Midsummer at Eyre Hall: Book Three Eyre Hall Trilogy (13 page)

I was helping Blains fix a fence when
we saw Shirley’s carriage rushing at full speed towards us. Every nerve in my
body tensed. I knew something had happened to Jane. I dropped the tools I was
using and flew out.

“Michael! It’s Jane. She’s locked
herself in the kitchen.” She breathed deeply holding back her sobs. “She says
she’ll kill herself because she won’t go back.”

I jumped on the wagon and took hold of
the reins. “Wait Michael,” she said, “My bother should come, too. There’s going
to be trouble. There are four men in the cottage. I’ve never seen them before.
One is dressed like a real dandy, another one looks like a constable, and the
other two don’t look friendly.”

Blains was standing beside the carriage.
“I’ll go with you, Michael.” He jumped up with me and turned to his sister.
“Shirley, take the large carriage and drive into town. Bring Tom, Pete, Sam,
and as many men as you can to Primrose Cottage fast.”

When we arrived, we kicked the back door
open with two sharp thrusts. Jane was crying on the floor, huddled in a corner
with a long kitchen knife in her hand.

I dropped to the ground and tried to
take the knife, but she held it, with a wild look in her eyes. “Jane, please
give me the knife.”

“Michael, I’m not going back. I’ll kill
myself before going back. I’m never going back.”

“You’re not going anywhere. No one will
take you away from me.”

She loosened her hold on the knife and I
embraced her. She was shaking like a leaf in a storm.

I heard John and another man’s voice
shouting on the other side of the kitchen door, which led to the living room.

Blains moved the sideboard Jane and
Shirley must have managed to push in front of the door, and kicked the door
open. “Get out!” he shouted at the intruders. 

The older man spoke. “We have no business
with you, sir. We have come to take this madwoman, Mrs. Mason, back to Grimsby
Retreat and that murderous criminal to prison. You will not get in our way.”

I pulled Jane up and led her into the
dining room. “Jane isn’t going anywhere. You had better go back from where you
came. You are not welcome here.”

The older man turned to Blains. “My name
is Mr. Poole and I am warden at Grimsby Retreat. This lunatic escaped and that
man is a murderer,” he said, pointing at me. “If you aid these criminals you
will be accused of being their accomplice.”

Poole; the man the keeper had said had
broken Jane. I looked at the rings bursting to be set free from his overgrown
fingers, and heard the sounds of his bones cracking as I broke them off one by
one.

“I’ll cut your tongue out before I kill
you if you accuse Jane of insanity once again,” I said.

   He raised his arm and pointed a
finger at me. “You killed one of the keepers.”

“Michael killed no one,” Jane said.

“Mother, the keeper was found in a yard,
ripped to pieces by a pack of hounds, and he was seen in the vicinity.”

“Michael knocked him out so that we
could escape, that was all. He was alive when we left him.”

John turned to me. “How did you manage
to escape?”

“I gave the keeper a guinea.”

“You expect us to believe you bribed the
keeper with a guinea to set my mother free?”

Jane squeezed my arm. “Tell him the
truth, Michael. Tell John why you gave him the guinea. He has to know.”

I spoke to the two grim-faced men
standing behind Poole. “Wait outside if you value your lives. This has nothing
to do with you.” Blains and I were twice their size, and furious enough to
carry out our threat. Poole saved their lives by waving them out.

I put my arms around Jane, who was still
shaking. “I offered him a guinea to let me rape her in the garden shed. I found
out it was common practice in the Retreat. When we were in the shed, I knocked
him unconscious.”

“You are a liar. That does not happen at
Grimsby Retreat,” said Poole.

I turned to John. “Did you know your
mother was chained to a bed in a dungeon and attacked by this man, who is about
to die?”

Poole waved his warms wildly. “She’s a
liar and a madwoman.”

“I warned you, Poole, you’ve just lost
your tongue, so what you say in the next few minutes better be a confession or
you’ll burn in hell, after a very slow and painful death.”

Poole was sweating profusely. “Mr.
Rochester, call the constable at once. We are not safe. They are both
criminals, liars and lunatics.”

“I have proof,” Jane whispered.

“Proof of what, Mother?”

“I have proof he forced me.”

Poole smirked. “This is outrageous.”

Her fingers dug into my arms. “He has a
tattoo.”

“Jane, you don’t have to tell them,” I
said.

 “Do you believe me, John, or do I have
to tell you how I saw it and what it looks like?”

Her son was silent.

I lowered my lips to kiss her hair. “Jane,
you don’t have to prove anything.”

 “I’m afraid I do, Michael. I have to
tell you all what happened. I haven’t told any of you yet. I thought I’d
forget, but I can’t, Michael. I see the dragon every night in my dreams. I
can’t get it out of my mind. The dragon has a long sharp tongue, which tastes
vile.”

I buried her head into my chest. “Jane,
don’t, my love.”

“Michael, he has a dragon tattooed on
his thigh.” She turned to her son. “I was very close when I saw it. Why do you
think I was so close, John?” 

Poole dismissed Jane with a wave of his
hand. “Anyone could have told her I have a tattoo on my thigh. She could have
heard the guards speaking. Everyone knows I have a dragon. I even boast about
it.”

“I pierced it with a hair pin, one of the
silver butterfly ones you gave me, Michael. They had inadvertently left it in
my hair. I stuck it in the centre of the dragon’s head and pulled it down
towards its tail with all my strength. He bled profusely and then they chained me
to the wall.”

So, this was the reason for Jane’s
nightmares. This was why she wouldn’t let me make love to her.

She was wiping her tears. “There must be
a recent scar running through the tattoo.” 

“Pull down your trousers. Now,” said
Blains.

