Jane Eyre 1. Journey chapter one

Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer: 

Anne Eyre

Copyright © 2012 Summer Day

All rights reserved worldwide.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without the express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

*Note to Readers: UK Spelling / Punctuation used in Anne Eyre.

**C****hapter One**

**Journey**

I have always wanted to live in the South of England. In my dreams I imagined one day I would live near the sea. Water is transient yet eternal. Sometimes I think my existence at Thornton Hall was just a mirage, an excuse to visit the ocean.

The day my aunt handed me over to Social Services, I suspected life was not meant to be easy. I was only eight. Afterwards, I endured a series of foster homes and finally an expensive school paid for by my unknown benefactor. I ended up flung out onto a busy street at eighteen, wearing last year's jeans and carrying every possession I owned on my back. I knew I had to get out of London: the city; the congested streets; the strangers moving past me as if I was air; the sheer bustle, scope and majesty of the place would swamp me if I didn't.

I need to go somewhere solitary, I thought, somewhere safe.

I'd started searching the internet a few weeks before my final exams and just after I'd completed my university interviews. If I got in (and my final marks suggested I would), I'd still have more than three months (and nowhere to live) before classes started. I'd applied to at least six different employment agencies for a job but I had few practical skills. My benefactor had paid for me to have a proper education at an exclusive school in South Kensington. Lockwood was filled with rich, abandoned girls - girls who rated you on looks and _pulling power_ and girls who committed various minor classroom crimes, then pointed at you for the blame. The students in their checked uniforms were rich girls from good families, girls who hated _povvies_ (short for poverty stricken ones). Girls like me. Let's just say, I did not fit in, but I made the most of the experience. My expensive education and ability to speak French were what led me to Thornton Hall and the job of caring for six-year-old Sophie Varens.

Now that I'm eighteen and officially an adult, solid work is hard to find. I see endless advertisements for _Girls Wanted_ and _Dance Clubs_. It makes my stomach churn when I realize that no matter how hard I study, the only opportunities for me to earn a full salary without a university degree can be found in the final classified pages of a free newspaper.

I feel older than my years. You may wonder how that is possible, but let's face it, after the kind of life I've led already, it is. I'm finished with Lockwood School and grateful for my thorough knowledge of English, French, History, Music and Mathematics. I got very high marks in all my subjects but I've learnt already that finishing school in the middle of a recession was not the wisest choice – as if I had one. Every advertisement screams experience. Which kind would they like?

Would they like the experience of being abandoned by my birth mother on my aunt's doorstep, aged two? Being fostered out six years later because my aunt disliked me? Realizing I'd never be adopted and have a real family because my mother wouldn't sign the release forms? I was too old by then to be anyone's first choice. This led me to eight different foster homes in as many years.

Yes, I've had quite an education. And yet, I have no contact with my birth parents but I'm not bitter. I have raised myself, in many ways, and I do not believe I have done a bad job. It is true, my expectations for happiness are not high but for the first time, I feel free and that is a joy in and of itself.

A few days after I'd finished school I found work. The job was with an older couple who worked in the City, in banking. The father, a dour accountant, had taken the morning off to show me his three-year-old's routine. He was fighting with his wife and she had stormed out. This should have been my warning. During nap time, the father tried to kiss me and when I pulled away, he rang my agency and said I couldn't cope with the demands of the position. He was a valuable client, so they didn't want to hear my side of the story.

As I grabbed my coat and left, I mentally put a line through that agency on my list. The experience made me wary of taking agency jobs again. I thought I might do better seeking work independently.

A week later, I was very low on funds and my room was only paid up for another night. I was beginning to wonder if sleeping rough in central London would suit me (obviously, it wouldn't) when I saw an advertisement in a women's magazine: _Governess wanted for remote stately home in Devon_. I searched the old-fashioned word and realized a governess was like a nanny but she wasn't expected to do domestic tasks, just to tutor the child in schoolwork. The contact details for a Mrs Fairfax at Thornton Hall in Cornwall, a seaside town in the South of England, were displayed. I immediately found enough money to use my pay phone and dialled Thornton Hall. I spoke to the woman on the telephone, Mrs Edwina Fairfax, and I assumed the child who might be in my care, was her daughter.

Mrs Fairfax was polite and well-spoken on the phone. Just her voice was like a balm to me. Street thugs and wayward teenagers ditching school loitered around my depressing borough. I emailed Mrs Fairfax my school results and references almost immediately. A day later, I had the job.

It was a huge relief to me. I'd been approaching the summer holidays with little money and no prospects. I took what was left of my savings to go to an enormous department store on Oxford Street to choose a new summer jacket and shoes. I chose a cobalt blue coat and red Mary Jane style flats to go with my black opaque stockings. I would look the part; even if I wasn't sure I felt it. Cornwall would not be cold this time of year, but Thornton Hall was an ancient property situated alongside the coastline, so it would likely be breezy; English weather was always changeable. I packed my few unwanted belongings into a garbage bag and left them on the street outside my flat, after I'd returned my keys to my dodgy landlord. He looked me up and down and smirked as I announced I would be leaving. I walked out the door with my new bag declaring I would not be coming back.

I was excited, anticipating the start of a new adventure, a new life. Who wouldn't be after the one I'd already had? I'd been warned that there was a weak internet signal at Thornton, but this almost pleased me. There was no one I wanted to keep in touch with. My so-called friends had all gone off on summer holidays bankrolled by their parents. I couldn't join them even if I had been invited. I didn't mind solitude that much, not really. I'd learnt to create worlds inside my head, the ones of my own learning.

Perhaps I had an over-active imagination, but it would stand me in good stead where I was going. I assumed there would be few people and little else to do apart from looking after Sophie.

I'd seen a picture of the child and had spoken a few words to her over the telephone – in French. Sophie had squealed with delight when I described to her some of the places I'd seen on the school trip I'd taken to Paris – one of the most exciting moments of my life so far. The entire senior French class had been packed into a bus and herded across the English Channel via ferry only to arrive in another country, another world, one with fresh bread and cakes and a whole new exotic language.

At the station, I bought an extra mobile phone card with what remained of my savings. Taking on board the isolation I might be facing at Thornton, it seemed a smart idea to arrive prepared. In the photograph I'd been emailed, Thornton Hall was situated at the end of a long windy road on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. I could almost hear the waves crashing against the rocks.

I clutched my phone card as I boarded the carriage. I'd need it, I thought; although I wondered if so far out in the country, there would even be a reception. On the train, I read through my formal letter of employment, emailed to me and signed by the housekeeper, Mrs Fairfax. Prior to this, she had been sent references from two of my teachers at school and another from the head mistress. I suppose the school felt it was their duty to say some good things about me. I'd always had remarkable academic results, _considering my troublesome attitude_, one teacher had told me.

I stood at the changeover station after a few hours' journey wearing my new coat and carrying every item I possessed in the world. There wasn't much. I didn't want to keep too many things, as I said: just a spare cardigan, some jeans, new underwear, socks (lots of socks), and an extra scarf. I was raised in England and though it was summer, I doubted even a hint of fine weather.

I read during the second part of my journey: first, a magazine, then the news on my smart phone; I listened to some music, the latest band that I'd liked; house music; it reminded me of my best friend from school, Irma.

Irma had taken me under her wing when I'd arrived at Lockwood. She had gone out of her way to befriend me when I was at my loneliest and for that, and so much more, I will never forget her.

Irma also disliked authority and we crept out one night to go clubbing in Soho. It was the one demerit of our school careers but the ramifications had been far reaching. The noisy club in central London was packed with people when we arrived and we felt safe in the cover of darkness and anonymity. The band was loud, louder than my ears could stand but Irma and I loved it. We rocked out all night, lost in the noise and energy of the place.

