Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall (25 page)

“Perhaps we should take it up to our
bedroom,” she said, running her fingers through my hair.

“Our bedroom,” I sighed, pulling her
closer and nibbling her neck. “Sounds like heaven.”

“When you return, there will be a
bedroom in the new wing for us.” I groaned as she pushed her hands under my
shirt. “With a very big fireplace, a rug, and an enormous bed.”

“I would prefer a small bed and a huge
rug,” I said as her lips slid down my chest. “I will wrap my arms around you
all night, so we won’t need a big bed, but we could make good use of a huge
rug, couldn’t we?”

She sighed as her fingers followed her
lips. “Yes, we could.”

I caught her wrists and kissed them. “Patience,
my love,” I said, and our words were replaced with the sound of kisses, moans,
sighs, and finally, much later, muffled cries of pleasure.    

***

I never thought I would regain my peace
of mind and the placid times I had once experienced at Eyre Hall. Everything was
calm for the moment, and the future held promise. God had indeed been good to
me and compensated me for my struggles, at last.

In spite of the insistent banging of the
building workers and the clouds of dust outside my window, I was feeling
enthusiastic and optimistic for our future. I missed Michael every minute of
the day, but I was keeping as busy as possible, making sure everything was
ready for his return. I was also writing a novella, a horror story called
The
Countess
, about a mysterious European noblewoman who has lived for hundreds
of years in various physical forms. I had been influenced by Lord Byron’s
Fragment
’,
and Mary Shelly’s
Frankenstein
, and carried away with the freedom such
paranormal themes allowed. I was enjoying the escape my writing provided,
although I was not sure if I would ever publish such a scandalously gothic and
supernatural tale.

It was time to write my letter to
Michael, one of my most treasured moments. I imagined him sitting with me,
across my desk by the hearth, listening to my account of the main events that
had occurred in the last few weeks. He would smile, nod and listen patiently
while I told him all the news.

My Dearest Michael,

I will begin by telling you how
much I love you and miss you, although I know it will sadden you, but think
that when you receive this letter I will be less miserable because your return
will be nearer. Worry not, I am keeping very busy and in high spirits as you
will see when you read the rest of this letter.

Now, the news. Adele and Mr.
Greenwood are happily settled in their London house, which I visited only at
the beginning of this month. I made sure they had enough time after their
wedding, in March, to settle in. Adele has employed so many maids that I was
constantly bumping into one or another. I can’t think why she would need more
maids in her London town house than I need here at Eyre Hall! She has told me
the servants in London are far more troublesome and less hardworking than those
in the country, forever watching the clock and refusing to work more than ten
hours a day, and doing their jobs as slowly as possible. I am sure she
exaggerates. Susan is doing very well with just one young maid, because Dante
says he is not in need of a valet.

Susan is managing very well in her
new life. Her house is not too large and she has Becky to help her. Your sister
may have spoken to you about her. Becky attended the parish school where Susan
taught. Although she is only fourteen, she works harder than all of Adele’s
fussy London maids, and she is very grateful to be employed by Susan. Dante is
such a loving and devoted husband, your sister is indeed fortunate. Susan was
rather large the last time I saw her, of course, the baby is due shortly. I
shall be travelling to visit her as soon as she sends for me. I am so looking
forward to our godchild. Susan says she feels it is a boy because he kicks
profusely, and I am sure she is right.

It will be wonderful to have a
child visiting, and I hope often staying, at Eyre Hall. I trust the building
works will be finished by then. I do not want to bore you with the details, but
it is taking longer than I thought. So many pipes and ropes, and bricks and
mortar, and clouds of dust and dirt, you cannot imagine! Thank goodness, it
rains almost every other day and cleans the air. The men eat like horses, poor
Cook is forever making bread, and cakes, and pies, as well as good hearty
stews, but there is never enough. I am sure the work will be finished on time, and
the new Eyre Hall will be ready for your inspection in August.

When you return, we shall travel
to London immediately to visit Susan and Dante, so you can meet your nephew,
and we must buy paintings, furniture, lamps, and curtains to your liking for
the new wing. I insist you help me choose every detail. I do not want to make
any decisions at all, however big or small, without your advice and opinion.

