by Luccia Gray
My first impression had been extraordinary, but as I carried her away from the causeway onto a stile, I was stunned by her beautiful face and perfect contours. I had no idea who such an exotic and beautiful creature could be. Fortunately, I discovered that although we were related, there was no blood relationship, so my feelings were not indecent.
Yesterday, on my way back from my visit to Bishop Templar, I decided to stop by the Rochester Arms, in the hope of another chance meeting with Annette. Fortunately, she was dining with her uncle, who beckoned me to sit with them. I needed little persuasion to join them and find out more about the mysterious dark beauty. I discovered that her name was Annette Mason, and she had come all the way from Jamaica to pay her last respects to my father, who had been her generous benefactor since she was a child. Her parents died when she was an infant, and she was brought up in a convent school, where she was now a music teacher. She was staying with her uncle at the Rochester Arms, waiting for an invitation to Eyre Hall.
At a surprisingly late hour, while we were still eating, Michael delivered a message from my mother, which Mr. Mason read and replied to immediately. I offered Michael a glass of ale, which he declined with the excuse my mother had insisted he should return with the answer to her message at once. I appreciated Michael, on duty all day, so obsessed with my mother’s wellbeing, like a sentinel. It reassured me that he was always so efficiently and faithfully by her side, especially now that my father was so ill.
The news Michael brought could not have been better. We would all be dining together once more at Eyre Hall the day after tomorrow, All Hallows. Annette and her uncle would be staying as guests for some days. I was so besotted by her that the news was music to my ears. I was determined that she should be my mistress, as soon as possible. I had to have her in my arms, and I imagined it would not be a difficult feat while she was staying at my house. Tonight I had to let her know how I felt and find out if she felt the same. Mr. Mason had insisted I return today to celebrate All Hallows Eve with his niece, and I had naturally accepted the invitation once more.
Mr. Raven had prepared a great feast. Everyone was eating, drinking, dancing and singing while a group of musicians played delightful songs with the aid of the German flute, an English guitar, a whistle, and a hammered dulcimer. There were at least a dozen spit-roast hogs and plenty of ale and rum for everyone.
After eating the meat, we ordered a Halloween cake. Adele suggested we cut a piece for mother and take it back to her. Each piece of cake had a button with a message for the coming year. Adele found a blue button, which meant she would be making a journey. Annette received a yellow button, meaning she would be coming into money. I discovered a white button, signifying I was to get married in the coming year. Mr. Mason got the worst one, I’m afraid. He got the black button, which predestined him to remain a solitary bachelor.
Mason naturally dismissed it with a huff as a heathen superstition, but the rest of us were very pleased with our buttons. My mother’s uneaten piece obviously hid the red button, meaning she would find her true love in the coming year. I wondered nostalgically if my demanding, short-tempered father had been the love of her life, and whether she would remarry after his death. I adored my father, but my mother was too young, beautiful and marvellous to live an isolated existence at Eyre Hall for the rest of her days.
I asked Annette to accompany me for a walk around the inn to observe the other divination practices taking place which she had never heard of in Spanish Town. I reminded her that fortune-telling was practiced on this magical night to peep into the year ahead. Most young people were interested in marriage divination. So as we wandered around, we saw groups of young boys apple bobbing while girls ate and peeled apples in front of a mirror by candlelight, in the hope of getting a glimpse of their future husband.
Other groups were telling stories about ghosts and witches, who visited the earth on this night to bring messages to the living. Annette told me many of the native people in Jamaica were very superstitious and carried out black magic and witchcraft by casting spells on naive people, usually involving chants and animal sacrifice. She did not look favourably on these practices and was surprised that English people should believe in such things. I told her it was like a childish game for us.
Annette told me how she missed the beauty of her country, the purple red skies at sunset and sunrise, and the fury of the wind in the autumn. She remembered the closeness of the moon with its dazzling moonshine and the millions of stars that covered the skies like a glittering dome. She explained how the plants are brightly coloured and smelled sweeter than honey, and how the sun shone brightly every day, melting away the cold and sadness.
