by Amity Cross
“Why are you so cruel?” I asked, shaking my head.
Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose. “Why? You sincerely do not understand? You poor, pathetic creature.”
I stared back at her, stilling my trembling hands against my sides. Her hatred was so pure and raw it was frightening. All that I had been through in my life had not prepared me to face such a formidable woman, and I was at a loss as to how to defend myself. Not even the harsh discipline of Lowood held a candle to the look upon Blanche Ingram’s face.
“You took what is mine,” she snarled. “And now I will take what is yours.”
“I did not take anything from you,” I replied, no longer afraid of her. “It was freely given.”
“That is a matter of opinion, and yours, my dear, does not count.”
“Doesn’t it exhaust you?” I asked, the force of her hatred bearing down on me. “To be filled with such jealousy and disdain? I imagine it would keep you up at night knowing you lost Edward because of your own callousness.”
“You think you have it all,” she mused, looking down her nose at me.
“On the contrary,” I said. “I have nothing of consequence. You already saw to that.”
“Oh, dear,” she purred. “You still have a great deal.”
I was at a complete loss for words, and I stared at her as she paraded herself before me, the picture of superiority. Even though I now had the fortune to match, I would never be in the same class as her. I would have to sacrifice my heart and conscience to do so, and it was an impossibility.
“What a shame it would be for the world to find out the truth of Thornfield and the Rochesters,” she purred, finally showing her hand. “What a scandal it would create. I’m sure it would have dire consequences on Edward’s company. No one would want to do business with a man who has locked up his murderous mad ex-wife against her will, and when they hear about her various attempts to kill the guests at Thornfield? What a shock! He would be bankrupt before the year is out, I suppose.” She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh well, he could always turn to you, could he not, Jane? Oh, wait!” She raised her hand and pulled aside the fabric of my dress, revealing the twin scars on my chest. At the sight of my pain, she smiled in triumph. “Would it be worth it? He would try, and when he found he’d lost you…” She pouted and let my dress go with a flourish. “Heartbreak is a terrible thing, is it not?”
“Will all due respect, you seem to have firsthand experience.”
Blanche looked startled for a second before she laughed as if I’d told a hysterical joke.
“I won’t be your pawn,” I said fiercely.
“We are all pawns, darling,” she replied absently. “Except me. I’m the queen.”
Knocking her shoulder against mine as she glided past, she left me alone in the storeroom, my heart twisting tightly. She was going to ruin us all, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. How could I counter a woman like Blanche Ingram when every word she had to say was the complete and utter truth?
Could I go to the police? No, that was impossible. There were no witnesses to Blanche’s attack, and to prosecute Bertha was to destroy Edward and Thornfield. Despite the lies he had told me, I could not allow Alice, Bessie, and the staff to suffer because of it. Nor could I allow myself to harm Edward. All he was guilty of was attempting to hide his shame. He did not put the knife in his ex-wife’s hand.
I drew in a wavering breath and pondered what I should do next, knowing I did not have any options. Blanche had not come to threaten me. She’d come to gloat.
There was nothing to be done except crash and burn.
11
I was too afraid to leave the opening on my own.
Blanche’s gloating had unsettled me to the core, and as I watched her glide around the gallery as if she owned the entire building, she made it her sole purpose to illustrate that she had complete power over me. She knew Edward’s darkest secret and was not afraid to destroy his entire world. She could see what I had so blatantly disregarded—my love—and had used it against me. Two birds, one stone.
I was so worried by her declaration, but I did not know what to do. Should I warn Edward? I was not sure if her plan hinged on the fact I was estranged from him. Perhaps if I joined forces we could find a way to silence…
“Jane,” Rivers said, bumping his shoulder against mine as we walked toward the dark studio.
I’d waited until Rivers was ready to depart the gallery, and he escorted me through the night, back to the apartment in Shoreditch. We now stood outside the roller door, and he was jangling his keys, fumbling through them for the correct one to unlock the side door.
“Yes?” I asked as he let us into the dark space and turned on the lights. He carried a bottle of wine under his arm, a gift from Space Gallery, a look of giddy happiness upon his lips.
“I sold every piece tonight,” he said with pride. “You must linger a while so we can celebrate. I am not yet ready to sleep. I’m far too awake to even contemplate rest.”
I was far too stressed to sleep myself, so I nodded, hoping a little sip of wine would assist in calming me.
“You sold the entire collection?” I asked as I set my purse down on the coffee table.
“Anastasia told me there was a furious bidding war over the portrait,” he said, retrieving two wine glasses from the shelf behind the couch. Handing them to me, he popped the cork on the bottle and filled both with the smooth red liquid.
“Really?”
“Do not sound so surprised, Jane,” he replied, taking a glass from my hand and raising it. “One day, you will look at yourself in the mirror and not feel so confused as to what is staring back at you. You need to open your eyes, and see what everyone else sees.”
“Who bought it, do you know?”
“Some rich man from up north, I think. The name was held off the record, but it is not uncommon for bidders to be anonymous. Regardless, someone loved it enough to pay a handsome sum. You should be flattered, Jane.”