I have received a letter from
John. It was short and curt, but he told me he was contented at Mr. Jackson’s
house in Boston, which he says is twice the size of Eyre Hall. He seems most
enraptured with the United States, marvelling at the enormous size and
solemnity of its people, buildings, and the surrounding wildlife. He has been
introduced to many of the local families and plans to stay with the Jacksons
for the time being. He has started his classes at Harvard, which he is greatly
enjoying. However, he signed the letter only ‘yours’, not adding
‘affectionately’ or any other loving words, which did upset me, but I am
confident that in time his attitude will soften, once he finds some happiness
within himself.

Annette is spending a great deal
of time with Dr. Carter at the hospital, although I see no romantic interest on
her part. The good doctor is often a guest at Eyre Hall (I am doing my best to
help him in his quest for her attentions), she is amiable towards him, but I am
afraid there is no spark on her part. She does not love him. He thinks she will,
and he is a kind, patient man, who is prepared to wait, but I have my doubts.
In any case, they get on well and have similar interests. We will see what
happens.

Nell has just come back from
school. She rushes through the house all afternoon like a lightning bolt, sometimes
helping Cook in the kitchen or chatting with Beth and the new girls, or rushing
outdoors with the dogs around the grounds, or watching the building works. I find
it hard to convince her to sit and do her homework with me in the library, but
I have insisted she should come to the library as soon as it is dark, which
unfortunately is later every day, as we are approaching the summer. She is
doing very well at school, excelling at maths, but she is struggling with her
Latin translations. We are now reading ‘A Tale of Two Cities’, which she is
greatly enjoying. She insists on writing a few words to you, so here they are.

Dear Michael. I miss you and hope
you are keeping well on your ship. Be very careful with the storms and the
pirates. One day I should like to see your ship and travel across the seas with
you. A big, big hug from Nell.

She has just finished her tea and
is rushing out with the dogs, in spite of the cloudy and drizzly day!
Fortunately, she has not had a cold in months thanks to Dr. Carter’s care and
advice. It would seem the lemon juice and honey she takes every day are working
wonders.

I fear I have no more news for
now, my love. I hope this letter finds you healthy and in good spirits. Please
take care, remember you have my heart and I am waiting impatiently for you to
bring it back.    

I love you more than ever,

Jane

***

“Mrs. Mason.” I looked up at Simon’s
worried face. “A person has arrived wishing to speak to you, madam.”

“A person?” I asked.

“The person said, ‘I have a message from
Kirkpatrick.’”

“A message from Michael?”

“Those were his words, madam.”

Unease crept up my spine and lodged at
the back of my neck, tightening my jaw. “Show him in,” I managed to say,
closing the accounts books I had been overseeing.

I could tell he was not English even
before he spoke. He was tall, thin and dark, and dressed in black clothes with
a brown sash and tall, black boots. He wore some kind of head garment, like a
scarf, and a scar crossed his weather–worn face.

I was also acutely aware that he brought
bad news. Simon wisely stood behind him by the door, unwilling to leave me
alone with the strange visitor.

“You have a message from Lieutenant
Kirkpatrick for me, sir?”

“I have something for you, Mrs. Mason,”
he said before throwing a round object with a chain on the table for me to see,
while offering me a twisted smile. I jumped towards it, clutching it in my
hands, and another spirit entered my body taking over my movements.

I heard a scream, which shook the walls
of Eyre Hall, and felt a reverberating thump as my head hit the corner of the
table and a trickle of blood slid down my temples and dripped onto the floor. A
sharp pain pierced my head and travelled down to my heart. I left my body and
watched from the ceiling as Simon, Annette, and Leah rushed in and bent over me.
I screamed, but no one heard me. I saw Simon thump my chest and heard him shout,
“Call Dr. Carter, she’s not breathing!”

I had died. Freed from my physical
constraints I flew to the coast and dove into the depths of the dark ink sea in
search of Michael’s ship. I emerged on an island lit by a blinding sun and flew
into an abandoned house on a desert path. I ran down the stairs and saw Michael
chained to a pillar, his head rolled to one side, resting on a moss–covered
wall. Long strands of hair stuck to his neck; his dirty bearded face was almost
unrecognisable. I threw my arms around his shirtless, bloodstained chest, and he
opened his eyes and called my name.

“Michael, I’m coming to bring you back,”
I told him.

A sharp pain cut into my lungs as I
inhaled, opened my eyes and saw Annette’s tear–filled eyes. “Jane, thank God!
Jane. Dr. Carter, Jane’s awake!”

“Where is he?”

“Jane, we were so worried. You’ve been
unconscious for hours.”

“Where is he? The man who came to see
me?”

“We’ve locked him in the old ice house.
Did he attack you, Jane?”