In the early hours of the morning, we took a mini-cab back to school hoping against hope that none of the boarding supervisors would have noticed our absence. Unbeknown to us, someone had slipped an illegal substance into Irma's drink, too much, and Irma collapsed. Later, she was expelled. I was kept on out of charity because I had nowhere else to go and the school authorities couldn't prove I'd taken anything of my own volition. Irma's parents have refused to allow us to speak to each other since the incident.

The experience left me friendless in my senior year. It could have happened to anyone but, of course, we never should have been in that club in the first place. Though we hadn't been drinking alcohol and the whole escape had been Irma's idea, I felt responsible. I was responsible. It was the one moment, the one lack of clarity in my teenage life; a huge mistake and Irma paid for it. I owed it to her now that I was out of that school, to live the best life possible. I posted a card of apology to her from the post office in Devon, and wished her well. I'd heard she'd finished off her final year elsewhere and was doing fine. Irma's parents couldn't stop us from communicating now that we were legally adults but I didn't expect a response.

It was near the end of the year when this happened and somehow, the scandal was hushed up. Irma had sisters at the school and the other parents thought getting the press involved would only be detrimental. Perhaps they were right. An air of hostility surrounded me though Irma had texted that she held no grudge and wished me all the best. That was before her mobile was disconnected. The police even caught the guy who spiked her drink on CCTV; the drink could've just as easily been mine. If it was mine, apart from Irma, let's face it, who'd have cared? Her sister and the other students left at school had told me as much. I couldn't blame them. In some ways it was unfair that I'd been allowed to stay; nothing was ever the same at Lockwood after that and I was glad when the school year ended.

Every night, since I was little, after saying the Lord's Prayer that I was taught, I prayed to turn eighteen, as if that could somehow happen overnight. But it made the time go faster. _Our father who art in heaven… please make me turn eighteen._

Irma knew all about this. She had prayed for our escape too, prayed for our freedom. At eighteen we could do everything legally: vote, drink, and get married (a ridiculous notion to me since I'd barely been allowed to speak to anyone male who wasn't a teacher in all my teenage years at Lockwood).

And now, here I was, truly on my own for the first time. I felt the rush of excitement as the train moved out from the station near Devon and the conductor came to check my ticket. I imagined I was on some glamorous train, like the Orient Express, a train I used to watch leave Victoria Station – packed with tourists heading to Europe. That was when I lived near Brixton, and Victoria Station was my nearest changeover. That was Foster Family Six.

I had planned to make a stop at a little town called Lyme Regis, but to do that I would need a car and I would need to learn to drive. All things come in time; isn't that what I was taught? I could hardly wait for my life to begin. My real life had been all too real already.


	2. An Education Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**An Education**

I pulled out my folder, packed with documents relating to the first year school syllabus that I would need to be familiar with. I continued reading over standards and child development for the first part of my journey. Eventually, I let the endlessly lush scenery take over as I lolled against the window with music blaring in my ears. This time it was soft and classical, like the songs I'd taught myself on the keyboard in music class.

Because it was summer, Mrs Fairfax said she was not too strict about schooling but the small, French child was the ward of a Mr Nathanial Rochester and he did not wish her to be behind when the new school year started. It was clear Sophie did not belong to Mrs Fairfax as I'd originally thought. Prior to her attendance in school she was used to being cared for at home when she had lived mysteriously with her mother - in Paris, the city of light.

'Anne, you will not be expected to do any cooking or cleaning; there is staff for that. Your responsibility is improving Sophie's English.' Mrs Fairfax's words had resonated in my ear over the telephone. Hardly anyone speaks on the telephone these days; it's all texts and social networking. Those telephone calls really did make me feel special. I hoped my inexperience and youth would not be considered a disadvantage. As it turned out it was for exactly those qualities that I was hired.

I was proficient in French, although I had been instructed to speak to Sophie mostly in English. I hoped she wasn't as unruly as some of the previous children I'd babysat.

There were also younger children in my foster families - all eight of them - until I finally hit the jackpot and was sent to Lockwood to board. My benefactor had decided he didn't want anything to do with me but to appease his conscience I was sent to this select boarding school. I assume my benefactor was a _he_ but the actual person could have just as easily been a woman, I suppose. The lawyer who signed my school cheques was male. I knew nothing more about my benefactor (who insisted on a confidentiality clause), other than who his lawyer was.

Lockwood School was not the friendliest place, as you may have guessed. It was there that we froze away the winters and, after Irma left, I tried to make friends with girls who'd invite me to vacation with them over endless summers. It almost worked but usually they tossed me to the curb after a few weeks when they found out I could never return the favour. Inevitably, I spent the last weeks of summer tucked up at school, learning the syllabus for the following year. That's really how I became academically gifted; I had nothing better to do. And of course, I liked to read and draw; qualities which helped me inhabit my own little world.

I was surprised in some ways, that when I turned eighteen, I had nowhere to go and my benefactor didn't want to meet me. It would have been upsetting but I was so ready to embrace my freedom I put this unnecessary slight out of my mind and resolved to get on with my life, now that I could finally, legally, make some decisions for myself.

I arrived in the village near Thornton Hall at night. I was to stay at an inn. Next morning I would get a lift to Hay Lane which led to the vast estate of Thornton. Mrs Fairfax had arranged for some neighbours to meet me.

The inn was small, friendly and comforting. I ate my dinner (sausages, mashed potato and beans) and drank a glass of lemonade. I pushed my food around on my plate. It reminded me of some of the worst excesses of boarding school – food fights and eating competitions. When the teachers were absent, the older girls and prefects made the rules. (Some of the older girls locked us in a room in one of the sports houses…) The prefects were the worst in that school. You were nothing when you first arrived. There were all sorts of standards and anti-bullying messages but the younger students were still bullied to within an inch of their lives by the older ones. If you were bullied and spoke up, it only made things worse. I was twelve when I arrived at the school and I had to prove myself until I was older and became a prefect myself. Our group tried to install a different set of rules and I'd like to think the younger students that followed us were a little less feral than the older ones who'd been the original bullies at Lockwood. However, boarding school was ultimately better than some of the foster care I'd been allocated. I shuddered at the memory of strange people and unfamiliar beds.

My room at the inn that night was warm. I heard the crash of the sea in the distance. I was getting closer to the cliffs of Cornwall and I couldn't wait to see them, especially now that I could hear the ocean. Is there any sleep deeper or more luxurious than one where you listen to the folding waves nearby? I doubted it.

The next morning, the sky shone brilliant with sun. I heard a voice from downstairs.

'Anne? Anne Eyre?'

I walked down to the foyer, sleepy eyed.

A youngish man with blonde hair spoke from the first floor.

'My name is Connor Rivers. I'm a friend of Mrs Fairfax; we are from the same church. My sisters and I are visiting Devon and we've offered to drive you to Thornton since we wanted to see that part of the coastline anyway.'

I looked perplexed.

Connor smiled, welcomingly.

'Mrs Fairfax said she'd left you a message.'

I checked my phone; sure enough, there it was.

'Oh yes,' I said, remembering. 'Just a minute.' I wasn't used to such hospitality in London.

'My sisters and I live in Devon but we've come to visit friends on a neighbouring property, not far from Thornton.'

Connor introduced his sisters who were young and pretty and suited their names, Rainbow and Daisy.

I did a double take. The girls wore flowing skirts, bare feet and flowers in their hair. All of the siblings looked alike and the girls waved to me as if we already knew each other. They seemed friendly and safe.

'I'm with my sisters, we're about to leave. We have a church christening to go to….' And he spoke on.

Connor seemed nice enough. He could not have been more than twenty-one and I'd say his sisters were younger than me. As we drove, the siblings talked about how they were raising money for a local country fair to be held in a few months. They were also building a school in India and talked animatedly about this.

I stared out the window as I listened. I admired their enthusiasm for helping others. As I'd just escaped from school, the idea of helping to build another one, didn't capture my imagination. Tutoring one pupil in a spacious country home, however, would be different. Rainbow and Daisy chatted away about their new home in Devon and the church youth group they enjoyed as Connor loaded my meagre belongings into the car.

