Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall (22 page)

“There it is. It is not very big. Is it
painful?” She shook her head. “Did you lose your consciousness?” She shook her
head again. “Let me look at your eyes. They are indeed bloodshot. You could
have a small concussion.”

“I have been crying, Dr. Carter. Don’t
worry; it wasn’t a heavy blow.”

“Let me see your cheek.” I busied myself
looking into her eye and feeling for any fractures around the socket or cheekbone.
“Your eye will blacken, but it is not serious.” My fingers lingered on her
smooth cheek, and I wondered if I would ever be allowed to caress it in a more
leisurely way, or kiss her desirable lips.

“What happened?” I asked her.

“I tried to stop John from killing
Michael.”

I turned to the robust officer who lay
on the bed. “I cannot imagine he would ever need your help in a fight, Miss
Mason.”

“Michael refused to fight, so he took
all John’s blows.”

“Michael, you should have fought back.
Look what he has done to you and Annette. He even threatened me, his mother. He
has gone quite mad.”

“I would rather he injured me than have
to kill him,” said the battered patient.   

“I think you should see John, Dr. Carter,”
said Annette. “He is in his room. Michael punched him for knocking me down,
unintentionally, of course. I think he may have dislocated his jaw.”

“I hope he has,” I mumbled.   

“Nell, let us go downstairs and get some
tea,” said Annette, taking her hand and pulling her out of the room.

I heard Kirkpatrick and Mrs. Mason whispering,
oblivious to my presence as I put my instruments in my bag.

 “Michael, I am terrified. You will get
yourself killed. Have you any idea what would happen to me if you die?”

“Jane, I am sorry. He saw me arrive and
told me he needed to speak to me in the stables. I wanted him to hate me and
hit me so he could forgive you.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I love
you, Michael.”

“I would not mind being beaten every day
to hear you say you love me.”

I coughed. “I’ll be back tomorrow to see
the patient.”

“Thank you so much for coming, Dr.
Carter,” she replied. I nodded and walked towards the door.

I glanced back before leaving. She was
kissing his bruised face. “That won’t be necessary, my love. I plan to say ‘I
love you’ many times, every day.”

“Jane, you torture me,” he moaned. “I
cannot move.”

I listened outside the door, unable to
move away.   

“This is your penance for letting
yourself be beaten up.” I heard more kisses.  “Now keep still while I torture
you a while longer.” Then silence and the sound of ruffling sheets and more of
his groans.

I mused on how fortunate they both were
to be in love and share such special moments. I longed to hear the woman I
loved whisper words of endearment. I was determined to speak to Mrs. Mason
about my feelings for Annette as soon as I had the chance.

***

“Michael! You look like you were run
over by a horse.”

My blurry eyes distinguished my sister’s
harsh stare. “That is exactly how I feel, Susan.”

She sat on the chair by my bed and
sighed. “Serves you right for getting involved with the wrong person. She’s
playing with you again, Michael.”

My head was throbbing, and although I didn’t
want to get into an argument with my sister, I decided to tell her the truth. “I
have proposed and Jane has accepted.”

“They will never accept you. Look what
her son has done to you. She will throw you out when she tires of you. She is
selfish and whimsical.”

“I cannot understand why you speak of Jane
with such contempt when she has done so much for you.”

“She has helped me to trap you again.”

“Susan, she has helped you because you
are with child, and yes, because I asked her to help you. Must I remind you I
came back to Eyre Hall because you asked me to, and that you beseeched me to intervene
on your behalf?”   

“Even so, I can sympathise with her son.
You need some sense drummed into you. You are both mad.”

“You are probably right on that account.
We are madly in love.”

“You are madly insane, brother.”

 “Susan, please. Let’s not argue again
about Jane. I hope to prove you wrong. We will both prove you wrong. Now let’s
talk about something dearer to your heart. Your child. Have you thought of any
names?”

“Yes, Dante and I have discussed names.
It will be Mary, like our mother, if it is a girl, and William, like Dante’s
father, if it is a boy. Do you approve?”

“Yes, I do. And you should know that
Jane is very excited about being the child’s Godmother. She has already bought
some swaddling clothes and gowns. You can be sure that she will spoil your baby.”

“Shush! I can hear Nell running up the
stairs. She mustn’t know I am with child yet.”

“Too late. She knows already. She went
shopping with Jane for the baby’s clothes.”

“Little nuisance! Mrs. Mason would make
sure she knew.”

“Nell? She is a charming child.”

“I don’t like her.”

“You were fond of her when you taught
her how to read.”

