by Luccia Gray
“Michael, you was right about the letter.”
“Right about what, Simon?”
“I seen her read it. She cried and all.”
I sighed at the thought of Simon watching her shedding a single tear.
“Are you sure?”
“She did so. I asked her if it was good news and she says, ‘Indeed it is, Simon. Good news for a change.’ She smiled and wiped a tear from her eye. Reckon it made her day.”
“You think so?”
“I do. Perhaps she loves the old toad after all. What do you think?”
“I think she loves the man who wrote the letter.”
“Me, too.”
I wished Simon hadn’t told me. I’d never be able to sleep, now that I was sure she had the same feelings for me. She had confided in me and she needed me. I knew my place was by her side forever. Her hair had been as soft as I had imagined it would be, her face compliant and longing, her silky skin and shimmering eyes begged for my touch. Her lips had brushed my cheek like a feather, but I could still feel the tingle. I smiled in the knowledge that she would be mine, at last.
***
Chapter XII A Ghost at Eyre Hall
Tuesday 31st October, 1865.
I was scrubbing my chamber after breakfast when Mrs. Leah came in to tell me Mrs. Rochester and Miss Adele wished to speak to me in the drawing room. Michael had told me he had advised Miss Adele to take me with her to Italy, and I was most excited at the prospect. I had never even imagined I would ever travel abroad, so to travel to Italy was like a dream come true. I had admired Rome as the greatest civilisation of the classical world. My mother had told us all about the Christianised pagans, who spread the word of the Lord to the rest of civilisation, including our Celtic ancestors. She had also told us about the rebirth of the classical world in Florence and how Shakespeare had set many of his greatest plays in that inspiring land.
When Mrs. Rochester called me into the drawing room, she asked me if I would like to accompany Miss Adele to Italy, and I agreed immediately. I had already discussed it with Michael, who urged me to accept. I would miss my brother and Eyre Hall, but I knew my mother would be proud of me living and working in Italy, the land of our forefathers since Brutus escaped from Troy and founded Britain. I also thought it would be the most convenient moment to recommend Jenny’s services.
“Mrs. Rochester, do you remember I asked permission to teach two young children on Sunday afternoons?”
“Yes, is there a problem?”
“The children have made great progress in learning to read and write. I was wondering if there might be a job for them and their mother at Eyre Hall. She is a widow and they are in dire straits.”
“Boys or girls?”
“The girl, Nell, is nine, and the boy, Thomas, is twelve.”
“The girl is too young to work. She should be at school. Why is she not at school?”
“She’s working as a scarecrow.”
“How on earth does someone work as a scarecrow?”
“She’s too little and too skinny to do proper work. As a scarecrow, she has to stand in the fields and make sure the birds don’t eat the seeds.”
“You mean she stands in the middle of a field in the rain, snow, and sleet all day?” I nodded.
“How can her mother allow it?”
“They needed an apothecary and medicines for the little girl. She is a widow with a very low salary and a precarious job.”
“Where does she work?”
“At the inn, mostly.”
“Is she an honest woman?”
“Yes, madam. Michael has been teaching her to read.”
“Has he?”
“Yes, while I teach the children.”
“I will tell Michael to instruct Dr. Carter to see the girl. Meanwhile, give her these shillings for food.”
She took the shiny coins out of a drawer in her desk and put them in my hands.
“Thank you, madam.”
“I will see the three of them. Perhaps we can find their mother a job at Eyre Hall.”
I thanked her and left.
***
Minutes after Susan left, I rang for some tea, but before Michael had time to return, we heard alarming voices upstairs. We rushed to the door to see what had happened and heard Simon thumping down the staircase shouting, ‘A ghost!’ and ‘I seen a ghost!’
His lengthy, sinewy legs stretching down three steps at a time, blaring as if he were possessed by the devil, was a ridiculous sight.