Removing the glass from my fingers, he placed it on the table next to his own and fixed his gaze upon mine. He stared at me with such intensity my skin prickled in warning.
“Jane, I know you have told me you do not want a relationship,” he began, his gaze falling to my lips. “But I cannot stop thinking about you. Your words say no, but yet you linger and show interest in my life.”
“Rivers…”
He darted forward like lightning, and his mouth covered mine, his hands grasping my shoulders painfully. His tongue forced its way into my mouth, and I tensed under his touch, remaining motionless as he kissed me.
“Jane,” he whispered against my mouth. “Jane, please… I’m falling in love with you, can’t you see? Please, kiss me.”
I twisted out of his grasp and attempted to think of a way to end this madness once and for all. He reached for me, his hands pulling at my waist, and it was enough to prod me into movement. I rose to my feet and steeled my resolve. He must be told before this got any more out of hand.
“You are mistaken,” I declared. “You are reading too much into my actions. My words are my truth, and they have always been so. I do not love you, Rivers. I cannot.”
“It’s him, isn’t it?” he snarled. “Rochester. He harms you beyond compare, you flee from him, yet you still pine for his touch. It’s abhorrent.”
“What?” I whispered, struck dumb by his venomous words. I had not told him I’d fled Thornfield, and nothing had passed my lips about Edward Rochester at all. “I have not…”
“How could you love a man who has previously harmed you, Jane?” He rose to his feet, his eyes pleading with mine. “I would care for you more than any other in my life. I love you, Jane. Be mine, and the world can be ours.”
I shook my head, my entire body racked with tremors. “You do not love me, Rivers,” I said. “How could it be love when you do not even know me? Love cannot be forced.”
“Do you doubt me, Jane?” he demanded. “I know
the strength of my own convictions.”
“I doubt you entirely because you do not know the strength of mine!”
“Have I not shown you nothing but kindness?” he asked, his eyes blazing with anger. “Have I not been patient?”
“Please…” I muttered, edging backward as fear rose sharply within me. “You must understand…”
“You have lied to me, Jane. Lied and led me on, making me believe there was hope where there was none.”
“I have always been truthful with you,” I declared. “I have—”
“No, you have not!” he roared, kicking out at the table and knocking the glasses and bottle of wine to the floor. Red liquid spilled across the rug and the concrete floor, looking awfully like blood.
I flinched as shards of glass splintered across the studio floor, my heart beating painfully. I had to escape before he harmed me. I glanced toward the apartment knowing I had to retrieve my bag before I could disappear. It held all of my earthly belongings and the truth to my identity. If I left it behind Rivers would have access to everything.
“What are you looking for, Jane?” he asked, his expression turning malicious. “Jane Doe…or should I say, Jane Eyre.”
“How…” I felt the blood drain from my face.
“I was too proud to pry into your affairs, but it appears I should have. Blanche Ingram was very enlightening this evening,” he declared. “If you have all of that money, then why are you staying here pretending you are poor? I do not know what game you are playing, but it is a callous one, Jane. It is manipulative and cruel.”
“Blanche…” I parroted, struck dumb by his declaration.
She’d manipulated him, striking him down with her poisonous words, using his misplaced affection against him. Edward had cast her away, but I was not rid of her. Her hatred of me was absolute, and she would not rest until I was destroyed. But how did she know of my fortune?
Rivers stepped toward me, his nostrils flaring in pure anger. “I’ve fallen in love with you, and this is how you repay me? With lies and manipulation?”
“I never—”
“Stop your lying!” he shouted, then pushed me back against the wall with his strong hands. “I would have given you everything had you allowed it, but you never needed me. Do you know what I will do now, Jane? I will take it all from you.”
His hands closed around my neck, his strength too much for me to bear as he began to crush my windpipe. Desperately, I clawed at his flesh, attempting to pry him away, and when I could not dislodge him, I thrashed.
He was going to kill me! Blanche had manipulated him so thoroughly he could not see through his rage. Even as the life bled from my limbs, I knew I had played a larger part in this than I’d ever realized. I’d lied about my intentions. I’d lied about how I’d left Thornfield. I’d lied about my attack at the hands of Bertha. I’d lied about everything. Blanche had only twisted what was already there and magnified it. This was my fault.
Spots pricked my vision as my lungs burned for oxygen, but I could not fight anymore. I did not want to die, but Rivers was too strong and too blinded by anger to allow me to escape. He could kill me on the spot and take me for everything I was worth. He had all he needed to clear out my fortune, and no one would come looking for me for a long time. I didn’t want to be found. I was the perfect target.
No matter where I went or who I placed my trust in, I was still poor little plain Jane Doe. Changing one’s name did not change who they were, and neither did the acquisition of money. I am who I always was, and I would be until the day I died—which was likely today.
Jane Doe and her common tale of woe.
The truth hurt, and it had been revealed to me in the most horrific way. I was no better than those I hated. The truth shattered my resolve, broke my spirit and destroyed the last shred of hope I would ever find happiness. I did not deserve love, the emotion I longed for the most. I did not deserve it, so I stopped fighting.
