Abstract

Jane Eyre, reimagined to fit modern sensibilities, gives us a better idea of how strong a character she really is. The original focused on her life as a plain and poor woman who lives in an age when beauty and wealth were considered the only essential characteristics of a woman. We focus on her life as an exceptional woman in an age where good and accomplished people are commonplace – namely, our age.

Connection to website’s theme

Jane Eyre is an inspiring woman. By reimagining her in a modern context, we can more easily understand what a woman undefeated by circumstance would look like today.

Author’s note

I am very fond of the original book. But it has some problems that I cannot overlook and hence decided to rewrite the story. My reasons for making these changes are explained in depth in another article.

I humbly request you to not expect the literary style or floral language of the great Charlotte Brontë in my story. I have tried very hard to recreate the Victorian style of descriptions and borrowed lines out of the original when I could. But my talents in story telling lie in its strong construction, not its poetic narration.

A retelling of the story

Chapter 1

Jane Eyre stood outside Thornfield Hall, a fine old place, rather neglected of late years perhaps, but still a respectable place. The cold rain had made her journey miserable, but she did not mind. One step closer, she thought to herself. I can save up enough money from this position to get me closer to starting a school. For that was Jane’s dream – to operate a charitable school for girls – and if she were successful to procure more funding from benefactors, eventually one for boys too. Her education, while thorough, had been attained in a charitable school named Lowood Institution, the Institution word being the accurate description of a place that afforded its pupils no freedom of any sort.

A servant opened the door at Thornfield and led Jane to see the old housekeeper, Mrs. Fairfax, seated in a small parlor by a fire. Mrs. Fairfax was very pleased to see her. “Come warm yourself by the fire, my dear. I am glad to have a governess back in the house. You will be the governess for five-year-old Varen and his four-year-old sister Adele. The poor dears lost their mother when Adele was born, and their father, Mr. Rowland Rochester, soon after. They were the wards of their grandfather, old Mr. Rochester, the previous master of Thornfield, till he died a few months ago. Now they are the wards of Mr. Edward Rochester, the younger son of old Mr. Rochester and the new master of Thornfield. I was very glad to see your advertisement. Children must have governesses, especially motherless ones. Oh, they had a governess, of course, not much older than you, but she married a gentleman two weeks ago and left.”

“How wonderful,” said Jane smiling, surprised at the news about the previous governess. Governesses were gentlewomen of reduced financial means, which made them unattractive brides. “The gentleman must truly love her.”

“Love!” exclaimed Mrs. Fairfax. “Bless you. child! What a notion! He is her late father’s friend, recently widowed, and is fifty-five. He was not blessed with children in his first marriage and hopes things will change soon. A gentleman of means will not marry a governess if he has any possibility of a more favorable alliance.”

Jane nodded. “Of course.” Then she added, “Fifty pounds is a generous pay for the position of a governess of just two children. I wouldn’t have expected a penny more than thirty.”

“Ah, you see,” replied Mrs. Fairfax, “when the previous governess announced her intention to marry and leave, Mr. Edward was very displeased. He instructed me to offer a generous pay to the next governess to ensure that such a situation would not reoccur. It will be a few more years before the children can go to school.”

“An insurance against losing the governess,” laughed Jane.

Mrs. Fairfax smiled and stood up. “Let me show you to your room, my dear.” She led Jane towards the bedrooms. “This is the room of Mr. Edward,” she said, as they passed a room. “I always keep it ready even though he hardly spends time at Thornfield. He spent three years in Jamaica in his early youth. He is always away visiting foreign lands and drops in unexpectedly. Even when he is here, one never knows of his presence. He spends all his time by himself and even dines alone. Nobody is allowed into his study without invitation.”

“That’s peculiar,” remarked Jane.

“He is a rather peculiar man,” said Mrs. Fairfax. “He is of unimpeachable character, a just and liberal landlord to his tenants, a very good master to his servants and I daresay he is clever, though I have never had much conversation with him. But you cannot be always sure whether he is in jest or earnest, whether he is pleased or the contrary. In short, you don’t thoroughly understand him, at least, I don’t. Well here,” she opened the door of a room. “This will be your room. It is right next to mine. Rest now, and tomorrow I will introduce you to your protégés.”

Chapter 2

Jane found Varen and Adele to be wonderful children and ideal pupils. Mrs. Fairfax was pleasant, if unstimulating, company. But it was three months before she first saw her master. He arrived unexpectedly one afternoon at Thornfield, just as Mrs. Fairfax had explained he was wont to do, and promptly walked into the study. Mrs. Fairfax had to seek permission to introduce Jane to him.

“You will have tea with me tomorrow evening,” Rochester commanded as soon as he saw Jane. “And bring the children.”

Jane flinched at the rudeness but replied, “Yes, sir.”

Rochester seemed to read her mind and said, “I don’t have the patience for formalities, Miss Eyre and therefore you must not expect them from me. Please and thank you are cloaks worn by swindlers, who don’t want you to object to being swindled.”

“Those that would agree to be swindled for words,” replied Jane, “would deserve being swindled. I, sir, am not one of them.”

Rochester laughed. “I mentally shake hands with you on your reply. Not three in three thousand governesses could have come up with that answer. But I don’t mean to flatter you. You may have intolerable defects to counterbalance your few good points.”

As may you, Jane thought.

Rochester appeared to read her thoughts again and laughed again. “Yes, yes, I have plenty of faults of my own. I was thrust on to a wrong tack at the age of twenty-one and have never recovered the right course since. But you have no right to judge me, you neophyte, that has not passed the porch of life, and is unacquainted with its mysteries. Go now.”

Chapter 3

The next evening at tea, Jane took the children to Rochester’s study for tea. Mrs. Fairfax prepared their teas and Rochester asked Jane to hand some books to the children so they could read quietly. “They can read, can’t they?” he asked.

“Of course, sir,” Jane replied. “They may only be four and five but there are books they can read. I shall fetch some.”

“Very well,” he said and settled into an armchair near the fireplace.

When Jane returned with the books, Mrs. Fairfax was gone, and Rochester appeared to ignore Jane. Therefore, she stood near the children, staring at her master.

Rochester turned to look at her. “You examine me, Miss Eyre. Do you think me handsome?”

Before Jane could think through the implications of her answer, she replied vehemently, “No, sir.”

As Rochester laughed, Jane wished she had been a little more polite. “I meant to say,” she said, “that I was examining you because you invited us to tea but seem to be otherwise engaged in your own thoughts.”

Rochester pointed to a chair in front of him near the fire. “Sit down. And tell me about yourself.”

Jane sat down. “I came here after working for two years as a teacher at a charitable institution. I had been a student there for six years before.”

“And you worshipped your headmaster so much that you decided to become a teacher,” Rochester said disdainfully.

“No, sir,” said Jane unaffected. “My headmaster was a cruel man and not worthy of worship. I became a teacher there only because he was removed from his position. I did not even want to be a student under him. But I was orphaned at an early age and my aunt, who was my guardian, was cruel to me. Being under her was worse than being a student at the school. I chose the less painful option.”

Rochester abruptly stood up and walked over to the fire.

“I hope to start my own charitable school someday,” continued Jane. “I advertised my services and was grateful to receive a position with such a generous salary. It will help me save a lot of money to reach my dream.”

Rochester did not reply for a whole minute. Then he asked abruptly, “Were you any good as a student and a teacher?”

“One of the best, even if I say so myself, sir,” replied Jane.

Rochester walked back and sat down in the armchair. “You must be, considering you have succeeded in having these two unruly children sit down and read for over five minutes now.”

Adele and Varen looked up from their books.

Rochester laughed scornfully. “I suppose they weren’t really reading, just eavesdropping.”

Jane shot a quick glance at the crestfallen children and stood up. With as much politeness as she could muster, she said, “It is time for the children to go to bed, sir. Adele, Varen, let’s go.”

The children obediently followed their governess’ instructions.

“I have not yet dismissed you, Miss Eyre,” snapped Rochester.

“I know, sir. But my first duty as governess is to the children. I bid you goodnight.” She left.

As they made their way towards their bedrooms, Adele said earnestly, “Miss Eyre, we weren’t trying to eavesdrop.”

Jane smiled. “I know, darling.”