“Mrs. Rochester, it’s Mr. Rochester. He’s most agitated, screaming there’s someone in his room!” He barged into the drawing room, panting and distraught.
“Simon, for goodness sake, what’s the matter? Has anything happened to Mr. Rochester?”
“It’s the master. He’s speaking in another tongue, like he’s possessed by a spirit. His voice is loud and deep, as if he was in a tunnel. He keeps saying there’s a ghost in the room. It’s a woman, who wants to take him to hell with her. Then he says there’s a girl that wants to tear his heart out and feed it to the dogs. He’s knocked over the candles because he wants to burn the house to hell. He spat on the Bible, and told me to get out or he would kill me. He’s gone mad, but I believe it’s the ghost that drove him to it!”
“Simon, Mr. Rochester is unwell. Please calm down. You must help him, not run away from him.”
“I’m afraid of ghosts! I’m sure I seen them in the room, like a body covered in a white cape with black claws and wings and everything…”
“Mon Dieu, Jane. What can we do? Perhaps it is Bertha?”
“It is no such thing. The ghosts disappeared when Thornfield was burnt down. There are no ghosts at Eyre Hall,” I replied calmly, trying to make sense of all the tumult.
Simon continued with his incoherent ramblings. “Mrs. Rochester, today is All Hallows Eve. It’s when the door opens for the dead to return to speak to the living. They bring us messages…Perhaps they’ve come to warn us! Or to take him away!”
“Simon, stop at once! Do not be dramatic! Go down to the kitchen and have some tea, and for goodness sake calm down!” I was most annoyed with his childish hysterics. I turned to Adele. “Come, Adele, let’s go upstairs.”
“Mon Dieu, Jane! I am terrified of ghosts. I can’t go with you, Jane. C’est impossible!”
“Adele? What is wrong with you?”
“I can’t. Please forgive me, Jane,” she complained childishly.
Fortunately Michael appeared in the hallway with the tea tray. “Shall I accompany you, madam?” he volunteered.
“You’re not frightened of ghosts, Michael?”
“It is not the dead we must fear, but those who are alive.”
“Well said. Thank God there’s someone who is sensible here to help me. Leave the tray in the drawing room for Adele, take a candle and lead the way up the stairs to Mr. Rochester’s room.”
I followed Michael up the dark staircase. As we reached the landing, I stiffened at the sound of Edward’s ghoulish cries. We stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down the arched gallery, which led to Edward’s chamber. For a moment I thought there might really be a ghost in the room, a demon that might have come to take possession of his soul. I held on to Michael’s arm.
“Don’t be afraid. There is only one ghost, and he is with the Father and the Son. There is nothing to fear here, except an ailing human being.”
I knew he was right, but I was terrified of facing Edward in his delirious condition.
“I’m afraid he might be violent. I can hear him throwing things around the room. Please be careful, Michael.”
We walked on until we reached the closed door. There was now silence behind it. Michael turned the knob and opened the door slowly. We were greeted by the sickening stench of dirt and decay, and absolute stillness. I held my breath. Michael pushed the door until we could see the whole room. It was dark, but the glowing embers and the candle Michael was holding revealed a ruffled bed in the cen
tre of the room. The chamber pot had been overturned, and there were clothes scattered on the floor, tangled with cushions and a broken vase. Michael moved the candle to the left and we saw Edward standing in front of the looking glass, whispering at his reflection. I gasped, and he turned towards us.
“You!” he shouted. “You called her back. You and your witchcraft. It was you all along! You brought me damnation! You bewitched my horse and spread the ice on the causeway! Away with you! Return to the devil, where you came from!”
He was pointing at me and running towards the door with his arms outstretched and his hands grasping the air like claws. I gasped. Michael thrust the candle into my hand, stopped him in his path, pulled down his arms, and pushed him onto the bed.
“Mr. Rochester, you must go back to bed. You are unwell. Dr. Carter will be here soon. Please rest.”
