by Juliet Bell
My heart was beating faster. Was he flirting with me? The idea still seemed ridiculous. We weren’t in a film. This was real life. I was his daughter’s tutor, and he obviously had his pick of women. There was only one question I wanted to ask of him. I told myself that it wasn’t for me. It was for Adele that I asked.
‘There is one thing.’
‘Name it. Anything I can do to please you, Miss Eyre, would be my great pleasure also.’
I was almost too flustered to speak. Only by convincing myself that I was raising this for Adele’s benefit gave me the strength to continue.
‘I am a little concerned about the effect of…of Celine being here. I wonder if it might be confusing for her, with her mother coming and going like that.’
His face darkened. ‘Confusing?’
‘I just meant that it must be odd for her. The children she sees on TV, or reads about in books, they have mothers and fathers who are a couple, or who are divorced. Adele doesn’t know if her parents are, well, in either category.’
There was smirk at his lips, almost as if he knew that it was I who really needed an answer to that question.
‘I was only thinking of Adele. Children need stability.’
The smirk extended into a grin. ‘You’re only thinking of Adele?’ He stepped even closer. He towered over me. I could almost feel the heat of his body. ‘You’re sure you’re not wondering for your own reasons?’
I tried to look away, but couldn’t. The power in his face was compelling. He lifted his hand as if to touch me.
I flinched.
‘What’s wrong?’
I shook my head. ‘Nothing.’
Helen’s face appeared in my memory. The things we’d done. I’d had no problem with somebody touching me then. And I did feel something for Mr Rochester. Something unfamiliar, but weren’t all feelings unfamiliar the first time? ‘I’m sorry.’
‘That’s all right.’ He was even closer to me now. ‘You really have no experience at all, do you?’
‘Experience?’ I was proud that the tremor in my voice was almost unnoticeable.
‘With a man.’
The way he said man startled me. I stepped backwards without thinking, searching his face for knowledge. He couldn’t know, could he? Was I somehow marked by my past sin?
‘Edward!’ The office door was flung open. A white-faced Grace ran into the room. ‘There’s a fire!’
Chapter 43
Mr Rochester was almost running to the door before she finished speaking. He pushed past Grace and darted towards the main staircase.
‘It’s outside. The generator shed.’
I followed him at a slightly less frantic pace, worried for Adele. There was no sign of her in the courtyard, and I ran after her father. Adele was standing just beyond the house. Rochester ran past her towards the cluster of small buildings a short distance away. The generator shed was almost lost in the cloud of smoke. The dry grass around it was alight. A couple of the Aboriginal stockmen were already there, beating out the burning grass with sacks. In a flash of understanding, I saw how dangerous this fire was. There was fuel stored in the generator shed. All around the homestead, the grass was brown and tinder-dry from the summer heat. Out here, there was no fire brigade to call. The people of Thornfield would have to fight the blaze themselves, with little available water, and probably no way to direct it at the fire. This fire might seem small right now, but if it got out of control, we were all in danger.
‘Stay here,’ I told Adele and dashed after Mr Rochester. I took up another bag ready to join the battle. Jimmy ducked past me and thrust a similar bag into a big, open, fourty-four-gallon drum that stood by the corner of the shed. When he pulled it out, it was dripping with water. I quickly followed suit and began beating the flames. A small breeze sent a cloud of smoke towards me, and I began coughing and retching as the acrid smoke filled my lungs.
‘Jane.’
Edward’s hand was on my arm. He was holding a piece of cloth torn from his shirt. It was soaking wet. Quickly he tied the cloth over my face. ‘That will help with the smoke.’ Then he moved away, his strong arms swinging rhythmically at the greedy flames.
The mask helped, and I was able to catch my breath before tackling another part of the fire. More Aboriginal stockman came running, armed with more sacks. Gradually, the blaze was slowed, then stopped. By some miracle, the generator shed itself, and its stash of fuel, were untouched. We would have electricity still.
We stepped back from the blackened ground. I pushed the mask down from my face and took a few deep gasps of clear air. Edward was doing the same when Max Hardy appeared.
Edward glared at him. ‘What on earth happened? Have you checked…?’
Hardy nodded. ‘Grace says everything’s under control. This was an accident.’ Behind him Grace nodded.
The words puzzled me. We were the ones fighting the fire. How could Grace know if it was under control?
Max raised his voice to the surrounding stockmen. ‘Did anyone toss a cigarette butt away?’
‘No. We know better than that.’ Jimmy answered for all the stockman, some of whom were still breathing heavily from their efforts.
Edward dropped his sack and turned back towards the house without another word.
I followed him through the kitchen door, Adele right behind us. Grace was waiting with a jug of water. My throat was parched and I gulped down two glasses without speaking.
‘Thank you … Miss Eyre. You have once again proved your worth.’
‘Thank you, Mr Rochester. I only did what anyone would do.’
‘Oh, Miss Eyre, such modesty. Once again I find myself relying on you. You are becoming so important to Thornfield. How would we ever survive without you?’
His eyes sparkled as he spoke, and I blushed.
