Midsummer at Eyre Hall: Book Three Eyre Hall Trilogy (8 page)

I’d lied to an admiral, broken the law, forced
my way into an institution, removed a patient illicitly, and killed a man. Now I
was planning on making Jane live as an outlaw. I’d lost control of my life and
I was ruining Jane’s. Perhaps I should do as the admiral suggested; take her
back to Eyre Hall and disappear from her life forever.

The train was wobbling awkwardly and the
wind and the rain seeped in through thousands of tiny cracks. I had wrapped
Jane in woollen blankets and made sure she was comfortably seated on the upholstered
first class seat. We had left Manchester at noon and were scheduled to arrive
at Birmingham two hours later, but there were delays due to some rocks, which
had been washed onto the rails.

Fortunately, Jane was sleeping. She only
looked peaceful when she was submerged in a laudanum-induced slumber. I hated
to watch her in such a helpless state, but, at the moment, there seemed no
alternative. Her natural sleep was plagued by disquieting nightmares including
dragons with forked tongues. Her anxiety would have made the journey
intolerable, so this seemed the lesser evil, for the moment.    

We eventually arrived at our destination
at four o’clock, two hours later than we had planned. I managed to wake Jane
and we walked under the arched dome over the platforms, which sheltered us from
the merciless storm. We stopped by the solid stone pillars, surrounded by trampling
crowds of passengers and busy porters carrying their luggage. Jane covered her
ears and asked what that dreadful sound was. It was the combination of trains
arriving and departing, and the noisy ringing of bells.

I looked up to the iron and glass roof
and realised we would not be able to continue our journey that day. It was
almost dark, and the storm was becoming a gale. I pulled Jane gently along the
platform and out to the busy street in search of a place to stay for the night.
I would have carried her, but I didn’t want to attract any more attention.

The station was spacious and, outside, I
was surprised that the buildings were as tall and grand as any I had seen in
London. The nearest hotel was an Italianate style, four-storey building, named
the Queen’s Hotel.

The hotel was a new building with
panelled walls, wooden flooring, and dark brown carpets. The room we were
allocated was on the ground floor, overlooking the busy street, which was
almost as noisy as the station.

I persuaded Jane to have some beef tea,
bread and cake, while I ate a hearty meal of roast pork. I was sure I’d need
all my strength to protect Jane in the uncertain journey which lay ahead.

Fortunately Jane slept placidly all
night, but I hardly slept a wink. My mind was running wild. I had promised the
admiral I would leave Jane in Wales and return to London where I would set sail
in the navy once again, but I had to devise another plan to keep us safe and
together.

I must have dozed off eventually. Jane
stirred restlessly and jumped out of bed. “Michael, what infernal noise is
this?” She pulled back the curtains, and gasped. “Where are we?”

“We’re in Birmingham, Jane, on our way
to Mary and Mr Wharton’s house in Kilpeck.”

She raised her eyebrows and then
frowned. “I don’t want to visit Mary.”

“She’s expecting us.” I looked into her surprised
face, hoping she’d realise why we were on our way to Wales. “Let’s have some
breakfast and find a cab to take us there.”

 “When are we going back to Eyre Hall?”

She had suffered many similar episodes
of memory lapse since we had escaped from the asylum. Harry had warned me that people
in shock often lost parts of their memory, but he assured me she would recover
once she was safe, and I wondered when we would ever be safe together again.

I drew the curtains and pulled her into
my arms. “Jane, we can’t go back to Eyre Hall at the moment.”

I felt her fingers press into my back.
“Do you remember what happened?” I asked her.

 “What’s happening to me, Michael?
Sometimes I don’t know where I am. I feel terrified, but I can’t remember why.
Other times I see faces of people I’ve never seen before and I’m afraid, and I
can’t breathe.”

I squeezed my arms around her. “Don’t
worry, you’re safe now, my love.”

“Michael, I’m so afraid. Don’t ever
leave me.”

“Whatever happens, I promise I’ll never
leave you, Jane.”

I waited for her to stop crying and
resume her regular breathing before telling her we should leave.

The admiral had instructed me to take a
cab to Kilpeck, which was about a hundred miles away. I found a driver who promised
to take us there in less than two days for sixty shillings, plus meals. He was willing
to sleep in the cab, but I offered him a room at the inn. The admiral had given
us enough money to cover the cost, and I thought it best to make sure the
driver rested and drove us safely to our destination.

The seats on the cab were wooden boards,
which made the bumpy ride uncomfortable. I lined the bench with blankets so
that Jane could lie down and rest her head on my lap for most of the journey. I
busied myself massaging her head and combing her short hair with my fingers.
“When your hair’s long again, we’ll be on our own, far away from everyone who
wants to keep us apart.”

“You’ll have to think of something,
Michael, because I’m useless at the moment. I’m far too exhausted and upset to
devise a sensible plan. I can’t seem to keep my eyes open, or even think
clearly. I feel like I’m drifting through time and space, like a cloud. I’m not
even sure where I am now.”

“You’re safe. You’re with me, Jane. I’ll
take care of you from now on.”

A few hours after sundown, the cab
driver stopped at an inn. He claimed the horses needed to eat and rest, and so
did he. We took some rooms and ate. I asked for a hot tub in our room and we
left the driver to drink with the innkeeper. I hoped he would be ready at the
crack of dawn, as he had assured me, because we had to arrive at Kilpeck the
following evening, Christmas Eve, if my plan was to work.

Jane sat in the tub until the water was
almost cold. I helped her out, wrapped her in a towel and lay her on the bed.
She winced.

“Are you in pain, Jane?”

“The bath was wonderful, Michael, but it
hurts.”

Harry had examined her thoroughly and
told me she had no serious physical injuries, but I wondered if he had missed
something.

