Paradox (The Thornfield Affair #2)

by Amity Cross

  Paradox

  The Thornfield Affair - Book Two

  Amity Cross

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Other Books in The Thornfield Affair

  About the Author

  VIP Newsletter

  Zenith (The Thornfield Affair #3)

  Paradox (The Thornfield Affair #2) by Amity Cross

  Copyright © 2016 by Amity Cross

  All rights reserved.

  Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë is a public domain work and is legally out of copyright. Public domain works can be freely used for newly copyrighted derivative works, and as such this work is protected by copyright from date of publication as stated above.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All song titles, song lyrics, products, networks and brand names mentioned in this book are the property of the sole copyright owners.

  Cover Design © Amity Cross / Nicole R. Taylor

  1

  I was alone.

  The moor stretched out before me, its landscape covered in protruding rock, cotton grass, mosses, bracken, and shrubs laden with tiny black crowberries. My throat burned with unshed tears, the tether that connected my soul to my love, severed.

  I felt Edward’s absence keenly as if he’d been gone years, not the mere minutes since he’d retreated to Thornfield. The sky was endless above me, the universe vast and devoid of the happiness and belonging I’d sought all my life.

  The love of poor little plain Jane Doe wasn’t enough.

  I remained on my rock, attempting to find solace in nature and to calm my fractured soul for as long as I was able, but the light was fleeting, and I was cold. Considering I had nowhere to go and no money to take me away, I had to return to the scene of my greatest heartbreak and go on. There was nothing else I could do, and my pride wouldn’t allow me to hide for long.

  By the time I crossed Thornfield’s border, the sun was lowering in the sky, and a breeze had lifted, stirring the grand old trees as I ventured back through the forest. I lingered in the grounds, knowing I’d have to face Alice and the staff, convinced word had spread of my uncharacteristic outburst like wildfire.

  Summer was at an end. I could feel the chill of autumn in the air, and the turning of the seasons was already beginning to show in the garden. Here and there, a spot of gold shone through endless green, and soon, branches would be barren and leaves would coat the ground, causing endless annoyance for the groundskeeper.

  Soon after the explosion of color, winter would come with its bland flurries of wind and snow, but I would be long departed before I could see another season pass the landscape.

  Thornfield seemed emptier than usual when I finally crossed the threshold.

  When I lingered in the doorway to reception, not a word was spoken about my temper and the rage in which I’d broken the screen of my tablet, and I was thankful for it. Alice hugged me in an attempt to console, but by this time, I’d already closed myself off.

  From the look on her face, she hadn’t been the only one to hear the things I’d said, and with Edward giving chase, I suppose it was only a matter of time before the secret was out. How would the staff see me now? Such a scandal!

  And how was I to react when I laid eyes on Edward? I feared to see him, my longing was so great, but as it turned out, I didn’t have the time to worry about it. He left Thornfield the day after our confrontation on the moor as promised, and he wouldn’t return until I had departed on the next stage of my life.

  He was gone in all senses of the word.

  My love had been cast aside, not enough to soothe the pain of the man I would give everything to. Nothing meant more to me than my soul, and it would’ve been freely given in exchange for his, but he could not trust, and I could not go on knowing his very being was hidden from mine.

  So what could I do? Give myself to him knowing I’d never be entirely happy, or sever all ties and retain my dignity?

  I didn’t care one iota about the riches he’d offered. Material wealth was nothing but a hindrance and a barrier to true and complete togetherness. Society drove a wedge between us, but in the end, it was the man who’d become a pale specter.

  I chose to preserve my soul, and so he’d departed and taken my heart and happiness instead.

  A day turned into two, and the void that had opened up inside me did nothing but shoot a terrible pain through my heart.

  If I could not have Edward, then I was determined to find the secrets Thornfield was hiding from me. I would have answers, be what they may. I spent hours gathering the things I knew and attempted to piece them together like a puzzle.

  Laughter echoed through the halls in the dead of night. The strange Grace Poole wandered here and there like a skulking ghost. An unknown assailant had attacked Edward’s friend Richard Mason—an attack I was never given an explanation for—and a fire had almost taken the master’s life. If it weren’t for the haunting laughter leading me through the hotel, I’d never have been there to save him from the flames. He’d brushed it off as a faulty electric blanket, but I’d come to believe it was a lie. How could I not?

  Something dark and twisted lurked within these walls, something I was purposely kept from and was so terrible it haunted Edward to the point of poisoning his heart. I was determined to find it before it caused someone else harm.

  The hotel was currently empty, so no one hindered my search as I hunted for clues. I flung open doors and checked every cupboard and drawer, lifted tapestries and paintings, and jumped up and down on loose floorboards. I scoured the upper levels, sorted through storage, and found nothing but the dust of the ages.