Chapter 4

“Miss Eyre,” said Edward Rochester marching into the children’s study the next morning, “are you any good with numbers?” He threw down a file of papers in front of Jane.

Jane was tutoring Adele and Varen and was startled at this intrusion. She looked up calmly at the man who was twenty years her senior but had spent not a single moment of those additional years on learning courtesy.

“I need someone to doublecheck these numbers,” Rochester barked. “Are you any good?”

“Sir, I know as much mathematics as any educated person,” Jane replied, drawing herself up in her seat. “I am happy to help you this evening, but right now I must attend to my students. I am their governess first, your paid subordinate second.”

Rochester snorted mildly, snatched back the papers he had thrown down and left.

“Mr. Edward looked angry,” said Adele.

“He’s always angry,” said Varen.

His sister nodded and asked, “Why is he always angry?”

“I don’t know,” said Jane.

“He never has meals with us. I wish he’d join us,” said Adele. “Then maybe we could ask him why he is so angry.”

“We should get back to our lessons, children,” said Jane. “Let us not allow Mr. Rochester’s interruption or his anger distract us from our work.”

Chapter 5

Later that evening, after getting a quick lesson on accounting from Rochester, Jane spent two hours going over a few accounting documents of Thornfield Hall in Rochester’s study while he sat by the fire. She had not brought the children to the study and had instead tasked them to create sketches of things around the house.

She was busy working and had not spoken at all with Rochester. When she was done, she handed him the papers. “I found two errors, sir. I corrected them.”

“You are indeed good with numbers, Miss Eyre,” said Rochester without looking at the papers. “The second one was a difficult one to spot.”

Jane was confused. “I beg your pardon?”

Rochester laughed. “I am masterful with numbers, Miss Eyre. I made two deliberate errors to see if you knew what you were doing.”

Jane could hardly believe her ears. “If that was all, sir…”

“I see that you like working with numbers enough to neglect your duties as a governess,” mocked Rochester.

Jane was confused again. “I am not neglecting the children, sir. They are working on creating sketches.”

“Yesterday it was almost an hour ago that you decided that it was their bedtime. Are you confessing now that you lied yesterday?”

Jane was not the sort of woman to play mind-games. “If you must know, sir, I do not think you treat the children well. My aunt was cruel to me, and I know the hurt that words can cause. While I am not insinuating that you are cruel, I do think you speak unkindly to the children. You never join them for dinners. They told me how much it would mean to them if you did. They are your brother’s children and deserving of your affection.”

Rochester sneered. “This aunt of yours, Miss Eyre, did she have children?”

“Three, sir.”

“Do you harbor much affection towards them?”

“No, sir. They took after their mother and were quite unkind to me.”

“And yet you do not see why I do not harbor affection towards these children?” He stood up and looked slightly agitated. “If you must know, Miss Eyre, my father and brother were quite unkind to me. Perhaps that will convince you to look upon me with less disdain.”

“This is not the same situation,” replied Jane. “I am sorry to hear that your brother and father were unkind to you. But Adele and Varen have not been unkind to you. They are kind children. They are not their father.” She paused and said gravely, “You are not your father, are you, sir?”

Rochester started and replied abruptly, “It is way past their bedtime. Go put the children to bed.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Jane.

Chapter 6

“Mr. Edward wants you to join him and the children for dinner from now on,” Mrs. Fairfax told Jane two days later.

“What?” asked Jane, shocked at the news. Governesses, while gentlewomen, never ate with families. Being lower in status than the families employing them and higher in status than the servants in the house, governesses ate alone.

“Did Mr. Edward really say he would join us for dinner?” Varen asked, skeptically, as they made their way to the dining room.

“Oh, yes,” replied Mrs. Fairfax. “He said he will join you for dinner every day that he is here.” When they reached the dining room, she bustled about getting the table ready. She had put one place setting at the head of the table and three others for the children and Jane.

Varen took a seat next to his younger sister and Jane sat down opposite them.

Within a few minutes, Rochester walked in. Jane stood up and the children followed her lead.

Rochester shook his head. “Don’t stand up. None of us are guests here.”

They all sat down to eat.

“And what did your governess teach you today?” Rochester asked the children.

Adele replied cheerily, “We learned French, practiced the piano, read books and practiced arithmetic.”

Rochester nodded.

Adele chattered on, “Today in French, we learned numbers. Shall I recite them?”

“If you want.”

Adele counted in French to a hundred with some help from Jane. Jane smiled at Adele, but Rochester did not react. Jane had, for a few brief minutes, been moved that Rochester had decided to join the children for dinner, but with his aloofness becoming painfully obvious, she was no longer sure she had done the right thing in encouraging him to interact more with the children.

There was a long pause in conversation when suddenly Adele asked, “Why are you always angry, Mr. Edward?”

Rochester blinked. “I am not always angry.”

Adele replied, “You are always angry when you are around us.”

Varen asked, “Mr. Edward, did you hate Grandfather?”

Rochester was startled at the question. Then he narrowed his eyes at a surprised Jane, who first looked at Varen and then at Rochester. He turned to look at Varen and asked, “Why would you ask that?”

The boy shrugged. “You never visited us at Thornfield when Grandfather lived.”

Rochester replied, bluntly and going back to eating, “We did not get along.”

“Did you get along with our father?” asked Varen.

Rochester pursed his lips. “No.”

The children looked at each other and Adele asked, “Mr. Edward, was our father a bad man?”

Jane was so shaken that she accidentally dropped her fork on her plate. “Pardon me,” she said softly, as she picked it up again.

Rochester did not reply immediately, and Jane began to berate herself for having suggested the dinner idea. After another pause, Rochester asked Adele, “Do you get along with your brother all the time?”

“No,” said Adele.

“Does that make him a bad man?”

“No,” smiled Adele. Then she looked at Varen and they both chuckled.

Jane was touched at Rochester’s thoughtfulness and looked at him with almost a sense of gratitude, but he never looked up again for the rest of the dinner and he did not talk again either.

Chapter 7

At the end of dinner, Rochester stood up and snapped as he walked away, “Miss Eyre, I want to see you in my study.”

No sooner had she entered the study than Rochester turned to face her and asked, “Should I be congratulating you for putting those children up to that?”

“What?” Jane blurted. “No, sir! I would never. I have never once mentioned you or your family to them. And they have never spoken to me about their father or grandfather or even you – except the time when they expressed their wish to dine with you.”

Rochester walked up to his armchair and sat down near the fire.

Jane hoped she had convinced him of the truth, but she wasn’t sure. She now knew exactly what Mrs. Fairfax had said about not being able to understand the man. Yes, he was proud, sardonic, harsh, and moody. But she was convinced that a man who could answer a child’s question the way he had answered Adele’s, was naturally a man of better tendencies, higher principles, and purer tastes than such as circumstances had developed, education instilled, or destiny encouraged. Therefore, she said to him, “I am glad you joined the children for dinner, sir. It meant a lot to them.”

Rochester laughed sarcastically. “Did it, now?”

“It did, sir. And if I may be so bold, I request you to join them as often as you can. What they said today stemmed from their innocence. Please do not hold it against them.”

He stood up shaking slightly. “Do you see me as a brute, Jane?”

“No, sir.”

“I’m not, Jane,” he said, now his voice shaking.

“I know, sir,” Jane replied, not understanding his line of thought.

“I…” Rochester bit his lip, dropped his gaze, and sat back down. Then he said, “Now, since you established a few days ago that you are the children’s governess first and my paid subordinate second, I have decided to change the situation.”

Jane was startled. “Am I being let go, sir?”

Rochester laughed again. “No. But I don’t like you putting the children first. And therefore, starting tomorrow, you will be my secretary.”

“A secretary?” asked Jane, shocked. “But I am not qualified.”

“You did say your dream was to run a charitable school, Jane, not just be a teacher. How do you expect to do so without knowing how to keep accounts?”

Jane was still hesitant.

“To entice you, I will increase your salary to sixty pounds. I have hired a new governess for the children. You will manage my accounts here at Thornfield and at my other estate at Ferndean Manor.”

“But who will be their new governess, sir?” Jane asked, a little worried.

“I see you are still putting the children first, Jane,” said Rochester. “You know the new governess. She was a student at your own school, a Miss Helen Burns. I hear you think highly of her.”

