Midsummer at Eyre Hall: Book Three Eyre Hall Trilogy

by Luccia Gray

  “I could try.”

  “I was being sarcastic. You’re delusional. He’ll never agree. If he has his own way, Jane will be back at the Retreat and Michael in jail, and he’ll be the king of the castle.”

  “I’ll try anyway.”

  “No doubt you could use your charm and find a way of convincing him.”

  “That remark is uncalled for and unfair.”

  “You think so?”

  “John’s their only hope, Harry.”

  “Then they’re doomed.”

  We continued our journey in silence for a long time, then Harry asked me, “What was that about Bertha Mason being your mother? I thought your father was Richard and Bertha’s brother. So they were your uncle and aunt, weren’t they?”

  “It’s a long and sad story, Harry.”

  “So, is John your cousin?”

  “Can I tell you about it another time?”

  “Or is he your brother?”

  “I don’t know, Harry.”

  “If Bertha was your mother, who is your father, Annette?”

  “I’m already very upset, and I don’t want any more drama today, please.”

  “You don’t know, do you?”

  I was silent and he cursed under his breath. “When were you going to tell me about it?”

  “Well, it’s not something I’m very proud of. My mother was a lunatic, and no one knows who my father was. It’s not going to make me very popular, is it?”

  “I don’t care who your parents are, Annette. I love you, whatever your surname is, or whoever your parents were. You forget that I don’t know who mine were either. I understand you better than anyone else.”

  Of course Harry understood. He had been abandoned by his mother at birth, and adopted by Dr. Carter, a childless village doctor, and his wife.

  “I’m sorry, Harry, but I’m not sure you or anybody could understand. For the first twenty-two years of my life, I thought my parents had died in an accident, when I was a baby, and that Richard was my uncle and only relative. Two years ago, I discovered my mother was Bertha Mason, my uncle’s mad sister. He told me that I had been born in an attic in Thornfield Hall in England. Bertha’s husband, Mr. Rochester, denied being my father. Nobody knows who my father is, although Mrs. Leah remembers how Mr. Rochester’s friends used to ‘poke’ the lunatic, when they were bored. So, it could have been any of them, or none of them. How do you think that makes me feel?”

  “It all goes back to that damned Edward Rochester, doesn’t it? His lies and wrongdoings live on to this day, through his son.”

  “Don’t accuse John. He wasn’t there when his father abused my mother. He’s not responsible.”

  “His slate was clean twenty-two years ago, but I’d say he’s done a pretty good job of filling it up with plenty of his own sins.”

  “I’m so overwhelmed, Harry. I wish I were back at the convent in Jamaica. I was a contented teacher, leading a simple life, until my uncle brought me to England.”

  “Is John the reason you won’t marry me?”

  “I don’t know. I have more questions than answers myself at the moment.”

  We didn’t speak for the rest of the journey. When we arrived at Eyre Hall it was after midnight, and I was surprised to see the candles still burning in the drawing room. The archbishop was usually in bed by ten in the evening. I had no idea there were more surprises in store for me at Eyre Hall.

  ***

  Chapter IX – The Age of Foolishness

  Fred opened the door and told me that John was waiting for me in the drawing room.

  “John, you’re back, so soon?”

  “Did you not wish to see me, sister?”

  He threw his arms towards me in an exaggerated manner. I approached him and let him embrace me. He stepped back and grinned.

  “You’re not pleased to see me?”

  I noticed he had been drinking. I thought it would be unwise to cross him.

  “Of course I am, John. I’m very pleased to see you. I really am.”

  I hugged him again and he looked at me, raising an eyebrow and narrowing his eyes. “Why is that?”

  “Because you’re needed at Eyre Hall.”

  He pushed me away brusquely. “Precisely my thoughts. That’s exactly why the archbishop asked me to return.”

  “When did he ask you to return?”

  “I received his letter over a month ago. I naturally returned home at once.”

  I realised that the archbishop must have been planning Jane’s confinement for some time.

