Paradox (The Thornfield Affair #2)

by Amity Cross

  “Edward,” I interrupted. “She cannot help being mad. She is not in control of her faculties. She wasn’t when she attacked me, and I’m sure she wasn’t when she attacked your brother.”

  “You say that even as you lay in a hospital bed with two stab wounds? A little more to the left and she would have taken your life on the spot! She murdered my brother—the intent was there, madness or not—and she would have murdered you. You don’t understand what you are talking about.”

  “I understand it fully,” I replied. “You were tricked into a loveless marriage to a violent madwoman. It doesn’t excuse you to do her harm in return and then twist the very fabric of all your relationships thence. That is how I judge you and no other way. Your actions define you despite your circumstance.”

  “And so do yours,” he said, running his big hand over his face.

  I nodded. “And so do mine.” I sighed, turning my gaze to the ceiling. “What a pair of unfortunate souls we are.”

  “Jane, please forgive me. Please come back to me.”

  Reader, I did forgive him if only because his own wretched fears drove him to make the choices which led us to this moment. There was such remorse and pity within his stormy eyes that I forgave him. I could see his heart was true, that he cared for me, but I could not tell him I accepted his apology or his explanation. Too many twisted lies had passed between us for me to allow him the satisfaction. I believed his version of the truth, but I did not know if I could ever allow myself to love him or anyone again. Some hurts traveled so deep they could never be healed.

  “You treacherous, desperate thing,” I murmured, turning my head to the side.

  My hopes were all dead. My heart twisted and cold. The light in my soul extinguished.

  “Yes, you are right,” he replied, his voice a mere whisper. “I am a treacherous coward.”

  25

  I returned to Thornfield two days later.

  I did not want to go, but I had some loose ends to tie up before I could make my next move. I was not well enough to travel straight away, so I returned to my lodgings in the east wing under the provision Bertha was locked safely away in the dusty eaves of the house, and there would be no more escapes on her behalf. Still, I made sure my door was locked and the window fastened tightly.

  Later, I learned one entrance to her lair had lain behind the door in Edward’s room, the same door that had drawn my attention the night I’d cared for a gravely wounded Richard Mason. The door behind the tapestry. The thought of her being so close to where Edward slept and where he and I had spent stolen moments together chilled me to the bone. How he could allow our entanglement to proceed right under the madwoman’s nose was incomprehensible.

  Dr. Carter came to check on my wounds a week after my return and removed my stitches, declaring me fit to recommence my duties at the hotel. Neither one of us spoke about what had transpired as there was nothing left to say.

  I avoided Edward, though I knew he was there, waiting and watching for his chance to regain my confidence. In the beginning, he took to waiting outside my room hoping to speak to me. Once he realized he would not hear my voice until I was good and ready to share it with him, he returned to his rooms, most likely to brood and drink his fill of the Irish whiskey he so loved.

  All the events that had happened under Thornfield’s roof weighed heavily upon me, and a dark cloud settled within my battered heart, and nothing I did seemed to dislodge it. The entire household was under the curse of depression, the mood somber in every corner. Even the lively Alice Fairfax had her sparkle dulled.

  At the end of all of it, I still had my secret, but it was nothing compared to the one Thornfield had revealed. I knew I could not fight the entire world and continue to be a soldier in a battle that couldn’t be won. I could only make my tiny little corner a better place.

  Jane Doe—no, Jane Eyre—was a cold, solitary woman once more. Her life was pale and her prospects bleak. She might have financial stability, which her uncle’s fortune had provided, but it was nothing without the man of her heart to share it with. In fact, there was no longer any heart.

  I’d been hurt so grievously, physically attacked not once but twice—the second almost fatal—that I couldn’t take anymore. I was exhausted from my attempts to love the stoic Edward Rochester and his dark closet of skeletons.

  I was so tired I merely closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift.

  Sometime in the afternoon on the ninth day, I raised my head from my pillow and asked myself, “What am I to do?”

  The answer was simple, and it had been one I’d been threatening for months. Leave Thornfield at once.

  Had Edward felt real affection for me all this time, or was it merely lust that had clouded his eyes and skewed his judgment?

  This twisted tale, my dying heart, and this constantly shifting version of the truth—I would not accept this as the lot in my life. I would not submit.

  Determined to follow my course, I ventured downstairs to the office and found Alice at her desk.

  “Jane,” she said, looking me over with a frown. “Are you well?”

  “Truthfully, I am not,” I replied. “I have this void of despair inside me, Alice, and I do not know what to do about it.”

  “You mustn’t fret,” she said, coaxing me to sit in my usual chair.

  “I need your help,” I said as I eased myself into the seat. My shoulder ached, but it was well within my means to tolerate. “Edward is not who I thought him to be.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, offering me a bottle of water. “What could I possibly help you with?”