“I must speak to him at once.”

Dr. Carter approached me with his stethoscope.
“Mrs. Mason, you must rest.”

“They’ve kidnapped Michael.”

“Then we must inform the constable at
once,” said the doctor calmly.

“No! Do not inform the constable. I will
deal with him.”

“He will not be going anywhere, and you
must rest, Mrs. Mason.”

“I must speak to him, hear his conditions
and recover Michael.”

“Where is Michael?”

“He’s chained to a wall, imprisoned in a
cell on an island in the West Indies.”

“How do you know, Jane? Did the
kidnapper tell you?”

“I saw him.”

“You were unconscious. It was a dream,
Mrs. Mason.” The doctor was patting my hand sympathetically.

I had to make them believe me. “Michael
has been kidnapped by pirates and I’m going to get him back. Junot told me I
would be going to Jamaica, and he was right.”

“That awful man! Jane, you must be
delirious,” scolded Annette.

“Nobody will stop me. Call him back, at
once!”

I tried to get up but lost my balance as
my legs swayed and my head spun. The doctor’s soothing voice calmed me. “Mrs.
Mason, you must rest. I promise you that tomorrow he will be brought to you for
questioning. Now will you take some medicine, please?”  

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Doctor.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, madam,” he said
with a quiet smile.

“Where is Michael’s chain?” I asked and Annette
put it into my outstretched hand. I held it tightly and closed my eyes.

“Very well, but promise me you will make
sure he does not escape, Doctor.” He handed me a glass and some medication and
nodded.

***

 Mrs. Mason, from Eyre Hall, had
sent for me at once with the strangest letter I had ever received, on a matter
of great urgency, which required that I should behave most peculiarly.

Dear Mr. Smythe.

You are to present yourself at
Eyre Hall
without delay
. I will inform you later of all the details, but
I must now ask you to trust me and cooperate with a necessary lie.

Firstly, and this is very
important, you will write up fake deeds for the value of thirty thousand pounds
for shares in a gold mine in Australia. Each share should be worth one pound. I
trust your knowledge and judgement to make them look authentic.

There will be a visitor at Eyre
Hall when you arrive. He must believe that I have no assets at all to my name, because
everything has been entailed to my son. I will offer him some property, which
is used for grazing, which you will say is worth half of the sum he requires,
and that it will take some time to sell. Then I will tell him about the gold
mine. You will not give me the deeds, under any circumstances, until I offer
you a thousand pounds commission.

Please follow my instructions
carefully to the letter, and tell absolutely no one about this business, or we
will both be in
grave
danger.  

You will obviously be well
rewarded for your invaluable help.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Mason.

I prepared the required documents that
very afternoon, having to work after midnight. The following day I took the
early train, as instructed, and was walking through the main door at Eyre Hall
by early evening. When a flustered Simon showed me into the library, Mrs. Mason
was sitting behind her desk across from an eccentric looking foreigner.

“As I was saying, Captain King,” I heard
Mrs. Mason say, “I would gladly offer you all my estate in exchange for
Lieutenant Kirkpatrick’s life, but of course, you already know that, do you not?
Nothing I possess has any value for me if he is dead. Nothing at all. He is my
betrothed, as you may know. It pains me to ask, but how much ransom do you
require for his liberation?”

“I have been asked to negotiate a deal of
money, jewels, or property, to the value of not less than twenty thousand pounds.”

When I heard the sum, I realised there
was an astronomical problem at hand. He was demanding approximately half of the
value of Mr. Rochester’s estate, and it would be impossible to gather such an
enormous amount of money quickly. I felt drops of cold sweat trickling down my
sideburns to my beard. I wiped my brows with my kerchief.

When I had read her letter, I had imagined
it was some sort of hoax, but this man’s presence was alarming. I realised I
had to sound convincing or, as she had advised me, our lives were also at
stake.

“Captain King, I would like to introduce
you to my solicitor, Mr. Smythe of Briggs & Sons.” He turned to me
curiously and smirked. “I have asked him to bring the deeds to some of my properties,
such as Eyre Hall, which are worth a great deal more than you require, are they
not Mr. Smythe?”

“Good afternoon, Captain King,” I nodded,
my trembling hands clutching the leather binder containing the documents I had
been instructed to bring. I coughed. “It is indeed worth a great deal more,
however it is entailed, so I am afraid that Mrs. Mason cannot sell it to
anyone, or of course give it to you, sir.”

