't think myself unworthy of love because of that. I deserved Mr Rochester's love, and he deserved mine. And inside that unyielding figure of a man so much had changed. His had already been a loving heart, and a faithful soul, but he had been so used to have his way. No more, he who had once held total sway over me, had bent to my will, several times a day, as he
would not have for any other living creature. No, the apparel of Edward Fairfax Rochester might have been blighted, the innermost part of him was more suitable to be a loving husband than ever before. He was mine, as he would soon find out.
He really hated his own looks, that much was clear, for he wilted under my steady gaze; it broke my heart but I was not going to show him that. We were going to be married, and I was going to be very happy, as happy as he would be once he realised I didn't care what he looked like on the outside. But for now, I was going to show him he did not get to decide for me anymore; he was no longer my master, I was an independent, wealthy woman, and I was going to enter our marriage as an equal.
Still looking him straight in the eye, I took hold of his jaws, as I had done before, firm on the unscathed side, careful on the burned cheek. And then I kissed him as he had kissed me only once before, on the night after our false marriage-ceremony, when he begged me to live with him in sin, and I didn't have the will to resist anymore.
Stunned, he answered that kiss, indeed gave himself up to me as he had learned to do, fire awakening slowly in the depths of those dark orbs, so precious to me that I had risked my decency and my freedom to preserve them. And when the passion in them had reached a certain point, and I had to break off that kiss for fear of starving his suffering lungs of air, I released his jaws, sat up beside him, and dryly posed him a question.
'Since you seem reasonably able to talk, Edward, will you tell me what happened? Did you find your wife, did she flee from you, were you still debilitated by the smoke when you went up there?'
He did not understand, did not understand at all. Suddenly I called him by his Christian nam
e, and asked to tell a story when I had just kissed him like never before? What did it mean?
He did not demand an explanation as he would have a week ago. Did he understand intuitively that our roles had changed? That he could no longer demand of me? Or was he still too weak to protest? Only time would tell. For now, he gave in to my will, but he must have understood some of my game for he did not hesitate to lay his head in my lap; nor did he refuse to relish my stroking of his stubble both of cheek and head as he talked.
'When I went upstairs, I was not entirely sane, the smoke had affected me or I would have left the house with the both of you. But for whatever reason I felt
responsible for Mrs Poole and for Bertha, somehow I knew you would be fine. You are so strong, Jane, I never doubted you would get everyone else out and save yourself. I did underestimate you, for I expected you to obey me and stay outside; which I'm glad you didn't, or I would have died horribly, or have been hurt much worse.'
Here, he had to catch his breath for a few moments, and I wondered whether I was asking too much of him. But he continued, if slower, and less eloquent.
'I went up, got lost in the smoke, couldn't find anyone, not even an exit. Part of the support of the roof collapsed and hit me, burning my face and hand, and other places.
I never saw Bertha and knew it was pointless to be there, when you called out. Reaching you was difficult, I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe, everything hurt. But I managed, and you got me out. Thank you, Jane, for saving my life once again.'
'Can you afford to rebuild?'
'The question is, do I want to? The curse of Thornfield is removed, but will I have a reason to stay here? Shouldn't I just board the place up and move to London? So many bad memories attached to the house; don't you hate the very sight of it, Jane? You've been miserable here.'
'But I've been very happy here, too, Edward. Haven't you? Don't you want to make new, better memories here?'
Again, he was puzzled by my reply. What did I mean, did I want him to stay here with me, or did I want him to stay by himself, hide out in the country?
'You're right, society will taunt me now, I'm blighted, they respected my name, and my fortune, but barely. Maybe I should stay here. I do have some good memories here. Riding together. Will you keep riding, Jane?'
I almost felt sorry for him, but I was not going to budge and profess my love again, he knew I loved him, and if he chose to distrust me, that was his problem to solve. I kept my answer purposely vague.
'I certainly plan to.'
'You can afford it now.'
This was getting him nowhere, not without asking the only pertinent question. He changed tactics, became personal.
'Do my scars bother you, Jane?'
That was a really tough question for him to ask. How could he love such a plain woman, and worry about his own looks? I would never understand the
workings of my dear Edward's mind. I liked the fact that he wasn't handsome, it made me feel less lacking, somehow.
'Yes, Edward, I hate to see you suffering. Every time I see those scars I will be reminded of your pain when they were still burns; I will see Miller clean them while you nearly bite your tongue in agony, unable to scream to let the pain out.'
This entire process was tiring him out, he was not going to ask; he would let me care for him until he was better, and then I'd have to leave, for I could not be his dependant anymore. I could no longer obey his orders, and besides, I was wealthy, I no longer had to work for a living.
'But that is not what I meant, Jane.'
My dear Edward swallowed hugely, and came right out with it.
'What I meant is, do my scars disgust you? Can you bear to look at me like this?'
And very faintly the most important question but one, 'Can you still love me?'
Of course I was going to give him relief, but not just yet. He was tired, but not exhausted, and I had not given him even one reason to doubt me. So I looked at him, I studied his face for a long time, every feature was so dear to me that I had unwittingly sketched him from memory while at Gateshead.