“Indeed, I do!” said Jane delightedly. “Dearest Helen would be a kinder and wiser governess to the children than I could ever be. But how did you manage to get Helen to be your governess? I thought she was already employed.”

Rochester scoffed. “Her master owed my estate money and happily chose the money over his children’s education.”

Chapter 8

Jane was so happy to have Helen be at Thornfield that she even comforted the children with the words that they would be better off with Helen as their governess. “And your uncle is employing me as his secretary. Therefore, I will be right here at Thornfield. But I am sure that two days after Helen gets here, you will have such a great time with her that you will not miss me at all.”

Helen’s arrival made Jane extremely happy, and the feelings were just as warmly reciprocated. “Writing letters is just not the same,” said Helen. “I could hardly believe it when I was told that you would be here too. Mr. Rochester offered me a generous salary. I would have settled for half of that just to be with you, dearest Jane!”

Helen was surprised when she was also invited to dine everyday with the family. “Mr. Rochester is peculiar, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is,” laughed Jane.

As Jane had predicted, Helen was a wonderful governess and doted on the children. Therefore, just a couple of days after Helen took over the duties of governess, Jane was tasked with her new work as secretary – to go through the old accounting records.

“I have now been the master of Thornfield for almost a year,” said Rochester, “but have yet to go through my father’s records for his last ten years which are relevant to the estate’s income, with taxation now firmly a part of our lives. I am not keen on doing that myself and need a secretary to go over those.”

A few weeks passed happily, and dinnertime became a time of camaraderie that Jane looked forward to every evening. She loved the opportunity to have intellectual conversations with Helen, and she couldn’t help the warmth that came over her every time she saw the children laugh and smile at dinner.

Rochester was not what could be considered affectionate towards the children. He seldom talked and rarely smiled, but when he did, he was very kind. Over the course of time, he even suggested that the children refer to him as Uncle Edward, rather than Mr. Edward. Jane considered it a great personal victory that the children would not grow up with the pain she had to bear.

The only strange thing about these dinners was that Jane often saw Rochester looking at her with a half-smile as if he were reading her thoughts.

Chapter 9

Jane worked very hard to understand the estate accounts of the old Mr. Rochester, which were complex and sometimes confusing. There was one issue that she could not figure out despite a lot of research.

“Could you go over these entries, sir,” Jane asked Rochester one afternoon. “They appear to be sort of an annual payment of a hundred pounds remitted by your father to someone in France for maintenance of a property. I went further back in the records, and it appears that they started about eighteen years ago and they abruptly stop three years ago. I cannot locate the details of this property or any evidence of its sale and am concerned that you may be in arrears for it.”

“Ah,” said Rochester with derisory laugh. “There was no property. Father was paying off my mistake – a French woman named Céline towards whom in my twentieth year, I had cherished a grande passion which Céline had professed to return with even superior ardor. Being the second son of extremely wealthy parents has its perks, Miss Eyre. I brought her to England, installed her in a hotel and bought her expensive gifts. One evening I happened to call on Céline when she did not expect me. She was not in, and I waited impatiently for her to return. As I stood on the balcony, I saw a carriage pull up and recognized Céline stepping out. A man’s figure stepped out of the carriage behind her.”

He stopped and motioned Jane to sit and she did. He looked at her keenly as he went on, “You never felt jealousy, did you, Miss Eyre? Of course not: I need not ask you, because you never felt love.”

He scowled and looked away, staring into the fire, his expression growing angrier with each passing moment.

“Did you leave the balcony, Sir?” Jane asked, fully expecting a rebuff.

Instead, Rochester continued without looking at her, “When I saw my charmer come in accompanied by a cavalier, the green snake of jealousy glided within me and ate its way in two minutes to my heart’s core. I waited for them silently and first heard their conversation as they entered. It was frivolous, senseless, and coarse and without energy or wit. When they entered her boudoir, the cavalier took off his hat, and I recognized him as a young roué of a vicomte – brainless, vapid, who was so despicable that he couldn’t be hated. On recognizing him, the jealousy was instantly broken and any love I might have felt for Céline was fully extinguished. A woman who could betray me for such a rival was not worth contending for. She deserved only scorn; less, however, than I, who had been her dupe.”

He stopped narrating as his demeanor grew darker. Then he said, “It did not end there, though. She was a trickster beyond my expectation. When my father sought me a partner for marriage, Céline threatened to make my indiscretion known to the world. To protect the family name, my father began to pay her off. The payments stopped when she died three years ago.”

Jane wasn’t sure what to say. A wealthy Englishman’s passion for a French woman and her treachery to him were everyday matters in society. She was quite certain that Céline must have been making another hundred pounds a year from blackmailing the vicomte. What surprised her was the intensity of hurt that still lingered from the actions of a woman, now dead, for whom he claimed to have no love left.

Unexpectedly, he turned to face her and said, “It was very generous of my father to pay her off on my behalf, won’t you agree?”

“It would appear so, sir,” said Jane.

“I am wrong then to think of my father as unkind, won’t you agree?”

“Generosity and kindness may not always go together, though,” replied Jane.

“You are sharp-witted, Jane,” Rochester said. Then he looked away and went on with derision, “I detest lies and all forms of deception. Céline’s custom was to launch into fervent admiration for my beauté mâle. I knew it then, as you confirmed in our second meeting, that I am not a handsome man. Yet I let myself believe her lies. And that was just the beginning of a series of bad decisions that coupled with the wronging of fate led me to a life of desperation and degeneracy. Now when I am disgusted to see a vulgar simpleton, I cannot flatter myself that I am better than he. On some level, he and I are the same.” He stopped and looked back at Jane and said passionately, “Dread remorse when you are tempted to err, Jane. Remorse is the poison of life.”

Jane felt sympathy for his tortured soul, and she said, “One does not err on purpose, sir. Errors stem from fear and confusion. After all, why would one want to do something one knew was wrong?”

Rochester’s face became set. He got up and turned away. “Go back to your work, Miss Eyre.”

Chapter 10

The complexity of the accounts made Jane realize that to do a proper job she would need to go to Ferndean Manor and go through the records kept there.

But when she went to Rochester’s study to tell him about it, he flatly refused. “You will not travel there,” he said standing up from his armchair. “It is a hundred miles away. I have an able man St. John Rivers who looks after that estate. I shall have all the records from there sent here.”

“That is unnecessary, sir. It will be much less trouble if I go there myself. I shall leave tomorrow morning.”

“With whom?”

“Robert has agreed to accompany me. I hope that is no trouble?”

“Robert is a faithful servant.” He sighed and sat back down. “Very well. How long will you stay?”

“As short a time as possible, sir.”

“Promise me only to stay a week—”

“I better not promise something that I may not be able to fulfill.”

“You are aware, Jane, that I am master of Ferndean? If you don’t come back in a week, I shall have you brought back.”

Jane was surprised at his vehemence but said, “If I have to do my job well, I must be thorough, sir.”

“Very well,” Rochester sighed and stood up again. “Do I get a farewell?”

Jane smiled. “Farewell, Mr. Rochester, for the present.”

“What?” asked Rochester, stepping closer to Jane. “All I get are these short and unfriendly words? Not even a handshake?”

Jane extended her hand.

“No,” said Rochester, turning away momentarily. “That wouldn’t make me any more content, Jane.” Then he turned back to face her and stood still staring at her till the dinner-bell rang.

At dinner he did not speak one word to Jane but carried on a conversation with Helen and the children.

Chapter 11

“I have heard praises of you from Mr. Edward, miss,” said a smiling, friendly St. John Rivers as Jane alighted from the carriage at Ferndean. “And Mr. Edward is never pleased with anything less than perfection.”

“Then I am obliged to tell you, Mr. Rivers, that he thinks very highly of you too,” Jane replied with a smile.

St. John smiled again as he led Jane into the Ferndean Manor. “Mr. Edward hardly visits this place anymore,” he said. “My father assisted old Mr. Rochester with caretaking of this estate and then after my father passed, I assisted him. I have been under Mr. Edward’s employ since he took over the estate. The estate originally belonged to the late Mr. Fairfax, Mr. Edward’s grandfather on his maternal side.”