No! The flames were gone. The sound of shouting had woken Betty from her nap. She’d run to her window and seen the beautiful glow and the flickering of the flames around the outbuildings. The flames were moving across the ground, coming towards her, as if they heard her calling them. And glowing sparks flew up and away from the ground and the moving shapes of people. They were beautiful. They were free.
But the people had put the fire out. She saw Edward and the stockmen beating back the flames.
And gradually the flames had been beaten down to nothing. All that remained was a black scar on the ground.
At last, Betty turned away from the window. The flames were gone. There was nothing left. She pulled the curtains tightly shut and found the darkest place in the corner of the room. She sank to the floor and pulled her knees up towards her body, wrapping her arms around her legs until she was as small as she could be. Then she closed her eyes and let her mind fill the darkness with glowing flames.
Chapter 44
‘I think you and I should eat together in the dining room, Miss Eyre.’
Mr Rochester’s invitation – or was it an instruction – came a few days after the fire. I was reading lesson notes at the kitchen table, while Adele took her School of the Air class. Grace was resting in her rooms and Mr Rochester and I were alone.
‘It’s kind of you to ask,’ I replied. ‘But Adele and I eat in the kitchen with Grace.’
‘Would you force me to eat by myself?’
‘I doubt that I could force you to do anything, Mr Rochester.’ The words were out before I could stop myself.
He laughed at that. ‘Don’t underestimate your power over me, Miss Eyre. Come on. Have dinner with me. I might even persuade you to try a glass of wine.’
The slightly mocking tone of his voice was another challenge.
‘I think I should eat with Adele, as always.’
‘Then Adele will have to join us too. As her tutor, surely you’ll agree she needs to learn how to behave in social situations. We don’t want her to grow up and be awkward, do we?’
Awkward like me? Was that what he meant?
He took my silence for acceptance.
&nbs
p; ‘I’ll leave you to break the good news to Adele. I’m sure she’ll be excited.’
When he left the room, he seemed to take all the air with him.
He was right about Adele. She was excited. ‘Does this mean I’m grown up now?’
‘Growing up, yes.’
‘What will I wear? Will you do my hair? Can I choose a pretty dress for you to wear too?’
‘Let’s not get too excited,’ I told her. ‘It’s just that we are having dinner in a different room and you will have to mind your manners. It’ll be a proper dinner too, not just the sandwiches you like. You’ll have to eat your vegetables.’
She pulled a face at that, but the truth was that I was almost as excited as she was. I helped her pick a pretty dress to wear, although she was very disappointed at the small choice she had when doing the same for me. For once, I spent more time brushing my own hair that I did brushing her beautiful golden curls. I’m not sure who spent more time glancing at the hands of the clock as they moved slowly around the dial.
When at last those hands were approaching the correct position, Adele and I went downstairs. By habit we turned towards the kitchen, only to be met by Grace coming the other way, holding a steaming serving bowl.
‘Grace, let me help.’
‘No. I’ve got it. If you could just get the door for me.’
I opened the dining room door, and Mr Rochester was waiting for us.
Adele, of course, rushed through the door and spun around so he could admire her pretty dress.
‘You do look nice,’ he assured her, as he glanced up to where I was standing in the doorway.
I was in that moment more conscious of my looks than I had ever been in my life. My clothes were designed for the classroom, not the dining room of this big sandstone house. I was not the beautiful Celine. Nor was I the vivacious Gail. I was…plain Jane.
‘Miss Eyre, I hope you’ll have a glass of wine tonight?’
‘Yes. Thank you, Mr Rochester.’ I might not look right, but perhaps I could at least act like a normal person. I told myself, this was part of Adele’s education. I was lying, of course. It was part of mine.
We sat at the table.
‘Would you do us the honour?’ Mr Rochester asked.
I served a steaming casserole and passed around the dish of vegetables. As we ate, Adele kept up a constant stream of chatter, about her schoolwork and the new foal down at the stables, and the new books she was reading. Mr Rochester chatted with her, and I could see her confidence blossoming under his attention. From time to time, he would look across the table at me, and I could feel a change in myself each time he did.
It was almost as if we were a family. This was the life I had never had. And it was exactly what I had always dreamt it might be.
Things were changing at Thornfield. Even isolated in her room, Betty knew things were different.
Grace didn’t have as much time for her as she did before. She still brought her food and small things to distract her. But she didn’t stay and talk like she sometimes used to. She was too busy, she said. And Betty knew why.
She would watch from her window and see them together. Edward and Adele and the nanny, Jane. Edward was teaching them both to ride. Adele was younger, but she was better with horses than Jane. She was soon trotting round happily on her small pony. Edward spent most of his time with Jane. Helping her.
Betty would watch him, putting his hand on her knee. Holding her foot so she could get it into the stirrup.
Sometimes Jane would lean forward, watching as Edward gave her instructions. Then she would try to do as he told her. He would point and wave his arms around, and she would respond by turning the horse this way and that.
‘No,’ Betty would sometimes call. ‘Don’t let him tell you what to do. Don’t let him make you his.’
But they never heard her.
‘Mr Rochester, I was wondering if you have any special plans for next week.’
‘Next week?’
