Jane Was Here (28 page)

Dearest angel,

I have no appetite, no rest, no strength, and barely enough spirit to manage this reply, after a night lying awake with the choice I must make pressing down upon me like a lid of stone.

Yesterday after Mrs. S brought your letter, and before I had a chance to read it in private, Ellis called at the house. He brought a gift – a pretty brooch wrought of gold – two roses entwined – that had belonged to his mother (who died when he was a small boy). I was happy to fix it to my blouse without the donor knowing that instead of interpreting the roses to be myself and Ellis, in my thoughts I assigned to them our own names, Jane and Lysander entwined.

I concede Ellis has been very gentle with me of late, with no trace of his former mockery. Indeed he seems to want to know my mind, inquiring my opinion on all manner of subjects, whether music, books, or abolition. He quietly listens to my responses and then praises my intellect and character, declaring I am his better in every way and that he would make it his life’s labor to be worthy of me. His first step will be to free Dorrie, his father’s slave-woman! (I shall only believe this when it is done.)

Then he sought to know how many children I should like to have, adding that he fancied six. “What if I answered none?” I asked boldly – for I thought I saw a way to end the engagement right then and there. He replied that he would respect my wishes, for my reasons must be well considered or I would not have them. He finished by saying, “I cannot believe you have any flaw, Jane, I worship you so entirely. You are my faith, where before I was without any.” After he left I did not know what to think. Either there was some cunning in his fair speech, or I have been wrong to detest him. How far can such a sinner change?

That question returned to haunt me after I read your letter. You offer me an escape from hell into heaven – no less. To join Gabriel Nation by your side has been my dream. You have often described the life as very hard. I am equal to arduous work and prayer, to sickness, poverty and privation, and the persecutions by those who do not accept the prophet’s way. It would be easy, for the love of God and for you, Lysander – love is, and ought to be, easy. If only that were all that God demanded of His Gabrielites!

It is harder to repudiate my family, as you did. Do I have the courage? Perhaps I do. It would not matter if we fled in secret, as you suggest, or if we told them our intention openly – the blow would hurt the same. But there is another impediment to my escape, against which my courage would fail if put to the test.

You have always been truthful to me about the rigors of self-sacrifice at Gabriel Nation – particularly, that all those entering must be of an incontestable chastity. I do retain my innocence, as you know right enough. But I am far from truthful, my Lysander, and I shall be honest now. I have tried so hard to overcome my weakness, when you have held and kissed me – I told myself that innocence was a matter of resolve, and of resolve I had plenty. Yet now when you propose a lifetime spent in resolute purity, I suddenly see my true fiber. It is weak and will not hold.

The truth is – I long for the love that vanquishes chastity. I would be married, and receive a husband’s caresses, and bear children. All this time indeed have I wanted those things with you, though I tried to smother my desire and become the higher being you wished. But God has made me so – an ordinary sinner, unworthy of more. Do not squander another prayer on me, nor write. My love, go to Gabriel Nation alone. I will marry Ellis, and maybe I will be happy. Certainly everyone thinks I should be.

It is dawn, and the world feels unutterably strange on this new day – the first day of honesty, the first without hope. Ellis believes I have no flaw, and you have tried to exalt my purity – I am a false idol for you both. I cannot write more, my heart will break

Dear Lysander,

I hope I may trust the new hired girl with this missive. She has not been long enough with us for me to know her character well, but perhaps the money I have given her is enough to seal her loyalty. I thank God you did not follow my directive and you are still in Graynier. I could not know, when I wrote my last letter, that the most appalling reversal was yet to come.

Ellis came to see me today. Papa was at work, and Rebecca had gone out to call on someone, she said, though she mysteriously refused to say whom. I soon learned why.

The minute Ellis entered I could see his demeanor was changed. In his eyes was hard contempt, and an unpleasant sparkle of triumph. Once seated in the parlor, he requested a glass of water, and when I called for the girl he said he would rather have it poured by my own hand because he should like to know the taste of holy water. His tone was very impertinent. I ignored it – as I conceived I must often do after becoming his wife – and remarked gently that we had only ordinary water to offer whether or not I touched it.

“What?” he feigned surprise. “You’re not an angel yet?” He appeared to derive an almost sensuous enjoyment from my look of confusion. He continued, “I thought you might have received your angelical diploma from the infinitely immaculate Mr. Trane.”

I was overcome with dread and could not speak. He would not relent – he desired to know why Mr. Trane’s kisses had not elevated me to sainthood, were they deficient? Then he laughed, saying I was beautiful enough without beatification.