“I am a simple man, Mr. Smythe. A
privateer, a sea captain. I work with my hands, not with scraps of paper. Please
explain, and I warn you, do not try to trick me with your pretty words.”

I did not think it was possible to sweat
while I was trembling with cold, nevertheless, cold sweat, like icicles,
travelled down my face once more. I wiped my brow yet again and coughed
nervously.

“According to English law, a landholder
leaves his house and land to a single male heir. In this case, the heir is Mr.
John Rochester, Mrs. Mason’s son. Mrs. Mason cannot sell the property because
it is not hers to sell.”

 “It isn’t hers? However, she is living
here? Isn’t she administering this grand estate, Mr. Smythe?”

“Mrs. Mason is the beneficial owner, at
the moment,” I explained. “Mrs. Mason can live and manage the property, yet she
does not nominally own it. In this case it belongs to her son, who will be the
sole owner once he reaches the age of thirty.”

“Well, perhaps I need to speak to your
son, Mrs. Mason?”

“My son is in Boston, and in any case,
he would not give a penny for Lieutenant Kirkpatrick’s freedom.”

“Is there anything which has no tail as
you say?”

I started coughing profusely.

“Mr. Smythe, are you not well. Would you
like some tea?” asked Mrs. Mason as she rang her bell.

My whole body was shaking with fear. “I
am sorry, madam. I am afraid I have caught a cold. The weather in London has
been ghastly, and the long journey has no doubt tired me.”

Simon entered and she asked him to bring
tea and pastries.

“You were telling Captain King about the
land which is not entailed, Mr. Smythe.”

“There is some land, which Mrs. Mason
was awarded in a premarital contract.”

“Good. How much is it worth?”

“Half of the money you require,” I
replied.

“Only half?”

I nodded and wiped the sweat with my
saturated kerchief.

“Well,” he said, scratching his chin, “it’s
a start. I’ll take it.” He smiled, showing surprisingly even white teeth.

“The land has no property, it is used
for grazing,” I added.

“It can be sold, can’t it?” he asked.

“Of course, but it would take some time,”
I said.

 “Do you have the deed, Mr. Smythe?”  Asked
Mrs. Mason, and I replied as instructed.

“I do, madam, but I must protest.”

“You must protest, Mr. Smythe?” She shot
me a stern glance.

“I must protect your son’s inheritance.”

“My son has enough inheritance of his
own, Mr. Smythe!” she interrupted angrily and added, “Give me the deeds at once.”

“It would be most unwise to do so, Mrs.
Mason.”

“I don’t want it,” said the captain. “Got
no use for it. I want money, or something that can become money, quickly. After
all, the lieutenant has been locked up long enough, hasn’t he?”

This time her icy look was set on the
pirate, but she quickly turned it into a smile before speaking.

“Cash is not in abundance on the estate,
Captain King, and I presume you are not interested in any of my artworks. There
is a beautiful landscape by Gainsborough, and some prints by…”

“I am not interested in paintings, or
anything else which will be heavy or hard to sell.”

“Would you be interested in gold, for
example?” she said slowly.

“Of course, you must have plenty of
expensive jewellery, Mrs. Mason.” His large white teeth flashed again and his
eyes rested on her velvet choker adorned with a pearl pendant.  

“I have some jewels, but mostly heirlooms.
They are not valuable enough to be of use to you. On the other hand, I have a
great deal of gold.”

“Gold?” His eyes widened.

“Did you bring the deeds to the shares of
the gold mine, Mr. Smythe?”

The pirate’s eyes widened as he turned
to my solicitor. “The shares in the gold mine are not in tail?” he asked.

“The shares belonged to my uncle, Sir
John Eyre. I was his only living relative, so I was able to inherit them. Mr.
Rochester insisted I keep them in our premarital contract.”

 “It is the only property which is not
entailed, apart from the acres I mentioned before,” I added, struggling to keep
my voice steady.

“How much is it worth?” asked the
pirate.

“Much more than you can imagine,” Mrs.
Mason replied.

“I will not give the deeds to this
person, Mrs. Mason.” My heart was pumping fiercely as I spoke.

“You will do as I instruct you, Mr.
Smythe.”

“I must insist. I think you are making a
big mistake, Mrs. Mason.”

She fixed an angry stare on my face,
smoothed her pale grey silk dress, and spoke assertively. “I do not pay you to
think, Mr. Smythe. I pay you to obey.” I wondered how she was able to remain so
calm and composed while I was shaking like a leaf.