The girls conversed with me warmly during the long drive.

'And you finished school in London?' Daisy asked, 'Oh, it's such a big city. My sister and I prefer the country, but we've been shopping in Oxford Street a few times and it was so much fun.'

'Oh, yes,' Rainbow said, 'I adore department stores.'

'My sisters sound far more materialistic than they are,' Connor assured me.

'That's alright,' I said, 'I also love shopping in London. Where do you think I bought my new coat?'

Rainbow and Daisy both admired the fabric.

'Even so,' Connor said, 'we were in town for a church picnic in Hyde Park. It was a lovely day and I'm sure we all remember it more for the new friends we made than the items we bought.'

Connor's sisters giggled and Rainbow raised her eyebrow at her brother's seriousness.

'Of course,' Daisy said, smiling at me.

'I like Hyde Park and St James' Park. They are beautiful in summer or winter,' I added.

The sisters nodded in agreement.

I fell asleep during the second half of the journey. When I woke up, the girls were singing and I could see Thornton Hall in the distance.

'Here we are,' Connor announced.

Thornton was a large, majestic building that towered over the lush farming fields surrounding it.

'Anne?' Daisy's voice rang out.

'Wake up, Anne,' Rainbow sang prettily.

'Miles away,' Daisy said, tugging my shoulder.

Apart from being tired, I slept because I slept got motion sickness and this had always been my body's way of preventing it. The movement of the car helped make me drowsy but the singing woke me. I listened to the distant sound of the water lapping the shore. We were driving along the highest cliff, not far from where Thornton Hall was situated. To reach the driveway that led to the main house, we rambled along Hay Lane in the brilliant morning light. It had been a long journey from my London bedsit to here.

The car stopped and so did the tuneful but high pitched singing of the sisters.

I rolled out of the car to see an imposing mansion up close. Because it was warm for this time of year, there was no mist but a light film of salty air greeted my lips as I stepped out from the car.

'Can I take your bag, Anne?' Connor asked me. 'Normally we'd come in for tea with Mrs Fairfax but we're running a bit behind schedule.'

The boy smiled. There is no way I should have referred to him as _the boy_ in my mind, since he was actually three years older than me. For some reason, his trusting glance made him seem sheltered, unlike me.

'It's okay,' I said, embarrassed I had so few belongings.

'Suit yourself,' he said. I hoped somehow I hadn't offended him. 'This place used to have tons of racehorses when Lord Rochester was alive. The money this family had - still has, would buy a small country. I only hope they use some of it for good purposes. I've heard tons of stories about the new owner, Nate Rochester.'

'You mean Nathanial Fairfax Rochester?'

'Yes, he sometimes uses a shortened version of his first name. He's very modern, for an aristocrat.' Connor looked into my eyes and smiled. He seemed to want to tell me something.

'You really have never travelled anywhere, have you Anne?'

'Not unless you count all over London.'

He smiled.

'Well, out here in the country, things may seem kinder, but we have our fair share of secrets.'

I wondered what he meant.

'Anyway, we're heading back to the village now for the christening. At the end of the year, my sisters and I are going to India.'

I realized Connor intended to travel the world. He seemed to want to delay my departure, glancing at me as he jumped into the car.

'Just a tip - the owner of Thornton has a bit of trouble keeping his staff now that the old man's gone. I've heard strange stories about this place. Just remember, Anne, in the modern world, no one has slaves anymore. Tell Mrs Fairfax I'm leaving the car to be collected from the station.'

I nodded.

_Is that what I was to become? A paid slave?_

A soft chill air wafted across the threshold as the Rivers siblings drove off. I walked towards Thornton Hall and knocked on the heavy door, apprehensively.


	3. Thornton Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Thornton **

An ancient, stooped-over man opened the heavy door and peered out at me through the space between the safety chain and the wall.

'Are you Mr Rochester?'

He laughed.

'No, Miss. I'm Hector, the butler. I'm old enough to be his grandfather. The owner of Thornton is who you'll be wanting. He's away in Europe, not sure if he'll be back here all summer. Sometimes he goes away and we wonder if he'll ever return. Place will go to rack and ruin. No, it's the younger Rochester you'll be wanting, but I knew Rochester senior back when he was still a boy - giving away my age again,' he chuckled. I could have assured him I would not have guessed it to be less than one hundred.

'No, that younger Rochester has wild parties,' he tutted and shook his head. 'His father would not have approved, no he would not.'

With those words, the elderly man shut the door in my face. Already I was thinking he was pretty weird.

I sat on the doorstep wondering what to do next.

How was I supposed to interpret the letter, the paid for room in Devon, the helpfulness of Mrs Fairfax and the old-fashioned interview method – the telephone? I sat on the door step and put my head in my hands.

Moments later, an older but very well-dressed woman came out.

'Anne? Anne Eyre?'

'Yes, that's me,' I said with a mixture of eagerness and exasperation.

'Oh, Anne, I am so glad you've arrived. I'm Edwina Fairfax, the housekeeper here at Thornton Hall. Sophie, the child you are to tutor, is having her afternoon nap but we've been expecting you all day…' she leant in, 'take no notice of Hector; he's been here for decades, Nathanial would never ask him to leave, it's his home too but he really doesn't work as the butler anymore; though he's very good at judging the young man who owns the place,' Mrs Fairfax said.

She continued to speak as she led me through the vast entrance hallway of the house with grand, high ceilings and hall lights lit up like crystal. 'Never mind Hector,' she continued. 'He's over a hundred,' she whispered. 'He's been working here for sixty years, he's going a bit… well, he's a bit confused. I can't really talk to him and there are so few staff left here, just a cook and a cleaner and the grooms who come to work during the day. We have a lodger upstairs, Emma Poole, but she doesn't speak much, does her own thing and writes all day from her room in the attic, or so I'm told. I'm not allowed to go in there as she doesn't like being disturbed.' Mrs Fairfax shrugged and raised an eyebrow. 'Artistic types,' she said disdainfully.

'I mostly just run the house, organise the pay, the salaries. I read – a lot! Do you read novels Anne? Of course we have television and the local cinema but no internet connection while the renovations to the far wing are being done, not unless you go into the village - there are too many builders around here digging up phone lines and what not - so, they're working on that.'

No internet, I thought. Good. I don't want the distraction while I'm busy hiding from the world and its coldness.

'The staff are… let's just say they are not readers. They spend their evenings in the village pub mostly, when they are not wanted around here. Nathanial Rochester, he's the owner now; he doesn't visit much, either, but he's supposedly bringing his friends to stay for the summer; some of them are in a band he manages and Nathanial agreed to let them rehearse here. Apart from that, his business interests are varied. He is coming home to organise the horses and buy some more, or sell them; I'm not really sure. I think he just wants someone to improve Sophie's English over the summer. She's no trouble, Anne, but she mostly speaks French. Do you speak French fluently?'

'Yes, yes, of course.'

'Good. Don't speak it around Sophie, unless you have to! We want her to speak English as well as her French, if possible. Anyway, I'll be interested to hear what you think of her.'

Mrs Fairfax talked on.

It was quite refreshing to hear her speak in this relaxed manner. I wasn't expecting her to be like this - someone who lived in such a grand house and wore a twin set and pleated skirt. She looked like what I imagined a lady-in-waiting to a princess might look. She spoke to me as a grown up, an equal, something I was not entirely used to.

I was not used to making friends. My history, as you may have gathered, is not an easy story to share with strangers. Together, we walked into the grand ballroom. There were high chandeliers and paintings on the walls and rows of mirrors and windows. It reminded me of one of those lavish palaces I'd only seen on the internet or in movies.