She asked me if I had ever visited her island, and I promised to do so, as soon as I could. She described her colonial mansion with ample verandahs all around the house overlooking the ocean. When I told her it sounded like paradise to me, she said that was what my father had said. I did not want to displease her, so I smiled, although I was surprised by her words. My father had always spoken very negatively about her country, calling it “the hellish West Indies”, but I was determined to travel there sooner rather than later. Annette had already convinced me of its beauty.
I told her about my mother’s plans for my future, and she told me I was lucky to have a mother who loved me and cared about my expectations. She congratulated me on my engagement, but I hastened to let her know how I felt about her. She looked surprised, even shocked, saying that we were related and should not even think about a romantic attachment, although she added that she would like to be my friend, because she liked my company. That was enough for the moment. I apologised, not wishing to contradict her. I knew she liked me, and I would have plenty of time to seduce her while she was at Eyre Hall.
When Adele and I left the inn, on our way home, she told me she was very annoyed with me for leaving her alone with Mr. Mason for such a long time. She thought he was a most tedious companion. I apologised and promised to make it up to her by being especially amiable to Mr. Greenwood.
When we arrived, Simon opened the door and asked us if we wanted anything from the kitchen. We told him we had eaten enough food for a week and went straight up to bed. As we passed the library, Michael appeared in the hall and told us that my mother had fallen asleep. He offered to carry her up to her bedroom, mentioning that she had had an upsetting argument with Dr. Carter regarding my father’s health, so Adele offered to spend the night in her bedroom, lest she should have a nightmare.
I had noticed my mother was behaving somewhat strangely since I had returned. She looked absent and lost in her own worries. My head was spinning from the noise, the rum, and the exhilarating evening I had spent with Annette. But the sight of Michael carrying my mother upstairs, with her arms and legs hanging limply around her pale day dress, and her auburn hair dangling loosely off her shoulders almost swiping the stairs, surprised me with its beauty. They were like two characters in a fairy tale acting out the final scene. Michael held her firmly and climbed the stairs nimbly, his eyes bursting with devotion, while Adele scolded them both for being up so late. I suspected, even in my dazed stupor, that Michael was in love with my mother. Although the idea did not displease me, I pushed it away from my thoughts as absurd. It was Annette’s visage that would haunt me all night long.
***
Chapter XVIII All Saints
Wednesday 1st November, 1865.
The morning after All Hallows Eve, we all overslept and woke up to Leah’s angry screams, reminding us that it was not a holiday. Christy pulled my arm and dragged me out of bed while Leah’s voice rang from the kitchen, threatening to throw me out of Eyre Hall if I wasn’t dressed in two minutes. I flew out of my room, apologised, and begged for some breakfast first, because my stomach was rumbling and my head still spinning. Leah agreed grudgingly, but when Cook said she had a headache too, she started scolding us again for drinking like convicts.
Leah was right. I felt so bad, I vowed never t
o drink again. I blushed when I saw Michael leave his room and head for the stairs to the first floor. I said good morning to him, and he smiled back and said, “Good morning, Beth, feeling better?” Christy asked what had happened and Michael answered, “She thought she saw a ghost upstairs, but fortunately I heard her scream in the gallery and brought her down.”
“What were you doing upstairs, Michael?” snapped Leah.
“I was on the first floor, kindling the fires. You ordered them to be kindled all night, Mrs. Leah,” he answered coolly, so coolly it seemed he was being cheeky.
The air was thick between them, as if a storm was building up. I was glad Christy broke the tense silence.
“Well,” she shrieked, “did you see a ghost, Beth? Tell us about it!”
I remembered Miss Adele’s words and lied.
“I thought I saw a ghost in the library. It went out of the room and climbed up the stairs.”
