The Eyre Affair

The thought of my sweet Jane travelling to India with that poltroon St John Rivers makes my blood turn to ice.’ He bolstered himself. ‘But I have at least a few months of real happiness before that time. Come, you must be hungry.’ He walked off down the corridor and beckoned me to follow, talking as he went.

‘I suggest we try and trap him when Jane has left after—‘ He shivered slightly at the thought of it. ‘—the wedding. We will be quite alone as Jane takes the narrative with her to Moor House and those fatuous cousins. I am not featured again in the book, so we may do as we please, and I am best disposed to be of assistance. However, as you have guessed, you must do nothing that might disturb Jane; this novel is written in the first person. I can get away to speak with you when I am, to all intents and purposes, out of the story. But you must promise me that you will stay out of Jane’s way. I will speak to Mrs Fairfax and Adele privately; they will understand. The servants Mary and John will do whatever I tell them.’

We had arrived at a door and Rochester knocked impatiently. There was a groaning and a thump and presently a very dishevelled character appeared at the door.

‘Mrs Fairfax,’ said Rochester, ‘this is Miss Next. She will be staying with us for a month or two. I want you to fetch her some food and have a bed made ready; she has travelled far to be here and I think she needs sustenance and rest. It would please me if you were not to discuss her presence with anyone, and I would be grateful if you could engineer that Miss Next and Miss Eyre do not meet. I hardly need to stress the importance of this to you.’

Mrs Fairfax looked me up and down, was particularly intrigued and shocked at the same time by my ponytail and jeans, and then nodded and led me off towards the dining room.

‘We will speak again tomorrow, Miss Next,’ said Rochester, a smile breaking out on his troubled face. ‘And I thank you once again.’

He turned and left me to Mrs Fairfax, who bustled downstairs. The housekeeper told me to wait in the dining room while she brought me something to eat. She returned shortly with some cold cuts of meat and some bread. I ate hungrily as Pilot—who I thought had been let in when Hades went out—sniffed at my trouser leg and wagged his tail excitedly.

‘He remembers you,’ remarked Mrs Fairfax slowly, ‘yet I have been working here for many years and I do not recall having laid eyes upon you before.’

I tickled Pilot’s ear.

‘I threw a stick for him once. When he was out with his master.’

‘I see,’ replied Mrs Fairfax, suspiciously. ‘And how do you know Mr Rochester?’

‘I, ah, met the Rochesters in Madeira. I knew his brother.’

‘I see. Very tragic.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Then you know the Masons?’

‘Not well.’

She had been eyeing my jeans again.

‘Women wear breeches where you come from?’

‘Often, Mrs Fairfax.’

‘And where is it that you come from? London?’

‘Farther than that.’

‘Ah!’ said Mrs Fairfax with a knowing smile. ‘Osaka!’

She bustled out, leaving me alone with Pilot, having made me promise that I would not feed him from the table. She returned ten minutes later with a tray of tea things, then left me for another half-hour to make up a room. She led me up to a second-storey chamber with a fine view out of the front of the house. I had insisted that Pilot stay with me, and he slept against the locked door, somehow sensing the possible danger that his new mistress might be in. I slept fitfully and dreamed of Hades laughing at me.

As I slept, Victor and the others back at the Swindon LiteraTec office had been celebrating the return of the narrative to the novel. Apart from a brief mention of Mrs Fairfax making noises on the night of the bedroom fire, it was all pretty much as anyone remembered it. A member of the Bronte Federation had been called in to examine the text as it wrote itself across the last two hundred pages, which up until this moment had been blank. The Bronte scholar knew the book by heart and his pleased expression gave them no cause for complaint.

I woke to the sound of Pilot scratching on the door to be let out. I quietly unlocked it and peeped out. I could see Jane bustling down the corridor and quickly shut the door and looked at my watch. It was barely 6 a.m. and only a few of the domestic staff were awake. I waited a couple of minutes, let Pilot out and then followed, cautious lest I bumped into Jane. The morning was spent with almost everyone in the house setting Rochester’s room to rights, so after breakfast I was about to make my way out of the house when Mrs Fairfax stopped me.

‘Miss Next,’ announced the housekeeper, ‘Mr Rochester has explained to me about the events of the past week and I wanted to add my thanks to his.’

She said it without emotion but I was in no doubt that she meant it. She added: ‘He has instructed me to have the house guarded against agents who would wish Miss Eyre harm.’

I looked out of the window; from where we stood I could see an estate worker standing on sentry duty with a large pickaxe handle. As we watched he glanced into the house and scurried out of sight. A few moments later Jane herself walked out of the door, looked about her, took a deep breath in the crisp morning air, and then went back inside. After a few moments the estate worker reappeared and took up his post once more.

‘Miss Eyre must never know we are watching and guarding her,’ said Mrs Fairfax severely.

‘I understand.’

Mrs Fairfax nodded and looked at me critically.

‘Do women go about with their heads uncovered where you come from?’

‘Frequently.’

‘It isn’t the accepted thing here,’ she said reproachfully. ‘Come with me and I shall make you presentable.’

Mrs Fairfax took me to her own room and gave me a bonnet to wear along with a thick black cloak that covered me to my feet. I thanked her and Mrs Fairfax bobbed courteously.

‘Is Mr Rochester at home today?’ I asked.

‘He has gone to make arrangements. I understand he went to Mr Eshton’s place; there is quite a party going on. Colonel Dent will be there as well as Lord Ingram. I don’t expect him back for a week.’

‘With all that is going on here, do you think it is wise?’

Mrs Fairfax looked at me as though I were an infant.

‘You don’t understand, do you? After the fire Mr Rochester goes away for a week. That’s how it happens.’

I wanted to ask more but the housekeeper excused herself and I was left alone. I collected my thoughts, smoothed the cloak and went outside to walk around the house, checking that everything was secure. All the estate workers nodded to me respectfully as I passed, each of them armed with a weapon of some sort. Hoping that none of them would have to face him, I walked across the lawn in the direction that Hades had taken the previous night. I was just passing the large beeches near the ha-ha when a familiar voice made me turn.

‘Do we stand a chance against him?’

It was Rochester. He was standing behind one of the large tree trunks, looking at me with grave concern etched upon his face.

‘Every chance, sir,’ I responded. ‘Without me he is trapped here; if he wants to return he has to negotiate.’

‘And where is he?’

‘I was going to try the town. Aren’t you meant to be at Mr Eshton’s?’

‘I wanted to speak to you before I left. You will do all you can, won’t you?’

I assured him that I would do everything in my power and then set off for the town.

Millcote was a good-sized town. I made my way to the centre, where I found a church, a staged-coach stop, three inns, a bank, two draper’s, a bagged-goods merchant and assorted other trades. It was market day and the town was busy. No one gave me a second glance as I walked through the stalls, which were piled high with winter produce and game. Apart from the faint odour of ink that pervaded the scene, it might have been real. The first hostelry I chanced across was The George. Since it was actually named in the book I supposed it might offer the best chance.

I entered and asked the innkeeper whether a man of large stature had taken a room at the inn that