‘It’s Adele’s birthday. Surely you haven’t forgotten?’
He put the newspaper he was reading down. ‘And if I had, Miss Eyre? What would you do if I had?’
‘I’d be very disappointed. So would Adele. But I don’t think you have forgotten.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because the mail plane brought more than just newspapers and mail this week. There was a box for you, and my guess is that it contains a gift for Adele’s birthday.’
‘Nothing gets past your eagle eyes, Miss Eyre, does it?’
He smiled at me. He was not a man who smiled often, but when he did… I treasured each time I was responsible for one of those smiles.
‘I was planning to make her a cake. Grace said she would, but I wanted to do it myself. To make it special for her.’
‘I’m sure it will be very special.’ Mr Rochester got to his feet and moved closer to me. ‘You are very good at making things special, Miss Eyre. You do know that, don’t you?’
As always, my heart fluttered just a little as he moved closer to me.
‘Adele is a lovely girl,’ I said hurriedly.
‘You have become quite indispensable to her. And not just to her. To Thornfield and everyone on her. You help Grace. And as for myself, I don’t know what I’d do without you, Miss Eyre.’
As it so often did, his mouth twitched into a half-grin as he said my name. I found myself wishing he would call me Jane again. Just once, as he had the day of the fire. He would say it softly, as I now sometimes whispered his name…Edward…when I was alone, in my room, late at night.
Chapter 45
Betty waited. She didn’t know how long she waited. Sometimes the days would just run together. Sometimes she would just sit in her dark corner and hug herself and close her eyes to look for the flames. Sometimes, very late at night, she would catch a glimmer of flickering light down near the river. That was the stockmen’s camp. They had fires there, she knew. She wanted to go down there and watch the flames.
Sometimes, when Grace wasn’t there, she would test the door leading to the kitchen. But it was always locked. And then one night, it wasn’t.
She turned the handle again and pushed the door open a crack. Grace had forgotten to lock it.
Betty pulled the door closed again, her breath coming in short, sharp pants.
How long was it since she had been outside her prison? Weeks? Months? A year? She really didn’t know. How much she had longed to get out, but, now she could, she hesitated. She was safe in her rooms. Would she be safe out there?
But at last she opened the door and slipped through into the kitchen, where again she hesitated. She was in her nightdress and had bare feet. She couldn’t run away. And besides, that would leave Adele and Jane here, on their own with him.
She padded along the hallway towards Edward’s study. The door was ajar and the room was empty. Nobody came in here except Edward. If he was awake, maybe she’d be able to talk to him and explain that she wasn’t the crazy woman he seemed to believe her to be. Grace wouldn’t listen but that was because Grace wasn’t in charge. Edward was the king in his castle. He was the one she had to make see sense.
Edward wasn’t there. For a while she wandered around the room, touching things. The book covers. The curtains. The glasses on the sideboard. There was a cigarette lighter lying on the bookshelf. She picked it up. Edward didn’t used to smoke and she didn’t know where the lighter had come from. But when she flicked it and a small flame leapt into life, she ceased to care.
She darted back into the corridor and up the main stairs. Adele’s room was to the left. Her prison was to the right. She giggled to herself, realising that she couldn’t get back in there anyway. The door at this end would be locked. She was still a prisoner but now she was locked out of her cell.
Straight in front of her was the door to Edward’s bedroom. Not just Edward’s bedroom. Hers as well. She had every right to go in. She hesitated with her hand on the door-handle. What if
he wasn’t alone? What if Jane was in there with him? She didn’t care. She simply had to make Edward see that she was quite herself and then everything would be all right.
The curtains were half open, and a shaft of late evening light shone across the room. Edward was alone, lying on top of the bedclothes, shirt off but still in his trousers and socks. There was an empty glass on the nightstand and the stink of whisky in the air. Betty edged into the room.
He looked so peaceful. She could almost climb into bed alongside him. How long had it been? Months at least. Months since his hands had pulled at her clothing. Months since he had looked at her in the way that meant he wanted her, that meant that she was expected to give in to him. If only she could make him look at her like that again, maybe things would be better.
She moved to what had been her side of the bed. She reached her hand towards the doona. The corner was slightly damp. She lifted her fingertips to her face. Whisky. Had Edward been drinking? Betty’s hand opened, and she looked down at the lighter she was holding. To give herself courage, she flicked it open. The flame danced into life.
She clicked it shut and flicked again, watching the flame vanish and reappear at her command. She felt her breathing calm and her heartbeat slow in her chest. She knew what she was here to do.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and leant across to touch her husband lightly on the chest. ‘Edward,’ she whispered.
‘Edward.’ A little louder this time.
His eyes half-opened.
‘I’ve come to talk to you.’ It was very difficult to know what to say. Her heart was pounding again. She flicked the lighter open so she could see the flame dancing in front of her. ‘You’ve got it all wrong.’
Edward’s eyes widened. ‘What the …’
His shout made her jump, dropping the open lighter onto the bed. A bright fire leapt up at her. Edward yelled again, throwing himself off the bed.
‘Bitch.’ He grabbed her arm. ‘What are you trying to do? Burn the bloody house down?’