“Oh, that is helpful,” said Jane. “While I was inspecting the accounts of Mr. Rochester’s father, I came across documents that led me to believe that there was a will regarding the estate of a certain Mr. Gordon Fairfax that would be relevant to understanding the inheritance for Mr. Rochester.”

“Mr. Gordon Fairfax was the name of Mr. Edward’s grandfather.”

St. John led Jane to the library where the records of the estate were preserved.

Over the next several days, Jane went through many relevant documents. She spent pleasant evenings with St. John and his two sisters – Diana and Mary. She grew immensely fond of all three of them, to an extent that she didn’t miss the children or even Helen. But she found herself becoming more and more melancholy till she had to acknowledge that she missed Edward Rochester.

She missed his clever, though sometimes cryptic, conversations. She missed the kindness that he would show at the most unexpected times. She missed something else about him as well but was too annoyed at herself to try to figure that one out.

It is madness, she told herself sternly, to let a secret love kindle within myself for a superior, who could not possibly intend to marry me. Her love would be unreturned and unknown and end up devouring her own life. She needed to destroy the love from her soul before it destroyed her. Therefore, she threw herself into her work with a passion.

Chapter 12

“You work tirelessly, Jane,” said Diana one evening. “I worry for you.”

“Don’t worry for her, Diana,” said Mary. “She enjoys it so much that I think she would be loath to rest.”

All three women laughed, and Jane caught sight of St. John looking at her with what could only be described as devotion. As Jane met his eyes, he first bashfully dropped his gaze and then looked up at her again, his eyes shining. Jane felt instantly awkward and soon excused herself to seek safety in her room.

It is only because I am not used to having a man stare at me, she tried to reason. But she knew that was not true. How many times had she found Rochester staring at her at dinner? She had never felt awkward and sought the safety of her room at those times. With Edward Rochester, she felt comfortable.

She paused for a minute and then thought, but Mr. Rochester’s look is not one of devotion, it is of possession. She shivered as she realized that what she missed most about him was feeling like she belonged to him.

Chapter 13

It was almost a month that she had been at Ferndean when Jane finally pieced together the puzzle of Mr. Gordon Fairfax’s estate. The estate of Gordon Fairfax, inherited by his daughter was willed to Edward Rochester, her younger son. Shortly after his mother’s death, the twenty-two-year-old Rochester had signed over his estate to his father who, in turn, had willed it to his older son, Rowland. Jane was disturbed by this strange setup and decided to return to Thornfield immediately to ask Rochester about it. When she informed the Rivers family about her decision to leave, they were all saddened. “No more than I am saddened to leave you, my friends,” Jane assured them.

That evening, after Diana and Mary had wished her farewell, St. John asked her to walk with him on the grounds. “We shall miss you, Miss Eyre. I shall miss you, Miss Eyre, Jane,” he said, fumbling slightly for words. He drew in an audible breath. “You are a singular woman, Jane. I have never seen the equal of your wit, intelligence, and dedication. I am sure you are not blind to my adoration and affections for you. But I am not certain of your feelings towards me. Tell me, Jane, will you marry me?”

Jane stopped and looked at the kind and earnest face of St. John. She wanted to say something – something kind. But she couldn’t imagine what words could soften the blow she was about to inflict on him. She hesitantly raised her hand in a feeble bid to comfort him.

St. John’s disappointment showed plainly on his face even though he tried valiantly to smile. “You need not say anything, Miss Eyre,” he said, taking a step away from her. “I have my answer. I wish you much happiness in life.” He bowed, kissed her hand, and left.

Chapter 14

When Jane returned to Thornfield after a two-day journey, the children and Helen were delighted. “Oh, Jane,” chided Helen. “You have been gone so long that I thought I should resort to writing letters to you once again.”

Jane hugged her friend. “I have indeed been gone too long.”

Varen informed her, “Uncle Edward went away soon after you did and brought back guests to stay with us.”

Adele chimed in, “A whole party of guests! They have been here for almost ten days now and they will be here for another three weeks!”

Jane laughed. “I am glad.”

“We should go, children,” Helen said a little abruptly and whispered to Jane, “I need to talk to you in private.”

“Let me inform Mr. Rochester of my observations from the accounts at Ferndean and I will fetch you immediately after.”

“Very well,” Helen nodded with a slight reserve.

Jane went to Rochester’s study but found no sign of him. Deducing that he might be taking a walk, she went out into the grounds and trembled in anticipation of meeting him when she saw him sitting on the stone steps on the other side of the house, a book and a pencil in his hand, writing. She stopped, trying to still her heart. She repeated the words of Mrs. Fairfax to herself, a gentleman of means will not marry a governess if he has any possibility of a more favorable alliance.

“Hello,” Rochester said as he saw Jane. “When I saw the carriage, I assumed it might be one of the house guests for I dared not hope that it would be you. You have been gone very long. Do you remember me, or do I need to reintroduce myself?”

“A reintroduction might be safer, sir,” quipped Jane, her voice shaking.

He stood up and bowed. “Edward Rochester, Miss Eyre.”

Jane laughed and they looked at each other for a long minute as his eyes took on that familiar look of possession, filling Jane with warmth.

“You have traveled from far, Jane,” Rochester said. “You must rest.”

Jane became somber and said, “Not before I can ask you why you signed that agreement, sir.”

Despite her enigmatic question, Rochester appeared to know exactly what she meant, and he became angry. “That agreement was signed eighteen years ago. I asked you to go over my father’s accounts from the last ten years. I did not give you permission to snoop into the legal documents from a generation ago.” He stood up and began to stride towards the house.

“Did your father and brother have some sort of a hold on you, sir?” Jane asked in a pleading voice, walking quickly to keep pace with him, knowing just how strange it sounded.

He stopped and looked at her coldly. “When did you start imagining that I owed you explanations, Miss Eyre?” Then he marched off even more angrily.

Chapter 15

“You may have to find a new position soon, Jane,” said Helen to her when she went to find Helen. Helen had taken Jane to her own bedroom and was talking in hushed tones.

“Why?”

“Mr. Rochester returned from his trip with the Honorable Blanche Ingram and Miss Ingram is not keen about a woman being a secretary,” Helen said, with worried eyes. “She isn’t keen about governesses either, but there is not much choice she has there. The children cannot yet go to school.”

Jane laughed. “If Miss Ingram is not keen about a woman being a secretary, let her not apply to be one. Why do I need to find a new position?”

“Because Mrs. Fairfax said that there is talk of Mr. Rochester’s marriage to her,” said Helen. “She is going to be the new mistress of Thornfield.”

Jane gasped and sat down heavily. Through her shock, she realized that the idea of having to leave Thornfield and Rochester hurt her much, much more than the loss of a lucrative job that would get her closer to her dream.

“Oh, how pale you look, my dear!” Helen exclaimed and fetched some water for Jane. “It may not be for a while, and I am sure you can find a good position by then. Or perhaps you can stay on here as governess and I will look for a new position.”

“Oh, my sweet Helen!” Jane cried fervently, holding Helen’s hand in hers. “You will do no such thing. If I am to lose my position, then I shall be the one to find another position.”

Chapter 16

Blanche Ingram was a fine, tall, buxom, proud woman that took great pains to ensure that everyone around her knew exactly what she was thinking. She took one look at whom she immediately christened plain Jane and announced loudly that she thought it was unwomanly to be a secretary.

For five long days, Rochester was too busy with his guests and did not speak or even look at Jane and often fixed his gaze on Blanche Ingram. Jane could hardly believe that Rochester would want to marry a woman who was the female counterpart of the vicomte that he had so despised. Miss Ingram’s conversations were, just as Rochester had described the vicomte’s conversation, frivolous, senseless, and coarse and without energy or wit. She was constantly making romantic advances towards Rochester but that was not what pained Jane. What was painful for Jane was to watch the repeated failures of Miss Ingram’s efforts while knowing exactly what she should have said or done instead to conquer his heart. It did not help that Rochester lavished his attentions on Miss Ingram while ignoring Jane.

However, Jane had begun to love Rochester and could not unlove him merely because she found that he had ceased to notice her.

Finally, on the sixth day, he summoned her to his study and asked her to double check some of his accounting numbers for tax handling.

“They look good, sir,” Jane said handing them back after she was done.

