Paradox (The Thornfield Affair #2)

by Amity Cross

  “I’m sorry,” I said hastily. “Forgive me.”

  Turning, I fled back the way I had come, and when I rounded the corner of the house and was thoroughly out of sight, I leaned against the wall and clutched my heart. My breaths came in heaving gulps as the realization finally sank into my conscious mind of how changed my heart was.

  I hated him then. Edward Rochester. I hated and loved him all at the same time. He’d taken more than my heart the day we parted. He took the strength I found in solitude.

  I was cast adrift, doubting the very fabric of my being and the choices I’d made. I was off balance with my very soul, and I hated him.

  I hated even though I would never stop loving.

  I spent the night in a state of uneasy rest.

  I was so sure of my direction in the days leading up to the retreat, I was fixated, but now I only saw it as a distraction. I was lost once more, a wanderer and a nobody in the grand design of the universe. I was small and unhappy, unwilling to change or adapt to find the things I wanted.

  Was I running from Thornfield because it was the easiest course of action? Or was I leaving because it was too small and too full of dark mysteries for me to bear its weight any longer? I scarcely knew who I was anymore, not that I had an inkling of it before.

  I rose early, bleary-eyed and worn, to bid farewell to the guests as they departed on their journey home. As I descended into the main gallery to meet Alice, I stood on hesitant feet, embarrassed to face Rivers after leaving him so abruptly the previous afternoon. He must think me completely mad.

  It wasn’t a particularly splendid day. Outside, a misty rain had begun to fall, the kind that only served to annoy those who were forced to brave it. The sky was bleak, the sunshine of the previous day all but a distant memory. The weather was changeful this time of year, and it only served to remind me of the master of the house. He’d departed, but some of his energy remained, forever bound to the landscape his family called home.

  When Rivers finally appeared, surrounded by a group of female authors, he sought me out immediately, much to their annoyance.

  “Jane,” he said, looking sheepish. “May I have a word before I leave?”

  Alice’s eyebrows rose as I stood there in blatant hesitation, and I did my best to ignore her judgment. Eventually, I nodded and moved us toward a quiet corner where we could speak freely.

  “Yesterday,” he began, his fingers fidgeting with the zipper on his leather jacket.

  I noticed his hands were still stained with the colors of his painting, which I assumed was the wrapped package that sat with his bags. Perhaps in another life or if we’d met sooner, we may have been romantically involved, but it wasn’t to be.

  “I shouldn’t have let it get that far,” I murmured. “My circumstances are…unstable right now.”

  Rivers nodded, and we stood in silence for a minute.

  “I overstepped,” he said, his gaze darting to the place where I knew Alice was standing, attempting to overhear our conversation. “You were very clear about not being interested in romance of any kind, and I didn’t listen. Please, accept my apology.”

  My gaze met his, and I nodded my acknowledgment, unable to piece together words that would have been a suitable reply. I was unaccustomed to such an apology.

  “Perhaps we’ll see each other again,” Rivers said. “You’re welcome to visit my studio any time you wish.”

  “Perhaps,” I replied, folding my hands in front of me.

  “Then I shall wait and hope,” he said with a smile.

  Bidding him farewell, I stood and watched as each guest was installed fully on the minibus, and I followed the vehicle’s path with my gaze as it departed. Then, just like that, silence descended on Thornfield once more, and my future was laid out before me, dark and uncertain.

  “What did you and Mr. Rivers talk about?” Alice asked as I stood next to her.

  “Nothing,” I replied, my mind elsewhere. “Nothing at all.”

  7

  A month passed, and still, I lingered at Thornfield.

  It wasn’t out of want but necessity. There were no positions in hotel management or hospitality going into winter, and the harder I searched, the more frustrated I became. I wanted to be gone from this place and its darkened corners and whispers. I wanted to leave its strange laughter behind and never look back, but something was conspiring against me. I was stuck.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to the library, and it certainly hadn’t been since the day Edward left. I lingered there now, standing by the windows, key in hand, allowing depression to overcome me.

  The weeks had passed, the seasons had changed once more, and the mysteries Thornfield held had quieted. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Grace Poole, nor could I recall the sound of her laughter. Ever since the master had left and we’d parted, the strange happenings had ceased their eerie wanderings.

  The thing that had attacked Mason, the thing that had lit the fire, the thing that tormented me at night…it was gone. Perhaps Edward had taken it with him.

  The room was dull with the light of the electric globes, and I knelt by the cold hearth and stoked a fire. When the kindling took and the smoke rushed up the chimney, I stood and watched the flames flicker, memories flooding my melancholy mind—images of burning, darkness, and cold feet as I ventured through the haunted corridors of Thornfield.

  I’d never forget this place, but I was sure it would forget me the instant I passed through its gates, never to return.

  “You’re still here.”

  In an instant, all the light and warmth withdrew from the room, and my bones chilled as if they were made of pure ice. If I were to hear a long lost voice once more while I remained on this mortal coil, it was not the one that rumbled behind me.

  “Well? Are you going to turn around so I can see you? Or are you just going to stand there and pretend I’m as ghostly as the spirit you fashioned yourself into the night you forced me off my motorcycle?”