'Nathanial doesn't need a job. His family have inherited money over many generations, so his business is really about keeping the family finances in order. Mrs Fairfax raised her eyebrow and continued, 'I often wonder at the logic of such a young man inheriting everything, but I suppose we can't predict such excesses, now, can we? I am sure there must be a reason for it and so far he has acted with great thoughtfulness. I can't say I approve of his producing movies in America or managing the band but those are his hobbies and not for me to judge,' she trailed off. Though she instantly told me to call her by her name, Edwina, I mostly referred to her as Mrs Fairfax.

'For some reason, Mrs Fairfax, I assumed Sophie was your child.'

'Oh, no dear, she is simply in my care.'

Mrs Fairfax offered no further explanation as to Sophie's existence and I was left to wonder.

'Now, let's show you to your room, and then we'll make a nice cup of tea.'

I hadn't been expecting a particularly warm welcome and I'd rarely experienced such kindness from a stranger. In little under an hour, I almost felt like I had inherited a grandmother because Mrs Fairfax was so unexpectedly friendly.

As it turned out, she was a distant cousin of the Rochesters (but, as she'd told me laughingly, _not one of the rich ones_). She'd originally been Nathanial's nanny and had raised him and his brother from infancy. Nate's older brother had died, leaving Nathanial Rochester to inherit the vast family estate and the wealth of family owned companies.

'There are a few workers on the property. They are quite disinterested in activities like reading and movies so it will be wonderful to have someone to talk to in the evenings.' Mrs Fairfax said.

Her chatter continued and I admit I found it refreshing to have an older woman, effectively my employer, take so much interest in me.

'I've put you in one of the warmer rooms; there are twelve bedrooms to choose from, and it's not the biggest, but I think you will like it.'

She led the way up the stairs and along a wide hallway.

My bedroom had high ceilings and a distant view of the ocean. There was a large desk beneath the window sill and a double bed with a thick duvet covered by an embroidered bedspread. I noticed the maid had left a glass of water covered in a lace doily atop a pile of fashion magazines.

'This is perfect,' I said. _Almost too perfect, more than I'd ever dreamt,_ I thought.

'There's an ensuite to your right and a swimming pool that is heated in winter, downstairs. Mr Rochester, Nathanial's father, had it installed when the boys were young but it doesn't get used as much now. Perhaps, if you swim, you could teach Sophie. I noticed on your CV…,' she trailed off again.

'Yes, of course. I have my First Aid Certificate; I took the test during my final term at school.'

'Was it an all-encompassing education? I noticed you attended Lockwood – one of the most prestigious ladies' colleges in London.'

'Oh yes,' I replied, 'very all-encompassing.'

I had learnt not to share past hurts. I pulled my sleeve down to cover the scar on my hand, courtesy of one of my sixth form classmates and her sculpture implement which tore _accidentally_ into my skin during a pottery class. The mauling happened just after Irma left. I'd barely screamed let alone reported the incident - that would have led to further problems.

My _education _had included bitterly cold winter dormitories, corporal punishment dealt out in private by prefects (before the younger girls became prefects themselves) and gossiping, neglected, fiercely snobbish teenage girls.

'Have a good sleep, Anne. You can meet Sophie tomorrow.'

I washed my face and could hardly believe my luck. The bedroom enveloped me but I'd never seen such splendour, much less lived in it. In the middle of the night, I had an unsettling dream. I was a child again and I was trapped in the locker room of my school and no one would let me out. When I opened my eyes, I stared above me at the high, intricately designed ceiling and felt a security under my blankets that had previously eluded me.


	4. Lessons Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Lessons**

The next morning I slept in.

When I walked out of my bedroom to introduce myself to my English student, Sophie was sitting at the top of the stairs. She wore her pyjamas and those spongy, brightly coloured curlers, in her hair. She had a smile on her adorable face that lit up the overcast morning and spoke in a sweet voice, 'Bonjour! Je m'appelle Sophie. Comment allez – vous?'

'Je vais bien, merci. You must be Sophie,' I said and smiled, 'I am Anne Eyre.'

She dragged me into my room as I explained to her in French that we should try to speak mostly English together from now on. Sophie asked me if I had a present and I gave her a colouring set I'd bought for her at the station. She seemed pleased with this.

'Merci. Thank you,' she said hesitantly.

I explained to Sophie that if we worked well together this week, we would go into the village for a cream tea and movie on Saturday afternoon. This seemed to excite her. The girl of six was now seated at the end of my bed. She pulled out an apple from her pocket and began to eat it.

'This is my breakfast,' the child said in a French accent. 'Leah also made me cereal.' Leah helped in the kitchen and organised the catering. I was told she lived nearby but sometimes she stayed at the estate when there was a large house party.

As we walked down the stairs together, there seemed to me to be little to do except speak to Sophie in English and entertain her. Slowly, we made plans for the day. Her schedule went something like this: swimming, breakfast, morning English lesson, lunch, and a walk around the farm or into town, riding lessons, painting, dinner. After dinner we read or watched television and played music. Our days began to fall into different variations of this routine from the first week I arrived.

By the second week, Sophie would bound into my room before breakfast and request that I take her swimming.

'Bonjour, _maintenant!_' she would whisper loudly in my ear.

'Not now, Sophie, soon. And remember we are speaking in English. '

It was a challenge for her but she became fluent very quickly.

If Sophie, who was an early riser, woke me too early, I pulled the pillow over my face in protest.

'Wake up!' Sophie giggled as she took my hand and pulled me out of bed the next morning.

Our days quickly fell into a routine.

In the morning if I woke first, I got Sophie and helped her choose an outfit for the day. We'd go to the kitchen where Leah or Merida, the other kitchen hand, would have eggs cooking and various grooms and workmen were gathered around the kitchen table eating hungrily.

Some mornings Sophie and I had porridge with brown sugar, honey and bananas. On other occasions we had toast and poached eggs or fruit.

Sometimes, I'd read the paper that was delivered from the village - or just the headlines - because Sophie would distract me or be keen to go outside. She often played with her dolls after breakfast while I read. I was trying to finish my reading list for the start of the university year. I intended to study literature but I was still waiting to hear the final result of my scholarship interviews.

We always started our school work by nine in the morning. In the play room upstairs, an ancient desk had been cleared and set aside for homework. It was the same room used by generations of Rochesters for a similar purpose. No one ever told me who Sophie's parents were and I assumed it was impolite to ask unless someone offered an explanation.

Sophie herself just made a hand signal like an aeroplane and slipped back into French, announcing, 'Je viens de France. La France est un pays merveilieux,' asking me, 'Vous etes-vous plu ici?' in her most polite voice.

'Of course I like it here!' I replied. 'This is an amazing house.'

Then she explained her origins to me, as if her family lived overseas and she'd travel there by aeroplane one day! I have to admit, this was a bit strange but when life offers you the beauty and wonder of a second chance amidst the chaos of normal, everyday existence, you don't ask questions.

I was told Sophie's last name was Varens; her mother lived in Paris and she was being raised at her mother's request here at Thornton Hall. I assumed her mother had some link to this place. Mrs Fairfax used an old fashioned term, stating that Sophie would have been a "ward of the state," had Mr Rochester not taken her in. This, I could relate to. Her relatives had been French; beyond that, her origins were unknown to me. By my second week at Thornton Hall the mystery was no clearer.

Sophie liked simple pleasures: drawing, music and sports were her joys. Schoolwork was not - that became clear. Because it was summer, I tried to incorporate her hobbies into her learning. We walked to the stables and named all of the objects we saw in both French and English. Sophie was a fast learner where the language of her adopted country was concerned and already had a good, basic vocabulary.

Daily, her English improved and after a fortnight we were speaking together more often in English than in French. It was exciting to see my young charge, so delicate and frivolous naturally, running wild across the land with me, exploring, and sketching and teaching me things too. From the start, I now realize, Sophie was teaching me trust and the nature of acceptance; perhaps even how to expect happiness. She had a wicked sense of humour. She constantly played jokes on Mrs Fairfax and me and hid clever notes and funny pictures in unexpected places, using both the French words and the English translation. In this way, we learned together.