“We did not get a chance to talk since your return from Ferndean,” said Rochester, taking the documents from her hand. “How did you like Ferndean?”

“It is a nice place, sir.”

Rochester laughed sarcastically. “Damp and unhealthy, you mean. Be honest, Jane. I told you that I despise lies.”

“It wasn’t a lie,” Jane replied earnestly. “I found only the slightest dampness on the walls. Perhaps it is worse on certain days, but not so bad that I would call it unhealthy. It is much nicer than some of the places in which I have lived.”

Rochester drew a deep breath and rolled the documents held in his hand. “Did you like St. John?” he asked.

Jane almost blushed as she remembered St. John’s proposal and the reason for her rejection of it. “Decidedly, Sir.” But I would still choose you over every other man, she thought, even if you would never reciprocate my love.

She had often suspected Rochester of being capable of reading her thoughts and she was sure of it now, because he smiled at her with a certain smile he had of his own, and which he used but on rare occasions. He seemed to think it too good for common purposes and now he bestowed it on Jane.

After a minute, his eyes soft and his voice gentle, he said, “My life has been blighted by the consequences of a capital error, Jane. An error – perhaps even a crime. I returned from a voluntary banishment, heart-weary and soul-withered and I met a stranger whose society revives me. With her, I feel like I could live again in a higher, purer way. This gentle, gracious, genial acquaintance would turn this wandering and sinful man into a rest-seeking and repentant one. She is the embodiment of the ideals I once cherished. I am convinced that she is the cure for all my sufferings, the answer to all my longings and the healing my soul desperately needs.”

Jane was repulsed by the thought of Rochester praising Blanche Ingram in such hallowed tones and couldn’t hold his gaze. She looked away. “If that is how you view her, sir, then I…” she fumbled. Then she looked up, and said without a smile, “I congratulate you, sir.”

Rochester seemed ever so slightly surprised. “Her?”

“Miss Ingram, sir. I heard from Mrs. Fairfax that you are to be married to her.”

Rochester’s demeanor and tone changed. Gone were the softness and gentleness and were replaced by harshness and sarcasm. “Oh, so you have noticed my tender penchant for Miss Ingram, have you, Miss Eyre? If I married her, don’t you agree that she would regenerate me with a vengeance?”

No, sir, she is not worthy of you, Jane wanted to say, but she held her tongue and said nothing.

Rochester unrolled the documents in his hand and said, “It is good to have a secretary who can doublecheck these things for me. All this new tax documentation is tedious.” He walked over to the table to put the papers down.

“About that, sir,” said Jane. “You should find a new secretary and I should leave.”

Rochester took a few moments and replied without looking back at Jane. “Yes, Miss Ingram does not approve of you being my secretary. She has delicate sensibilities, my lovely one.” He turned to face Jane with a smile. “I know Miss Burns is also very good with numbers. Perhaps when I need someone to doublecheck my work, I can request her to do so, can’t I?”

Jane nodded. “Helen would be of great help.”

“Ah, but I will have to ensure that my sweet bride doesn’t find out that I seek Miss Burns’ help. She thinks it unwomanly to worry about numbers.”

Jane shuddered at hearing those words coming out of his mouth and said, “I should leave before Miss Ingram becomes your bride, sir.”

“Oh, yes, most definitely,” replied Rochester with a broad smile. “I would not want to upset my delicate darling. I shall find you a new position, one I hope that you will accept.”

“Very well, sir,” Jane said in a soft voice, afraid that the breaking of her heart might be audible to all.

Chapter 17

Three days later, the guests left, a week and a half before the original plan. Adele said that Thornfield suddenly felt empty. Jane felt that it was a relief to not have to constantly push down her feelings and keep up a pleasant appearance when all she wanted to do was sit hidden somewhere and weep.

Mrs. Fairfax came to Jane that evening. “Mr. Edward wants to see you right away. He is walking the grounds and has asked you to follow him eastwards.”

Jane went eastwards on the vast grounds in search of him and found him standing under a gooseberry tree, staring at a great moth. She was walking noiselessly, but somehow, he knew she was there even though he never turned to look at her.

“Jane, come and look at this fellow,” he said.

When Jane stood near him, he said, “Look at his wings. He reminds me rather of a West Indian insect.”

The moth flew away and Rochester stared at it till it could no longer be seen. He began to walk, and Jane walked alongside him, the setting sun casting long shadows ahead of them.

“Thornfield is a pleasant place, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” said Jane.

“You would be sorry to part with it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It is a pity that I must lose a paid subordinate such as yourself. We have been good friends, haven’t we, Jane?”

“Yes, sir.”

Rochester began to walk slower. “I have a strange feeling with regard to you. It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave, I am afraid that cord of communion would snap, and I have a nervous notion that I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you’d forget me.”

Stung at the accusation, Jane stopped walking and faced Rochester. “How?!” she asked forcefully. “I have lived a full life here. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. I have been happy. I have not been buried with inferior minds. On the contrary, I have been given wings to expand my mind by talking to an original, a vigorous, an expanded mind. I have known you, Mr. Rochester. And it strikes me with anguish to be torn from you. I see the necessity of departure and it is like looking at necessity of death.”

“Then why leave?”

“Because of your bride!”

“Jane, you must stay,” Rochester said.

But all the pain and hurt of the week came rushing back into Jane. Her voice shaking and tears springing to her eyes, she answered, “And become nothing to you? Am I a machine without feelings? Do you think I can bear to listen to Miss Ingram insult me while your silence shows me that you are complicit? You even repeated her words and called me unwomanly.” Jane’s voice broke and she struggled to add, “Do you think I can stand watching you, you, who is the best, greatest and smartest person I know, get married so beneath him?”

“Three days ago, you congratulated me on my choice!” Rochester roared.

“No, sir!” Jane said with vehemence. “I congratulated you on the majesty of the feelings you felt, even though the feelings were bestowed on someone unworthy of them.”

Rochester narrowed his eyes and turned away with angry derision. “You lied to me, Jane. I told you I detest lies and all forms of deception.”

“I did not lie to you, sir. I could not do that,” Jane said, beginning to shake. “You are in love with Miss Ingram. I do not understand why. But I do understand that that love has given you hope. I have watched in pain as you struggle with things from your past. And if she is what will deliver your tortured soul from suffering then you should marry her. My opinion of her doesn’t matter. You, of all people, deserve to be happy, sir.”

Rochester turned to face her. He seemed barely able to keep his violent emotions under control. He pulled Jane into his arms and with his face aglow in the orange sunlight, he said, “Then make me the happiest man alive, Jane. I offer you my hand, my heart, and my possessions. I ask you to pass through life at my side. Will you marry me?”

Chapter 18

Jane was so shocked at his unexpected words that she began to struggle to get out of his arms. “Are you mocking me?” she asked, even more hurt.

“Do you doubt me, Jane?”

“Entirely!”

As Jane struggled to move away, Rochester held her tighter. “Why?!” he thundered.

“Because your bride is Miss Ingram.”

He scoffed. “Miss Ingram! I told her that I was only the temporary master of my father’s estate which was divided by my father three ways between me, Varen and Adele. And the next day she got up and left. I may have been a fool where Céline was concerned. I haven’t been one where Blanche Ingram was concerned. Do you think I would want to marry her when I know you?! You Jane, you are my equal and my likeness. Will you be mine? Say yes, quickly!”

Jane stopped struggling. She was first confused but her expression soon became so angry that Rochester’s grip on her loosened. She pushed away from him and said, her tears turning angry, “You pretended to be in love with Miss Ingram and then misled her about your estate? Why? To test her integrity?”

“A test she failed!” Rochester declared.

“Then is this another test you have put before me where I must prove my integrity, honesty, loyalty…”

“No!” Rochester shouted, deeply moved, and stepped closer to try to hold her again. “Jane, I…” he fumbled and then said, “Jane, I love you.”

“You have tested me before,” Jane said, angrily removing his hands from her arms, stepping further away from him, as the angry tears continued to spill, “when you made deliberate mistakes in your accounting. And you brought Miss Ingram here to make me jealous, did you not?”

Rochester did not reply.

Suddenly, Jane’s eyes grew wider. “Is that also why you made Helen the governess of Adele and Varen? Did you wish me to be jealous of a dear friend?”