  “I’m so tired, Alice,” I said, taking the bottle and nursing it in my lap. “Tired of the lies, the twisted truths, the pain. I know it all now, and I’ve been hurt too deeply to continue. I don’t think I have it in me to forgive.”

  “It’ll take time to let it all sink in,” she said soothingly. “It has been a shock to us all, not as much as you, but none of us knew who she really was.”

  “I must leave,” I said, not wanting to talk about Bertha anymore or ever again. “Will you help me, Alice?”

  “Must you?” she asked, tears springing in her woeful eyes.

  “I must have strength,” I replied. “I must forge ahead and leave this godforsaken place.”

  Her pleading continued. “He truly loves you, Jane. He has done you harm, but you have time to work it through. You said to me all you ever wanted was a name and a family. You have it here. Bessie, the staff, and I are your family, Jane. Edward would love you dearly and marry you, and you would have your name and complete happiness, I know it.”

  “I’m sorry, Alice,” I said. “His betrayal runs too deep. I have suffered most of my life, and I will not entertain it anymore. I love him, I do, but sometimes, it isn’t enough.”

  Alice bowed her head and swatted at her tears.

  “The knife…” I went on. “The one Bertha used… It was the same as the one Blanche had. She knows about Bertha, Alice. Once I have gone, you must warn him.”

  “Why leave?” she asked. “If you wish to warn him, then you still care despite what you say. Please stay, Jane.”

  “I don’t know if I can care for him as I once did. That still remains to be seen. Right now, I merely pity his wretched soul. I’m a hard-hearted person, but even I’m not so cruel to leave whilst knowing a life is in mortal danger.”

  “I see you have made up your mind and there is no changing it,” she muttered. “What would you have me do?”

  “I intend to leave on the very first train in the morning,” I said. “I wish to be far away before he realizes I’ve gone. Will you stall for a few hours?”

  She nodded, looking uneasy. “How will I know you’re okay?”

  “Don’t worry about me, Alice. I have been caring for myself since I was a small child and have tolerated hardships. Don’t fret. I will be looked after.”

  “Good luck, Jane,” she said, embracing me. “I hope we’ll meet again s
omeday.”

  The moor was silent as I cut across its wild terrain on my way to the village.

  The morning was cold, dark, and eerie, the shadows long and the sky bleak as the sun began to rise. My bag was heavy over my uninjured arm, my shoulder aching from the uneven path I’d chosen to take.

  My escape from Thornfield had been a solitary affair. No one had seen or called out to me in the garden. No one saw me climb the fence and set out across the wild landscape, and it was just as I’d wanted it to be. I’d snuck into the hotel under the cover of darkness all that time ago, and now I did the same as I left it.

  As I edged closer to the village, I skirted fields and hedges until I reached the back roads that led to the station. Traversing the sleepy streets, I climbed onto the platform and cast my gaze onto the digital display. The train was arriving in ten minutes, and by the time it was powering down the line, carrying me away from this place, Thornfield would only just be stirring.

  Edward would search for me, tearing apart the world to find the woman he’d lost, but it would all be in vain. He would feel forsaken, his paltry version of love rejected, and he would suffer. Or perhaps he would let me go forever.

  I didn’t know what would happen, but I knew I couldn’t remain at Thornfield. The future stretched before me, blank and full of uncertainty, and as an announcement echoed throughout the station, I glanced up at the approaching train wondering where I should alight. I had property and money, so the world was at my feet, but I had no one to turn to. No one stood at my side to share in my fortune. Perhaps I should go to Georgiana, but it would be the first place Edward would look. I could not go and involve her in such madness after her world was pulled apart just as much as mine now was.

  I had no destination and no welcome place to rest my head. It was a bleak existence after knowing the possibility of such passion existed.

  The train came to a standstill in front of me, and the door slid open. There was nothing left to do but take the final leap, so I took it with both hands and a determined heart.

  I got onto the train, and so it was done.

  I left him.

  * * *

  Dear reader,

  * * *

  I’d like to tell you a story about a girl with no name who dreamed of freedom, only to grow into a woman ensnared by the devil.

  He promised me a name.

  He promised me love.

  But all he gave me were secrets and blood.

  Other Books in The Thornfield Affair

  Orphaned as an infant, Jane Doe has nothing, but desires everything life has to offer.

  When she’s offered work at Thornfield, a grand English manor turned hotel, she meets her match in the dark and brooding proprietor, Edward Rochester.

  Soon enough, tensions rise to breaking point, and they become embroiled in an illicit affair of the mind and body.

  Welcome to Thornfield where two lost souls are destined to love…no matter the cost.

  * * *

  The Thornfield Affair is a modern reimagining of Charlotte Brontë’s classic Jane Eyre.

