Midsummer at Eyre Hall: Book Three Eyre Hall Trilogy (19 page)

“Michael, that’s a wonderful idea. How
much does Mr. Blains want for his business?”

“I haven’t asked him yet, but we don’t
have any money saved up at the moment.”

“Are we still in danger, Michael?”

“Write to John with your plans. I should
think he’ll be glad to hear we’ll be staying in Cornwall.”

“Perhaps, but we still need some money
to buy the fishery,” said my mother.

“Perhaps Mr. Smythe could negotiate a
bank loan?” said Michael and I heard my mother agree.

“If you could you write to Mr. Smythe,
Jane, I’ll speak to Mr. Blains.”

 “Do you think Helen would be safer and
happier at a boarding school?” my mother asked.

“We’ll ask her, but she seems happy
here. You’re teaching her history and she’s reading the classics. She’s
learning French with you at school. Shirley’s teaching her how to embroider and
bake cakes. I’ll buy a piano as soon as I can afford it, so you can teach her
to play. She’s got the dogs and her books, too.”

“Helen asked me if she could invite a
friend from Lowood during the summer. She has no family, and Lowood is such a
sad place during the holidays. What do you think?”

“Perhaps we should wait until we’re
completely safe. She’s got a friend here. I think she’s busy and happy enough,
don’t you?”

“Max is a good boy. He’s very kind to
Helen.”

“I find it hard to get used to the idea
that Helen is growing up. She was a child a few months ago, playing with her
dolls, and now she’s in love. I don’t want you to lose her so soon.”

“She’ll be with us for a long time yet,
Michael, but she’ll leave when her time comes. It’s you I want by my side
forever.”

Then they were silent. I supposed they
were kissing. I wondered what it would be like to kiss Max. My heart started
rushing, and my breathing quickened. Minutes later, my head spun and my stomach
churned. I felt something warm and wet slide down my legs. I lifted my
nightgown. There was blood on my drawers. I screamed and my mother rushed up.

****

My mother was sitting by her writing
desk and I was practising arpeggios on the piano Michael had bought. “Mummy,
will you teach me to play Fur Elise? It’s my favourite, and you play it so
well.”

“Of course I will darling, but you need
to practise more.” She closed her book and took my fingers in her hands. “Your
hands are small and your fingers are stiff.” 

“My fingers are swollen with
chilblains.”

She rubbed them between her hands and
blew softly. She was so kind and loving. I couldn’t love her more if I tried.

“Would you play Fur Elise for me,
please?”

“I haven’t played for a long time.” She
squeezed her eyes in pain. “Since I was at Eyre Hall.”

She held me close and smoothed my hair.
I thought she might be crying because she was trembling. I didn’t want to be
anywhere else, but I didn’t want her to be sad.

Michael opened the door and rushed towards
us. “The two most beautiful women in England.” He put his arm around us both
and kissed our heads.  “I should have come home sooner.” 

I turned to Michael. “I think Mummy’s
sad.”

“We’ll have to do something about that,
won’t we Helen?”

“I asked her to play Fur Elise.”

“Perhaps you’d prefer to play Vivaldi’s
Four Seasons.” He lifted the lid on the piano stool and rummaged through the
music sheets. “Spring,” he said.  Jane looked up and his lips were on hers
before she could speak, and just like that her face melted into a smile and she
looked pleased.

“Would you like to play it for us, my
love?”

She took the sheet, placed it on the
music stand and sat at the stool.

She frowned at her fingers and the keys.
“Let me practise a few minutes first. I haven’t played for a long time.”

She studied the sheet and practised some
chords and notes. Michael whispered in her ear, but I heard him. “You look
beautiful, Jane.” He kissed her neck. “This is my favourite choker and my
favourite dress.”  She stopped playing, leaned back against Michael’s chest,
closed her eyes, and looked like an angel. He stroked her hair and inhaled.
“Your hair smells delicious, and it’s grown.”

“I’ll be able to wear a bun again,
soon.”