On one occasion during the first weeks I was at Thornton, Mrs Fairfax was dismayed when Sophie performed some songs and outrageous dance moves that were clearly learnt from video clips.

I quickly encouraged Sophie to move on to the poem we'd been learning but not until I saw Mrs Fairfax frowning. 'Sophie should concentrate on her drawings and her riding and run the songs by me should she wish to give an impromptu performance in future,' Mrs Fairfax commented, a look of surprise on her face.

'I rarely encourage Sophie to watch television, but sometimes I worry about Rochester's friends - they can be such a wayward influence. They leave the music channel on all day and night when they are here. Is it any wonder the child has learnt all of those dance moves. Still, I suppose it's in her nature when you consider how she was raised before she came here,' Mrs Fairfax added.

I wasn't sure what she meant and I didn't press for details. I would hate to be judged on my background and tried not to do the same to others. Besides, Sophie had an ability to make me laugh and she was just having fun trying to emulate teenagers who danced like that. I thought it would be good for her to mix with children her own age, though, so we enrolled her in the village ballet class after her impromptu performance.

I grew to like Sophie a great deal over those first weeks and it was to my huge advantage that she seemed to like me. In the afternoons, we went outside and sketched and painted in the meadow if it was warm enough. We swam in the vast, warm indoor pool that was built on the lower level of the estate; the water was heated even though it was summer. The air outside was sometimes cool again by mid-afternoon, so we had to remember to dry off completely before going outside. Besides being one of the most garrulous children I'd ever met, Sophie was also one of the nicest. She and Mrs Fairfax restored my belief in human kindness as the endless, perfect summer continued.

Sophie was happiest face painting and dancing and playing with her many dolls and chatting endlessly using her newly acquired English. I was happiest sketching and going for long walks into the village and around the vast estate. I liked to walk over to the cliffs to write and draw as I sat near the ocean.

What could have been a strange and solitary life at the hall had become full and energetic by the time I was woken early one morning by Mrs Fairfax knocking on my bedroom door.

'Good morning, Anne. I thought I should tell you, Nathanial Rochester is returning from America today.'

'Oh,' I said. The arrival of a complete stranger - the owner of this vast estate - was sure to shake up our comfortable routine.

'I thought I'd tell you because he has requested to meet you at dinner time.'

'And Sophie?'

Mrs Fairfax laughed, 'He'll speak to her when he arrives in the afternoon but I should warn you; basically, he is a good natured person but he seems to have had more than an undue amount of stress in his life and he has little interest in small children. Besides, he's met Sophie before. He can be terse at times but he has been a very solid guardian.'

'Oh,' was all I could think to say.

'You should put on something a little less drab, Anne. He and his friends are used to dressing for dinner and he'll expect you and Sophie to join him tonight. Do you have something a little more formal?

I thought it was all a bit impolite to be told what "not to wear" but it was their house, their rules and I thought it was in both my interests and Sophie's to play along.

'Um, not really, but I can get something in the village this afternoon.'

'Good. You need to be on your toes with Nathanial. He can be quite rude, but he means well. '

I smiled, hoping he wouldn't be all bad. Besides, my lack of care for what was fashionable might be mistaken for a lack of care in relation to Sophie. I resolved to go into the village to buy something new to wear for dinner tonight with the small amount of funds I had left.

As I was about to leave the room Mrs Fairfax reached into a jar in the kitchen cupboard and pulled out a generous amount of money – more than enough for a new outfit.

'Take this, Anne. It's set aside for household expenses and a nice dress definitely fits that bill.'

Since she would not take "no" for an answer, I didn't know what to say so I accepted the generous gift and thanked her again.

I looked into the mirror as I dressed to take Sophie into the village. I looked tired and unrested.

I'd had a sleepless night with terrible dreams for the first time in weeks. I imagined I'd heard scratching at the door and furniture being moved across the floor boards above me. When I asked Mrs Fairfax, she just shook her head and said, 'Mrs Poole has been restless. She writes novels and sometimes works into the small hours – or so I'm told. You have to take the good with the bad in life, Anne.'

I was certainly used to doing that.


	5. hay Lane Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Hay Lane**

The day Nathanial Rochester was due to return to Thornton, Sophie and I followed our usual schedule. We began by speaking together in English and then I decided on a swim before lunch. In the afternoon, while Sophie attended her riding lessons, I prepared to go into the village. I waved to Sophie as I opened the gates. I was told I was welcome to take the car, but since I'd never learnt how to drive properly, I thought I'd better not. I left Sophie with her riding instructor and decided to go for a walk to the bus stop.

'Oh Anne,' Mrs Fairfax said, 'would you take these to the post office for me if you are going into town? One of the workmen will give you a lift.'

I nodded, adding 'It's alright, I prefer to walk, and I need the exercise.'

The afternoon grew overcast as I made my way down Hay Lane towards the main road that led to the bus stop, a walk of at least half an hour. I was enjoying the solitude, having time to myself. I wore my favourite jeans rolled to my calves and had borrowed a pair of Wellington boots from the scullery. It was breezy but warm enough to go outside wearing the light floral shirt I'd packed for fine weather.

I wore sunglasses to shade me from the glare and had my favourite album blasting from my headphones as I walked in the sun. I'd taken off my summer coat and had it tied around my hips as I walked. I looked like a typical eighteen year old holidaying out of my comfort zone and I was tied up in my music as I veered slightly off the park and wandered more on the edge of the road. From nowhere, or so it seemed, a black sports car sped up and swerved towards me, skidding close by and very near my feet. The driver, a man in his twenties or thereabouts, slammed on the brakes.

The car was motionless, missing both me and a tree by seconds.

'Careful!' the man shouted. 'You need to look where you are going.'

'And you shouldn't be driving this fast down country lanes,' I replied, haughtily.

The driver got out and loomed above me.

He was tall with very dark hair that looked unruly and messy. He wore designer sunglasses and an unironed shirt and I could not see his eyes. His shoulders were broad and his boots covered in mud.

His expression softened, 'You're right, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there. You were camouflaged by the glare and sunlight.' 

It was true but not a good enough excuse for almost killing me. I pulled my ear phones over my head and tried to walk past him. He walked towards me. Instantly, I took a step back into the mud.

'I'm sorry if I startled you. You're new around these parts, am I right?'

'Yes,' I said hesitantly. In London, I'd never stop to speak but they did things differently here. 'I… I'm the new governess at Thornton Hall.'

'The new governess?'

'Yes.'

'What's that - a glorified nanny?'

'I suppose so,' I said, annoyed by his questions and keen to move on.

'But you hardly look old enough to have finished school…'

'I'm eighteen.'

'Oh.'

He considered this for a moment as I adjusted the volume on my speakers, irritated by his tall and overbearing presence. Men like this thought they were so _it_: tall, fast car, hot, rich, older; I walked on.

'Just a minute,' he said.

'I'm in a hurry; I've got to send these letters before the post office closes.' Did he think I had all day to talk to a complete stranger and a rude one at that? I'd show him who was boss.

'What do you want?' I asked impatiently.

'Oh, nothing,' he added, 'I think I'm on London time – fast.'

'Probably,' I said dismissively.

'I might see you soon.'

'Where? At the local pub? I don't go out much at night.' I laughed.

'Right,' he said with a sarcastic, superior look on his face.

'So, see you when I see you,' I added finally, sure I wouldn't.

'Not if I see you first,' he mumbled. 'The tutors at Thornton don't tend to last too long,' he added as his parting shot.

'What would you know?' I replied under my breath.

I could have asked him how he knew all of this, but by then I'd turned my back on him and heard his car start. I raised the volume on my speakers. He drove slower in the opposite direction to me but then I heard him speed up in the distance; typical. He was exactly like the arrogant men that existed in most of my schoolgirl novels.


