Page 60 of Fragile Wicked Things
Thomas took the flashlight from me and walked farther in, shining the light against every part of the mausoleum so as not to miss Rochester. When he stepped away, the darkness closed in on me, wrapping itself around me with warm comfort. Darkness had always frightened me, but the fear I once had dissipated. I closed my eyes so that I could no longer see the light shining from Thomas’s flashlight, and, in my blindness, I felt Rochester was near. Opening my eyes, I turned, and in the blackness, I could somehow see him crouched on the floor, his back up against a crevice in the corner. A light cast a wider net on us, and then I heard Thomas’s soft footsteps coming up behind me, flashlight in hand. I knelt to Rochester, but he didn't look at me as though neither Thomas nor I were there. Rochester was gone, his body left behind in this motionless shell. I reached out and held his hand.
"Mr. Rochester. We've come to bring you home," I said.
His body did not respond, and when I let go of his hand, it fell limp. I turned to Thomas, fearful that we had come too late.
"Try again," Thomas said.
I shuffled closer, placed my hands on him and forced him to look up at me. "We've come to take you home. Edward."
He started at the sound of his name, and his eyes turned to me. "Is it you—is it, Jane? You have come back to me then?"
"I have."
Rochester let me help him up, never once taking his eyes off me as I wrapped my arm around his waist and led him out, freeing him from his self-imposed prison. Never had I seen or felt him in this weakened state. He had resigned himself to this death.
* * *
It would beweeks before Rochester returned, at least in part, to whom he had been before Catherine's death, no longer hiding away in the attic, no longer lifeless, with a guarantee that he would participate in life at Thornfield. He never spoke of his duration alone in the tomb, though I'm certain it allowed him time for reflection—on his life with Catherine and his life going forward. There were times when I caught him in moments of stillness, a book opened on his lap, a page never turned, and I knew he thought of her.
Thomas grew impatient, asking when we were to leave, and each time I responded that I didn't know, which invariably led to him questioning whether my loyalty was to him or Rochester. My loyalty was to myself first, but I couldn't leave Rochester until I knew he would be well cared for. We brought someone, a man Thomas had heard about with a shady past, from California to New Orleans, but after questioning him, I sent him away, telling Thomas he was not right to care for Rochester. In frustration, Thomas began another search for a handler and returned to the city, spending a few days more hoping to find someone worthy of my approval.
Alone, Rochester and I dined together and afterwards, stemming from routine, made our way to the drawing room. He took to reading again, a book of poetry, but that night, I didn't listen to his voice. Instead, I watched him as his lips moved to form the words, as his face expressed the passion in what he read, his features aglow in the firelight.
"Jane? Is there something wrong?" he said.
"No, Mr. Roch...Edward."
"Jane, I know you well enough to understand better. Half-truths should never be spoken."
"I worry about you. Soon, we must leave, but that isn't possible until we find someone to replace Thomas."
"Leave? Why should you leave? You came back for me."
"To free you from that punishment you have fixed yourself to," I said.
Rochester laid down his book and moved towards me, sitting on the sofa and taking my hand. "For thirty days and nights, I lay still in that tomb, relived my life with Catherine and rejected my life before her. My Catherine is gone. I had hoped that being near her would change things for me, but I grew overwrought with despair and loneliness. My ghosts haunted me there. They called my name, taunted me, and drove me mad until I would shout at them to stop, plead with them to forgive me. Peace is not meant to be mine."
"You were stricken by your loss," I said.
"No, it was my child that affected me. The ghosts had worn me down, torn me apart. Their voices wouldn't get out of my head. My daughter pled with me to hold her hand, but I hid from her under the bed because I knew her ghost meant to torture me. She called me in her angelic voice, but I never answered. Imagine a demon trapped by the ghosts it created, held by its sins. A soulless monster cowering in a dark corner, praying for forgiveness, praying to be saved. In that darkness, I heard my name called. Edward. When I came out of that black hole, it was your face I saw; you chased away my ghosts. You came back for me." Here, he looked at me, his face softened, hopeful, but I pulled my hand away.
"You misunderstand my purpose. It was to return you to Thornfield and stay for a little while until you were settled, but not always. We cannot stay."
“We? A lifetime is what I seek from you. I see what impedes my happiness, and I’ll send Thomas away," he said, his voice cold.
I stood to move away from him, but he grabbed me and yanked me back down near him. His hold was aggressive at first, but then it softened, as did his voice when he spoke to me.
"Jane, I promise you this, you will not regret being mine. If it is a marriage you desire, then I will happily comply to make our union legal."
"I cannot marry you and become part of you."
"A part of me you must become. A part of me you already are."
"If I remain here with you, I will abandon part of myself, which will not do. I seek something else."
"Love? Is there not enough between us? If not, I promise it will come over time."
"I scorn your idea of love." I could not help but say that as I rose again and stood before him. "It's a counterfeit sentiment you offer. The thought of saying yes to you makes me shudder and predetermines an early death for me."
