by Luccia Gray
I coughed. “I’ll be back tomorrow to see the patient.”
“Thank you so much for coming, Dr. Carter,” she replied. I nodded and walked towards the door.
I glanced back before leaving. She was kissing his bruised face. “That won’t be necessary, my love. I plan to say ‘I love you’ many times, every day.”
“Jane, you torture me,” he moaned. “I cannot move.”
I listened outside the door, unable to move away.
“This is your penance for letting yourself be beaten up.” I heard more kisses. “Now keep still while I torture you a while longer.” Then silence and the sound of ruffling sheets and more of his groans.
I mused on how fortunate they both were to be in love and share such special moments. I longed to hear the woman I loved whisper words of endearment. I was determined to speak to Mrs. Mason about my feelings for Annette as soon as I had the chance.
***
Chapter XXIII – The Vault
“Michael! You look like you were run over by a horse.”
My blurry eyes distinguished my sister’s harsh stare. “That is exactly how I feel, Susan.”
She sat on the chair by my bed and sighed. “Serves you right for getting involved with the wrong person. She’s playing with you again, Michael.”
My head was throbbing, and although I didn’t want to get into an argument with my sister, I decided to tell her the truth. “I have proposed and Jane has accepted.”
“They will never accept you. Look what her son has done to you. She will throw you out when she tires of you. She is selfish and whimsical.”
“I cannot understand why you speak of Jane with such contempt when she has done so much for you.”
“She has helped me to trap you again.”
“Susan, she has helped you because you are with child, and yes, because I asked her to help you. Must I remind you I came back to Eyre Hall because you asked me to, and that you beseeched me to intervene on your behalf?”
“Even so, I can sympathise with her son. You need some sense drummed into you. You are both mad.”
“You are probably right on that account. We are madly in love.”
“You are madly insane, brother.”
“Susan, please. Let’s not argue again about Jane. I hope to prove you wrong. We will both prove you wrong. Now let’s talk about something dearer to your heart. Your child. Have you thought of any names?”
“Yes, Dante and I have discussed names. It will be Mary, like our mother, if it is a girl, and William, like Dante’s father, if it is a boy. Do you approve?”
“Yes, I do. And you should know that Jane is very excited about being the child’s Godmother. She has already bought some swaddling clothes and gowns. You can be sure that she will spoil your baby.”
“Shush! I can hear Nell running up the stairs. She mustn’t know I am with child yet.”
“Too late. She knows already. She went shopping with Jane for the baby’s clothes.”
“Little nuisance! Mrs. Mason would make sure she knew.”
“Nell? She is a charming child.”
“I don’t like her.”
“You were fond of her when you taught her how to read.”
“I felt sorry for her with that awful mother and brute of a brother. She didn’t seem to fit in with her family, and she was a very clever child, but there was always a defiant look in her eyes which made me feel uncomfortable.”
“Nell is a bright and lively little girl who is very easy to love.”
“She looks more like Mrs. Mason every day. It must be all the time they spend together. Have you not noticed how she smoothes her dress with her hands when she is upset, and the way she purses her lips when she is thinking. She even uses Jane’s expressions such as, ‘you are so kind’, or ‘it is so kind of you’. She is a haughty and cheeky little brat.”
“Susan, you are mistaken. Could you make an effort to like her, please, for my sake?”
“I don’t think I can,” she said, seconds before Nell burst in with a tea tray.
“Beth let me bring the tray up. I helped Cook bake the gingerbread men, and I decorated them with icing.”
“Delicious, Nell,” said Susan after biting into the gingerbread man’s head, “but Michael doesn’t like ginger, do you?” She smiled triumphantly.
“I thought everyone liked gingerbread men! Mrs. Mason loves them,” said Nell.
“Well, if you baked them and Jane loves them, then I’ll try one.”
Susan’s twisted face warned me of my folly. I realised it was my fault that Susan was jealous of Jane and Nell. My sister and I had been alone in the world, without our parents or any other family, for so many years. We had only had each other, and now she had been displaced in my affections. She no doubt felt I had betrayed her.
