Page 26 of Fragile Wicked Things
"Why, I think it's a wonderful idea, Edward," Catherine said.
"Balls bore me."
"They never used to," Catherine continued. "I insist you be there, Edward, as Jane's escort."
This upset India and her mother, who turned to one another; Mrs. Roth pushed out her lower lip.
"That's a wonderful idea, although I do hope Jane doesn't feel out of place in society," India said.
The wicked stepsister tore off my dress, exposing my true self.
Later, when we returned to the drawing room, India played the piano with Rochester. Lewellyn said something nonsensical to Catherine, who had her eyes closed, but that didn't stop him from talking. I sat near Isabelle and Mrs. Roth. Isabelle tried to include me in the conversation, but Mrs. Roth had a knack for turning the dialogue to matters I knew nothing about.
When I overheard Rochester offer India a tour of his study, I politely excused myself, saying that I needed fresh air, although I don't think anyone heard me. It had been warmer earlier in the day, but the temperature had dropped to a mere 48 degrees that evening, colder than usual. I wrapped my coat over my gown and fled.
Outside was dark, but I could see my way among the grand oak trees with Thornfield Hall lit up. The ground crunched under my feet. From across the way, I heard the horses and wandered over to the stable. When I opened the wooden gate, I noticed a small light on, and since I heard no one, I assumed Thomas had left it on from earlier in the day. Loulou, Rochester's favorite horse, looked at me and pulled back; her way of telling me to go away. She could feel her own master's disappointment in me, too. I tried whispering to her as I had seen Rochester do countless times, but the horse refused to listen and turned away from me.
Then I heard it—a woman's sigh followed by a giggle. There was the sound of shuffling, and then I realized the horses were dragging hay with their hooves. Did I imagine the giggle?
"Hello," I said, barely above a whisper, my voice trapped in my throat.
I took a step closer to an empty stall. Suddenly I saw movement through the black iron rods of the stall—Rochester was with India. He hadn't shown her his study after all and brought her out here in seclusion so they could?—
She giggled again—India stood up against the wall in the corner; Rochester had himself pressed against her, holding her with one breast exposed. He kissed her lips, and her cheeks and licked his way down to her neck. I let out a gasp.
"Who's there?" Rochester asked in anger and turned. His eyes darkened when they landed on me.
I ran out, headed straight towards the grand oak trees and stumbled as I reached the other side of the drive. Rochester followed me, but I wanted nothing to do with him. I couldn't bear the thought of seeing him again and I hid in the maze. I pressed myself into a bush, wanting to hide away from the world. I listened to the sound of my own breathing. After a while, I stepped out and started to make my way back to the house, but somewhere I took a wrong turn and couldn't find my way out. I thought I had entered into the maze a short distance, but each time I went around a corner, there was yet another dead end. I felt as Theseus did when the moon had cast its light on him, exposing bones and skulls littering his path, bloodstains splattered all about. My imagination was cruel, deceiving me into believing my own path was bloodstained. Where had I put my ball of string to help guide me back out?
I traveled in circles, going deeper inside. The light from the house operated as a shining beacon, yet each time I headed towards it, I was confronted by another wall as though the maze rearranged itself with me in it. Running from one dead end to another, the walls closed in on me, and I began to panic. Turning a corner, I ran smack into the creature who dwelled in the labyrinth—with the monstrous head of a bull and the body of a man—the Minotaur. He made a sound as he moved towards me and although he was a monster through no fault of his own, I knew in his ferociousness that he would devour me, body and soul. I let out a scream as he grabbed me, hysterical to his touch.
"Stop it!" Rochester said.
I became quiet at the sound of his voice. "How did you find me?"
"I saw you come in here and knew you'd get lost. Are you all right?"
"I was frightened. I thought you were...Yes, I'm fine." It was silly of me to be frightened by the statue of the Minotaur. How could I believe the monster was capable of coming to life?
He looked at me and spoke with a softness in his voice. "Jane, my—." He stopped, bit his lip, then pulled back, jaw clenched; all manner of curtness had returned. "Follow me. From behind the Minotaur, there's an easy way out, one left turn, the remaining all right until you find yourself out of this hell."
Eight
Thomas’s head disappeared. He bent over the engine of Rochester's car parked in the drive and, from where I stood, it appeared the hood gobbled him up. He tinkered about for some time, straightened, and wiped his hands with a cloth he had tucked in his back pocket, then slammed the hood down.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," I said, staring at him. He wore a heavy pullover with grease stains across the front and a tear along the seam.
"Want something?"
I nodded.
"Do you want me to guess?" he said, eyebrows raised.
"I'm sorry. I...I'm going to the ball next week," I said.
"That uppity thang? Guess it's not really a black-and-white affair." He grinned. "Come on, spit it out." He leaned against the car as he worked the cloth against his palm, rubbing the grease from his hand.