Oh, Edward, I thought to myself. I’m sorry.
I saw his apparition standing before me, hovering just behind the demonic presence of John Rivers, and my heart soared. I was on the precipice of death and still he came to me, never letting go. His handsome face twisted, and I swore I heard him cry out in anguish, but I could not tell. My body consumed the last of my breath, and I slackened, but something curious happened. Instead of darkness, the pressure on my neck eased, and then it was gone entirely.
I fell to the concrete floor, and my head cracked against the cabinet on the way down, causing my head to spin even more. It was like a merry-go-round that had been spun faster and faster until it was so out of control nothing could stop it but disaster.
I heaved in a deep breath of oxygen into my starving lungs and coughed uncontrollably as I attempted to crawl away, but I did not get very far before a pair of rough hands grasped my shoulders, and darkness took me.
Everything just…ended.
12
I don’t know how long I swam in the ocean of darkness.
When I finally returned to the land of the living, it was unrecognizable. The last vision I had was of the studio floor as I attempted to crawl away from Rivers. I’d struck my head, and my consciousness had faded. I was sure I’d died at that moment or was close to it, but it seemed I was still breathing.
I lay across the back seat of a car, my head in the lap of a man I hoped was Edward. The coat draped over my shoulders carried his scent—a woodsy musk—and the hand lying upon my back was gentle. In front, I could see the profile of a second man, who I recognized as Edward’s driver, his hands firmly on the wheel. Swallowing, my throat felt like sandpaper, not faring well after its crushing. My flesh was tender, and my head throbbed.
“Jane,” a familiar voice murmured, sensing my wakefulness. “Would you like some water?”
“Edward…” I moaned, realizing he had not been an apparition at all but flesh and bone.
“Shh,” he whispered. “Have some water. It will soothe your throat.”
He retrieved a bottle from the cup holder set in the door before easing my head up and placing a straw against my lips. I sipped slowly, the cool liquid heavenly against my burning throat, and as he set the bottle down into the cup holder, I allowed my weary head to fall back onto his muscular thigh.
I felt comfortable here, safe even, despite the fact he was the man I’d fled from in such a dramatic fashion. What a curious situation.
I sighed, my eyelids drooping as the movement of the car lulled my body. The flash of orange lights told me it was still night, and our smooth trajectory signified we were on the motorway. We were on the motorway.
I raised my head, Edward’s jacket falling from my shoulders and looked about frantically for my bag.
Edward held me tightly and whispered into my ear, “I have collected all your belongings. Your bag and all I could find in the apartment have been stowed in the boot. Your money, your documents, your clothing. All of it. Nothing remains abandoned, Jane.” I sank back into his lap, my head resting on his thigh. “Rivers will not be a problem,” he continued. “He is being looked after by a friend.”
“You would murder him?” I rasped, the thought abhorring me, yet I did not move from his embrace.
“That is your first thought?” he asked incredulously. “Do you think that little of me?”
“Well,” I said, closing my eyes so I did not have to see him stare down at me with his otherworldly eyes. “Have you?”
“No, Jane. You think me capable of it now after all I have told you?” He snorted, the movement flowing through his body. “I could not take his life—wretched as it is—with my own hands, and especially not through the fault of someone else. He was manipulated. I am intelligent enough to see it.”
“Blanche,” I whispered, thinking of the speech she’d delivered to me that very night.
“Yes, I suspected as much when I saw her leave the gallery this evening.”
He was at the opening? Why had I not seen him?
“Where…”
“Thornfield,” was his reply.
“Bertha?” I asked, the mere mention of her name causing my chest to ache.
“She has been locked away,” he replied. “She no longer has access to me or the rest of the house. She is closely guarded and will not escape again. She has not since the day…” He trailed off, not wanting to speak of the event which had caused my flight.
He was trying to reassure me, but I could not rest easy. Bertha Mason was still in residence at Thornfield, and it was precisely where he was taking me. I felt as if I’d been caught by the tyrant and returned to his nest of torture. My entire world was twisted like a hall of mirrors in a carnival funhouse.
“She’ll be trapped like a weasel if she attempts to scurry out of her hole,” Edward said with a snarl. “I won’t allow any harm to come to you, Jane. She will have my life before she can think of taking yours.”
Thornfield was the last place I wanted to be, but like a horror story, it seemed the old manor wasn’t done with me yet. I closed my eyes, as bereft as ever. Was I damned to a life of misery? Was this my lot? I could not bear to think I was not allowed the tiniest shred of happiness.
“I have been in agony,” Edward murmured, stroking my hair. “I’ve lost myself trying to find you.”
I moaned and covered my face with my hands, too tired, too sore, and too sick to move away from him. I longed for his embrace, yet I could not allow myself to submit. I was torn between right and wrong, not knowing which was which.
“This is my vow to you, my dear Jane Eyre,” he murmured, his hand gentle as he caressed my back. “I will spend the rest of my life devoted wholly to your happiness. I have wronged you, and I will do whatever it takes to redeem myself.” The leather seat creaked as he leaned forward and placed his lips against my temple, kissing me softly. “I swear it on my soul.”