“I felt sorry for her with that awful
mother and brute of a brother. She didn’t seem to fit in with her family, and
she was a very clever child, but there was always a defiant look in her eyes
which made me feel uncomfortable.”

“Nell is a bright and lively little girl
who is very easy to love.”

“She looks more like Mrs. Mason every
day. It must be all the time they spend together. Have you not noticed how she
smoothes her dress with her hands when she is upset, and the way she purses her
lips when she is thinking. She even uses Jane’s expressions such as, ‘you are
so kind’, or ‘it is so kind of you’. She is a haughty and cheeky little brat.”

“Susan, you are mistaken. Could you make
an effort to like her, please, for my sake?”

“I don’t think I can,” she said, seconds
before Nell burst in with a tea tray.

“Beth let me bring the tray up. I helped
Cook bake the gingerbread men, and I decorated them with icing.”

“Delicious, Nell,” said Susan after
biting into the gingerbread man’s head, “but Michael doesn’t like ginger, do
you?” She smiled triumphantly.

“I thought everyone liked gingerbread
men! Mrs. Mason loves them,” said Nell.

“Well, if you baked them and Jane loves
them, then I’ll try one.”

Susan’s twisted face warned me of my
folly. I realised it was my fault that Susan was jealous of Jane and Nell. My
sister and I had been alone in the world, without our parents or any other
family, for so many years. We had only had each other, and now she had been
displaced in my affections. She no doubt felt I had betrayed her.

“I meant that if my three favourite
women, Susan, Jane, and Nell, love gingerbread men, then I have no choice but
to love them, too.”

Nell laughed excitedly. “Would you like
some tea, too, Michael?”   

I nodded and when she asked me if I was
feeling better, I replied that I hoped to get up the next day.

“Where is Mrs. Mason, Michael? She has
not come to see you this morning,” Nell asked as she nibbled on the biscuit
icing. “I can’t wait to start reading
Treasure Island
. She told me we
would be starting today.”     

“She had an errand to do with Adele,
Annette, and John.” I thought of Jane, entering the vault and exhuming an empty
tomb. I wished I could be with her, but she wanted to do it with her son and
her husband’s daughters. In any case, I was still in no position to walk very
far. 

“Why did Master John hit you?” Nell
asked.

“Because I am going to marry his mother,
and he is not happy about it.”

“I hate him.”

“Don’t ever say that, Nell. It is
unchristian to hate anyone, and you must never hate John. He is Jane’s son.”

“He does not like me, anyway. He ignores
me, or calls me ‘little imp’. I don’t hate him, but I don’t like him.”

The memory of my conversation with Jane the
previous evening came to my mind. John and Adele had insisted on exhuming the
baby’s casket in order to clear their father’s name, because they were
convinced he would not be capable of such a crime. Jane was terrified of what
they might unearth.

“What if there is a baby inside the
tomb? It could be another baby, or perhaps Helen really did die after she was
born.”

She had spent the night sitting by my
side, refusing to sleep in her bed. She tossed and turned impatiently against
the back and wings of the armchair, sometimes jumping up and wandering around
the room like a sleepwalker, other times clasping my hand nervously. There was
little I could do to console her, except listen to her fears, and reassure her
of my love and loyalty. She had left shortly after dawn.  

“What was that noise?” I tried to get
up.

“What is it, Michael? You cannot get up
yet. It is the wind howling in the trees.”

“Open the window, Susan, and tell me
what you hear.”

“It is snowing again. You will catch
your death of cold.”

“Open the window!” I insisted and she
complied. There was silence, but I was sure I had heard a cry from the
churchyard, yet there was nothing I could do, except wait for Jane to return.

“Nell, shall we start reading
Treasure
Island
?” I asked and she ran out to fetch the book from the library.

***

Mr. Woods was both shocked and
distraught when my son and Adele told him the reason for our visit. John had
insisted that Dr. Carter should also be present, as his father had signed the
death certificate, and only he could identify the nature of the remains he
expected to find. At first, Mr. Woods objected to John’s demands. “We cannot
proceed with an exhumation without the bishop’s permission,” he said, and I realised
he had probably been loyal to Edward. I wondered if he had known about Helen
all along.

“This is our vault, and our church. The
church is on our grounds. We pay for its upkeep and your salary and comfortable
lodgings, very generously. We do not require an exhumation, Mr. Woods. We would
like to visit our vault and open one of our tombs, and we will do so with your
permission or without it. I suggest you do not oppose my wishes or you will
regret it, so please be so kind as to bring the keys and open our vault. Now.”