“What was it like? Did you speak to it?” Christy insisted.
“It was black and wearing a cloak. It did not speak and neither did I. I was dead scared. I just followed it up the stairs.”
“How brave of you!”
“Anyway, it wasn’t a ghost. It was Miss Adele. I saw her in the gallery. Then Michael heard me scream and came upstairs, too. Then we came down to the kitchen.”
“Did you see the ghost, Michael?”
“There are no ghosts at Eyre Hall, Christy,” he answered flatly.
“What about the soul cakes we put out for the spirits? I wonder if they have eaten any?”
“You’ll soon find out,” said Leah. “Now everyone to work! Today will be the busiest day of your lives. We have seven for dinner and four extra guests staying overnight, so shake your legs!”
***
Beth came into my chamber, stealthily pouring some water into the silver ewer on the toilet table and leaving some clean towels on the stand.
“Beth, I’ll be having breakfast early today. Tell Michael to be in the dining room in half an hour.”
“It’s seven o’clock, Mrs. Rochester. Michael is still lighting the fires and clearing the soul cakes,” she said, surprised.
“Tell him to hurry up, then. I’m very hungry, and I have many matters to attend today.”
When she left I woke Adele, asking her why she was in my bed.
“Jane, we were so worried about you. When we came back from the inn, Simon told us you had had a terrible argument with Dr. Carter. Michael told us you were feeling unwell and had fallen asleep in the library. He carried you upstairs and I undressed you and put you to bed. I thought it would be best to spend the night with you, in case you got worse. Jane, we are so worried about you. You have so many things on your mind. Let me help you, please, Jane.”
“But you are helping me, Adele. Please, don’t worry. I am all right.”
“What was the argument with Dr. Carter about?”
“I don’t think he’s doing his best with Edward. He isn’t getting better, so we argued and I was upset. But don’t worry, Adele. Remember, Mr. Greenwood is coming today. You will meet him at last!”
“Yes, and there’s still so much to do!”
“How was your visit to the inn with John? How did you find Annette Mason?”
“We had fun! Annette est tellement jolie! And very lively! She wore a beautiful red velvet dress with black long puff sleeves and stand collar and a braid bun at the nape of her neck with the most exquisite shell comb. She was mostly quiet and shy while Mr. Mason told us about their plantation and life in Jamaica. After dinner, we all drank rum!”
“Rum?”
“Yes, Mr. Mason said everyone in Jamaica drinks rum, even the ladies. I tried some, too.”
“Adele, for goodness sake, it’s what sailors drink!”
“It was brown cane sugar rum!”
“I don’t think I need to hear any more.”
“Mr. Mason was very courteous to both of us. He is more pleasant than I had imagined.”
“The rum no doubt!”
“I was as polite as possible to Annette, as I promised, and John got on very well with her. She is very beautiful, perhaps too beautiful for her own good.”
“Indeed. I shall make my own judgment when I meet her tonight.”
“We brought you a present from the Arms.”
“What present?”
“A piece of Halloween cake.”
“Halloween cake? I have never heard of it.”
“Mr. Raven brought us a Halloween cake, and Mr. Mason cut it up into five slices, one for each of us; for John, Annette, Mr. Mason, and myself, and he insisted we bring you back a piece, too.”
I poured the warm water Beth had left in the jug into the basin, and washed my hands and face.
“Sit at your dressing table and let me brush your hair, Jane. It was in a terrible mess yesterday, but I didn’t comb it because I didn’t want to wake you up. Let me do it now.”
“What’s so special about the piece of cake?”
“It is part of a Halloween game. It has a message for you.”
I moved to my dresser and let Adele comb my hair.
“Could you twirl my hair into a bun at the back of my head?”
“At the back of your head? Won’t you catch cold at the nape of your neck?”
“At the back of my head, Adele. What’s the message?”