	6. Mr Rochester Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Mr Rochester**

My employer was home that night and wanted to meet me in the sitting room after dinner. I attempted to look my most formal – proper shoes and hair swept off my face. I took a novel I was reading in case he just expected me to sit by the fire and there were too many empty pauses.

'Mrs Fairfax, I'm not really used to making conversation with older men,' I'd whispered.

'Oh, Anne, he's not that much older. He is a younger son and inherited when the older brother died. Before that he was in America living quite the bohemian life. He went to an expensive college; he wanted to be a film director. Instead, he produced some films and ran around with a very fast crowd.'

'Oh,' I said.

'He's not usually one to converse but when he does; he'll do all the talking. Don't worry, I doubt he'll expect too much; just a progress report on Sophie.'

An hour later, I was in the sitting room with Sophie, reading, while she played with her dolls.

'I need a new one,' she exclaimed as she braided the doll's blonde curls.

'Oh Sophie, I have never seen so many dolls! Your doll's house is overflowing and so is the play room. Soon we'll be able to fill all of the rooms in the house with your toys,' I joked.

The little girl looked up at me and smiled. She'd just lost her front teeth which made her look even cuter. Sophie was a naturally affectionate child, in a way I'd not been. She wrapped her hands around me, and then pulled the clip out of my brown hair, spreading the length of it across my shoulders.

'_Bien, _good,**'** she said. 'I want to play hairdresser.'

'No Sophie. Remember, tonight I'm going to be busy - for a while.'

'Talking to Papa?'

I'd already guessed the younger Rochester was her father. Nobody had ever told me; it just seemed to be an obvious conclusion to reach. Sophie was a little girl from France who was all alone in the world and had been adopted by _a_ _Rochester?_ Of course, he had to be her father; she was way too young to be his sister. Besides, I was pretty sure adoption regulations would never allow Nathanial Rochester to drag a child from another country just to keep her in the lounge room like a prized possession.

As if on cue, the music coming from the drawing room stopped. I heard the rustle of feet. The owner of Thornton brushed past me as he entered the room and patted Sophie on the head like a pet. I couldn't see his face. Sophie went to hug his leg but he pushed her off gently. He seemed otherwise engaged.

'Where is the new tutor?'

'I'm here,' I said, standing up from behind the sofa and placing my novel on the table.

Mrs Fairfax, knitting in a comfortable leather arm chair, gathered Sophie and took her to the farthest corner of the room. I'd already been warned that grown men such as Rochester had little patience with young children. I hoped he had more tolerance talking with me because what I'd already heard about Rochester put me slightly on guard.

The fire provided most of the light in the room; and seeing him from behind, in shadow, at first I thought Sophie had lucked out. Nathanial Rochester was a tall, dark, (his photos made him look handsome in a gruff and uncompromising way) and dominating presence. I knew he must be seriously rich, that was obvious. While most of the stately homes in Britain were downsizing, he'd left all of the chandeliers on in the hallway and most of the skeleton staff remained; some even lived at Thornton, which was unusual in this day and age.

When the man looked up, I was unnerved to see he was the stranger I'd met in the country lane that afternoon. He even appeared to be limping from his accident.

'You must be Anne Eyre. I'm Nathanial Rochester. I think we've met before.'

I gave a hesitant nod.

He smiled and gestured to Mrs Fairfax.

'This girl made me swerve my car, Edwina; I nearly sprained my ankle from slamming on the brakes to avoid hitting her. What do you make of that?'

Mrs Fairfax looked quite alarmed.

'Never mind,' he laughed, 'those country laneways can be quite tricky.'

'I hope it's nothing serious?'

'I should be fine in the morning.' He changed the topic now that he had my attention. 'Do you drive Anne?'

'No.' I said, truthfully.

'Ride?'

'No,' I added.

'Well, you'll have to learn to drive in the country. If you want to ride as well, you should take lessons while you are here, with Sophie.'

I was slightly afraid of horses, but I had to agree that learning to drive would be useful.

'Sophie, I bought you a present,' he said as an afterthought.

'_Merci! Merci! Bien!_ Oh yes, please,' Sophie said, running over to Rochester, she took his hand. He distracted her with a huge gift he'd brought all the way from America.

Her face lit up as she pulled the doll from the wrapper and so did Rochester's.

Mrs Fairfax gathered the child and said, 'Come Sophie, it's time for bed. You can add this to your collection up in your room.'

'Bonne nuit et fais de beaux reves!' Rochester said. I guessed he didn't realise we'd had a pact only to speak English.

'Bonne nuit,' Sophie replied, kissing him on both cheeks. Then she looked at me and said in perfect English, 'Good night, Anne.'

Sophie reluctantly left Rochester, after reaching up to kiss him again on the cheek. He brushed this show of sticky affection off, but I thought it was nice to see the sweet child show such an obvious liking for someone who clearly didn't want others to know how fond he was of her or that he was even capable of affection and emotion.

He poured himself a drink and offered me one. I shook my head.

'What have you done with Sophie?

'I wrote our schedule here; you can read it if you like.' I handed him the piece of paper, scented and pink at Sophie's instigation. He raised his eyebrows.

'Never mind, I already have. You've taken a lot of care with her, Anne. She's frivolous.'

'In her defence, many children are frivolous.'

'And what are you, Anne? A teenage girl? Where did you learn all your child psychology?' He teased.

'From being one, from being around them,' I said. I'd bet I'd minded more children than he had prior to his being _stuck_ with Sophie.

'Tell me what you did before you arrived here. Most of the staff who come to stay here, in the middle of nowhere have… let's just say, something they are hiding from or running to.'

I was embarrassed by his comment, his partially accurate assessment of me.

'I was in school, like most people my age.'

'I can see that,' he said, glancing at my CV. 'You went to a very expensive ladies' college in London. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be summering in Europe with all your little friends?'

'I needed a job for the summer and I like working with children.'

'Yes, I can see that,' he looked away. 'The previous girl who came to us was fleeing from an abusive boyfriend. Just wondering what your story is?'

'I'm eighteen years old; I have no story.'

'Well, you are the only other literate female in this house apart from Mrs Fairfax – and she's heard all of my old stories. I just thought you might be good company for me this evening. You left your sketches lying around in the kitchen - or Sophie did,' he chuckled.

I was alarmed and slightly irritated that he'd seen them. I would've preferred him to have had access to my email than to have been the first stranger to pour over my private drawings. Sophie and I had been sitting in the meadows taking turns to sketch each other from a distance then close up, hands and feet. Then I'd turned to the meadow, drawing lush images of the surrounding estate. They were personal images, displaying more of my internal world than I would have cared to show him at this point.

Sophie's drawings were the colourful, childish outlines of a six year old. I didn't want to admit it, but she had little artistic inclination, although she seemed to enjoy picking the flowers that afternoon and practising her cartwheels, I remembered that. Besides, little aptitude didn't seem to hinder her enjoyment of art, nor did I feel it should. We'd set up a picnic with Mrs Fairfax in the low light of the meadow; the sun had shone brightly by lunch time and we lolled on the blankets. It had been one of the nicest afternoons in recent memory.

'She has no talent,' he said truthfully.

'Pardon?' I was miles away in the firelight, thinking of the meadow.

'Sophie, as I said, has not a scrap of talent; but you do. She is not academic; I know she is only six but you can tell these things about a child. She is vain and frivolous. You are neither, yet you both seem to get along so well. '

'Perhaps our differences complement each other. Sophie is one of the sweetest children I have met,' I said in her defence.

He smiled, a little sarcastically, I thought.

'She's manipulative like her mother, like most women. Anyway, how many children have you met recently? You're barely more than a child yourself,' he trailed off.

I decided to be assertive.

'Many,' I replied. 'For years, I was in foster care. I had loads of foster siblings who were much more difficult to handle than Sophie.'