I found my voice and demanded to know his reason for addressing me thus. At that he pulled from his jacket a bundle of letters. Lysander, I believed those precious pages well hidden, never dreaming anyone would look under the wedding linens in my hope chest. I did not reckon upon Rebecca’s habitual larceny, or her spite. She found them – every page written in your hand to me – while I was out visiting Emerald in the shed – and then – my own sister!
– straight away she brought them to Ellis.

I expect Rebecca thought this evidence of our secret relation would compel Ellis to break our engagement. On the contrary, he said it relieved him to know that I was no paragon, no miracle of virtue, and therefore he was quite content to revert to his old religion, which was to believe in nothing – and he called me a hypocrite, a minx, and a little fool – as if these were tenderest endearments.

He would still marry me, he said. He would still love me, moreover, but not as before, for I am someone he may now look down upon which was a great deal more comfortable than the view to be had on one’s knees.

My temper rose at this. I retorted that the only liaison between man and woman he had known or would ever understand was one in which both are debased – that I felt no shame for loving you from a pure heart. Nay, I had only shame for allowing myself to be forced into such an abhorrent engagement with himself! I insisted he release me at once from my obligation. Then I held out my hand for the return of my property.

He thrust the letters back in his pocket and grinned, saying he liked me best in a state of outrage, it put him in mind of the day I jumped from his carriage, dressed as a servant girl – it was then he fell in love with me, knowing that life with such a woman could never be dull.

I asked him to what purpose he would marry someone who hated him. By this time I was weeping. He seemed to turn sorry for an instant, and took hold of my face and said, “Kiss me, Jane. You will forget your half-wit monk.” I covered my mouth with both hands rather than accept. He let me go, and left the house without another word.

Oh Heavenly God, the difference between his touch and yours! I had rather submit to the clutch of serpents.

I cannot live without you, my Lysander – I will go with you – I renounce marriage and children – father, sister – this wicked village – only take me to Gabriel Nation and I shall gratefully assume any penance – for love of God – it is the only way forward.

Now indeed, dearest, you should follow my instruction. Depart from Graynier tomorrow, alone. Give no one an expectation that you will return. A day’s walk will take you to Huxberry, where you may stay at the tavern. Wait three days there. Ellis will believe you have conceded the field. But he will watch me carefully all the same. I shall seem contrite and docile, so that he will think me broken.

On Saturday, there will be the Founder’s Social on the lawn of Graynier Glass. The townspeople will all be there, with the Grayniers hosting. I shall feign a migraine and stay home. Return to Rowell Hill, taking the way through the woods where you will not be seen. Wait for me at our Eden, beside Farmer Quirk’s wall. I shall come to you past noon, and never turn back to home again. God help us!

Forever your
Jane

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

J
ack Meltzer believes in giving people a chance. That’s what he had given Hoyt Eddy: every chance.

His wife Audrey was the first one to spot the huge hole in their lawn from the helicopter. On landing, she found the well nearly empty, gritty brown water flowing from the faucets, a poisoned dead mouse in the sauna, and wine bottles flung in the pachysandra. She showed the bottles to Jack, and with a sinking heart he went down to the wine cellar. The blatant gaps in the rows of prize vintages mocked him for his overly trusting nature.

“If I ever see that
shikker
again I will rip him a new one,” Audrey raged, bursting into tears. When Jack left to buy groceries, she was being comforted in broken English by Silvio Pereira, their new caretaker.

“Seen anything of Hoyt Eddy lately?” he asks at the liquor store. Not for a few days, they tell him. On impulse he asks for directions to Hoyt’s house. He’d rather fire him in person. Jack considers Hoyt a friend. But when an employee disappoints you repeatedly, he is asking to be dumped, and you should mercifully grant his request.

It was obvious Hoyt had problems when he came to the Meltzers as a handyman: why else would a highly educated, handsome and charming man be reduced to menial work? Jack elevated him immediately to property manager.

Now Jack will have no one to get down with on a fading summer afternoon. He’ll miss their lively conversations. Hoyt had an encyclopedic knowledge and a way of pulling obscure quotes out of the air. For instance, when Jack mentioned a business adversary who became tangled up in his many maneuvers and lost a deal, Hoyt cited some Greek poet: “The fox has many tricks, the hedgehog only one. One good one.”

Maybe he used up his one good trick
. As Jack reaches the dead-end on Old Upper Spruce Lane, turning onto the twisty rutted dirt road to Hoyt’s house, he worries that Hoyt may be in some kind of deep shit Jack doesn’t know about. Rounding the bend, he glimpses patches of red paint beneath a big pile of branches half-hidden by the pines. Hoyt’s Ford pick-up.

Why would he want to hide his truck?

Meltzer parks beside the house, trying Hoyt one more time on his cell. As it rings, he notes that some of the windows have new panes with stickers still on them. Others are broken, the ground beneath glittering with glass shards.

Hoyt doesn’t pick up. His voicemail announces his mailbox is full.