“I meant that if my three favourite women, Susan, Jane, and Nell, love gingerbread men, then I have no choice but to love them, too.”
Nell laughed excitedly. “Would you like some tea, too, Michael?”
I nodded and when she asked me if I was feeling better, I replied that I hoped to get up the next day.
“Where is Mrs. Mason, Michael? She has not come to see you this morning,” Nell asked as she nibbled on the biscuit icing. “I can’t wait to start reading Treasure Island. She told me we would be starting today.”
“She had an errand to do with Adele, Annette, and John.” I thought of Jane, entering the vault and exhuming an empty tomb. I wished I could be with her, but she wanted to do it with her son and her husband’s daughters. In any case, I was still in no position to walk very far.
“Why did Master John hit you?” Nell asked.
“Because I am going to marry his mother, and he is not happy about it.”
“I hate him.”
“Don’t ever say that, Nell. It is unchristian to hate anyone, and you must never hate John. He is Jane’s son.”
“He does not like me, anyway. He ignores me, or calls me ‘little imp’. I don’t hate him, but I don’t like him.”
The memory of my conversation with Jane the previous evening came to my mind. John and Adele had insisted on exhuming the baby’s casket in order to clear their father’s name, because they were convinced he would not be capable of such a crime. Jane was terrified of what they might unearth.
“What if there is a baby inside the tomb? It could be another baby, or perhaps Helen really did die after she was born.”
She had spent the night sitting by my side, refusing to sleep in her bed. She tossed and turned impatiently against the back and wings of the armchair, sometimes jumping up and wandering around the room like a sleepwalker, other times clasping my hand nervously. There was little I could do to console her, except listen to her fears, and reassure her of my love and loyalty. She had left shortly after dawn.
“What was that noise?” I tried to get up.
“What is it, Michael? You cannot get up yet. It is the wind howling in the trees.”
“Open the window, Susan, and tell me what you hear.”
“It is snowing again. You will catch your death of cold.”
“Open the window!” I insisted and she complied. There was silence, but I was sure I had heard a cry from the churchyard, yet there was nothing I could do, except wait for Jane to return.
“Nell, shall we start reading Treasure Island?” I asked and she ran out to fetch the book from the library.
***
Mr. Woods was both shocked and distraught when my son and Adele told him the reason for our visit. John had insisted that Dr. Carter should also be present, as his father had signed the death certificate, and only he could identify the nature of the remains he expected to find. At first, Mr. Woods objected to John’s demands. “We cannot proceed with an exhumation without the bishop’s permission,” he said, and I realised he had probably been loyal to Edward. I wondered if he had known about Helen all along.
“This is our vault, and our church. The church is on our grounds.
We pay for its upkeep and your salary and comfortable lodgings, very generously. We do not require an exhumation, Mr. Woods. We would like to visit our vault and open one of our tombs, and we will do so with your permission or without it. I suggest you do not oppose my wishes or you will regret it, so please be so kind as to bring the keys and open our vault. Now.”
He was indeed his father’s son. I had no doubt that he would control the estate with an iron hand when the time came. I had thought he was more understanding and thoughtful, but I realised he was a Rochester through and through. I wondered sadly what, if anything, he had inherited from my side of the family.
Mr. Woods turned the ornate key in the giant lock and pushed the gate open revealing a steep stone staircase. John walked down first, closely followed by Adele and Dr. Carter. My son turned after taking the first steps. “Mother, please follow us. If you were brave enough to accuse my father of a crime, you should be brave enough to walk past his tomb.”
Hot tears burned my cheeks. Annette gasped and threw her arms around me. “No,” she cried, and then I heard Dr. Carter’s calm voice, “I see no need for all of us to go down this narrow passage, Mr. Rochester.”
“I insist. My mother must see the baby’s coffin for herself.”