“You! Lucifer! Get out of my house! She brought you here to kill me! You have come to kill me!”
“Mr. Rochester, please be calm, nobody has come to harm you. We have come to help you.”
“Get out of my house! And take her with you! The angel of the bottomless pit is here! The onslaught of Apollyon has begun! Who will drive out the locusts?”
“Mr. Rochester, I am Michael, the valet. I am here to assist you. Is there anything I can bring you?”
“You have come! The Archangel has been sent to save me from the stings of the scorpions! They have bitten me! Look! Look at my arms! Get the creatures off my face and out of my eyes!”
“Mr. Rochester, I will remove them at once, but you must return to your bed.”
Edward clumsily climbed the bed steps with Michael’s help and started crying like a child. “Help me,” he repeated time and time again. I was horrified and sickened by the sound of his cries, the sight of his ashen face, and the smell which seeped from his pores. He was but a decaying shell, fighting a losing battle against the angel of death.
“Where is his medicine?” Michael asked.
I looked in his cabinet where Dr. Carter kept the laudanum and mercury. I shook the bottle, squeezed some drops into a glass of water and gave it to Michael. Edward drank it obediently and soon started to breathe more rhythmically. We both stood by the bed silently, waiting for the medicine to take its affect. At last, my husband looked at me and smiled.
“Jane, you have come. Thank you, my darling angel. Thank you for coming to see this poor, dying sinner.”
I forced a smile, but in truth I was still quite terrified of the tormented man lying on the bed.
“I want to confess, my love. I need to confess a terrible sin I have committed against you.”
“Don’t worry, Edward. Whatever it is, I forgive you. Rest now.”
“I must tell you, or she will come back. She will be waiting for me when I have exhaled my last breath. She will not forgive me if you do not listen and forgive me.”
“Speak if you must.” I deemed it quite unnecessary to hear a confession of what I already knew.
“Only you. No one else must know.” He looked at Michael, who answered coolly, “Not even your Archangel, sir?”
“Especially not my Archangel. He will punish me. I must tell you, Jane, and you must keep my secret and forgive me. Then it will be forgotten.”
I turned to Michael, expressing my fear of being alone with him.
“It is my last wish. I am calm at present. I will not harm you. I am as weak as a child, as a little baby, a little baby girl, a beautiful little baby, Jane. For God’s sake, you must forgive me!”
He started to cry and looked helpless enough, but I was still apprehensive, and I did not want to hear any more confessions. Michael gently pulled my arm and we moved away from the bed into the darkness of the arched doorway, where Edward could neither see nor hear us.
“Mrs. Rochester,” whispered Michael, “perhaps you should stay and listen to him.”
“I don’t want to hear any more. I don’t want to know of any more betrayals, and I am afraid of his reactions.”
“He is sedated and feeble at present. He will not harm you.”
“You don’t understand. I don’t want to listen to any more confessions.”
“Forgive him. Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive every one that is indebted to us.”
“How dare you quote the Lord’s Prayer to me? How dare you ask me to forgive him? You don’t know how he has behaved!”
“I know you do not deserve to suffer the burden of hate.”
“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from…”
He placed the tips of his fingers on my lips, and I felt them swell and burn at his touch.
“My feelings are not evil. My mission is to serve you.” He removed his fingers from my dazed lips and added, “Listen to him.”
Edward’s quivering voice interrupted us. “Jane, are you there, my love?”
Michael moved towards the door. “Excuse me, Mrs. Rochester. Call me if you need me. I will not be far away.”
Michael walked out and faded from my view along the gallery and I returned reluctantly to my husband. I thought I had heard all of his offences, but I was wrong. Edward confessed to the gravest sin any man could perpetrate against his wife. What I was about to hear was much worse than Annette’s conception or his recurring unfaithfulness. I would have preferred it if he had admitted to ten more illegitimate children, but what he had to confess was infinitely worse than any crime I could have imagined.
