Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall (9 page)

I had thought I would never see Michael
again. I had tried unsuccessfully to expel him from of my thoughts, but he was
always there, haunting my dreams and slipping into my mind during the day. When
he left Eyre Hall, I did not ask Susan where he had gone. I realised she would
have told me if he had wanted me to know. I had been possessed by an irrational
madness, which I imagined had been brought about by Edward’s death and the
dramatic revelations, which had destroyed my tranquil existence.

The arrival of Bertha’s daughter,
Annette, Edward’s death, and the certainty of his betrayals and unforgivable removal
of our daughter from my side, disrupted my mind. I was unbalanced and lost.
Michael took advantage of my weakness, and when he left me, I fell to pieces. Months
later, I gathered my damaged remains and understood that his departure had been
a blessing in disguise.

They had all left me. Michael was the
first to go. He had rocked my mind and it was leading me to an abyss, so
although his departure was a blow, it was inevitable. It was a relief when
Adele and Susan journeyed to Venice, and then John resumed student life at Oxford.
Thankfully, Richard returned to Jamaica, and Annette moved to Brussels, but the
last person to abandon me was my unborn child who gushed from my womb with
blood and entrails like a shooting star in the middle of a moonless night. I
felt my own life abandon my torn body. Fortunately, when Beth found me in the
morning I was still breathing, and young Dr. Carter, who had come to visit his
ailing father, managed to repair part of the damage and bring me back to life.

I was bed–bound and mindless for months.
When I finally recovered my senses, everything that had happened sunk in and I
fell into a brooding phase. I was alone, my life was completely out of control,
and I was destined to become a sullen and bitter old maid. I hated everyone and
everything around me, and I enjoyed being alone, wallowing pitifully in my anguish.
The days were unending and boring, and although young Dr. Carter visited often,
he refused to administer any medicine, saying I only needed rest and four square
meals a day. At first I hated what I thought was his incompetence, but I soon understood
that he had saved my life, twice. If he had recommended laudanum, as his father
would have, I would have taken every last drop of the bottle and sunk to the
bottom of the sea of misery. Instead, I gradually grew stronger.   

I realised that I had to pull myself
together for John’s sake, so I started reading and writing my unfinished novel,
but my eyes were sore and my mind wandered, so I asked Leah to find someone who
could read to me. She told me the only person at Eyre Hall who was not busy and
could read was Nell. Leah suggested she read to me instead of going to school;
however I insisted that she should go to school in the mornings and read to me
in the afternoons. She stumbled often at first, not having read much of the
Bible before, but she was a clever girl who learnt very quickly.

Dr. Carter saved my life, and Nell saved
my soul. Her merry laughter, loquacious chatter, and patient reading pacified
my spirit. She was a warm and caring companion. In spite of her age – she was
not yet ten – she always seemed to know when to speak and when to listen or be
quiet. She had adapted to my quiet moods, silent sadness, and restless pain.

Today, I was in one of my dreadful moods.
I was sullen and distant, ignoring her reading, but insisting on hearing her
voice. She was patient and obedient, and I wished I could be kinder to her, but
my mind was elsewhere. I was tormented by Michael’s return, hopelessly under
his spell once more.

Most of our visitors had left Eyre Hall.
Adele and Mr. Greenwood, Diana and Charles, and Captain and Mrs. Carrington had
all departed to visit York. Richard had returned to London, and Phoebe and
Clarissa had been invited to stay at Lord Ingram’s estate. Annette, Susan, and
Dante had remained at Eyre Hall, and I had asked them to have lunch with me so
that we could discuss their quandary.  

The sun was shining again, and Nell had
begged to sit outside, in spite of the cold breeze. We were comfortably seated on
some blankets on a marble bench, just outside the north wall. Nell was rubbing
leaves with a crayon and I was reading a letter I had received from Mr.
Dickens, who was visiting Millcote for a public reading of
A Christmas Carol
.
My eye caught something sparkling in the windows, bouncing on sunrays. I
wondered what it was. Shortly after, Michael appeared in his bright uniform, the
gilded buttons reflecting the sun’s playful rays.

He looked so handsome that I was
speechless. Nell jumped up to greet him, shouting his name and asking too many
questions.

“Michael! Where have you been? When did
you come back? Why are you wearing those clothes? Are you going to fight in the
war?”

She hugged his waist, which was as far
as her arms could reach. He looked at me over her head, his jaw set, and his
eyes expressionless. Then he pulled her away gently.

“I’m an officer in Her Majesty’s Royal
Navy, Nell.”

“Like Captain Wentworth or Lord Nelson?”

He laughed and his face relaxed. “I see
you have been reading Jane Austen.”

“And
The History of England
,
too!”

“Well, perhaps you should know that Lord
Nelson was a real admiral who died at sea defending our country, and Captain
Wentworth is a fictional character.”

She looked puzzled and he laughed again.
“I suppose it’s the same to you, but believe me, reality and fiction are two
different things, young lady.” 

“Is your ship like Lord Nelson’s?”

“Yes, it’s a frigate called H.M.S.
Princess Helena.”

“Who is Princess Helena? Helen of Troy?”

“No, she is Queen Victoria’s third
daughter and fifth child.”

“Have you met her?”

“No, but I have seen pictures of her.
She is a pretty young lady, like you.”

She pulled him towards our bench. “Michael,
sit with us and tell us about your life on board the Princess Helena.”

“Perhaps Mrs. Mason is tired.”

He watched me carefully and waited for
my answer before approaching the bench.

“I would very much like to hear about
your new life at sea, Lieutenant.”

He sat down beside Nell.

“Well, there’s a lot to do on a frigate
every day. We have to keep watch, reef the sails, knot and splice ropes, clean
the decks, plan navigation, and steer the ship. Some of the sailors fish,
others cook, and in the evenings we all play games of dice and cards.”