'Oh,' he said. 'And the school?'

'When I was twelve, an unknown benefactor paid all of my expenses to attend the college until I completed my A-levels, and then I was flung out onto the street.'

'Ah,' was all he said. I noticed a new tone, almost like respect in his voice when he spoke next. The fire flickered alongside us and he turned down the large, flat screen that was left on, playing an old movie that Mrs Fairfax had been watching earlier.

'I think we can turn that off. She's probably seen it before,' he joked.


	7. Lockwood Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Lockwood**

I said nothing as Rochester sipped his port, contemplating the interview.

'And was it a strict religious education?' he asked.

'Yes,' I replied.

I thought of morning prayers bringing a sense of calm, strength and routine to my days. Then I remembered mean girls hitting me with wet sheets after lights out and screaming at me for being foster care scum, 'welfare scum, Social Services rubbish'. I thought of the teacher who'd snidely made remarks about writing my family tree in history _'as if I'd know it'_ and the headmistress who'd wrongly blamed me for a student prank because it looked better to blame a charity student whom no one would speak up for. I thought of the freezing cold mornings and the lack of hot water for baths we were expected to take. Prestige existed only on the surface of Lockwood School for Young Ladies. I think I may have fared better at a local comprehensive but then I might never have learnt French in the focused and careful manner Miss Stevens had taught the language to me… or music or probably have received such high marks on my final exams. Yes, it had been a privileged education.

Rochester's words interrupted my recollections.

'I went to boarding school… not far from here actually. There was no real reason that I should have been sent away, it was simply family tradition. All the children were sent to boarding school by age eight. My parents didn't particularly care for us. Well, that's an understatement. My brother and I got along though, lived in our own world. My family didn't know any differently, nor did they educate themselves about children. I'm a great believer in education, Anne. Are you?

'Yes, of course.' I added, '…although there are many ways to be educated. '

For one thing, formal education hadn't prepared me for the verbal challenges of Mr Nathanial Rochester.

'This is the twenty-first century but my father, before he died and left me his estate, still held the view that shooting helpless animals was the greatest sport in the world. He also didn't believe it was useful to educate women. He thought the woman I'd marry would have so much money she wouldn't need an education … You probably think his views were very… backward.' I remained impassive. 'I dropped out of Oxford because I couldn't stand having to answer to my father. I then found myself in America, attended college in Los Angeles, and went to the South to produce a film in New Orleans.'

'That sounds exciting.'

He raised an eyebrow and changed the subject.

'I wish you had met my father, the original Lord Rochester. I wonder what you would have made of him. He spoke his mind even more than I do… much more than you.'

'He sounds like just the sort of man I would have gotten along with,' I said sarcastically.

'On the contrary, both he and my brother would have had you drinking port by now. I fear they would have had you dancing on the table.'

I glared at him. 'You must be joking,' I said under my breath.

He smiled. 'They liked straight talkers and you seem to tell it as it is. Father wasn't very happy about me running around with my college friends, I can tell you that. Oh, at first he didn't care because it was never supposed to have been me inheriting the house and the title but things happen. Life doesn't always go according to plan. When my brother… passed away, I was expected to come back to this part of the world to take over the running of the estate but it's not really me. I try to limit my time here. Before returning to England, I lived in Los Angeles and South America. I travelled to Brazil, Mexico, places I'd grown up imagining. I liked the _Deep South_…'

'Wow,' was all I could say.

'…You enjoy Sophie's company, don't you?'

'Yes, of course.'

'She has few talents beyond being pretty but… I don't choose my pets based on their talent and this one was rather… foisted upon me.'

I was shocked by his candour and said nothing.

'I wonder, would you like her as much if I told you her mother was a…' he hesitated, trying to think of the right words, 'a … French dancer?'

I paused.

'Is there something wrong with that?'

He laughed uproariously.

'You are quite naïve aren't you?'

'No,' I blurted out.

'I think you are. What I meant to say is… I met her in Paris. Sophie's mother sold her body… to men… for money. She _said_ she was a _dancer_, Anne, a high class one as it turned out. Once I realised Sophie was mine, she agreed to sell her to me… for ten thousand pounds.'

'Oh,' I said, trying to hide my surprise.

'Well, she worked evenings; she was beautiful, exotic… Still, we all make mistakes. You'll realise that too, as you get older.'

'It's getting late,' I said, pretending to take this conversation in my stride though I was completely at sea. I'd decided I had better bring the interview to an end as Rochester was onto his third drink and about to tell me more secrets I didn't want to hear.

'Don't worry, Anne, I'll let you in on the rest of the family story on a _need to know_ basis,' he laughed. 'I'm not as bad as I seem.'

'If you don't mind me saying…Mr R - '

'Nathanial,' he pre-empted his name.

'Nathanial … you are too young to be worrying about the past. You have everything: wealth, comfort…. You can be anything you want to be. You should take what is good from the past and change your future to erase the bad. We are all capable of change and of doing what is right.'

He looked up at me incredulously in the dark.

'Ah, a lesson in morality from little Miss Eyre.' His gaze lingered on mine a moment, 'Oh Anne, you really have a lot to learn. The past is what impacts the future and something I cannot erase.'

There was a moment's silence and in that gap, as he drank his port and I sipped my tea, I could have sworn I heard a faint scream. It came from somewhere beyond the walls, beyond the rooftop even. It was out of this world.

I was startled.

'What was that?'

He looked up at me. There was another thump on the roof.

'That!' I said.

Silence.

'Perhaps it's Sophie or Mrs Poole, the lodger. Mrs Fairfax agreed to let her stay in the upstairs rooms for the summer, she's an old family friend,' he added, by way of explanation. They seemed to have a lot of them.

I hesitated at the door.

_I think you've had too much to drink, _I thought, as I went to leave. Our conversation had been smoother than I'd anticipated, given that my employer was gruff, and slightly inebriated. And yet, I hadn't expected someone quite so young and handsome. Still, we had reached unfamiliar territory and I was uncomfortable talking with a relative stranger as if we were friends. Suddenly, I longed for the comfort of my own bed.

'Anne?' he said, turning back as I went to leave.

'Yes?'

'I'm glad you've come to stay here.'

'It's just for the summer, Mr Rochester.'

'Yes, I know. Oh, and Anne? My name's Nathanial. My friends call me Nate and sometimes by my surname, Rochester.' I think he enjoyed the confusion he was creating between us.

I said goodnight and left the room.


	8. In Dreams Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**In Dreams**

That night, I dreamt I was a small girl again, walking through my life before the hurt took over. I was sitting on the doorstep of a huge house, waiting for someone, not my mean aunt, not my actual parents. There was a large garden and a fence and behind it, I felt safe, for the first time. Then I was an adult standing on the shore in a towelling beach robe. When the person I waited for arrived, the sun blocked his identity but he placed my hand in his and together we ran into the ocean. Heat blazed down on us; there were no cares, no worries - just bliss. When I woke, I remembered being told by my aunt that both my parents were drug users who'd abandoned me at birth. There, in the ocean, with this nameless person, I was free again; happy.

The dream was more comforting than the one I usually had about the handsome young husband of my equally perfect-looking new foster mother. I had lived in Notting Hill back then with a selfish public relations executive who wanted a trial run at looking after a child. Her husband (and his wandering hands and too-close hugs), worked in advertising. He came up with the revolutionary idea of trying to turn me into a child model. I was only eleven but I could pick a dodgy character when I met one and I got out of that house as soon as was humanly possible, before any serious damage was done. His dubious intentions, when he tried to make me pose for photographs for my modelling portfolio, made me wary.

I tossed and turned in the early hours.

When I woke at around three in the morning, I had a feeling that someone was watching me. I got up to make a hot chocolate; the house was still and silent. I padded up the stairs in my socks and read for a bit, an old but beautifully written novel: _Persuasion. _I reached the part where Frederick Wentworth returns, and thenI fell back into a deep sleep.