“Where is the pain, Jane?”

“Everywhere.”

“Show me.” She pointed to her legs and
her neck and shoulders.

“Lie down with your face to the bed. I
have bought some ointment to soothe the pain.”

My fingers gently kneaded her back, her
shoulders, and her legs. She moaned drowsily, and I could feel her body light
up with desire. She turned to face me. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to
be asleep, and, although her words were muffled, I heard her clearly. “I love
you, Michael”

I missed her so much and desired her so
desperately that I wished I had less willpower. I wanted to make love to her,
but she wasn’t well enough yet.

“Do you still love me, Michael?”

“Jane, I’ve never loved you more than I
do this minute, but you’re tired, and weak, and you’ve taken laudanum. You need
to sleep and be looked after, and that’s what I’m going to do until you’re well
enough to be devoured by my love.”

“Are you sure you still love this sick
and ragged bag of bones?”

I traced my fingers along her arms and across
her face. “I love every single inch of skin, every tiny pore and hair.” I pressed
my lips on her eyelids. “And every single eyelash on your weary eyes.” My lips
brushed over hers. “You are the reason I breathe every day. Nothing else
matters, Jane. You are my world.”

Hours later, when the sun peeped through
the curtains, she was still wrapped in my arms, and I felt like the luckiest
man alive. She turned and I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. She kissed
me and whispered, “Michael, I’m starving. Where’s Beth?”

My eyes sprang open. I sat up and pushed
my hands through my hair.

“Michael, what’s wrong?”

Every morning she woke up, she forgot
where we were, what had happened and where we were going. Could I help her
recover? Would she ever understand what had occurred?

 “Michael, tell me, please.”

I pulled her into my arms, pressed her against
my chest and whispered into her hair. “We’re not at Eyre Hall any more, and we
can’t go back, Jane.” Her body trembled and I knew she was stifling her tears. “Don’t
cry, my love. We’re alive, and we’re together. We’ll start a new life, Jane. I
promise.”

She hardly spoke during the journey,
although she placed her hand firmly in mine. She must have recognised the small
Norman church, with its stone walls and carved corbels, where Mr Wharton
carried out christenings, weddings, funerals, and Sunday services.

“I never liked the graveyard. The
headstones are far too near the church,” she said, and I knew she was having
gloomy thoughts, and so was I.

“We’re close to Mary’s cottage. What are
we going to do when we arrive, Michael?”

“Your cousins will look after you.”

“My cousins?” I nodded. I had to let her
believe I would leave her with them.

“What do you mean?”

I didn’t reply. I knew Mr. Wharton would
not let me stay for very long at his house. Perhaps it would be for the better.
Jane would eventually recover and return to Eyre Hall with her son, and I would
travel to a faraway land in search of my fortune and a new life. Would that be
the best thing to do? Is that what Jane needed? Was I being selfish by keeping
her by my side?

“Why are you so quiet, Michael?”

I could not postpone the inevitable. I
had to tell her. “I promised the admiral I would leave you here and return to
London, to join the navy again.”

“Why did you make such a promise,
Michael?” Her face grew even paler and her eyes wider, searching mine. “Why?”

“Because it was the only way to stop him
turning us in to the archbishop. You would have returned to the asylum and I
would be in prison. That’s why, Jane.”

The chickens and geese were running around
Thrush Cottage when the cab stopped outside the courtyard.

Jane’s eyes were full of tears. “You
should have told me.”  

I looked up at the upstairs windows of
the farmhouse where the bedrooms should be and turned to Jane. I realised there
was something I had to tell her before I left. “Jane, I’ll be back. Remembrance
like a candle burns brightest at night.”

She shot me a puzzled look. “What do you
mean?”

But I had no time to reply. Mr. Wharton
pulled the door open and thrust his hand into the carriage. “Come, Jane,” he
said. His jaw was clenched and his eyes held a look of disgust as they swept
over my face.

She hesitated and turned to me. I looked
away and watched as she placed her fingers in his palm. He pulled her out with
a sharp tug. She almost slipped, so I moved forward to steady her.

Mr. Wharton grabbed my arm. “Stay where
you are.”

I realised I would not even be allowed
into the house. Jane turned around and tried to get back into the cab, saying
my name, but he pulled her arm and easily hauled her forwards. He was a large
heavy man, and
Jane’s eyes were terrified.

Her cousin Mary walked along the path
and hugged her. “Jane, it’s wonderful to see you again. Come, we will take good
care of you from now on. Soon everything will be as it was. Tomorrow is
Christmas Day. I’m so glad you’ll be spending the holidays with us.”

Jane pulled away from her cousin and
made a feeble attempt to move back to the cab. Mr. Wharton stood in front of
the door. I wanted to tell Jane that I would be back for her in a few hours; as
soon as the moonless night cast its dark shadow, I would take her away.

 “Get away from my property, you
shameless scoundrel. Haven’t you made her suffer enough already?”

I could have finished the matter there
and then. I could have knocked them both unconscious and removed Jane from
their sordid grasp, but I didn’t want to distress her any more. She had
witnessed enough violence. I hoped I would be able to take her away quietly and
safely later in the evening.

 “I won’t be calling the constable
because Admiral Fitzjames seems to think he owes you something as your father
died on board his ship. There is no doubt in my mind that you should be
punished for what’s happened to Jane. I’d like to see you in jail for the rest
of your life, but my brother-in-law seems to think he’s made a pact with you
and wants to keep it. He says you’re a man of honour, but I can see through
you, Mr. Kirkpatrick. You’re not a man to be trusted.”

He turned to the cab driver. “Take this
man straight to Birmingham at once.” The driver nodded, and although I had paid
him for the return journey he added, “Of course, but that’ll cost you. He only
paid me to bring him here.”