The burn scar was already part of that, though his shaven head with the black stubble still gave me a little tug on my heart-strings each time I saw it.
Nor could I resist it this time, I just had to reach out and stroke the tightly packed short hairs on the top of his head. Then my hand followed the contours of his skull down, carefully avoiding the still-sensitive burns, healed over but not yet scars, not really.
'I can, Edward. Both look at you and love you. You have no idea how much I love you, or you wouldn't doubt me.'
'I'm sorry, Jane, I should have had the faith in you that you have always given me. Despite my surliness, my mean games, my betrayal. I hope it is not too late for me to finally start trusting you with my life. And to start earning your trust in me. Jane, will you marry me?'
'I will, dear Edward, with all my heart. I want nothing but to be with you, I have never been happier than spending the summer with you and I don't want that to end. But Edward...'
He looked up at my serious tone.
'..I will not obey you anymore, so we will fight.'
That gained me a tight embrace, too tight for the state of him, and a passionate kiss.
I dare confess that we did indulge in some indecencies then, Miller generally came in only at certain times, he still seemed a bit afraid of Edward's moods, and no-one else ever entered that room unannounced.
We did nothing truly bad, my beloved was in no state to work up a real passion, and since we had decided we'd get a special licence as soon as Edward was well enough to go to town, we wouldn't have to wait long to finally be able to seal our love. I was not going to enter a church in a wedding-dress again for any amount of money; I guess it was no different for him, our marriage was going to be a mere formality, since our souls had been one from the start.
But at that very moment, I wanted nothing more than lie on my beloved's chest, enveloped in his strong arms; kiss and nuzzle his throat and relish that exciting, secret scent I didn't exactly remember, but couldn't seem to forget either. Edward was mostly very calm, his passion did not flare up, he seemed to be enjoying his ultimate triumph over fate and misfortune.
'So you're not going to call me Mr Rochester or master ever again?'
He asked this with humour, as if it pleased him. I didn't feel like talking at all, I was so nice and comfortable and lazy; but talking still cost him an effort, so I decided I had to make an effort myself.
'I am not. Does that bother you? I'll call you beloved, darling, sweetheart, my dear, any number of pet names. But I am no longer yours to command, and those titles give you power over me.'
'It does not bother me at all, I've been waiting for years for someone to call my bluff, but no-one ever did. I knew you were the best chance I had, but your dependence on me prevented your growth. I am very thankful to your uncle John for making you your own woman. I can see now why you'd want your cousins to have that, though you've never met.
Do they know you cannot visit for a while? For you'll not leave me until I'm totally cured, will you? I'm still in pain, you see, I cannot bear it without your support.'
He obviously meant that, the very idea affected him, and I decided to tease him a little, I was his, there was no need for melancholy anymore.
'I wouldn't dare leave you here by yourself, you'd boss poor Miller half to death, and then your burns would go bad after all, and your lungs would
inflame, and I'd return to an invalid. No, I'm going to protect my catch, maybe I'll take you with me, make it our honeymoon. I've always wanted to see London, and I'm certain you know the best spots.'
'And the worst, dear Jane.'
But I could see he was glad I was staying, and so was I.
'I'll write them, I'm sure they'll understand. Do the burns hurt? Or are your lungs bothering you still?'
'Both, my love, but as long as you are with me, pain is nothing. Tomorrow, we're going to..... I'm
sorry, let me rephrase. I plan to inspect the damage the fire did, tomorrow, to get an idea what is needed to get us a roof over our heads before winter truly sets in. Do you care to join me? I wish to make us a whole new bedroom where our old rooms used to be.'
'So we're staying?'
'Dear Jane, we can go anywhere you like. London, Scotland, though I assure you it's generally nasty and wet, France, Italy, Germany, even the Indies. But personally, I'd like to take your advice and make a lot of happy memories here, first. Do you think it can be done in winter?'
'I do, and I'm coming with you tomorrow. Mostly to keep an eye on you, but I have wondered how bad the damage is.'
Chapter 4
By now it was time for Edward's daily checkup, heralded by a knock on the door and the entrance of Miller with his supplies. The faithful soul showed no surprise in finding us so close together, and my beloved moved to the edge of the bed readily enough.
'May I help you out of these restrictive clothes, Mr Rochester?' was the tentative question, 'a stiff collar may irritate your throat again; and I need to check on the burns beneath your shirt and trousers anyway. Frankly, I hoped you'd agree to keep wearing the looser ones as long as you are not in company. I'm certain Miss Eyre will forgive me for not being counted as company.'
'Yes on all counts, Miller, I'm starting to feel the pressure in several places, I hope I've not done harm to myself by dressing up.
Jane, will you watch Miller work? He can be summoned away any day now, and I'd like someone to know what to do. I promise not to roar at him.'
Miller was such a gentle caretaker, and he didn't show any discomfort undressing a man in front of an unmarried girl. Without consulting his patient he not only removed Edward's coat and shirt, putting them away as neatly as a valet would, but also his trousers, leaving my brand-new fiancée sitting on the bed in nothing but his underwear. The left side of his lower body had been burned as well, though less badly than his face and shoulders.
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