  Euphoria #1

  Paradox #2

  Zenith #3

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at ZENITH, the FINAL installment of The Thornfield Affair.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  * * *

  Amity Cross is the International Bestselling author of wicked stories about rock stars looking for redemption, gritty romances featuring MMA fighters and dark tales of forbidden romance. She loves to write about screwed up relationships and kick ass female leads that don’t take s**t lying down.

  Amity lives in a leafy country town near Melbourne, Australia and can be found chained to her desk, held at ransom by her characters.

  Don’t send help. She likes it.

  Follow Amity Online:

  @amitycross

  theamitycross

  www.AmityCrossWrites.com

  theamitycross@gmail.com

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  * * *

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  * * *

  #GritGloryLove

  Zenith (The Thornfield Affair #3)

  A Sneak Peek…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dear Jane,

  * * *

  What do I write about your dear spirit? Words fall short when I try to set my thoughts to paper or screen.

  It is difficult to compose all the things I wish to tell you in this letter knowing you will never read it. Even if I send it at its completion, you are not here to receive its arrival. Perhaps it will help soothe my aching heart to know that the truth of my feelings for you resides in physical form. For if it exists, then I can no longer hide from it.

  I have told you I was tricked into marrying Bertha Mason, but I never told you of that time.

  I was a young man eager to please my father. You know he doted on my older brother Rowland, and I was a mere thing to be bargained with. I had only seen and spoken to Bertha twice before we were married. I didn’t think much of it at the time. My head was clouded with lust—for she was once a beautiful thing—and the desire to become a worthy man in my father’s eyes. It wasn’t until much later that things began to deteriorate.

  Her character began to change quite suddenly, and fits of violence would take her. She would strike out to all who came near, curse the foulest words, and spit and strike without provocation.

  I pleaded with my father to keep the marriage secret so that none should ever know the truth of the demon I was tricked into taking as my wife. It was agreed upon, and to the world, it seemed I remained a bachelor, and Bertha was hidden, being much too volatile to be set loose.

  I kept her with me at first, locked away in the far reaches of a house I kept in Paris. Then, as you know, she took Rowland’s life with a knife she had spirited away like the cunning beast she is. She would have done the very same to you, dear Jane, and she almost succeeded if not for the scene she created stalking you that day.

  After Rowland’s death, I employed Grace Poole to care for Bertha. She is a queer sort of woman, but she is tough, though she seems to have let her own faculties slip this past year. With Bertha installed with a warden, I was free to go about my life as though nothing had ever happened.

  I became my father’s protégé, but my heart had changed dramatically. Where once I wanted to please him, I now resented all that came with the Rochester name. I traveled the world, I indulged in sins and fantasies, but nothing could fill the darkness in my soul. I took lovers and mistresses. I engaged in sexual acts so depraved I am ashamed to admit them to you. I could not go through life with pleasure without causing myself pain. I did not deserve happiness. I felt responsible for Rowland and Bertha for bending so easily to my father’s will that I could not see the trap the Mason’s had laid for us.

  You know what my father did next. How he had attempted to murder Bertha, and then how I had her hidden at Thornfield to keep her safe from both our families. Her younger brother, Richard Mason, was my only ally and sole confidant to what had really happened in those years.

  After my father passed, I floated through life made up of nothing but anger and humiliation for what I’d become. I tried to take my own life. Did you know that? Unlikely. It was a lonely evening alone with my self-loathing, and I could not go through with it. I’ve told no one, not until this very moment. Knowing you will never see this letter, all knowledge of the lowest parts of my life will pass with me into the grave.

  I have not always been so wretched and despicable, but for the last ten years, I have known not
hing else. Truthfully, I wanted nothing or no one until the night of a certain motorcycle accident. I was stone. Closed to feeling to survive my treacherous and cowardly life.

  It was a frosty winter night when I almost ran down a lonely woman on the road to the forsaken place I am bound to. Thornfield. What a despicable place it was until I saw you walk through her halls and linger in her library. Those books had belonged to my mother. Did you know? If there was any purer soul in the world other than yours, dear Jane, it was hers.

  I’d purchased that motorcycle a month prior to riding to Thornfield. I don’t know what whim took me when I purchased it. Perhaps fate led me into that dealership, though at the time, it was a keen sense of despair. I had not lived in a long time, and I wished to feel something other than the darkness my life had become. If I had not bought that motorcycle, I would not have been on that road the night I happened upon you.

  I did not know when I laid eyes on the wild and stubborn woman who sent me flying into the dirt that she would be the cause of such fascination to me. She was unafraid to speak her mind even when my temper was raised. She would not leave me alone until I took matters into my own hands and rode away.

  When I found you in my library pawing at my mother’s books, I did not recognize you at first, but when I looked into your eyes... I cannot find the words to describe what I felt at that moment. I had to be careful, Jane. I knew not who you were or what intentions you held. I subdued my desire to take you for my own then and there. I could not be tricked a second time.