Page 30 of Fragile Wicked Things
Rochester sat us down on a settee, our eyes squarely fixed on the ladies and gentlemen in a multitude of colored masks swaying to the music. Only they weren't dancing the way Thomas taught me. I feared I would be a disappointment to Rochester, but when I looked at him, I noticed he rubbed the sweat from his hands, and I could have sworn he appeared more nervous than me.
"I'm glad you wore a different mask."
"Catherine didn't like the other one either. You women are peculiar."
We fell into a silence, a comfortable one, not awkward as though we felt the need to fill up the air with unnecessary dialogue. Fragmented sentences reached me; snippets of a conversation about a young woman I didn't know and her upcoming nuptials to a young man I didn't know; another about a new dress shop that had opened in town.
"Can I get you something?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Rochester."
"May I ask a favor of you? Will you call me Edward like you used to?"
I let out a little laugh, relaxed for the first time that evening, which wasn't the usual outcome in Rochester’s presence. My smile vanished when I caught two masked women staring in our direction and when they lowered their masks, I snatched a glimpse of India's stare and her mother's too-rouged lips.
"Didn't Mrs. Roth want you to take her daughter to the ball?"
"Mrs. Roth doesn't want me near India."
"I suppose your little conquest cost you the opportunity of her hand in marriage?" I couldn't believe my forthrightness, but I had to know if he still considered India.
"As I thought it would." He smiled, and I grasped his meaning. He had meant to present himself in such a dishonorable manner that Mrs. Roth would stop pushing her daughter on him.
Still, I wanted to continue the conversation, to hear from him again that he didn't care for her. "Yet, I thought with her education, she would make a suitable wife for you."
"Suitable wife? Educated, yes. That woman can quote from a book yet not have an opinion of her own. When she speaks, it illustrates her poor mind and barren heart. She is not original. There is an absence of passion about her, except towards my bank account. No, she is not suitable for me. None of them are. These women here are interested in my money and my stature in society, but if they caught a glimpse of my true self..." He fell silent.
"What is your true self, Edward?"
Rochester looked at me, then removed his mask. "Do you find me handsome?"
I paused, the effect of which had him squirm a little. "Yes, when you're kind."
"This is not my true face."
"You are a mystery, Edward."
"Do you like mysteries?"
"Isn't life full of mysteries?"
Rochester leaned in and gave me a mischievous smile. "If we travel down that hallway towards the library, we'll find an old woman who will entertain us with our fortunes. Unless you don't believe in the mystical."
"Well, it depends. Does she have a crystal ball?" I asked.
"Shall we see?"
Rochester took me by my hand and steered me down a path towards my future, although truth be told, I didn't believe in any of it. The staff at Lowood were superstitious, and I looked at it as nothing more than nonsense. We waited out in the hallway for our turn. Giggling and shrieking came from behind the library door, and after what seemed like ten minutes, the door burst open, and three young women ran out, masks in hand. Two were twins, and the other looked nothing like them. The sisters sank breathless into chairs as three men gathered, wanting details. The fortune teller knew every detail about them, they claimed. She even named the men they would marry, but when their escorts asked for the names, the sisters giggled and told them they only had initials and telling them would serve no purpose.
Our turn arrived, and I grabbed Rochester's hand, pulling him along with me into the room, but when the fortune teller saw him, her face darkened. She shuddered and asked him to leave. My giddiness subsided. "I prefer he stay."
"The lady requires protection," Rochester joked.
"Yes, she does," the old woman said, her gaze directly on Rochester. "I am Madame Rousseau. Remove your masks. Both of you."
Once the masks were off, I made a face at Rochester, lifted my eyebrows and smiled at the psychic's serious tone. We sat opposite her, and she grabbed my hand, hesitated, and spoke to me in a deep whisper.
"I look into one's true soul," she explained. "Understand there are things that will be revealed you may not want to be disclosed in front of others."
