Page 18 of Fragile Wicked Things
"You weren't introduced to society or prepared for marriage. Then what did you do at Lowood?" he said with a hint of unkindness to his voice.
"I attended class and church. Sometimes, I went into town with Mrs. Temple."
"A nun's life, is that it?" he said, glancing over my brown dress, its modesty defining me in his eyes. "Someone who leads a dull life can only be considered dull themselves. You see, Catherine. I have formed my own opinion of your Jane."
"And what opinion has Jane formed of you?" Catherine asked.
This brought a sly smile to Rochester's face and he let out a derisive huff. "Don't hold back," he told me, but there was no way the anger inside me could be held back. Outside, thunder rumbled.
"I've lived a sheltered life, and I suppose to a man in your position, with your travel and riches, you would find it dull. Don't confuse my misfortune with a lack of character, Mr. Rochester. Most definitely not you, when you have displayed yourself to be a bully, and I find your very nature to be ungentlemanly and intolerable. It is your character that displeases me most."
A breath escaped me. I turned from him to get away from his stares and took a gulp from my drink, shutting my eyes tight as the liquid burned inside me. Not able to remain there any longer, I stood up, but when I arrived at the door, found myself halted by the sound of clapping. I knew it was Rochester.
"She's done well, Edward," Catherine said.
"Your little protégé," he answered. To him, I was no longer in the room. "Still, I believe she follows convention."
"No, she defies convention. She has a rebellious nature to her, one you will witness as she matures. Know this, Edward, she will affect you."
"She will not."
When I turned back to look at Catherine, she smiled at me. "He doth protest too much, methinks."
I stood there, dumbfounded. What began as a wonderful night had ended unpleasant, but I could expect nothing else from Rochester who had despised me from the moment we met, for reasons unknown. There we were at a standstill, both Catherine and Rochester acting as though they'd each won at some game they were playing, with rules I didn't understand. I was merely a pawn of small stature and lesser value.
The doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," I said in a hurry to escape. The hour was late, and the weather was too dangerous to travel in. I was quite surprised to open the door to a Black man carrying a satchel. He looked to be a few years older than me, and he wore a rusty brown jacket with a turned-up collar and a hat on his head to protect against the rain.
"Excuse me for the late hour, Miss, but the bus was behind schedule. My name is Thomas Fairfax. Is my grandmother here? I checked at her house at the end of the road, but there was no answer."
"Auntie? She's your grandmother?"
"Yeah, that's what people call her." He stood there, staring at me and I at him. He had Auntie's eyes, but the rest of his face belonged to someone else.
"I'm sorry, yes, of course. She must be working late tonight. Come in."
Thomas stepped inside, looked up at the crystal chandelier hanging over the entranceway, then at the painting of two women strolling arm in arm through a garden, and let out a whistle as he put down his bag.
"Who is it, Jane?" Catherine called from the drawing room.
"Someone's here to see Auntie, Mrs. Cous...Catherine. I'll take him into the kitchen."
Auntie had heard the doorbell and wandered over, wringing a tea towel. When she saw Thomas, her mouth fell open, her eyes widened, and she opened her arms to him. Other than Mrs. Temple, I doubted anyone would be as happy to see me should I show up unannounced. Then Auntie's expression changed from happiness to fear as she grasped his face between her hands, inspected it, and knitted her eyebrows.
"Is something wrong?" said Auntie.
"No, Granny. I only came to surprise you."
Rochester appeared in the doorway then and looked Thomas over. "Who did you say is here, Jane?"
Auntie moved forward, stepping in front of her grandson and looked at Rochester with a hint of anxiety. "It's my gran baby, Mr. Rochester. He’s staying over, but he’ll be leaving at first light."
"Don't be silly, Auntie. He can stay for as long as he wants," Rochester said, but his tone made it seem less hospitable and more a demand. "Does that suit you...?"
"Thomas, sir. And yeah, it suits me just fine."
"Well, you must be starved. I know I am. Auntie, why don't you take him into the kitchen and fix him something to eat."