  Annoyance rose quickly at his words, and I turned to face Edward Rochester.

  “I did not,” I declared.

  The sight of him almost caused me to falter, and as I stared into his stormy eyes and took in the curve of his strong brow, I scarcely recognized him. His hair had grown, his beard was more unkempt than ever, his eyes seemed tired, and his shoulders hunched. He looked worn, and I wasn’t sure if I was to blame or if it was his demon come out to play.

  “There,” he murmured, looking pleased with himself. “Just as I remember.”

  “Why are you here?” I asked, turning from him when his smug gaze became too much to bear.

  “I might ask you the same question.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and stared into the hearth, studying the colors I found within. “There have been no positions, and I’m owed three months wages.”

  “How remiss of me,” came his reply. “Won’t you allow me to amend it?”

  “You were meant to be gone,” I said again.

  “Did you enjoy the retreat?” he asked, his avoidance of my question only fanning the metaphoric flames of my sour mood.

  I didn’t like the tone in his voice. It was as if he were accusing me of something. He was angered I’d pulled off a profitable and successful event? The notion was preposterous.

  “I did.”

  “I didn’t think it was possible for you to move on so quickly,” he said with a snarl.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked incredulously, knowing we were no longer talking about the retreat.

  A curious yet terrifying look passed over his features. “The painter, Jane.”

  “John Rivers?” My mouth fell open, not understanding why he still had a care for me when he’d promised himself to another.

  “Yes,” he said, his eyes flashing. “John Rivers.”

  Was he jealous? What right did he have when he moved on to an empty relationship mere weeks after leaving me out on the moor? Maybe Blanche In
gram could settle for less than love when enough money was involved, but I could never sacrifice higher spiritual companionship for material wealth.

  “Perhaps you should think more of your alliance with Blanche Ingram and less time worrying about the hired help!” I exclaimed, my ire rising.

  “Are you jealous, Jane?”

  “I am beyond jealousy,” I replied.

  “Is that so?” he asked, stepping toward me. “How easily you cast me off. How easily you forget what we shared.”

  “You have no place here anymore, Edward,” I said, placing my hand over my heart. “You forced my hand! You’ve given her everything you denied me. What am I supposed to think? She is your everything, and I was only another of your dirty secrets.”

  “There was nothing dirty about it.”

  “I would have sacrificed everything I held dear for one drop of love from you!” I exclaimed. “Now I see it would have been a mistake.”

  He stood as still as a statue, his brow darkening with a strengthening storm, and it was a full minute before he replied to my barb.

  “I see now,” he murmured, my words seeming to glance off him as if he were made of stone. “Is that why you were ill, Jane?”

  I hesitated, confused as to how he even knew I’d been sick in the days after he’d left Thornfield. He shouldn’t care, should he?

  “How do you know any of these things?” I asked.

  “Alice,” was his simple reply, and that one word held everything I needed to know. My one true friend had betrayed me to the one man I wished to keep myself from. First, she kept Thornfield’s secrets from me, and now this?

  “Then you already know the answers to all of your questions,” I practically spat. “Why do you deign to come here and torment me with them?”

  “It is you who torments me, Jane.”

  My mouth fell open. “You are so full of your own self-importance it’s a wonder you can see the forest for the trees!”

  “Who was the man that came to see you?”

  “Why do you care? Leave it be.”

  “Jane,” he said with a ragged sigh. “No matter how we parted, I still care for you as well as I am able. I would see you off to a good situation if that is what you desire. Who was the man?”

  I hardly wanted his help or his desire. Perhaps it was stubborn of me since I still loved him, but being able to forge through the world with my own independence intact was important to me. Independence and choice were things taken from me at such a young age and hadn’t been returned until much later in life. Now I had them, and I wasn’t going to let go so easily.

  Knowing Edward wouldn’t leave it alone unless I answered, I said, “Robert Leaven, the groundskeeper at Gateshead.”

  “Gateshead?” Edward asked, looking perplexed. “The same Gateshead owned by the Reeds? The same where you were brought up?”

  I nodded, not willing to impart any more words on him.

  “My father did some business with a John Reed of Gateshead.”

  “My uncle was John Reed, the magistrate, and his son, my cousin, was also named John,” I said. “My mother was his sister.” And there I imparted all the wisdom I knew about my birth parents.

  “And why did the groundskeeper of all people come to visit? Didn’t your aunt cast you out?”

  “It’s of no consequence why,” I retorted, thoroughly annoyed. “I sent him away.”

  “Surely, he had some news of your family?”

  “My family isn’t Reed,” I replied. “I have no name, or have you forgotten?”

  “No. I have never forgotten a single thing you’ve said to me, Jane.” He sighed, looking tired. “You never searched for your family name?”

  I didn’t want to contemplate on Edward Rochester’s remembrances. “I did, but everything was removed, destroyed, or purposely kept from me.”

  It was uncomfortable to talk of such things with Edward. He would never have given me his name for my own had I submitted to his will. When I first met him, he’d been terrifying and alluring all at once, and my words had come selectively. When we finally submitted to our base desires, I could speak my mind with a freedom I’d never known. Now I wanted to keep myself secret and fight against his constant barrage, and knowing he was embroiled with Blanche Ingram, delivered the final blow. Edward Rochester was a stranger.