“We will have to bring it up for inspection in any case. There is not enough light down there,” added the good doctor.
“I must protest,” said Mr. Woods. “The coffin must not be removed from the vault under any...”
“Mr. Woods, the coffin will be brought up, and if you do not desire to witness the event, I suggest you leave the church.” John turned to me. “Mother?”
“Let us go down, Annette,” I whispered and she nodded.
The crypt was long and narrow. There were two tiers of niches on either side of the constricted passage. Ornate and well–preserved wooden caskets rested inside the first niches. A quick glance revealed room for twelve corpses. Two niches were empty. I thought of Edward’s relatives, his grandparents, his parents, his brother, himself and Richard, and the baby’s coffin accounted for eight, plus two empty niches, which meant two corpses were unaccounted. Edward had never spoken to me of any other relatives.
John insisted on reading the names on the metal crests on the side panels. Finally, the two unaccounted bodies were identified as Mrs. Alice Fairfax and her husband Mr. Harvey Fairfax, Edward’s mother’s brother and previous vicar at this church, and his wife Mrs. Fairfax, who had been the housekeeper when I arrived at Thornfield Hall.
John stopped before a small casket, which looked out of place inside a large niche positioned on the lower level. It rested at the end wall of the vault, below Edward’s, and read: ‘Infant Eyre Rochester. May 1855’.
“I fear there is not enough room in this vault for all of the Rochester siblings, is there, Mother?” I wondered, yet again, how I had been able to bring up such a monster.
The small coffin was placed on a wheelbarrow. The white satin covering was frayed and mouldy, but there was a splendid gilded plaque depicting a sleeping cherub with curly hair and outstretched angel wings shining on the lid.
The vault smelt sweet, unexpectedly and overbearingly sweet, and warm, so warm that I was having difficulty breathing. We were huddled together in the narrow passage, and I was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. I looked up to the jagged rock ceiling, barely an inch above my son’s head.
John smiled at me. “Do not faint now, Mother. You are going to see your baby again, at last.”
I closed my eyes and felt Michael’s arms holding me against his chest as he nuzzled my hair, and I knew I could endure anything if he was with me. Dr. Carter was holding my hand. It was his gentle voice I heard. “Mrs. Mason’s pulse is accelerating, and I think she should return to the church as soon as possible.” Surprisingly, my son did not object and we walked back up to the chapel.
Annette and I sat quietly in the final pew, nearest to the vault and waited for the wheelbarrow with the coffin to emerge.
My son stood by the tiny box and spoke coldly. “I suggest my mother should open the casket; after all, it is her wish to uncover her husband’s secrets, is it not?”
“Mrs. Mason, perhaps I should open it?” suggested Dr. Carter, but I shook my head. A sudden surge of energy took over my limbs and I was able to stand up and speak.
“Thank you Dr. Carter, but I will lift the lid.”
Dr. Carter and Annette were standing by my side in front of the casket, facing the altar, while the others were standing behind me. The sleeping cherub opened his eyes and smiled. I pulled the handle gently, and lifted the lid.
Adele screamed, “Mon Dieu!”, and ran out of the church.
Mr. Woods blessed himself and dropped to his knees mumbling the Lord’s Prayer.
I put my hand inside the coffin and took out the book that lay on the immaculate satin lining. It was a Bible. I opened the cover and recognised Edward’s handwriting. I read aloud the words he had written. “Jane, forgive me.”
I looked up to the ceiling; the arches swayed and blurred, and I heard someone scream, “No”, a scream so loud my ears reverberated and deafened. A bright light pierced my eyes, and I saw a child’s face in Michael’s arms. Then suddenly, blackness and a sharp, cold pain took over.
***
Chapter XXIV – Dr. Carter’s Request
I knocked on the guest bedroom door and found Nell sitting on a chair reading to Lieutenant Kirkpatrick, who was still looking like a bear who had survived baiting.
“Hello, Nell. How are you? Have you coughed anymore?” I asked.