“Jane, you must let me explain,” he said in a desperate attempt at defense.

Jane’s voice was barely audible when she said, “And yet you ask me why I doubt you?”

“Shed your hot rain of tears on my breast, Jane,” Rochester pleaded. “Do not waste them on the ground. I never meant to wound you…”

“But you have, sir. You have wounded me so badly that I feel broken.” She stifled a sob, closed her eyes, and decided that she was not going to weep anymore. Only anger was now allowed to remain. She opened her eyes and they flashed with anger. “I have not a whit of faith that you didn’t mean to wound me.”

Rochester stiffened for a moment. “Then you know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable.” Then he stepped closer and said softly, “You are my treasure and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still.”

Jane shook her head and began to walk back towards the house as the sun disappeared and darkness descended on earth.

Chapter 19

“Jane! Will you hear reason?” Rochester cried and tried to pull Jane back to him. “Because if you won’t, I’ll try violence.”

Jane looked at him with horrified eyes, which took the rage out of his face. He stepped away from her, breathing erratically, and said hoarsely, “You don’t love me, then?”

Jane was in too much inner turmoil to reply.

Rochester dropped his gaze and swayed where he stood. He took a few unsteady steps towards the house, changed his mind, walked back, and said, clenching his fists and without meeting her eyes, “Jane, I am not a gentle-tempered man; I am not long-enduring; I am not cool and dispassionate. But can you listen to me?” He looked back up at her pleadingly.

Jane nodded slightly but no words came out.

“Well, then, Jane, I was not always this way. At your age, I was as good as you and almost as stainless. Nature meant me to be, on the whole, a good man, one of the better kind. I had ideals of love, trust, and kindness. But I was foolish. As you already know my life first took a turn at the age of twenty-one when I endured Céline’s treachery. I had looked upon her with the eye of love and the notion of love in my mind was murdered thereafter.” He stopped talking as if he had forgotten the use of words.

“You bemoan the loss, not of Céline, but of your ideals of love,” Jane said, now understanding the intensity of hurt that still lingered in him from the actions of a woman that meant nothing to him anymore.

Rochester held Jane’s gaze for a long moment. She could see that he wanted to say something but couldn’t. He turned away slightly and began to pace. “My mother had passed away a few months before. My father had always been glad that I was to inherit my mother’s estate because he had told me several hundred times that he would not split his estate. He was extremely displeased with my indiscretion with Céline and convinced me that I would only end up tossing all my mother’s wealth into the lap of some fallen woman.”

Rochester stopped pacing and his eyes were downcast when he said, “I had lost faith in myself completely and had no defense against his judgment. That is why I signed over my estate to my father. He assured me he would find me a wealthy bride and ensure I never lacked for money. She will steady your hand, he said to me.” He began to laugh, a bitter, mocking laugh. “It was a while before I realized that trusting my father and brother was a bigger foolishness than loving Céline.”

He turned to face Jane, took a step closer to her and said, “Did you know I was married, Jane?”

Jane’s eyes widened and mouth opened in bewilderment. She had not heard of this. Her immediate thought was why he would court other women, much less propose marriage to them if he was already married.

Rochester laughed mirthlessly as he appeared to read her mind as usual. “You have a very low opinion of me, Jane. But I assure you, it is not like you think. However, if marriage is what you can call it, then yes, I was once married. Mr. Mason, a West India planter and merchant, was my father’s old acquaintance who had a son and a daughter. The daughter was to be given a fortune of thirty thousand pounds and my father thought that was a grand enough fortune for his son, no matter who the bride. Soon after my fiasco with Céline, I was sent out to Jamaica, to espouse a bride already courted for me, Bertha Mason. She looked strikingly different than any woman I had seen but was quite beautiful. In the few meetings I had with her, she seemed docile and shy. I had not enough confidence left to ask whether I loved her when my father had chosen her as an appropriate match, and we got married promptly.” A look of pain came over his face and he turned away as if trying to hide it.

There was a long silence and Jane felt obliged to make him continue. “What happened then, sir?”

Rochester sighed and looked back at Jane. “Have you ever tried having a conversation with a statue, Jane? My bride wasn’t docile or shy. She was what doctors termed an idiot; practically incapable of intelligent conversation. She was simply a body, not a mind. It was several days before I realized this. Her parents and brother, unwilling to have her placed in an asylum, thought it a better idea to have her married. My father and brother had also known about her state. It was several months before I realized that.”

These declarations shocked Jane. “Why would they do that, sir?” she asked wide-eyed.

Rochester scoffed. “It doesn’t surprise me in hindsight. They both married solely for money, not for any consideration of love. They claimed they could not understand why I objected to their decision. Idiot or not, she is quite capable of bearing heirs for you, they said to me.” He snorted. “They knew very well I would object, of course. Otherwise, why hide it from me?”

He suddenly clenched his fists, and advanced towards Jane as if trying to control the frenzied rage that had come over him and asked through gritted teeth, “Do you know what it’s like to be caught in a marriage of deception perpetrated by your own family, Jane?”

Even though he was now angrily standing extremely close to her, Jane did not feel threatened. Instead, she felt tremendous sympathy for him and said softly, “No, sir.”

Her simple response appeared to affect Rochester deeply. The rage was replaced by bitterness. “That was when the notion of trust was murdered in my mind.” He took a deep breath. “Only kindness was left to be murdered.”

Jane asked him in the same soft voice, “Where is she now, sir?”

“Dead,” replied Rochester.

Chapter 20

Jane flinched. “I am sorry to hear that.”

Rochester stepped away from her and sneered. “You are? I was not.” He began to pace again. “Having married her, I had no way to be rid of her. But I pitied her and hoped for a while that I could help her. I took her to doctors in Jamaica. They pronounced what my and her family apparently already knew. She would never improve mentally and there was no telling if her physical health would allow her a life as short as twenty-five or as long as fifty. When I decided to bring her to England to seek the opinion of better doctors, my father informed me that he had kept my so-called marriage a secret. Even the wife of my brother, Rowland, was never made aware of Bertha because, in my father’s words, the idiot might die before bearing an heir. He said that he would only announce my marriage when she did bear me an heir.” He stopped pacing. “I was not vile enough to make her bear heirs for me.” Then he spat out, “But I was vile enough to take advantage of the secrecy of my marriage.”

He struggled for a moment and then turned to face Jane, as if owning up to all his sins. “Yes. That is what I did. I hired a servant whose fidelity I could trust, swore her to secrecy and lodged Bertha Mason in Ferndean Manor under her care.”

Jane started as the idea of Bertha Mason having lived in Ferndean Manor somehow made the poor woman more real to her.

“Even St. John and the Rivers family did not know about Bertha,” Rochester continued. Then a sardonic smile crept into his face. “Céline murdered my notion of love, and my family murdered my notion of trust. Then I murdered my notion of kindness with my own two hands. Instead of admitting her to an asylum, I left the woman – or maybe the statue – to exist by herself in the care of a servant she did not know in a place wholly unfamiliar to her. She lived on the third story in a small room.”

A cry of anguish escaped his lips. “Remorse is the poison of life, Jane. Whenever my remorse exceeded the bearing capacity of my increasingly cold heart, I returned to Ferndean to check on Bertha Mason. She did not care whether I was there or not. Or perhaps I convinced myself that it was so. She never quite talked and therefore I shall never truly know. But a few days of sitting and staring at a statue that continuously reminded me of my family’s treachery were usually enough to diminish the remorse and make my heart a little colder for next time.”

“What about her parents and her brother?” asked Jane. “Did they never want to visit?”

Rochester scoffed. “No. I suppose it was easier for them to pretend that I was taking great care of their daughter than find out that I really wasn’t.” He paused and added, “I am just as much a scoundrel as they, Jane.”

Jane’s heart overflowed with sympathy. “And what did you do when you were not at Ferndean?”

Rochester scoffed again and began to pace once again. “I told myself that my life had fallen apart because of my experience with Céline. Only if I could find proof that love could exist, perhaps I might turn my life around. I transformed myself into a will-o’-the-wisp and traveled every place I could think of in search of a good and intelligent woman.”

“But you could not marry, sir.”