  Turning, I faced the dark window, fancying I could see the grounds and the moor beyond. When his reflection appeared behind me, I stiffened, a chill running down my spine.

  “I’ve gotten this far without knowing who my family was,” I said. “I doubt I’ll be hindered in my meager existence going forward. No one cares who you are in the working class, only that you can perform your duties.”

  “Jane,” he said. “You’ve suddenly turned cold.”

  I couldn’t escape the sight of him, so I turned my gaze to the floor. “I have to.”

  “I would see us part well, Jane. Not like before.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, steeling my nerves and squashing my desire. “None of it matters anymore.”

  Silence stretched between us, the invisible string drawing us together was gone, and more than ever, I wished to be alone. I craved the solitude that was once my greatest sorrow, for I realized it had protected me from the misery I felt now.

  “Stay as long as you need,” Edward said. “You have a place here.”

  I shook my head. “I cannot stay.”

  “Why? I have commanded it.”

  “You have Blanche,” I said. “You shall be married sooner or later, and I will need to remove myself from Thornfield before then. Her distaste of my person is quite clear.”

  He didn’t deny it, nor did he confirm. He just let my words fade into the background. Blanche Rochester, Jane Rochester, it was all a little tedious in its futility.

  “Where will you go?” he asked.

  “I have an invitation to visit a friend in London,” I declared, thinking of Rivers and his studio. “If I have not found a situation by then, I shall go there.”

  His eyes flashed as if lightning struck within them. “You and Rivers?”

  I shook my head.

  “Good,” Edward said. “He has quite the reputation.”

  “Why am I not surprised you stalked him?” I muttered under my breath.

  “Because I’m an arrogant, entitled, rich man who was dumped by his lover,” he declared much to my surprise. “You hold that crown, Jane. No other woman has hurt me as gravely as you. I never thought it possible, but that is one of the qualities about you which intrigued me the most.”

  “What is so intriguing about it?” I asked with a scowl. “You’re saying you respect me for breaking your heart.”

  “No, not at all,” he replied. “You misunderstand me. I was intrigued by the fact you were able to find it at all.”

  I wasn’t sure how it was possible, but I felt a change in the air the moment he left the library. It was desolate and cold, despite the fire I’d lit in the hearth. He was forever breaking my will and twisting my heart, and I knew it wouldn’t stop until I’d left him far behind.

  I wanted him still, but he was forever lost to me, and it was the greatest torment of all.

  8

  There was an air of discord all around Thornfield when I rose the next morning.

  Edward had returned as suddenly as he’d departed, like a phantom riding the changing winds which tore across the moor, causing a stir like I’d never seen before. The staff had already begun to chatter among themselves, spouting comparisons to fairy tales like Beauty and The Beast and wondering if Blanche Ingram would be making an appearance. The last matter was unsettling on so many levels it caused a shudder of dread to flow through my body. It was my nightmares come alive if she were to take residence before I could depart.

  Descending into the main gallery, my head aching terribly, I was apprehensive to show my face in reception, knowing Alice had conspired with Edward as his spy. I didn’t know how to deal with this new betr
ayal or if I should react to it at all. It was another thing in a long line of slashes across my poor lost soul.

  I was mortified to think he knew about the fit of passion in which I’d torn apart Thornfield in search of his secrets and the illness that followed. I cared little for his feelings toward Rivers since I was free to see who I wanted. I wished Edward didn’t know anything at all and had remained in Paris indefinitely.

  Still, I couldn’t hide from the world. I had duties to attend to and a wage to earn, so an appearance had to be made at some point. I was too proud of my work ethic to abandon my post over a personal slight.

  “Oh, Jane, there you are,” Alice said as I entered. “Something’s happened.”

  “I know,” I said, preempting her news. I took my seat without glancing at her and fossicked in my drawer for some headache tablets. “I had a lovely encounter in the library last night. It was quite the surprise.”

  Silence was the only response I received. Not wanting to get into an argument just yet, I took two tablets, retrieved a cup of water from the cooler, and washed them down. My eyes ached, as well as my head, from my restless night.

  “Jane, I meant to tell you…”

  “Have you been in communication with Edward?” I asked blatantly, finally glancing at her.

  Her expression dropped, and her cheeks began to flush. “I thought if I could just make him see…”

  “See what?” I prodded.

  “I wanted to make him see leaving you was a mistake,” she finished, casting her gaze away. “I saw how you loved him, Jane, and I wanted him to come back to you.”

  “Oh, Alice…” My expression fell, and all the anger and irritation I’d been feeling ebbed away.

  “He was better with you. Everyone saw it. I thought if you two could work it out, then it would be like a fairy tale. You’d be happy, and so would he. I’ve never seen him happy, Jane. Not until you came along.”

  “It’s too late,” I muttered, my shoulders feeling heavy. “It’s much too late to mend it.”

  “Do you really think so?” she asked, rolling her chair across the floor to sit beside mine. “He came back, didn’t he?”