“I like your hair loose around your
face, caressing your neck.”

She stood, put her arms around him, and
buried her face in his chest. It seemed like a private moment, so I went to the
kitchen with Shirley.

When I heard the piano, I went back to
the dining room and Michael beckoned me to his side. He put his arm around my
shoulder and whispered, “We need to look after your mother, and make sure she’s
happy again. Will you help me?”

“She is happy, when you’re here.”

He nodded and he squeezed my shoulder.
“You make her happy too, you know.”

Shortly after Shirley left, I heard the
bell as the gate was pushed open. I rushed to open the door of our cottage.
“Mummy, Michael, it’s Annette!”

My mother rushed to the door and hugged
her. When she finally let her go, Michael kissed and hugged her too.

“Annette, it’s so wonderful to see you
here. Come, sit down.”

She looked around the room and waved her
hand at the window. “What a beautiful place to live, such amazing colours and
light.”

“Michael and his friend Blains painted
it and furnished it. Shirley cooks and cleans. It’s small enough that we don’t
need anyone else. Michael and Blains do the gardening. There are some beautiful
walks nearby, there’s a pond and a meadow, and the sea is less than an hour’s
walk.”

“Where’s your study?” My mother pointed
to the large oak desk by the window. “That’s all I need.” She pointed to the
other corner of the room. “There’s Helen’s school desk. The bookcase holds her
books, and there’s the piano. Michael bought it a few days ago. We spend our
days here, together.” She pointed to the right. “There are two bedrooms behind
those doors. We don’t need any more room. It’s cosy.”

Michael stood behind my mother with his
hands on her shoulders. “We’re very happy here,” he said.

Annette smiled and my mother asked her
to sit down. I offered to make some tea and I heard Annette asking her lots of
questions about her health and how she kept herself busy.

“Have you thought of coming back to Eyre
Hall, Jane?”

My mother looked at Michael and
fidgeted. He squeezed her hand and smiled, but he didn’t speak and neither did
my mother.

“We’re repairing the new wing, which the
archbishop had closed. We’d like you to come and visit,” said Annette at last.

“We?” asked my mother.

“John and I.”

“John, is he here?” She sounded alarmed,
squeezing Michael’s hand.

“He’s waiting in the carriage. He would
like to see you.”

“Please leave, Annette. It was nice to
see you, but John is not welcome in my new home, and I have no plans to go back
to Eyre Hall. None at all.”

Annette turned to Michael. “Michael, you
are both welcome, and Helen, of course.”

“My home is wherever Jane’s is. This is
our home now,” said Michael.

“Are you happy here, Helen?”

I nodded. “This is my home. I like it
here. I have my own room, and I have friends at school.”

“You go to school?”

“Only twice a week with Mummy. I help
her teach French, and I’m learning geometry. Mummy teaches me history every
morning, and we read every afternoon, except when we go for long walks. I don’t
miss Eyre Hall. I have two puppies now. They were a present from Max. Michael
built them a house in the garden. And Shirley makes delicious pastries and
biscuits, and she’s not grumpy like Leah or Cook.”

“That’s wonderful news,” said Annette
and then she turned to my mother. “We haven’t come to force you to do
anything.”

“Why have you come?” asked my mother.

“John has something important to say to
you. We have two gifts for you.”

My mother shook her head and Michael
spoke. “Thank John on our behalf, but we want nothing from him. We will not see
him.”

“He’s revoked the power of attorney and
the accusations of lunacy have been withdrawn. There is no longer a warrant for
your arrest, or Michael’s. You’re both free, and Eyre Hall and the Rochester
Estate is in your hands again, Jane.”

“I told you, I don’t want Eyre Hall or
the estate,” said my mother.

“Michael, please speak to her,” said
Annette.

He beckoned me to his side and removed
an arm from Jane’s shoulder, which he rested on mine.

“I have all I want in my hands this
minute. Jane and Helen. I have plans to buy a small fishing business in Saint
Ives. Jane has an income from her writing and her uncle’s winery in Covent
Garden. We want for nothing more.”