Rochester laughed and mixed in the bitterness were notes of true amusement. “No. But it was hardly relevant. I could not find a single woman that truly captivated me. Even though I looked amongst English ladies, French countesses, Italian signoras, and German gräfinnen, I could not find her. The first few years, I held on to hope but the disappointment grew. Disappointment made me reckless. I tried dissipation—never debauchery: that I hated, and hate. But I did have two mistresses over the years, Giacinta and Clara. However, I never felt anything akin to love for them. Hiring a mistress is nothing short of buying a slave, Jane. The relationship is degrading to both, and I have regretted those ever since.” He stopped pacing and said, “Then four years ago, Bertha died from pneumonia.” His breathing became erratic when he said, “Pneumonia that was caused because I housed her in a damp, unhealthy house. I indirectly assassinated her. I killed her.” He fell to his knees, held his face in his hands and began to weep as he added, “I did not mean to kill her. I swear to you, Jane, I did not.”

Jane felt stomach-churning pity. “Ferndean isn’t damp and unhealthy, and you didn’t kill her, sir,” she said kneeling next to him. “You said yourself that the doctors could not predict her physical health.” But either he didn’t hear her, or he didn’t believe her.

“When the servant fetched a doctor to help Bertha,” Rochester said, still covering his face, “I told her to come up with some excuse for why Bertha was at Ferndean. And I never revealed to anyone that she was supposed to be my wife. I did not even afford Bertha Mason dignity in death.”

Jane could feel tears springing to her eyes and she put a gentle arm around Rochester. But he immediately threw off her arm and stood up. He began pacing again. “Just weeks later, my brother Rowland died. My father now named me as his heir. It did not matter to him that Rowland had two children. They can share what their mother has left them, he said. He hadn’t split his estate for his sons. He wasn’t about to do so for his grandchildren. How tremendously happy he was that apart from the estates he himself had, his heir had an additional fortune of thirty thousand pounds, earned through the murder of a helpless woman and his own son’s ideals. At Rowland’s funeral, his only words to me were, it is time for you to find a wife.” Then Rochester stood still and began to laugh loudly, with pain, hatred, and bitterness defiling the sound of the laughter. “What amuses me the most is that he forgot to say rich wife.”

Chapter 21

Jane slowly stood back up. In the darkness of the night, it was difficult to clearly see his face, but Rochester’s gaze was now fixed on Jane. “I had lost all hope of ever regaining so much as a glimpse of my lost ideals,” he said. “All the women I met were dull. Talking to them about ideals was like trying to show someone the way on a moonless, foggy night.” He stepped closer to Jane. “And then…” he began to slowly raise a hand to her cheek, “and then you came into my life like the dazzling sun of an Indian summer afternoon. I began to hope that I might still find those ideals that had been so brutally murdered over the years.” He had barely touched her cheek when he abruptly dropped his hand and turned away.

He needed a few minutes to start talking again. “But those years had turned me cynical. I refused to believe that you could be as unsoiled and untainted as I perceived. Perhaps it stems from ignorance about the cruelties of the world, I thought. But no. You had faced cruelties in your childhood and youth and remained strong enough to not let them affect your soul. Perhaps it is only a façade of intellectualism, I thought. But no. Every word you say has always been accompanied by well-reasoned arguments in its support. Perhaps she has been just lucky to reach the wisdom she has, I thought. But no. After a single lesson in accounting, you showed that you could learn and pointed out the errors I had hidden away in the document.”

Jane drew a deep breath. Her anger over the accounting incident dissipated in light of his confession.

Rochester continued, still facing away from her, “I was still afraid to accept that you were what I saw you to be. Perhaps she isn’t unique, and it was her circumstances that molded her, I thought. But no. When I invited Miss Burns, who I understood to be your closest friend at Lowood and similar to you in intellect and situation, I saw that Miss Burns is a remarkable woman,” he turned to face Jane, “but there is no one else like you, Jane Eyre.”

Jane blushed profusely but, in the darkness, Rochester did not see it. He looked away and took a few steps towards the house. “It was painful for me to watch you go to Ferndean – the place that had killed Bertha Mason. When you returned from Ferndean, I was relieved.” He laughed with real amusement, and it was the first time in the entire conversation that his laugh was not tinged by bitterness. “But in true Janian style, the first thing you asked of me was a confession I was not ready to give till now.”

Jane laughed too and blushed again, and this time she was sure that darkness or not, he would notice very much if he turned around to look at her.

But he did not and continued, “I did not bring Blanche Ingram here to make you jealous. Her visit had been planned long before I ever laid eyes on you. I knew about the rumor in the servant quarters about my intentions to marry her but never paid it heed.” He took a few unsteady steps towards a tree, put his hand on it and leaned his weight against it. “When I confessed my love to you, you instead congratulated me on wanting to marry Blanche Ingram, a woman, who by your own confession is so beneath me. I detest lies and all forms of deception. I could read in your eyes that you disapproved of my marrying Blanche Ingram, and yet you congratulated me. I cloaked my anger as sarcasm, and you did not see it.” He stopped and sighed.

Jane thought she should say something. But she was overwhelmed on realizing that Edward Rochester loved her, and it was she who had given him hope and she who could deliver his tortured soul from suffering and found herself incapable of speech.

“I did deceive Blanche Ingram about my inheritance, but it is not too far from the truth. I shall not leave Varen and Adele destitute in my will like my father did. And I wanted that woman out of my life permanently. The beginning of the conversation this evening was part-jest and part-sarcasm. I wanted to get you to confess that you disapproved the idea of me marrying Blanche Ingram. And I was convinced that if I pretended to be letting you go, you would profess your love for me.”

Before Jane could say anything, he stood up straight and laughed mirthlessly. The bitterness in his laugh was back. “So focused was I on securing my own happiness, that I did not pause to consider the possibility that you do not see me as a source of your happiness.”

He turned to look at her one last time and said, “Your dream has always been to build the charitable school and a trite, commonplace sinner like me should not expect you to drop it and pick me as a replacement. That would be too great a sacrifice. Go live your dream, Jane.” He took a few steps towards the house and said without looking at her, “Goodbye, Miss Eyre.”

“Mr. Rochester,” Jane began, “wait…”

But Rochester did not stop.

Chapter 22

Jane slept very poorly that night. While she had been aware of her love for Rochester, she had never expected him to reciprocate and had not considered that in case he did reciprocate her feelings, she would have to choose between her dream of building a charitable school and her love for him. How does one choose between two dreams equally dear to the heart? she cried to herself. She was very hesitant in the morning to leave her room. Should she stay? Should she leave? How could she face Rochester?

“Are you asleep still, my dear?” Mrs. Fairfax knocked gently on Jane’s door.

“I’m awake,” said Jane and opened the door.

“Mr. Edward left you this letter.”

“Oh, where is he now?”

“He left early this morning. Don’t think he means to return for a while. Well, I must hurry along now, my dear.”

Mrs. Fairfax left, and Jane immediately opened the envelope.

“Dear Miss Eyre,

You have been a governess and a secretary par excellence. I have attached a recommendation letter should you seek a similar position anywhere else. However, if you intend to start your own school, I suggest that you apply for a grant with Mrs. Temple of Guildford, –shire. She is a great philanthropist, and I have written to her about your many accomplishments. I am confident that based on your experience at Lowood Institution and Thornfield Hall, she would be willing to get you started towards your dream of building a charitable school. I considered bestowing a similar grant from my estate but have a notion that you may be reluctant to accept my funding. However, I do not claim to know your mind and if you are willing to accept my contributions, I would be honored.

Edward Fairfax Rochester”

Jane clutched the letter to her heart and a tear trickled down her cheek. One of her dreams was no longer one that could be pursued. Rochester had made the decision for her. Knowing him, she should have expected this.

Chapter 23

Jane was sitting in her bedroom in the newly erected building for the pupils and teachers at Lowood Institution. She lit a candle and eagerly opened the letter from Helen. Helen had been writing to her faithfully for the last ten months and Jane always first scanned the letter for the words “Mr. Rochester”. In this letter there was no mention of him beyond being informed that he was well. Jane was disappointed.