  I lingered long hours in the library, opening every glass cabinet and paging through the books held within. I was covered in soot when I checked the inside of the fireplace and caused Bessie to have a heart attack at the state of the rug on the hearth.

  In the study, I checked for false panels in the walls and the desk, but no papers or files were kept within. Edward had taken his computer with him, and when I found a safe behind a row of books on a shelf, I found I wasn’t cut out for a heist of any kind. The combination was impossible to crack.

  The only place I didn’t dare go was Edward’s bedroom. Perhaps it was the only place that held the answers I so desperately desired, but it was also the scene of so many hurts. I’d cared for Mason as he lay injured in Edward’s bed, a fire had erupted and almost burned him alive, and his hands had wrapped around my throat in an odd display of euphoria not three days prior.

  What was so terrible that a man felt he could only manifest his pain in such a way? And during an act of pleasure, no less. That w
as what I was searching for, but like Edward’s vast collection of masks, he kept his secrets well hidden.

  The last place I hadn’t traversed were the battlements.

  I greatly doubted I would find anything on the roof of Thornfield, but I ventured up to the attic nonetheless, as I had to complete the circuit before I could fully rest. I pulled down the ladder and climbed out into the clear air, the cobwebs seeming to clear from my mind. Hoping it wasn’t an illusion, I began to walk the leads, studying the grounds below with a keen eye.

  “Why could he not trust me?” I asked the sky. “Why could he not love me?”

  I couldn’t tell, and nothing answered me. I ordered my brain to quiet and find a response itself, but it worked and worked and couldn’t find respite for my anguish. My temples pulsed with an oncoming headache, fever rising in my cheeks.

  Maybe if I were beautiful, rich, and held more power, he would tremble at my feet. Maybe he would see me as an equal and worthy of sharing the burdens that troubled him so. Maybe if I had a name…

  “Jane, what are you doing up here?”

  I turned to find Alice standing behind me on the leads, a concerned look on her face. Truthfully, I was beginning to become worried myself. Never had I turned to such desperate tendencies at the end of a relationship, not that I’d had any of significance until now, and never had I acted so erratically. I was driving myself mad with despair…over a man.

  “Bessie says you have been tearing the hotel apart,” she went on.

  I didn’t know what to say. Every answer I could’ve given was laced with a startling insanity.

  “This isn’t like you, Jane,” she continued. “Please, come back inside.”

  “I am not going to fling myself off the edge, Alice,” I replied. “I am not so slighted by the changeful affection of a man that I might attempt to take my own life. For that is what he is. Just a man. Not a god. Just a man…”

  A man I’d fallen in love with despite my better judgment. Love wasn’t easy to give, and I’d never understood it, but I’d given it freely knowing I may never receive it in return. Would companionship of mind and body be enough without the heart?

  Deep inside, I’d known it could come to this, and perhaps if I’d known… Was I so desperate to belong?

  Who was I? Who was Jane Doe if not strong and resilient? Who was Jane Doe?

  I grasped the simple iron balustrade, my head spinning.

  “Jane!” Alice cried, clutching my arm.

  “I don’t feel so good.” I took heaving breaths, my stomach rolling and my head throbbing.

  “You’ve worked yourself up so much you’ve made yourself sick,” she murmured. “Please, come back into the house.”

  I nodded, my fingers clutching her arm, and allowed her to lead me from the battlements and down the ladder into the attic.

  Now on more stable ground, I leaned against the wall as my bearings returned while Alice closed the hatch to the roof.

  “You should take the next couple of days to rest,” she said. “I’ll make sure the preparations for the artist retreat come along, and I’ll have Bessie and the others bring you something to eat when you desire it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m… I’ve never acted like this before. I don’t know where it came from. You must think I’m mad.”

  “I understand,” she replied. “It takes a great deal of conviction to care for a man like Rocky. Everyone I’ve ever known has given up before they’ve even tried.”

  I closed my eyes. “What of Queen Bee, Blanche Ingram?”

  “She would settle for anything with a deep wallet,” she replied with a snort. “Most people have hearts, Jane. She does not. You love for the right reasons.”

  I sighed as she threaded her arm through mine and led me down through the house. “How do you know?”

  “I’ve seen you, Jane. We all have. You are quiet and guarded, that’s no secret, but you dare to take a chance on someone who others consider a hopeless case. That is admirable. You shouldn’t feel terrible about it. Rocky leaving was his choice.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her the extent of it—that I’d been the one to cast him away and not submit to a pale imitation of love—so I remained silent.

  Alice ordered me to my room, and she took me there herself, making sure I was installed completely in bed with no hope of further wanderings. She said my health depended on it, and I was needed to oversee the artist retreat I’d so carefully organized. It was to commence in three weeks’ time, and no one knew the details like I did.

  “What were you looking for?” Alice asked, tucking the blanket around my shoulders.