  “Tell me, Annette, where have you been?”

  “At the hospital.”

  “Don’t lie to me!” He gripped my arm. “Not again.”

  I decided to tell him the truth, hoping I was doing the right thing. “I went to see Jane and Michael. They’re at Thorpe Hall with Diana and Admiral Fitzwilliam.”

  “With Dr. Carter?”

  “Yes. Jane’s unwell. She needed his help.”

  “How did you know where she was?”

  “The admiral sent for Dr. Carter, and I accompanied him. We went to Morton this morning.”

  He walked to the wine cabinet and poured himself another brandy. “So, are you going to marry Dr. Carter?”

  I thought he might ask about his mother. I was surprised by his question. I hesitated before answering.

  “Are you thinking of how to lie to me about it?”

  “He has asked me, more than once, but I have told him I need time.”

  He washed down his drink and poured two more. “Would you like to join me, Annette?”

  I shivered as our fingers brushed when I took the glass from his hands. He turned towards the fireplace, as if he had lost interest in pursuing the conversation.

  “Did you travel with Emily Jackson?” The archbishop had told me John had been courting Mr. Jackson’s niece in Boston, and would be bringing her to Eyre Hall with him.

  “Yes, I did. She’s staying with her uncle in Millcote.”

  “Are you planning to marry Miss Jackson?”

  “Perhaps.” He spoke into the fire and I held my breath. “I haven’t proposed, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  I hated myself for being relieved at his answer.

  “She has never been to England, so she wanted to get to know the country first. I’m definitely not going back to America now that I’m needed at Eyre Hall.”

  “John.” I moved towards him. “You have to stop this madness.”

  He turned brusquely. “Madness? What are you talking about, sister?”

  I took a step closer. “I’m not your sister, and you know it.”

  “Do I now, Miss Annette Mason, daughter of Bertha Mason, my father’s first wife?”

  “Stop it!” I held his arm. “I won’t let you change the subject. This isn’t about me, or you. It’s about your mother, John. Your mother. The woman who gave birth to you and loves you. You don’t know what they did to her at the asylum.”

  He shook his arm loose with a sharp movement and stepped away. “I warned my mother not to ridicule the Rochester family by marrying her servant.”

  “John, they are in love.” I moved forward again and he moved backwards.

  “That is not possible.”

  I realised he was afraid of being close to me, so I moved even closer. “They’ll do anything to stay together. You haven’t seen them. Jane almost went out of her mind when Michael was kidnapped in Jamaica.”

  “Precisely. You said it, Annette. She went out of her mind.”

  “She’ll do anything to be his wife.”

  “I’m aware of that. It’s lust. Pure and simple carnal lust, and it’s one of the seven deadly sins.”

  “So is greed.” I was very close to him now, and he was almost leaning against the wall by the fireplace.

  “I have not coveted any possessions. I only want what is mine.”

  “It’s also your mother’s. She built Eyre Hall, with her uncle’s inheritance.”

&n
bsp; “That’s what she told you?” He laughed and waved his hand dismissively. “She’s a liar. She never had any money. She was a penniless governess when she married my father. She was a nobody. He gave her everything, and I’m not watching her squander it on a servant.”

  “It’s not about money, John. They only want to be together.”

  “That’s why they’ll both have to be imprisoned, in separate cells, for the rest of their lives.”

  “What happened to you? You were never like this before.”

  “You all lied to me and I grew up. That’s what happened.”

  “We wanted to protect you.”

  “I’m not a baby or an idiot to be protected. You never took me seriously. I gave you my heart and you lied to me.”

  “John, I loved you. I couldn’t bear to tell you the truth, that we might be related.”

  He moved away from the fireplace towards me. “You loved me?”

  “Of course I loved you. Why do you think I haven’t married Dr. Carter yet? I thought we might still have a chance, if we found out who my father was, and if you could forgive me for keeping the truth from you.”