“You’ll have to eat it first. It could be love, money, marriage, a journey, or the worst of all, a solitary spinster’s life.”
“Have you all eaten yours?”
“Yes, we have. We all know what our future holds.”
I was not interested in superstitious games and in any case, I wasn’t very sure I wanted to know what was in store.
“Adele, gently please, you are pulling my hair!”
“Sorry, Jane, but your hair is such a mess. I couldn’t find half of your hair pins yesterday. You looked as if you’d pulled them out after a nightmare!”
“Well, I didn’t have a nightmare. I slept very well.”
“Michael found you asleep in the library again.”
“I was tired.” I smiled. “Adele, stop talking and hurry up. I’m hungry.” I was impatient to see Michael.
I slid on my silk undervest, then my high-necked and long-sleeved combination. “Adele, help me with the laces and hooks.”
“Don’t fuss so! Why are you in such a hurry?”
“Bring me my yellow petticoat; it’s in the closet.”
Adele helped me pull it over my head.
“Turn around, this one has some more laces at the back. Don’t you want to know, Jane?”
“Now the corset, the beige one I wore yesterday. Know what?”
“Don’t you want to know what’s in store?”
“It’s only a game, Adele. I don’t believe in superstition.”
“Jane, do you remember what happened to your shoes?”
“My shoes?”
“Yes, your shoes and your stockings. You were not wearing them last night when I undressed you.”
“Was I not?”
“You were wearing no stockings and no boots.”
“That’s quite impossible. Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“I vaguely remember taking them off.”
“In the library?”
“Yes, my feet were itching, so I took them off.” I flushed. I had no idea where I had left them. “They must be in the library. I’ll wear my laced ankle boots today.”
I slid them on, recalling how Michael had taken my shoes off last night. “May I touch you, mistress?” he had asked me sensuously and I had said, “You may,” and asked him what he wanted to touch, and he said he wanted to touch my feet. “Why?” I asked, and he answered, “Because no one has seen or touched them before.” How could he know that?
We were sitting on the floor by the fire; they fit me loosely, so it was easy to unfasten them and pull them off. How could I have done that? And my stockings? I don’t remember
taking them off, but I must have.
We were alone in the dark library. The embers hardly glowed and the candles had died out, but he must have caught a glimpse of my legs. The memory made my pulse race. He stroked my ankle, the soles of my feet and my toes, pressing softly with his fingers. I remembered asking him if he had done it before.
“Never,” he answered. “But my mother used to rub my feet and my sister’s with rosemary oil when we had a cough, before going to bed, and we always stopped coughing and slept well afterwards.”
“What a good idea,” I answered. “Next time I’d like you to use some oils.”
Next time? Had I lost my mind? I slapped my cheek to check I was not dreaming, but Adele’s screech brought me back to the present.
“Jane, what’s the matter?”
“I need some air. Open the window!”
“Are you going to faint again? Go back to bed and rest!”
“I am not going to faint. You’ve tied the corset too tight, can you loosen it?”
“Jane, you are acting very strangely this morning. Please be careful. You’re too good and too vulnerable. Be careful. He isn’t…”
“Stop at once! I will not be sermonised!”
“Jane, I don’t want you to be upset or hurt…”
“Forgive me for shouting at you my dear.” I hugged her with all my strength. I knew she wanted to help, but I also knew nobody would understand my feelings. “Now, help me with the crinoline. I’m famished!”
The two flights of stairs down to the ground floor from my top floor tower chamber had never seemed so long. The red carpets were richer and deeper than ever, and the balustrade felt smooth as I swept down the stairs and pulled open the dark oak door to an empty dining room. I pushed open the casements, poked my head out to a clear blue sky and breathed in the sweet smell of freshly cut grass. The light breeze twirled the laurel leaves and the sound of sparrows singing tickled my ears. I closed my eyes and smiled. November felt like May. May I? May moon at Eyre Hall, May, the month my daughter was born. May. May I?