“No, Doctor. I haven’t coughed since I took your medicine.”
“Good girl. Are you still drinking lemon juice every day?”
“Yes, with lots of honey.”
“That’s my girl. What are you reading?”
“I’ve just finished part one of Treasure Island. Jim Hawkins and his mother have unlocked the sea chest, and they have found money, a journal, and a map. Dr. Livesey realises the map is of an island where there is a buried treasure, so they are going to find it. I like Dr. Livesey. He’s like you, very clever and kind.”
“Thank you, Nell. Now, could you take your book to Mrs. Mason’s room and read part two to her?”
“Yes, of course. Is she back?”
“She is. When you finish part two, come down with Mrs. Mason to visit Michael.”
I waited for Nell to leave the room before addressing Lieutenant Kirkpatrick.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Still sore, but I’ll survive. How is Jane?”
“Very upset. Understandably.”
“What happened?”
“Your suspicions were accurate. It seems my father, Mr. Rochester, and probably Mr. Woods, all conspired to convince Mrs. Mason that her daughter had died. The coffin was empty. Mr. Rochester had left a message in a Bible, in case the deception was ever discovered. He asked her to forgive him.”
“What about John?”
“He was devastated, as I am, but to a greater degree. He held his father in great esteem. He has left Eyre Hall. He said he needed to speak to Archbishop Templar.”
“I am sorry you found out about your father’s implication this way, Dr. Carter. I suppose he acted out of misplaced loyalty to Mr. Rochester.”
“I was aware that my father had irregular dealings with Mr. Rochester, but to tear a child away from her mother, that is unforgivable. If there is anything I can do to repair or make up for my father’s deed, I hope Mrs. Mason will let me know.”
“I have found the child, Dr. Carter.”
“So I have been told. I hope she is well.”
“She is, but I can disclose no further details for the moment.”
“I am glad she is well, and I would be glad to compensate her in any way I can.”
“Thank you, Doctor. No doubt Jane will let you know if anything is required, when the time comes.”
His words were not bitter, and I felt an immense gratitude that t
he child had come to no harm. A tranquil silence ensued as I packed my instruments back into my bag. I turned back to him before leaving.
“My name is Harold, but my friends call me Harry.” I stretched out my hand, which he held firmly.
“Thank you, Harry. My friends call me Michael.”
“Michael, it is my belief that Mr. Rochester wishes to apologise to you both. On his behalf I would say that he was blinded by his admiration for his father.”
“He need not apologise to me, but I do not wish him to cause offense to his mother. When she becomes Mrs. Kirkpatrick, I will not allow anyone to be disrespectful to my wife, on any account.”
I felt admiration and a measure of envy for the love they professed for each other. I wondered if I should ever be so fortunate.
“I will go upstairs to make sure Mrs. Mason is well. I will be back tomorrow, Michael. Good day.”
Nell and Mrs. Mason were sitting by the hearth. Nell was reading Treasure Island enthusiastically as Mrs. Rochester stared wistfully towards the window on the other side of the room. I suggested Nell go down to the kitchen and ask Cook for some tea and biscuits, and then I asked Mrs. Mason how she felt.
She replied wearily. “I knew she was not there, but I was relieved to find that she had not been replaced by another child.”
“Can you forgive them?”
“It doesn’t matter. They must answer to Our Lord for their crimes, not to me. I am relieved Michael has found her and that she is well.”
“If there is anything I can do to repair…”
“Thank you, Dr. Carter, but you are no more responsible for your father’s crimes than my son is for his father’s. I am greatly indebted to you. I hope you will stay on in the Rochester Estate. Is Ferndean to your pleasing?”
“It is a very spacious, albeit old house. My mother loves it. She wouldn’t live anywhere else.”
“How is your mother?”
“She is very well, thank you. She has aches and pains pertaining to her age. She is well over seventy–eight.”
“Seventy–eight? I have not seen her very often, but I had no idea she was so advanced in age. You were…?”