  He took my hand and squeezed it. “I’m almost certain my father wouldn’t have had a child with the madwoman in the attic, but how can we ever find out?”

  “Jane told me that she had some clues.”

  He dropped my hand and stepped away. I continued. “Leah told her something.”

  He smirked. “What did Leah tell her? Gossip? More lies?”

  He moved forward again and grasped my arm. I moved even closer.

  “That’s not important now. John, please stop this madness. Forgive Jane for loving Michael. Even if you don’t want to see her again. Cancel the search warrant. They’ll never come back.” We were so close I could feel his breath on my cheek.

  “I can’t do that. In any case, the archbishop wouldn’t allow it.”

  “What is his interest in the matter?”

  “He’s trying to help me.”

  “He’s helping you imprison your mother?”

  Our faces were closer now, so close that if I moved an inch, our lips would touch. He grabbed my head with his right hand, pulling my hair, and pressed his face against mine, then slid his lips along my cheek, forcing his way between my lips. I wanted to push him away, but instead I slipped my arms around his neck and returned the drunken kiss. It felt like home. It was exactly where I wanted to be.

  Seconds later, he pushed me away violently. I fell backwards onto the couch.

  “What are you doing, you witch?” His brown eyes had turned black, and he was breathing heavily.

  It took me a few moments to recover my breath and my senses. “What am I doing? You kissed me!”

  “I’d say you wanted me to kiss you, and that’s what I did, but I have no desire to kiss you.” He pointed a finger at me. “Keep away from me. The archbishop warned me about you. You’re just like your mother, a mad sorceress.”

  I realised the archbishop could easily have me removed to an asylum, too. I wouldn’t help Jane or myself by making John angry.

  “We’ve both drunk too much, that’s all. I’m not used to drinking. I’m sorry, John, if I provoked you. It was unintentional.” I patted the empty seat beside me on the couch. “Let’s sit down and talk.”

  He dropped into an armchair at a distance from the couch. He was trying to control his breathing and his temper, and I wondered if he had felt the same pull as I had. Most of our previous kisses had been softer, sweeter, although sometimes he had kissed me with such passion as he had just shown me. Nobody else had ever kissed me like that, and I sighed, realising I was still in love with him. Whatever he had done, it didn’t matter. Whatever he did in the future, it wouldn’t matter either. I couldn’t help loving him. I waited for him to speak.

  “Admiral Fitzjames came to see me this morning. He has a solution.”

  I pretended I had no idea. “Please, tell me about it.”

  “My mother will come back to Eyre Hall, eventually, on her own. I’ve told the admiral that she won’t return to Grimsby Retreat if she refrains from mentioning that servant and behaves in a fitting manner.”

  “And Michael?”

  He leapt up from the armchair and approached me with madness in his eyes. “I don’t want to hear that name ever again, do you hear me? He’s ruined my mother and destroyed my family!”

  I waited for him to compose himself and continue.

  “The admiral proposed that the servant should return to the navy and stay away from England forever. I hope he dies at sea in some distant battle. The archbishop was not in agreement, and neither was I, but the admiral insisted, saying it would avoid any further scandal, so we finally agreed.”

  “When is Jane coming back?”

  “She will be taken to Wales, to recover at her cousin Mary and Reverend Wharton’s home in Kilpeck. You have seen her yourself. Apparently, she is in no fit state to be seen at Eyre Hall at this moment, and I wish to avoid any further gossip. Mr. Wharton will bring her back to Eyre Hall next month, when she has recovered. By then, that man will be rotting in a frigate somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.”

  I knelt beside his armchair and put my hand on his arm. “John, it won’t work, they…”

  He shrugged off my hand and stood. “Don’t say another word. The alternative is unspeakable. She will spend the rest of her days in an asylum and he will be hanged.”

  “Hanged, on what accusation?”

  “Murder. He killed a man.”

  “No one was killed when they escaped from the Retreat. A warden was knocked unconscious, that was all.”

  “The warden was found this morning, devoured by a pack of hounds.”

  “What does that have to do with either of them?”