  “Answers,” I replied, closing my eyes.

  Whatever Alice thought about this she didn’t say. I felt the mattress rise as she stood, and then the door closed as she left me to rest.

  I was quite literally heartsick.

  2

  Premonitions are strange things.

  Visions and signs make grand mysteries that humanity has yet to find the key to solving. And what purpose do they hold? Hope and guidance or simply confirmation of the things we want to hear?

  I was alone once more, but I suppose I’d always been as such even when Edward Rochester had called me into his arms.

  Thornfield had turned out to be yet another prison, its secrets too tightly held by the manor’s master to be solved by mere premonition. He would take pleasure from my mind and body, but despite my love, he wouldn’t give me his heart or his trust. His secrets went untold, and my devotion was cast aside. Now here I was.

  Alone.

  Poor plain, unwanted Jane Doe.

  “Let her be punished!”

  The words were as clear to me as the day they’d been spoken. I hadn’t dwelled on my past in a very long time, but my anguish and despair had brought it all to the surface, and my dreams were riddled with the hurts of my childhood.

  I was sure I’d never forget Mr. Brocklehurst’s voice, and if I should ever hear it in reality, I would not cower as I once did. I was stronger now, firmer in my beliefs of right and wrong, and I was willing to sacrifice for them. I’d allowed Edward to go on alone despite wanting to be by his side and help him heal his hurts. I’d sacrificed love—or was it lust—for trust and honesty.

  “Wicked child.”

  At ten years old, I was dumped on the doorstep of Lowood School for delinquent children, a sort of boarding school for troubled teens and wayward orphans, and it was where I first laid eyes on the terrifying principle, Mr. Brocklehurst.

  He was tall, skinny, and harsh looking, and I was sure he’d never smiled a day in his life. In hindsight, he was the kind of man who delighted in causing others pain and suffering, and his position at Lowood was perfect for him—he could dish out his fancies with no ramifications. He was quick to judge and find wanting, and I was on the receiving end more often than not.

  I scarcely remembered the incident that caused him to turn on me that first day, nor did I care to. All I remembered was the pain, humiliation, and defeat that had coursed through my little body as I was placed on a stool in the middle of the classroom.

  I remembered his words, and I remembered the hours, days, weeks, months, and years that passed after them.

  “Listen here,” declared the strong-armed Mr. Brocklehurst. “This is a sad occasion, for it seems our teachings have fallen on deaf ears! Behold this sad, little, frightful creature, and remember her face, for she is a liar, an interloper, and undesirable. Look upon her and remember, for from this day forth, you will shun her. Exclude her from your company, exclude her from your teachings and sports, and shut her out from your conversations.” Turning to Miss Temple and the teaching assistant, he said, “Teachers, you must watch her. Keep your eyes sharp on her movements and words, and punish her as severely as you can. This child is worse than the heathens who skulk on the streets. This girl is a liar!”

  There was a lengthy pause in which no one spoke, and I took the time to quell my ang
er and school my expression into nothing. The entire class stared at me with unblinking eyes, each passing judgment on me. I could feel their disinterest turning into disgust and their light-hearted companionship turning into hatred. Despite their quickness to turn from me, I caught a sense of relief in the air. I would suffer punishment first, and they would escape. I couldn’t blame them for their cowardice. I would have done the same to avoid a painful blow or a night in confinement.

  “And how do I know this?” Mr. Brocklehurst went on when he was satisfied his message had sunk in. “Her family. The charitable Sarah Reed, who took this orphan into her home, placing her among her own children and bestowing food and lodgings on her. Jane Doe!” He turned on me, his eyes ablaze with unmasked hatred. “How did you repay her generosity? With lies, insubordination, theft, and fear! You were sent here for your own good, and it was a blessing I happened to be here today. The waters of life shall be stagnant around you.”

  My heart twisted, but I continued to stare at my hands. Aunt Sarah had told them lies! I’d done nothing but want to belong, to earn her love, but I’d only found coldness and anger in her heart. I was only a child who longed for a mother, a family, and unconditional love.

  It wasn’t my fault my parents had died, nor was it within my control when I was left in the care of the Reeds as nothing more than a swaddled baby. It certainly wasn’t within my power to stop the sickness that took Uncle Reed and left Aunt Sarah a widow. I was cast adrift, constantly reminded of how unwanted I was by the only family I had left. Belittled, shamed, and abused, I was locked in cupboards as punishment for unknown deeds, hit by my cousin John, starved for days, my education withheld, and after suffering all of those things, I was denied the one gift I wanted the most. To be loved.

  Aunt Sarah had taken everything from me, including my name, and ensured my suffering would continue once I left her home at Gateshead. What a thorough job she had done. I scarcely knew what I’d done to deserve it, but I suppose living was enough of a slight to cause her to go out of her way.