“I will not show my thigh because of a
false accusation from this madwoman.”

Blains’ fist landed on Poole’s mouth,
knocking his front teeth and tumbling him to the floor. Poole pulled his sleeve
across his bloody mouth and dragged himself up.

“You better pull your trousers down now,
Poole,” I said.

“There’s a scar on my dragon, but she
didn’t do it. It was an accident.”

“What type of accident Mr. Poole?” asked
John.

“In the river. I hit a rock. It happened
recently.”

Blains grabbed his coat and spat into
his face. “A rock which conveniently cut you from the dragon’s head to its
tail?”

I turned to Jane. “You don’t have to see
this again.”

“Michael, I want to see it again, while
I’m safe with you.”

That was all I needed to hear. I turned
to Blains who tugged his belt, shaking him vigorously. “Your trousers. Down.
Now.”  

Jane cried when she saw the dragon image
sliced down the centre by a swollen pink scar.

“Are you happy now, John? Have you
humiliated and hurt your mother enough? What more are you planning on doing to
her?”

His eyes bulged and the veins on his
neck throbbed. “It’s your fault. I didn’t want her to marry the likes of you.”

“Of course, you had her incapacitated so
you could take over the estate. Very convenient for you.”

“I did it to stop the wedding.”

“Did you know where your mother was? Have
you ever been to Grimsby Retreat? Have you seen where you sent her?”

“The archbishop said…”

“Blame someone else, John Rochester, as
you always do. When are you going to admit that you’re a coward and a thief?
Stealing from your own mother. A mother you never deserved.”

John turned to Jane. “Mother, I had no
idea. I did it for your own good. Come back, without this scoundrel. All is
forgiven. Come back.”

“I never want to see you again, John. I’m
never going back to Eyre Hall, ever. That’s what you always wanted. Keep it,
all of it. I don’t care about it anymore.”

Poole pulled up his trousers. “Let’s go
Mr. Rochester. We are not safe here.”

“You heard your mother,” I said to John.
“Get out before I change my mind.”

John walked towards the door with Poole
at his heels. I held up my hand and Blains caught Poole’s arm, pulling him
back. I turned to John. “This criminal will stay here with us. Make sure that the
Retreat gets another superintendent, because this one won’t be returning. I’ll
also have you know that complaints about Grimsby Retreat have reached London,
as has your appalling behaviour with your mother, who as you know, is well
known and loved in the city. You had better look into that devilish place,
where you had your mother locked away in order to have her declared insane to
manage the Rochester Estate ahead of your time, or your reputation and honour
will be at stake.”

As he turned to leave, I made sure he
was scared enough not to bother us again. “And make sure your back is covered
from now on, John Rochester, because one day…”

Jane held my hand. “Michael, please,” she
said and turned to her son. “Go. Leave us alone.”

When John turned to leave, Poole cried
out, “You can’t leave me here Mr. Rochester. Call the constable!”

“Go back to Eyre Hall and don’t look
back John,” I said as I pulled open the door. I watched John get into his
carriage with the two men who had been waiting outside as Shirley’s wagon
arrived. Blains’ helpers jumped out and rushed into the house.

Blains had secured Poole’s hands behind
his back and now turned to me. “What shall we do with him?” he asked, smiling
at the men who had just arrived.

“Take him to the hidden cove and get him
on a boat. Make sure it has everything we need for a short trip. I’ll be there
tomorrow at dawn.” I moved away from Jane and whispered some more instructions
to Blains. They all left, ignoring Poole’s pathetic pleas for mercy as they
dragged him out to his gruesome fate.

When they left Jane asked, “What will happen
to him?”

“Nothing he doesn’t deserve.”

“Michael, promise me you won’t kill him.
I’ll die if you’re hanged.”

“I promise nobody will kill him. We’ll
teach him a lesson and let him go. It’ll be up to him to survive.”

“What if he returns?”

“Believe me, Jane, he won’t be
returning, ever. Trust me.”

“Of course I trust you, Michael. At
least now you know everything. You know why you can’t make love to me anymore.”

 “I love you, Jane. There’s no reason
why I can’t make love to you. I think about you every minute of the day.”

“You heard what he did to me. He’s
ruined me. That dragon, it’s why I can hardly sleep or eat without feeling
afraid or disgusted or both. It’s why I wake up in the middle of the night, or
remember during the day, and I tremble and can’t breathe. It’s why I’m soiled.
I can’t make love to you. I’m not good enough for you anymore.”

I couldn’t tell Jane, but tomorrow Poole
would die a slow and dreadful death, but not slow or dreadful enough.

“Don’t ever say that, Jane. You’re the
most precious person in the world to me. I’d never hurt you, or do anything you
don’t want me to do. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as you need, but don’t
lock me out, don’t keep me away from you, Jane.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t…”

“Tell me. Make me understand.”

“You heard me. He forced me to do
things, disgusting things.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over
and you’ll never see him again.”

She covered her face with her hands and
cried. “I’ll never forget the tattoo, the smell, the pain, or the humiliation.”

I put my arms around her. “It’s over
now, Jane.”

She pushed me away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t ask me not to touch you. I don’t
care what he made you do.”

She took a step backwards. “But I do,
Michael. I care and I can’t forget it. You can’t love me. Nobody can. I hate
myself.”

“I love you, Jane. You are not something
that happened to you in the asylum. I can’t live without you. Let me kiss you,
Jane, let me prove that I don’t care.”

She turned away to face the wall. “I
can’t,” she said.

I put my hands on her hunched shoulders.
“Do you still love me, Jane?”

“Yes, of course I love you, Michael.”

I turned her round gently. “Then look
into my eyes, nowhere else, just my eyes, and say my name.”