Page 74 of Fragile Wicked Things
It was long past midnight when I wiped the last tears away, entered Thornfield Hall, and tiptoed past the drawing room and towards the stairs. Something cold grabbed my hand and I turned expecting to find Rochester. It was a young woman, not much older than myself, wearing dark eye shadow set against pale skin and deep red lips. Her long wavy hair cascaded onto the fur collar of a black leather jacket. Her hand tightened around mine and she bared her fangs at me.
"Missed one" she said.
I pulled my hand away and retreated, knocking into someone else. When I spun around, I saw another Vampyre identical to the first—twins. I knew who they were at that moment, recalling Lewellyn's story during that Christmas dinner.
"Don't let her get away, Sister," said the second one as she grabbed me. She opened her mouth wider and held me close to her, and I could see blood smeared on her teeth. I let out a scream which made them laugh. Both their heads were now close to my neck when they were violently yanked backwards. Rochester stood there, holding the Vampyre sisters by their hair.
"This one's mine," Rochester said and let go of them.
"Just having a little fun, Roch," said the first.
"Not with this one. Never with this one." Rochester then grabbed me by the hand, dragged me with him into the drawing room and stood before Blanche and her men, staring them all down. "Did everyone hear me? No one is to harm Jane."
The Vampyres remained silent, then turned to Blanche for instruction, and I realized Rochester was not in charge. She stood and came towards us, circling both Rochester and myself, inspecting every bit of me, bent her head towards me and sniffed my hair. Then she put her arm around Rochester, leaned against him and thrust her tongue into his mouth. He did not push her away. It was clear to me that he had no intention of ridding Thornfield of this demon. Blanche pulled her face away from him but held him still.
"I brought her here for you, Edward," she said. My eyes widened when she said that, and my shock made her smile. "Come now, don't tell me you haven't solved the riddle of who called you from Charity Hospital?" Here she mimicked the telephone call I had received. "There was an accident. Mr. Edward Rochester was driving."
Rochester turned to me, and his face softened.
"Don't look too pleased, Edward. She didn't come to play nursemaid to your broken body. I told her you were dead and that Thomas lay dying. He's the reason she came back." Blanche licked Rochester behind his ear, her tongue darting back and forth. She pulled away and a sad moan escaped her pouted lips. "Still, you protect her. Very well, then. No harm will come to her. Do with her what you desire. And I will do with you what I desire."
Blanche smiled at him, led him back to the sofa, pushed him down, spread her legs apart and straddled him. Rochester put his arms around her, kissing her as she rubbed against him. He tore at her blouse and took her breast into his mouth, sucking, licking, and when he pulled away, I saw blood drip down his chin and blood on her breast where he had wounded her. His hand disappeared beneath her skirt.
One year of this lay ahead.
* * *
Two days had passedsince Thomas’s departure from Thornfield. I relived those last moments together when he begged me to leave with him, and I wondered, what if I had gone with him? Would Rochester have hunted us down? There was that possibility. No, I had made the correct decision with the information I had at the time when I thought humanity had returned to Rochester, that it would be just the two of us at Thornfield. Having Blanche there changed everything.
Rarely did I see Rochester and I spent most of my time hiding away in my room not daring to venture out into that house, afraid of what I would find. It was torturous. Often, I picked up a book but found myself staring at the same page for hours. I laundered some clothes in my bathroom, hung them up to dry on the curtain rod of the shower, wrote letters to Thomas I knew would never be mailed and paced my room. Twice a day there was a knock on my door and a tray of food would be left for me. One day, I heard footsteps approaching my room, followed by a shuffle at my door and a note was slipped under. When the letter carrier walked away, I picked up the letter, turned it over, and inspected Rochester's handwriting. I ripped it up without reading and shoved it back under the door.
The days were quiet, and one early morning, when I peeked out, I spied Rochester and Blanche entering Catherine's bedroom. It incensed me that he would dare to share with Blanche what had once belonged to Catherine. They weren't quiet. Blanche was louder than Rochester, and her shrill laughter was heard in my room, just as I used to hear Rochester in the attic with those women.
Nights were worse. I heard screams until their victims succumbed to their every desire, no longer able to fight, praying for death as the Vampyres prolonged their agony. I buried my head under my pillow to muffle the sounds, but I could still hear them and the otherworldly sounds of the creatures. I held onto the pillow tighter, trying to drown out the screaming from below, then came banging at my door. It burst open and I flung the pillow off me. Franklin was standing there, blocking my doorway. My eyes glanced to the balcony door, but it was no use as he would stop me before I could escape. Sitting up in bed, I swung my legs over the side and spoke, but when my voice cracked, I swallowed hard and tried again to sound calm.
"Blanche told you no harm was to come to me. She ordered you."
He seemed undeterred and rushed towards me. "Who do you think sent me?"
Sudden terror struck me—did something happen to Rochester, leaving me alone with Blanche? "Where's Lord Rochester?"
Franklin reached out, rubbing the coarse palm of his hand against my cheek, neck and shoulder, then grabbed me by my wrist and dragged me out. I stumbled in the corridor. I stuttered that he was not to touch me. The tears were about to flow at any moment as he dragged me down the stairs and into the drawing room, but when he threw me onto the floor in front of Blanche, the sight of her angered me and I would not let her see me crumble. Beside her, Rochester fed on a young blond about my age. She looked at me, paralyzed by fear, eyes wide, lips quivering.
The commotion had startled him, and he turned to me, embarrassed at first, and then anger surfaced. "Why is Jane here?"
"I thought she could use some company. Sit near me." Blanche lifted her hand toward me, and I stood, walked to her outstretched hand, and sat on the edge of the sofa as far away as I could. "Closer," she said, and I obeyed. She held me in her arms and breathed me in. "Fear is intoxicating."
"Jane, go to your room," said Rochester.
"Come now, Edward. You have yours. I have mine." Blanche played with my hair, twisting strands through her fingers and then running them down my neck. "I could turn her if you'd like. Or maybe you'd rather do that yourself. Then again, did you think I'd never realize your betrayal in England? For seventy-five years, I waited for your return while you played house with that little girl. From time to time, I watched the two of you from a distance and I was stunned by the way you looked at Catherine. You used to look at me that way."
"Let her go, Blanche."
"You don't look at Jane quite the same way, but then I found the love note you had written her."
The letter I had torn to shreds!I should have burned it in the fire instead, never to be seen by anyone.
"I realized over time you could love Jane just as you had loved Catherine. And what happens to poor Blanche? Pushed aside again. It took decades to get you back, Edward. I'm not waiting again for her little heart to stop of natural causes when I could..."