But Helen had informed her over the months that Rochester’s manners with the children were much improved, that he looked upon them as his own children and that after being away for three months after Jane’s departure, he had given up traveling altogether and now spent his time solely on the estate. Helen had shrewdly observed that “whatever he had been traveling for, he has found, but he is unhappy still.” On reading her words, Jane had felt guilty that she had never told Helen that the answer to that riddle was Jane.

Jane had also maintained occasional correspondence with Mrs. Fairfax and written a few letters to Varen and Adele. But she had found only one opportunity to write to Rochester, and that was to answer the letter she had been handed in Thornfield. She thanked him for introducing her to Mrs. Temple who took great interest in philanthropy for education and to let him know that they had enough endowments from other sources. Jane had struggled over that decision for a while but decided that if her achievements related to her first dream were directly traceable to him, then her two dreams would comingle and the argument she hoped to make would not work.

She had waited and hoped and prayed for a reply but had never received one.

Rather than follow Rochester’s advice and her original dream about building a school, at Mrs. Temple’s suggestion, Jane had decided to work with Lowood Institution to further reform its management committee, to increase its funding, to expand its outreach and to create a charitable institution for boys under the same management. Mrs. Temple’s generosity and passion helped remove any lingering effects that the school had suffered under the headmaster that Jane so despised.

By thus reinvesting in her old school instead of starting one from the ground up, she had accelerated the pace of achievement of her original dream regarding schools. She had deliberately accepted to do so to help her decide which of her two dreams would be the one she would pursue for the rest of her life. She was now sure and had informed Helen in her last letter that she wanted to return to Thornfield at the end of the winter and seek her old position again. But she had instructed Helen to keep it a secret for now because Jane wasn’t sure if Rochester would want her back.

Sitting in her room, Jane read Helen’s letter and again felt the disappointment about the lack of news about Rochester. She sighed and looked out the window and saw the silhouette of a carriage pulling up. It was already dark, and visitors were not common at the school this late in the day unless there was an emergency. Jane immediately got up to go greet the carriage, hoping that nothing was wrong.

“Robert!” Jane exclaimed on seeing that it was Rochester’s servant from Thornfield. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s good to see you, Miss Eyre,” said the old servant getting out of the carriage. He looked extremely worried and upset. “The master has had an accident. His horse slipped on ice and fell, and the master injured his neck.”

Jane was horrified. “Is he alright?”

Robert shook his head. “He was… He was blinded, miss.”

Jane staggered. “Blinded?!”

“Yes, miss. I fetched the doctor and the doctor said neck injuries sometimes do that.” He added, “Mrs. Fairfax has requested that I should take you back to Thornfield with me early tomorrow morning.”

Jane stumbled forward and said desperately, “Robert, please, can we please, please leave right now?”

Robert nodded. “Yes, miss. Miss Helen said you might request so and that I should be ready for it. We can leave as soon as you are ready.”

Chapter 24

“Jane!” Helen said rushing to greet and hug her friend, followed closely by Mrs. Fairfax.

“How is he?” asked Jane, tearfully.

“He is a lot better than he was when Robert left three days ago to fetch you,” replied Mrs. Fairfax.

Helen added, “The doctor said he may recover his vision still. He is resting now but the doctor should be here this evening.”

They entered the house and went to the small parlor. “Sit by the fire, my dear,” said Mrs. Fairfax. “I will get us some tea.”

“You made good time, Jane,” Helen said, sitting next to Jane. “You must not have rested at all on the journey.”

“I couldn’t,” said Jane, stifling a sob.

“Hush now, my dear,” said Mrs. Fairfax entering with tea. “Keep hope. The doctor said several times that blindness from neck injuries is often just temporary. He bandaged Mr. Rochester’s eyes to allow them to heal. He will be taking off the bandages today when he gets here.”

Jane nodded and said, “Thank you for sending Robert for me.”

Helen and Mrs. Fairfax exchanged glances. Then Helen said, “You may not have said anything, Jane. But I have known you for ten years and read it in your words in your letters just as easily as I see it in your eyes now.” She put her hand on Jane’s shoulder.

“Read what?” asked Jane.

“The answer to why Mr. Edward desperately looks out for mail every day,” said Mrs. Fairfax, “and why he still carries around the only letter you have written to him on his person.”

Jane couldn’t breathe and sputtered, “Mrs. Fairfax, you once told me that a gentleman of means will not marry a governess if he has any possibility of a more favorable alliance.”

Mrs. Fairfax said, “I still believe that. But I have now seen that Mr. Edward has the possibility of the most favorable possible alliance – an alliance of love.”

Jane began to weep, and the other two women hugged her to provide comfort.

Chapter 25

When the doctor arrived that evening, Jane entered Rochester’s room behind the doctor, Helen, and Mrs. Fairfax. Rochester was lying in bed, his eyes bandaged. The sun was already low on the horizon, but the room had been darkened even further on instructions of the doctor and Helen placed a single lit candle in one corner of the room and placed a screen in front of it to shield the flame from direct view.

“How are you today, Mr. Edward?” asked the doctor.

“Who is that?” asked Rochester startled, as he stretched his hand out and sat up.

“It’s your doctor, sir,” answered Mrs. Fairfax.

“No, not him.”

Mrs. Fairfax smiled at Jane and added, “We also have a visitor who has come a long way to see you.”

Shaking with emotion, Jane walked up to him, took his outstretched hand in hers and sat down next to him, facing him.

“Jane Eyre,” whispered Rochester. “But it can’t be.”

“Why not?” asked Jane.

“Because I do not imagine myself so lucky as to be able to see her face again,” Rochester said, his voice cracking.

“When the doctor takes off those bandages, you won’t need to imagine, sir,” said Jane, as tears streamed down her face.

“How appropriate then to have her be the first one you see when I take the bandages off,” said the doctor with a big smile.

Jane and Rochester tightly held hands as the doctor removed the bandages. Rochester squinted and blinked as his eyes accustomed to the light, which though dim, was bright to eyes that had not seen light for over three days.

His gaze fixed on Jane’s face. “I can see,” he said.

As Mrs. Fairfax and Helen sighed in relief and smiled, the doctor said, “Well, then my work here is done for today. I shall see you tomorrow, Mr. Edward.”

Mrs. Fairfax and Helen left with the doctor. “Thank you, doctor,” Jane said looking at them leave and close the door.

Chapter 26

Jane looked back at Rochester whose gaze had not left her face and was still holding hands with her.

“Jane.”

“Yes, sir?”

“What brings you here?”

“A dream, sir. The hope of realizing a dream.”

“Your dream was to build a school.”

“It was, sir. Then even though you proposed marriage to me, you said I could not pick you as a replacement dream and cast me away, thus making it imperative that I go and realize my first dream. Now with that other dream realized, I can say with full knowledge that I would rather choose you over it, as a better choice, not as a sacrifice. And I have come here because I fervently hope that you are still willing to marry me.”

Rochester backed away slightly, as he let go of her hands, and his face filled with disbelief. “Are you mocking me?”

“Do you doubt me, sir?”

“But you don’t love me.”

Jane eyes filled with tears as she took his hands back in hers. “If you can’t tell that I have been in love with you all this time, then sir, you still are blind.”

Rochester was overcome by a violent emotion, and he let go of Jane’s hands and grabbed her by her arms. “Jane, do you love me?”

“Of course, I do, sir.”

His grip on her arms tensed and he shook her, his eyes taking on the possessive look. “Jane, will you marry me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Say, Edward—give me my name—Edward, I will marry you.”

“Edward, I will marry you.”

Rochester kissed a half-smiling, half-weeping Jane. Then he hugged her tightly for a very long time and kissed her repeatedly.

A while later, there was a knock on the door and Mrs. Fairfax said without opening the door, “The doctor said Mr. Edward should get some rest.”

Jane laughed. “I will be right out, Mrs. Fairfax.”

“I could have sat with you till morning,” said Rochester, struggling to let go of a glowing Jane.

Jane smiled. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my love,” he said, pulling her in for one last kiss before reluctantly letting her stand up. As she was about to leave, he caught her hand again and murmured, “My fairy from Elf-land, come on an errand to make me happy and to be mine. Shall I wake tomorrow and find this all a dream?”

Jane touched his cheek. “No, Edward. I belong to you. I always have.”

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Article image courtesy: 20th Century Fox – Photoplay, December 1943 (page 22), Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=51133842