Annette nodded. “I understand, Michael.”

“Do you, Annette?”

“I do, Michael.”

“Do you realise what he did to his
mother?”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
I’ve put it behind me, but I won’t see him again,” said my mother.

“Please, Jane. John has something he
wants you to have. Please let him give it to you, and I promise we’ll leave and
never return.”

I put my arms around my mother’s waist.
“Don’t cry Mummy.”

Michael put his arms around her too and
whispered in her ear.

“All right,” she said to Annette. “I’ll
see him one last time.”

“But I warn you,” said Michael. “If John
upsets Jane, I’ll break every bone in his body, and I don’t break my promises.”

“Trust me, Michael. He won’t upset
Jane.”

As Annette walked towards the carriage,
Michael asked Jane if she was sure. She nodded. We faced the door and waited.

My brother’s face looked sombre. His
lips rose slightly, as if he were forcing a smile, but it never reached his
eyes, which looked darker than ever. His close-shaven face was pale and smooth,
and he held his shoulders very stiffly, while his fingers fiddled with the rim
of his hat.

“Mother, you look well.”

She didn’t reply and he turned to me.
“Helen, you’ve grown. How are you? Do you like it here?”

I hid behind Michael and they looked at
each other. Michael glared furiously, and John stared back defiantly before
speaking again.

“I have something for you Mother…and
Michael, for both of you.” He took an envelope out of his pocket. “Here.” He
held it out to our mother. She didn’t move and neither did Michael.

“It’s a wedding licence.” He opened the
envelope and read. “To any Minister of the Church of England, You are hereby
authorised to join in lawful matrimony.” He looked up. “Both your names follow.
It is signed by the Archbishop of Canterbury. This means you can marry in any
Anglican Church in England.”

He stopped reading, but Michael and my
mother remained silent. “It wasn’t easy to obtain. I contacted the new
Archbishop of York, and he was kind enough to contact the Archbishop of
Canterbury.” 

Jane turned to look at Michael and they
both smiled and hugged. Michael extended his hand and took it from John. “We
thank you, and now we ask you to leave our house.”

John turned to Annette. “Let’s go then,
shall we?”

She put her hand on his arm and smiled.
“Wait John.” Then she turned to my mother. “Jane and Michael, we have something
else for you.” She opened another envelope and read, “Mr. John Eyre Rochester
requests your presence at his marriage to Miss Annette Mason on Monday, 1
^st
July, 1867, at 11 o’clock in the morning at Eyre Hall.”

She held it out to my mother. “We would
like you to come.”

My mother leant back on Michael’s chest.
He was still holding her shoulders tightly. “I’m not returning to Eyre Hall,”
she said.

“Please come, all of you,” insisted
Annette. “We need to talk about the estate. If you want to stay here, in
Cornwall, I’m sure we can reach a financial agreement so you could buy a
suitable house in the area. Jane, we don’t want to take what is yours.”

“We’ll be married as soon as possible at
Saint Ives, and then we’ll discuss the trip to Eyre Hall, and we will write to
you with our decision,” said Michael.

“Mother, I hope you can find it in your
heart to forgive me for any harm or unhappiness you have suffered through my
fault.”

He turned to Michael. “Michael, I…”

Michael didn’t want to listen. “It is
your mother you must apologise to and make amends with, but I warn you, once
Jane becomes Mrs. Kirkpatrick, no one will harm her or upset her in any way
without paying dearly for it.”

John looked at his mother and Michael,
nodded, said goodbye and turned to leave.   

Annette embraced us once more and
followed John out of Primrose Cottage. She turned at the door. “Thank you for
allowing us to visit your home. We’re so glad you’re happy here.”

My mother cried for a long time after
they left. Michael held her quietly on the couch, kissing her hair and
whispering endearments. He patted the couch next to him and beckoned me to sit
with them, but I felt like an apple tree in a cherry orchard, so I said
goodnight and went to my room to write a letter to Max.

***