Nell started coughing. “Nell darling,
you’re coughing again. Thank goodness Dr. Carter will be coming this morning.
Make sure he sees to your cough. Why don’t you go down to the kitchen? Have
some warm milk and some of Cook’s delicious jam biscuits.”

She jumped up. “Shall I tell her to
bring you some tea, Mrs. Mason?”

“No, thank you, Nell, not now. Perhaps
when we go back inside. Take this letter and leave it on my desk in the library.”

We watched her rush off and turned to
each other awkwardly, neither of us daring to break the tense silence.
Eventually, Michael stood and extended his elbow. “Would you like to go for a
walk, Mrs. Mason?”

I stood and slipped my hand through his
arm. “Thank you, Lieutenant Kirkpatrick.”

“I preferred it when you called me
Michael.”

“So did I, but you are not my valet
anymore, are you?”

“I am not your valet, but I will always
be your servant, and you my mistress.”

I blushed and tripped on a branch. He
gripped my arm and pulled me closer. I felt comfortable walking alongside his
tall, sturdy figure. “Shall we walk to the brooklet?” I asked and he nodded.

“I had a bridge built and some benches
installed last summer. It is such a lovely place to sit and listen to the water.”

We walked on in silence, feeling the
leaves and twigs crunch beneath our feet and smelling the damp, chill air. I
was feeling warm and tranquil, as I used to feel by his side.

“I missed Eyre Hall while I was at sea,”
he told me when we sat on the bench. “I longed to see a tree, some grass, a
leaf, a twig even.”

“I have never travelled by boat. I
cannot imagine what it is like. Tell me the truth, not what you told Nell.”

He sighed. “A frigate is big, dirty and
smelly. However much it is cleaned, and the decks are scrubbed every day, the
smell of coal and tar is always present. There are vicious hungry rats who seem
to thrive on arsenic, food is often infested with maggots, and there are plenty
of dangerous criminals aboard, but they’re whipped into submission soon enough.
Men die on board frequently, because the surgeon will not waste his time or his
medicine on drunkards who have brawled. When there are storms, our ship is
shaken like a pebble in the stream, and more men are lost. Their mutilated bodies
are buried at sea. It is sometimes hell on Earth.”

I stared at him in dismay, but he smiled.
“Other times, it is a quiet and peaceful island in the middle of a vast ocean,
where there is plenty of time to reflect on life’s mysteries and wonders.”

The tinkling of the stream and the
chirping of the birds filled some peaceful moments. It was my turn to break the
silence this time. “I wish time would stop and we could just sit and watch life
go by, like the water.” I sighed. “I was heartless and inconsiderate in our
last conversation. I never gave a thought to where you had been or how you had
fared. I am still trying to understand your reasons for leaving. In any case, I
am very proud of you, Lieutenant Kirkpatrick. ”

“Would you call me Michael?”

I hesitated.

“Only when we are alone,” he added at
once.

“Of course, if you call me Jane again,
when we are alone. I wish we could always be alone, just Jane and Michael.”

He pulled his arm across my back and
held my shoulder, and I leant my head on his chest. I heard his heart beat, as
I had done many times before, and closed my eyes. I was lost again, but this
time I would not struggle against my feelings, or regret the passing of time.
Lord Tennyson’s lines came to my mind
: “‘I hold it true, whate'er befall; I
feel it, when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to
have loved at all.’”
 

“You never lost me, Jane. You were
always in my thoughts. Look where I carried you.”

He pulled something out of his inner
pocket and slipped it into my hand. “You gave me your heart, remember? I was
selfish, so I took it with me. Do you want it back?”

I looked at the red button I had given
him, and then closed my hand around it tightly and shivered. No wonder I could
not forget him. He had indeed taken my heart with him.

“You’re cold.” He took off his cape and
wrapped it over my shawl. It was warm and heavy and smelt like home and safety,
and something else that made my head feel light. I turned up to his face and he
lowered his lips to mine, brushing them softly, waiting for permission to kiss
me, but I moved away, back to his chest where I buried my tears.

“Please forgive me, Jane. I behaved in a
cowardly and disrespectful way to the most generous person I have ever met. I
love you. I never stopped loving you.”

I put my arms around him, turned back to
his face, and let him kiss me the way he used to, the way I needed him to, making
my mind oblivious to anything else except his warmth.    

       He broke away too soon. “Perhaps
we should go back to the house. They will be wondering where we are. Did you
find Mrs. Banks’ letter?”

“Yes, I did. Are you sure about going to
London, Michael?”

“Of course I am. I promise that if Helen
is alive, I shall find her, and I have a feeling she is alive, Jane, don’t
you?”

“I am afraid to hope. I don’t know if I
can bear to hear you tell me she’s dead.”

We walked back, arms entwined. I stopped
to look at him. “Michael, I wonder if you are wasting your time loving me. You
should find a nice young girl to marry.”

“I shall never love anyone else. I shall
wait for you, Jane. I shall wait until you are ready or until you are free
again. However long it takes, I shall wait.”

He had to know. “Michael, Dr. Carter
told me I would have no more children after the last miscarriage.”

“If you think I care about that, you are
wrong. I have no wish to have children, unless you wish to.”

“But you are a young man, Michael, you…”

“I will obey all your commands except
one. Do not ask me not to love you, because that is not possible.”

As we approached the house, we broke
away from each other. I returned his cape. “Could I have my button back,
please?” he asked.

I rubbed it with my thumb. “Of course
you can. When you come back from London.”

We sat by the hearth in the library as he
read the letter repeatedly with a furrowed brow.

Dear Mrs. Rochester,