by Amity Cross
He was coming back? Not just Edward, but his rich friends would be following. Beautiful men and women of wealth. Women who were his complete match in every way. After four months of not hearing a word, here he came with his darkness and anger and with all the things I could never hope to be.
Still, I felt a spark at the thought of him being in the same house as I once more.
“Is there anything I can do to assist, Alice?” I asked, knowing I was about to get a healthy dose of reality when the guests began arriving. Best I distance myself from my attraction to the master and leave it be. There was no better time to begin my new course than now.
“Yes, oh yes!” she replied, her shoulders sagging. “I need someone to go to the village and pick up some things from the grocer. No one has time to leave, and we have so little time and not many hands.”
“Alice, it’s what I’m here for.” I smiled, feeling calm in my choice to distance myself from my unwanted feelings. “Of course, I’ll go.”
“Can you drive?” She reached into her pockets and thrust a set of keys at me.
I nodded, thankful for something with which to occupy myself. Once I’d been given my task completely, I emerged outside as a new Jane Doe, impervious to the lust of the flesh and mind. Still, I felt the looming cloud on the horizon and was unable to shake the trembling in my veins.
Edward Rochester was returning to Thornfield.
By the time I returned from the village, the noise had dampened to a dull roar.
I’d volunteered to be the messenger so that I did not have to be present when Edward arrived, but it turned out I didn’t need to anguish myself so. Alice was sitting on the stairs in the gallery, her tablet in her lap, looking lost and forlorn.
“Their flight has been delayed,” she lamented as I sat beside her. “They won’t be here until tomorrow. All that fuss for nothing!”
“Never mind,” I commiserated. “There was no way of knowing. Everything is prepared well ahead of schedule now, so there is time to rest before everyone arrives.”
“You’re so right, Jane. Thank you. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“Still running around, I suppose,” I said with a smile.
Alice sighed, allowing her head to rest upon my shoulder, and my heart swelled. She had become quite like a sister to me in the few months I’d been in residence at Thornfield. It was very welcoming to think she thought nothing of my want for solitude and my quiet manner. She respected me for who I chose to be and in turn, I her.
Family was something I’d never had even though I’d lived with my cousins, John and Georgiana, and my aunt Sarah. They’d never wanted me, so I’d always been apart. Despite the strange occupation of Grace Poole and the mystery surrounding the maid I was so blatantly kept from, the residents of this grand hotel were the closest thing I had to brothers and sisters. That was why I chose to invest myself in Alice, no matter how much I wanted to keep myself from Edward and his perfect life.
“Tell me, who are the guests?” I asked. “You said Mr. Rochester likes to bring his friends in the summer and that they’re a sight. Perhaps you should help me mentally prepare. Will you?”
Alice’s eyes brightened at the chance to indulge in her favorite pastime, gossiping, and she sat straight and faced me, ready to impart her wisdom.
“There are several who are Rocky’s friends, and then they invite some of theirs in turn,” Alice explained. “The core group never changes, but their other guests seem to rotate as they fall in and out of favor.”
“Who are the regulars?”
“There’s Marcus and his wife, Fiona. He’s an air force colonel, you know. Colonel Dent. Then there is Amy, Louisa, and Lynn. They are nothing if not annoying in their wealth. Rich bitches if I ever saw them.” She paused and had a good laugh at this. I gathered her reaction meant they were the superficial type and mere followers to the others. “There’s Henry and Frederick. They are very handsome but typical playboys and horrible flirts. I don’t care to think about where they’ve been! Probably with half of continental Europe! The last two are Blanche and Mary Ingram. They’re sisters and certainly the richest and most beautiful of the group.”
“Blanche?” I asked. “That’s quite an old-fashioned name.”
Alice waved her hand and rolled her eyes. “Very posh and English, though. They all call her Bee. Like the queen bee in the hive. Their family is the only one to rival the Rochester’s for their influence.”
I decided this meant the beautiful Blanche Ingram was the center of this little group and would be formidable, indeed. If Alice’s description of her was anything to go by, this woman’s beauty and accomplishments far outweighed my own. I hadn’t seen her yet, and already I felt I’d been right to douse the impure thoughts and actions I’d had toward Edward.
“I suppose she is admired by all manner of people?” I inquired.
“Yes, she’s like a supermodel, Jane. I always feel so inadequate looking at her. Rich, beautiful, powerful. The trifecta!”
“Is she attached?” I knew I shouldn’t ask, but I was unable to stop my curiosity from taking control of my tongue.
“No. She’s not married, nor does she have a boyfriend that I know of.”
“Surely a woman like you’ve described has someone?”
“If you ask me, I’m sure she has her eye on Rocky,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “I wouldn’t be surprised at all if he were to make a move on her. They surely match each other’s temperament. Their families certainly wouldn’t dispute it. In fact, it would be greatly encouraged!”
I didn’t want to ponder why my hand shook at this revelation. Why shouldn’t Edward want to consider a future with a beautiful woman who was a perfect choice for a man like him? In business, physicality, and all manner of wanton satisfaction. Still, I couldn’t help feeling much smaller than I already was, hoping the ground would open up and swallow me whole. Everything—life, the universe, and my pursuit of belonging—began to feel futile. I had nothing to offer.