***
Chapter XIII Stillborn
“Jane, last night I saw a ghost.”
“You did no such thing, Edward.”
“I tell you there is a ghost in this house.”
“The ghosts burnt down with Thornfield. We rebuilt the house without gables or an attic. There are no ghosts here.”
“She is haunting me. I hear her in my dreams. I see her pointing at me when I wake. I feel her touching my arm and whispering in my ear. She is beautiful with long blonde hair, a vaporous white satin dress and white furry wings.”
“You have described an angel, Edward, not a ghost. Why are you afraid of an angel?”
“Perhaps it is the angel of death, who has come to prey on me?”
“Think of her as a pleasant ghost who has come to lead you to the gates of Heaven.”
“You are not listening to me, Jane. I told you. She has not come to favour me. She wishes to take me to the gates of Hell, where I shall forever burn.”
“Why should she want to do that?”
“Because I harmed her while she was alive.”
“Nonsense, you have never harmed a little girl. She is a good spirit, who will help you in your hardest moment.”
“Jane, I must confess and only your absolution can save me. You must promise to forgive me for what I am about to tell you.”
“I cannot absolve you or anyone else. If you like, I can call Mr. Wood, or Bishop Templar, if you prefer.”
“Yes, Mr. Wood, he will absolve all of my sins, but what good is that to me now? Bishop Templar, what is he to me? No, Jane, it is you who must forgive me.”
“Edward, I have told you a hundred times, I forgive you for everything, for your short temper, your relationship with Blanche, your flirts in London, your illegitimate children and your dark past before we met. Is there anything else to forgive?”
“There is something else, Jane. I have done you wrong. I have done you a terrible wrong, but you must understand me and find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“I am tired of being your conscience. If there is no solution and it is a further unknown treachery, you must face the consequences of your actions on your own. I would prefer to remain ignorant of any further wrongdoings.”
“Perhaps that would be best, but I cannot sleep, I cannot live, and neither can I die, if I do not confess and receive your forgiveness. Jane, you must help me carry my burden once more, but I guarantee that this time there will be some benefit in it for you. You will suffer greatly at first, but when I am gone, believe
me, it will fill your life with reward, hope and purpose.”
“You have intrigued me. Proceed.”
“So precise, so Jane-like. Please don’t hate me, Jane.”
I remembered Michael’s words. “I do not wish to carry the burden of hate.”
“Forgive me, my dearest Jane. You are the love of my life. I once asked for your forgiveness, and you gave it to me. Can you forgive me a second and a third time? You were a passionate, righteous woman. I had expected you to shed tears, reproach me my misdeeds and accuse me angrily. Why didn’t you forcefully make me behave? You became passive once more, and you let me go. Why? Did you stop loving me? Did you lose patience? Interest? You stopped conversing with me. You left me while you were at my side! I had to find consolation elsewhere, because you refused my kisses! You shrank from me in disgust! I am a passionate man, and you were ice and rock to me once more. I failed you and I am sorry. If you find it in your heart to forgive me, you will allow me to die in peace.”
“I cannot forgive you before you speak. What must you tell me?”
“You are cruel, but I will be brave. Your daughter did not die at birth.”
“Our daughter? Our daughter born nine years ago?” I gasped incredulously.
“I loved you more than anyone! But you were constantly abandoning me. First with John, when you refused a wet nurse. You became distant and cold towards me.”
“I was feeding my son, our son. You should have been proud of him and of my dedication to him.”
“It was not pleasant to see you suckling a baby all day, and you left my bedchamber!”
“You asked me to leave because the baby disturbed your sleep!”
“It should have been in the nursery with a wet nurse. That is what is fitting. It was unbearable listening to it crying all night! You only attended to the child. You stopped loving me!”
“But I loved you more than ever, because you had given me a son, in your image, to love, to nourish, to bring up to love his father, as he does. Did you not understand that?”