  “A man was seen tying him up and throwing him in the hounds’ den. Mr. Raven’s son was in the vicinity and identified the servant.”

  “How convenient for Mr. Raven’s business interests. It’s not true. Michael’s spent every minute of his time with Jane since they escaped. Yesterday they were at Thorpe House in Morton. Mr. Raven saw nothing, and you know it.”

  “Perhaps, but if we press charges he’ll be hanged.”

  “You’ll never understand it, John, until it happens to you. It would be like cutting a rose from its stem. She’ll wither and die without him.”

  He pressed his fingers into my arm. “I’d rather have a dead mother than a disgraceful one.”

  His words were like a hammer pounding inside my head. “John, you can’t mean it.”

  “But I do, sister.”

  He walked out of the room and slammed the door.

  Pins and needles prickled at the back of my eyes and within seconds, tears were flooding again. I asked myself how love could generate such extreme hate. I shuddered to think of the dreadful events which were still in store.

  ***

  Chapter X – Wrath

  I’d lied to an admiral, broken the law, forced my way into an institution, removed a patient illicitly, and killed a man. Now I was planning on making Jane live as an outlaw. I’d lost control of my life and I was ruining Jane’s. Perhaps I should do as the admiral suggested; take her back to Eyre Hall and disappear from her life forever.

  The train was wobbling awkwardly and the wind and the rain seeped in through thousands of tiny cracks. I had wrapped Jane in woollen blankets and made sure she was comfortably seated on the upholstered first class seat. We had left Manchester at noon and were scheduled to arrive at Birmingham two hours later, but there were delays due to some rocks, which had been washed onto the rails.

  Fortunately, Jane was sleeping. She only looked peaceful when she was submerged in a laudanum-induced slumber. I hated to watch her in such a helpless state, but, at the moment, there seemed no alternative. Her natural sleep was plagued by disquieting nightmares including dragons with forked tongues. Her anxiety would have made the journey intolerable, so this seemed the lesser evil, for the moment. />
  We eventually arrived at our destination at four o’clock, two hours later than we had planned. I managed to wake Jane and we walked under the arched dome over the platforms, which sheltered us from the merciless storm. We stopped by the solid stone pillars, surrounded by trampling crowds of passengers and busy porters carrying their luggage. Jane covered her ears and asked what that dreadful sound was. It was the combination of trains arriving and departing, and the noisy ringing of bells.

  I looked up to the iron and glass roof and realised we would not be able to continue our journey that day. It was almost dark, and the storm was becoming a gale. I pulled Jane gently along the platform and out to the busy street in search of a place to stay for the night. I would have carried her, but I didn’t want to attract any more attention.

  The station was spacious and, outside, I was surprised that the buildings were as tall and grand as any I had seen in London. The nearest hotel was an Italianate style, four-storey building, named the Queen’s Hotel.

  The hotel was a new building with panelled walls, wooden flooring, and dark brown carpets. The room we were allocated was on the ground floor, overlooking the busy street, which was almost as noisy as the station.

  I persuaded Jane to have some beef tea, bread and cake, while I ate a hearty meal of roast pork. I was sure I’d need all my strength to protect Jane in the uncertain journey which lay ahead.

  Fortunately Jane slept placidly all night, but I hardly slept a wink. My mind was running wild. I had promised the admiral I would leave Jane in Wales and return to London where I would set sail in the navy once again, but I had to devise another plan to keep us safe and together.

  I must have dozed off eventually. Jane stirred restlessly and jumped out of bed. “Michael, what infernal noise is this?” She pulled back the curtains, and gasped. “Where are we?”

  “We’re in Birmingham, Jane, on our way to Mary and Mr Wharton’s house in Kilpeck.”

  She raised her eyebrows and then frowned. “I don’t want to visit Mary.”

  “She’s expecting us.” I looked into her surprised face, hoping she’d realise why we were on our way to Wales. “Let’s have some breakfast and find a cab to take us there.”