“Well, you have given me a lot to think about,” I said. “A fair warning for what to expect tomorrow.”
“They’ve been known to treat the staff horribly,” Alice said, giving me one last piece of information. “But don’t let it worry you. They’re as shallow as they come, and their uninformed words mean nothing about you or the staff, Jane. People like that say things to turn scrutiny away from their own shortcomings.”
“Very well said,” I declared.
Now, only if I could find it within myself to believe her.
We passed the remainder of the day by amusing ourselves. With no guests to welcome and assist to their rooms, we were left with not much else to do.
Deciding I had one more night where I could steal myself into the library before it became forbidden for the summer, I waited until nine p.m. and ghosted through the empty halls until I reached its familiar embrace.
The sky was still a patchwork of deep blue, orange, and pink through the windows as the last of the sun dipped below the horizon. The days were quite long now that the season had changed, which was a sight better for everyone’s mood. In the depths of winter, daylight had faded entirely by four o’clock in the afternoon. Very dreary on the soul, indeed.
Lingering by the window, I watched the changing colors as I allowed my mind to fly freely. Well, freely away from Thornfield and its male tempest.
“Jane.”
The sound of my name sliced directly through my body, and I turned, my heart beating furiously as my gaze caught that of the enigmatical Edward Rochester.
The sight of him frightened and excited me all at the same time, and in that moment, I knew I’d been unsuccessful in forgetting my growing feelings. Now he had returned after months of absence, and the sight of him was a stronger drug than ever before.
“I’ve startled you,” he said, his stormy eyes watching me closely.
I waited a moment until my heart had slowed some. “It’s just… We weren’t expecting
you until tomorrow.”
“I had business in London, so I traveled ahead,” he explained, seeming pleased at my fumbled reaction.
“I see,” I muttered, lowering my gaze.
“Are you well?” he asked, his footsteps thudding softly on the carpet as he approached.
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you sure? You look paler than when I saw you last.”
“I assure you, I am well.”
Edward grunted, my statement not placating him in the slightest.
“Could it be…” he mused. “Did you miss me, Jane? We hardly know one another, yet you seemed to fret.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing he would not flirt with me so. He was baiting me for his own amusement, I was sure of it. Once I’d caught his lure, then what? Would he cast me right back with the others he’d rejected before me? I believed he would.
“You are afraid of me,” he stated, his tone changing from amusement to annoyance.
He’d said it once before, but he couldn’t be further from the truth. Perhaps I should be afraid of the man who stood before me. He exuded a great deal of power and control over me with little effort, and for someone who valued their freedom, I should be cowering before him. Yet all I did was rebel against it. It was a sick form of self-preservation.
I returned my gaze to his, my spirit now fully armored against him.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said firmly.
“Then you are afraid of yourself.”
The truth hit home, and I scowled.
“Is the truth of what you want and feel so abhorrent to you?” he went on. “Or are you afraid you will be ridiculed by others for it?”
“Not at all, sir,” I said, jutting my chin out in defiance. “I merely know the difference between obtainment and futility.”
His strong brow creased as he thought over my words, his shoulders seeming to tense as he loomed over me.
“I suppose you think you’re clever in your evasion?” he inquired.
“Not at all. I feel I’m being realistic on my behalf.”
“You accused me of speaking in riddles, yet you speak like a sphinx. I think you are a hypocrite, Jane.”
His words stung, but it was for the best we should dislike one another. We were merely substituting one lesser hurt in lieu of a much larger one.
I stood tall as I delivered my next barb. “Then we are more alike than I dare admit.”
Edward took another step toward me, like the alpha male of a wild wolf pack closing in on its prey. Whatever happened next, it was going to hurt.
It wasn’t until he was an inch away from where I stood trapped against the wall that I realized he’d never touched me before. Never had his hand slipped and brushed against my own. Never had his gait wavered and moved toward mine. His eyes had done all the work in lieu of his hands, caressing, kneading, and unraveling.
He was so controlled in all his words and actions, and I realized I did fear him. I was afraid of what would be unleashed the moment his grasp on his spirit slipped and everything burst forth.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his gaze lowering to my lips.
“You were right,” I admitted. “I’m afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of what you could do to me,” I whispered, my mouth feeling dry. “Of what you have already done without your knowing.”
As the words spilled from my lips, I regretted them. My knees felt weak, as though I might crumple to the floor in a heap, and my heart began to wither. I must leave before…
I edged along the wall, taking a step to prepare to flee, but like a bolt of lightning, Edward raised his arm, and his palm connected with the wall, closing off my escape route.
“I should let you go,” he muttered, and I wasn’t sure if he spoke to himself or me. “But something stops me, Jane. You say you are afraid of me? Well, I’m afraid of you.”
“Me?” I said, my voice sounding harsh next to the sweet baritone of his.
He didn’t reply, and when his body pressed against mine, pinning me in place, a moan escaped from between my lips, causing my face to heat with embarrassment. I had not declared the things I felt, but it seemed I’d betrayed myself to him with my actions a long time ago.