He was indeed his father’s son. I had no
doubt that he would control the estate with an iron hand when the time came. I
had thought he was more understanding and thoughtful, but I realised he was a
Rochester through and through. I wondered sadly what, if anything, he had
inherited from my side of the family. 

Mr. Woods turned the ornate key in the
giant lock and pushed the gate open revealing a steep stone staircase. John
walked down first, closely followed by Adele and Dr. Carter. My son turned
after taking the first steps. “Mother, please follow us. If you were brave
enough to accuse my father of a crime, you should be brave enough to walk past
his tomb.”

Hot tears burned my cheeks. Annette
gasped and threw her arms around me. “No,” she cried, and then I heard Dr.
Carter’s calm voice, “I see no need for all of us to go down this narrow
passage, Mr. Rochester.”

“I insist. My mother must see the baby’s
coffin for herself.”

“We will have to bring it up for
inspection in any case. There is not enough light down there,” added the good
doctor.

“I must protest,” said Mr. Woods. “The
coffin must not be removed from the vault under any...”

“Mr. Woods, the coffin will be brought
up, and if you do not desire to witness the event, I suggest you leave the
church.” John turned to me. “Mother?”

“Let us go down, Annette,” I whispered
and she nodded.

The crypt was long and narrow. There were
two tiers of niches on either side of the constricted passage. Ornate and well–preserved
wooden caskets rested inside the first niches. A quick glance revealed room for
twelve corpses. Two niches were empty. I thought of Edward’s relatives, his
grandparents, his parents, his brother, himself and Richard, and the baby’s
coffin accounted for eight, plus two empty niches, which meant two corpses were
unaccounted. Edward had never spoken to me of any other relatives.

John insisted on reading the names on
the metal crests on the side panels. Finally, the two unaccounted bodies were
identified as Mrs. Alice Fairfax and her husband Mr. Harvey Fairfax, Edward’s
mother’s brother and previous vicar at this church, and his wife Mrs. Fairfax,
who had been the housekeeper when I arrived at Thornfield Hall.

John stopped before a small casket,
which looked out of place inside a large niche positioned on the lower level.
It rested at the end wall of the vault, below Edward’s, and read: ‘Infant Eyre
Rochester. May 1855’.

“I fear there is not enough room in this
vault for all of the Rochester siblings, is there, Mother?” I wondered, yet
again, how I had been able to bring up such a monster.

The small coffin was placed on a
wheelbarrow. The white satin covering was frayed and mouldy, but there was a splendid
gilded plaque depicting a sleeping cherub with curly hair and outstretched
angel wings shining on the lid.

The vault smelt sweet, unexpectedly and
overbearingly sweet, and warm, so warm that I was having difficulty breathing.
We were huddled together in the narrow passage, and I was feeling increasingly
uncomfortable. I looked up to the jagged rock ceiling, barely an inch above my
son’s head.

John smiled at me. “Do not faint now, Mother.
You are going to see your baby again, at last.”

I closed my eyes and felt Michael’s arms
holding me against his chest as he nuzzled my hair, and I knew I could endure anything
if he was with me. Dr. Carter was holding my hand. It was his gentle voice I
heard. “Mrs. Mason’s pulse is accelerating, and I think she should return to
the church as soon as possible.” Surprisingly, my son did not object and we walked
back up to the chapel.

Annette and I sat quietly in the final
pew, nearest to the vault and waited for the wheelbarrow with the coffin to emerge.

My son stood by the tiny box and spoke
coldly. “I suggest my mother should open the casket; after all, it is her wish
to uncover her husband’s secrets, is it not?”  

“Mrs. Mason, perhaps I should open it?” suggested
Dr. Carter, but I shook my head. A sudden surge of energy took over my limbs
and I was able to stand up and speak.

“Thank you Dr. Carter, but I will lift
the lid.”

Dr. Carter and Annette were standing by
my side in front of the casket, facing the altar, while the others were
standing behind me. The sleeping cherub opened his eyes and smiled. I pulled
the handle gently, and lifted the lid.

Adele screamed, “Mon Dieu!”, and ran out
of the church.

Mr. Woods blessed himself and dropped to
his knees mumbling the Lord’s Prayer.

I put my hand inside the coffin and took
out the book that lay on the immaculate satin lining. It was a Bible. I opened
the cover and recognised Edward’s handwriting. I read aloud the words he had
written.  “Jane, forgive me.” 

I looked up to the ceiling; the arches swayed
and blurred, and I heard someone scream, “No”, a scream so loud my ears
reverberated and deafened. A bright light pierced my eyes, and I saw a child’s
face in Michael’s arms. Then suddenly, blackness and a sharp, cold pain took
over.

***