Page 73 of Fragile Wicked Things
Too much time passed before my Catherine returned to me, destitute and with child and I swore to raise the child as my own, but that was not to be. Some twisted fate was handed to us and we lost our daughter.
There was something Catherine never knew. When she returned home, she did not speak of her life with James, but she had come back to me all battered, with bruises on her body. When I held her, I sensed where he had struck her. When I made love to her, I sensed that he had beaten her. I went away, deceiving her into believing I was on a business trip, but I had gone to search out her husband, that coward who would strike a woman. When I found him, I wanted to kill him and I let the darkness take over. The darkness wanted something more and I tortured him for hours until he pleaded with me to kill him. I would not release him. He was like Blanche's little bird and succumbed during the torture, leaving me unsatisfied. My promise to keep Catherine out of harm's way was fulfilled.
The same I promise to you, Jane.
Understand me. Suppose you were no longer the good, kind girl that you are, that you were pulled from your life by a wretched soulless creature, to be made in his image. Suppose that this crime was committed against you, but you must pay the consequences for it, for eternity; it follows you through life, tainting all your existence. You take measures to obtain relief: unusual measures, but nothing can return you to the life you had beforehand. All hope has quitted you; you wander here and there, seeking rest in exile, happiness in pleasure—I mean a sensual pleasure that leaves you empty still. It dulls you for the time being.
You search and find in a stranger much of the good and bright qualities you seek and you wish to recommence your life and to spend what remains with this mortal. After a wandering and sinful past; after seeking peace and redemption, can you not now secure this peace? Do you not now deserve it? Do I?
Thomas remained with me in exchange for your happiness, for your freedom. I was determined that he would not have you. Now I offer you the same. Jane, I want you to have peace. I will let Thomas go. In return, I ask that you stay with me for one year, and in the end, if you wish to go, I will set you free. If you wish to stay, I must make you as I am. Catherine had always refused and now she is gone. I can never be left alone again.
PARTFIVE
Jane
Twenty-Three
Aheavy silence followed the end of Rochester's story. He stood and stepped away from me. At that moment, I was at a loss for words, processing his story and contemplating what was being asked of me. His words had affected me, and for the first time, when I looked at Rochester's anguished face, I saw him as Catherine did—to know all his sins and yet not judge him, to be able to cast aside all reason, all sanity and to submit to him willingly. I had Thomas’s freedom to consider. He at least had a life in Chicago with family and friends while I knew no life other than Lowood and Thornfield. Returning to life in New York was not an option as I couldn't fathom the thought of abandoning Thomas to live out the remainder of his life with these monsters. If I stayed, Rochester would guarantee my safety, but the same couldn't be said for Thomas. One year was all that was required to secure freedom for both Thomas and myself.
"At the end of one year, will you honor your promise to me?" As I said this, I looked into his eyes, and there I saw a glimpse of a promise, a hopefulness that I would agree to his desperate plea. Rochester had offered me a choice, free will, just as Catherine had had.
"I give you my word, Jane. Is your answer to be yes?"
"You will guarantee Thomas's safety out of Thornfield and beyond?"
"Yes."
"Then, yes. I will stay for one year. Leave me here with Thomas. When he is set off safely, I will join you at the house." A look of fear crossed his face and he opened his mouth to speak, but I spoke before he had a chance to. "I promise."
When Rochester left, I cared for Thomas, wiping a cold cloth on his forehead as I knelt by his side. I felt around his head and found a bump where he had hit the table. I took ice from the ice box, wrapped a tea towel around it and held it to his injury. As I waited for Thomas to awaken, I considered what life would be like at Thornfield for the year ahead. If Rochester meant for me to stay, did he also mean for Blanche to remain? He couldn't. I was sure he was back at the house telling her to leave. I envisioned her putting up a fuss, screaming and crying, begging to stay, but he would not have that and risk my life. No, Rochester would make her go. And I would stay. Thomas stirred in my arms, his eyes fluttered open and closed and his arms flailed about. He became agitated at first but relaxed once his eyes fell on me.
"Jane." He smiled at me, then his eyes darted about. "We have to leave."
I helped him up, and he leaned on me for support. He brought his hand up to his head and lost his balance. Thomas sat himself down on an upright chair and swayed a little. Holding him steady, I dropped to my knees before him, my arms around his waist to keep him in place.
"You have to go, Thomas. I have decided to stay here with Rochester."
"I won't let you stay."
My back stiffened. His use of the word 'won't' bothered me as though he controlled my thoughts and actions, much like Rochester had behaved on numerous occasions. As I had anticipated, Thomas would not leave me behind, but I had to make him go.
"I love him," I said, adamant that I look him in the eyes when I spoke. While I did not know whether that was true, Thomas believed me, which angered him.
"Do you know what kind of monster he is? Do you know what...I'm not proud, but as his handler, I'd bring him women and when he's done with them, I set them off in a taxi or drive them back into the city. They stumble about, drained, confused with no knowledge of being fed to that monster. And you wish to stay with him? You love him? That's a lie."
"Catherine loved him. You never questioned that."
"She was an old woman, blind to his ways."
"That's not true and you know it."
"Jane." He reached out for me in desperation, firmly held me by my arms and tried to reason with me. "After Blanche and the rest of them arrived, I fired the remaining staff. I couldn’t guarantee their safety. Rochester was too far gone. One day, he sent me into town to get some supplies, and Lis and Katya followed me into a store. The sisters suspected Thornfield housed the devil, they said, having seen it back home in their country, and they introduced me to three men. They belonged to some old order, Men of Psalms. They told me about Blanche and her men and how dangerous they are. The Vampyres left a bloody trail from state to state, making it easy for this order to find Thornfield. They had been watching all of us for some time and claimed they knew how to destroy the nest. I told them it's useless to fight against them, that they're too strong, but that I would..."
"Stop!" I pulled away from him and rose from the floor. The more I let him talk, the harder it would be to convince him to leave. "Pack your things and leave here. Never come back. Never think of this place. Never think of me. I won't be thinking of you."
Thomas stared at me, spoke no further and that determination he had to make me leave with him was gone. He gathered a few of his things, stumbled a little, and slammed the door on his way out. I fell to my knees and sobbed. Breathing had become difficult, but it came in quick succession, and the room spun. I rolled onto my side and laid there on the hard wooden floor, resting my head and, after some time, gained control of my breathing. All energy spent, I dragged myself off the floor, leaned against the chair for support and walked to the door, my knees shaky, my arms slumped at my sides, then my hand fumbled with the doorknob until I managed to get it open and step outside.
By then, the storm had subsided. Each step I took on the wet graveled driveway towards Thornfield was slower than the last; the oak trees hung over me, branches weighed down by the heaviness of a rainfall, defeated by circumstances not of their doing. Placing my hands on the oak tree closest to the house that had been torn apart by lightning, I listened intently to it, to what it was trying to relay to me. It was soft at first, then grew in strength. It was crying. My body shook as I cried along with the Great Oak.