When his hands came to rest on my flushed cheeks, I shuddered violently, all control leaving my mind and limbs. I was putty in his hands, and from the way his gaze penetrated mine, he knew it.
“I should leave,” he murmured, but he lingered.
“What if you stayed?” I asked. “What would happen then?”
His hands lowered, pulling me away from the wall, and traced the curve of my spine, lighting a fire underneath the surface of my skin, until his fingers curled into my hair. He tugged, forcing my head to the side just so…then his lips pressed against my ear as if he was about to tell me a wicked secret.
“If I remained, I would tear your clothes from your body and have you mercilessly, Jane. I would tear you apart.”
I shivered as the tip of his tongue grazed my neck, his words speaking to my being on a level no man had reached before. Deeper than lust or primal instinct, his words were like a prayer from scripture itself.
“I should like to be torn,” I whispered, completely and utterly under his spell.
“Jane…” He seemed to be struggling with his mind, violently wrestling with some silent demon even though I was perfectly willing to destroy myself despite my better judgment.
“Edward.”
It was the first time I’d spoken his name, and it sounded heavy on the air. Like I’d woven a spell, he broke with his demon and struck.
His lips were rough as he took me, and when he kissed me again, he forced his way inside until his taste—which was of the Irish whiskey he favored—overwhelmed me. I lost control of myself and thrust my tongue against his, my arms winding around his waist. I felt the tight muscles in his back ripple as my palms rubbed along them, enticing his kiss to deepen further.
I began to throb between my legs as my desire grew, and when his hands moved from my face to explore my body, I pressed harder against him. I could feel how much he wanted to indulge in pleasure, and the rumble in his chest when I rubbed against his firmness, confirmed it.
His mouth barely broke away from mine for what felt like an age as I allowed my palms to raise and stroke the rough stubble on his jaw. My fingertips delighted in the harshness of it, and when I buried them in his hair and tugged, he made the most delightful sound.
I would have let Edward Rochester tear me into tiny little pieces if he’d wanted—and do whatever he wished, no matter how depraved—but as our movements became heavier and more passionate, he drew back suddenly, severing our connection.
Immediately, I was cold.
His chest heaved with labored breaths, and his eyes sparkled, but he did not look at me directly. He was closed off to me, perhaps more than he’d been before, and I knew he regretted the intimacy that had just occurred. I’d been right to turn away from my feelings, but his pull had been too strong. I was weak-willed.
I felt a tear slip from my eye as I cowered against the wall, a million pinpricks of pain shooting directly into my heart without remorse. Never had I experienced such anguish and rejection! Not even the harsh treatment from my aunt came close to the tear that was opening up in my chest at that very moment.
Without a single word, Edward retreated, turning his back on me and disappearing as abruptly as he’d appeared. The door slammed, closing me in the library as a solitary figure of heartache, and the sound signaled a finality that broke me in two.
Stupid little Jane Doe!
His absence after such euphoria was so brutal I felt it in my very soul.
When I could gather myself, I fled, vowing never to return to the library.
11
There was a somber lineup in the main gallery the next morning.
I stood beside Alice, ready to greet the guests and hand out keys, and housekeeping were poised to be
gin ferrying luggage to their assigned rooms.
My stomach rolled with sickness, and I was sure I carried around the mortal wound I’d been given like a blinking neon sign. I was all nerves and not much else standing there, and I wasn’t sure what I dreaded the most. Laying eyes on the beautiful Blanche Ingram and finding myself a pale subject in comparison or seeing her draped on the arm of Mr. Rochester, the man who had stolen my soul and discarded it with so little effort.
His name had returned to the nom de plume his station required, and it eased my mind to refer to him as something other than Edward. I would deal with it at some point, but there was no time for it now with fifteen guests arriving en masse on the doorstep of Thornfield…in no less than five minutes.
“They’re coming!” Alice declared, stepping through the front door. “Look lively, people! This isn’t a funeral!”
“She jests,” said one of the housekeepers beside me. “I should’ve worn black!”
“And prepared a eulogy,” another replied.
I couldn’t help smiling at the thought as laughter erupted around me, but when the cars began arriving outside, all was hushed and professional. Thornfield began to fill to the brim with guests, luggage, and excited chatter, and life was breathed into his old bones.
I didn’t care to inspect the other guests closely as they came, for it was Blanche I was most keen to see. Whether it was self-depreciating or mere curiosity, I didn’t know, but I wanted to lay eyes on the woman everyone was certain Mr. Rochester would someday marry.
When she finally appeared, my heart sank like a stone, and the tiny shred of light I had left, began to dull.
Alice was right, as usual. The Queen Bee was perfect. She had the form of a catwalk model, which was tall and slim, and the gait to match. She glided across the threshold in her high heels, removing her sunglasses as she came. Her bright blue eyes stood out in the heavy darkness of the gallery as she looked over it, and she shook her full head of glossy black curls as her opinion was formed.
“It’s very beautiful, but it’s dark, don’t you think?” she said to the woman next to her.