I woke again, at around three in the morning.

One of Rochester's dogs, Pilot, was lapping my hand which I thought was quite strange since I'd shut my door and was yet to meet a dog capable of opening one with his paw. I'd been having such a nice dream that if it was possible I would have closed my eyes and willed myself back into it; this was never going to happen. I'd arrived without a proper dressing gown so I pulled on my coat as it was still quite cold. Pilot followed me protectively as I got up and headed downstairs again to make some toast.

The floorboards creaked and the ancestral portraits haunted me as I crept downstairs.

Silence greeted me when I reached the kitchen, no noises but the opening and closing of a cupboard as I prepared my food. I switched on the stove light and boiled more water, feeling comforted by the familiar taste of English Breakfast Tea. As I sipped, I heard it again, unmistakable, a soft scream. I mentally counted all of the people I knew to be sleeping in Thornton Hall: Mrs Fairfax, Sophie, the maids, the cook, two grooms, Mrs Poole and Rochester. It must be one of the maids, I thought. Then I heard them again - two words as clear as the daylight that would soon arrive - _animal_ and _hate._

I wondered what those shrill words meant out of context and who they were directed towards.

From nowhere, Edwina Fairfax raced down the stairs in her dressing gown.

'Oh… Anne, I had no idea you were awake. We put you in a room, far away from the rest of the bedrooms so you wouldn't be disturbed if people woke early.'

'What is the noise?'

'It's just a maid; she's been in the village. She brought someone home and there was a fight. It's nothing for you to worry about. Nathanial has called for help, he's getting her out. There should be quiet in the house now.'

'I'll go and check on Sophie,' I said.

'There is no need. I'm sure she will be asleep. Sophie is used to all kinds of noises. Things quite literally go bump in the night in these ancient houses. Her life in Paris was quite abnormal as well. In fact, from what I gather she is much better off with her father. He told me you know… Anyway, Merida has done this before; she's on medication for anxiety and then, off she goes to the pub and starts to drink with her friends,' Mrs Fairfax continued.

I thought about Merida and Leah, the kitchen maids. I'd met them the day I'd arrived. They looked at me strangely and said very little; not even hello.

As I wrapped my coat tightly around my waist, I felt the card that Connor had given me and pulled it out of my pocket. He was a minister's son, aiming to be a clergyman himself. His sisters were warm and welcoming and I recalled them telling me about their desire to build a school in India; something I might help with, if I retained an interest in teaching. I wanted to forge my own destiny. I stuffed the cardboard back into my purse after I'd checked on Sophie. She was sleeping soundly as Mrs Fairfax predicted.

Before I got back into bed with the morning paper and my tea, I thought about what Connor had meant when he said, 'call me, if you need to.' His sisters, Rainbow and Daisy, had looked solemnly at me and nodded.

I was fairly sure Thornton, like Rochester, was full of secrets, a mystery wrapped inside a riddle.

I closed my eyes and eventually fell into a deep sleep.

After the incident that morning, my days continued in an easy way.

Nathanial only stayed for a week. I called him by his surname, Rochester, in my own mind and occasionally Nate as I grew to know him better. He had stayed long enough to choose some livestock and horses to raise, check with the grooms and sort out the expenditure of the property with his various staff. He then said goodbye to everyone and prepared to pack up and leave for a holiday in the South of France. He said he'd return to Thornton soon and bring his friends, the Ingram's, to visit for the rest of the summer.

'He never stays here long,' Mrs Fairfax explained. 'Each time he comes back I get very little notice, so I have to keep the house in a constant state of readiness. Sometimes he brings his American friends from university. Other times, it's his European ones. He has so many friends; I've lost track of them all over the years. Nathanial lives in a social whirl of money and miscreants. He has managed the money so well; his father would be proud of him. We never lack for anything around here. He is very well-educated, studied Mathematics and Finance at university. He worked in the City while his father was still alive but he doesn't need a real job. I think he's too young, really, to be so wealthy. It might have helped had he become interested in a profession but I'm hoping he'll settle down soon. I'd like the house to be filled with some more children.' Mrs Fairfax was staring at a photograph of Nathanial with a woman called Nicola Ingram on the social pages of a magazine. The woman was everything I'm not; tall, blonde, glamorous.

I nodded. I wasn't sure what to say, since my pay, although generous, was hardly a pathway to riches; but I knew Rochester was ridiculously wealthy. Just the estate alone would take some serious upkeep. The view from my window was expansive and breathtaking.

In the mornings, I often woke to the sound of Pilot, Rochester's dog, barking and the two of them would go out walking along the path that led from Thornton. I could see them below my window but they never looked up. It was so early almost the entire household slept in except me and Sophie. Rochester normally returned almost as breathless as the dog after running along the cliffs. I could see them from the window after I dressed. Sometimes, Sophie would run in and yell out to her father. Then, he looked up and waved at us. He seemed so happy and free with the dog, and much younger than his twenty-eight years on those mornings.

During the day, while he was away or working with the horses, Sophie and I would commence lessons. By lunchtime our academic work and English classes were finished.

'Your English has improved so much, Sophie,' I told her. 'By September you will be fluent and able to speak easily with all your new school friends.'

Sophie looked quite alarmed.

'I am not going to school. I have always been home schooled.'

'Well, perhaps that will change after summer,' I said hesitantly, fearing I had mentioned something I probably shouldn't have.


	9. Success Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**Success**

In the afternoon, while Sophie was riding, I'd commenced driving lessons in the village. With my driving instructor barking instructions at my side all the way, I practised. Mr Rochester had insisted I learn to drive along the country lanes, and after two weeks, I was driving almost as fast as him (though I tried to heed the speed limit – as a learner, I had to).

The day of my driving test arrived and was the cause of much excitement in the house. Leah and Mrs Fairfax had even baked a cake in anticipation of my success.

The previous afternoon Rochester had offered to take me out to practise my parking, particularly between two cars on a hill. I think he thought my hesitancy would amuse him. Since my driving course was officially over, I knew this extra practise could make all the difference. He turned on the stereo as we drove along the esplanade. We reached the flat expansive car park with the stereo on all the way. He turned it up and sang along with the words to a song he liked. It was refreshing to spend time with him like this – he was a different person outside the stuffy confines of his duty and work.

After two hours' practise, neither of us were surprised when I gained my driver's licence.

I walked into the kitchen where Mrs Fairfax and Sophie were waiting expectantly. I had purposely made Rochester drive me home. I covered the happiness I felt and instead wore a very long face with a downcast expression as we entered the kitchen. So did Rochester.

Sophie raced up to me and put her hands on either side of my cheeks.

'Never mind Anne… Ne vous inquietez pas!'

I looked into her eyes and smiled, a true smile and one of many I'd shown since I'd arrived at Thornton.

'Don't look so worried Sophie. Guess what?' I whispered, 'I'm licensed to drive!'

'Wow!' the child exclaimed.

I scooped her up in my arms and even Leah and Merida clapped. Mrs Fairfax brought out the plates for afternoon tea on the manicured lawn.

Rochester walked in from the stables commenting, 'We should all celebrate your achievement tonight, Anne; it means I can send you out to buy me whisky from the village.'

I looked at him, knowing he must be joking, almost understanding his upper class, country humour by now.

That night we all had a delicious roast dinner prepared by Leah who seemed, as Mrs Fairfax noted, to be in better humour these days which, according to Merida, had, 'more to do with a boy she had met in the village than job satisfaction.' After the meal, we went to the drawing room to watch some home movies Rochester made of Sophie; and more recently, there were scenes of parties and a group of young men trying to fly a plane to France. The plane barely got off the ground before filming was halted.

'Those are friends of mine from university. You'll meet them soon; they're coming to stay.'

The images were colourful, playful even. Caught unawares by some friends, you could see the look of care and wonder in Rochester's eyes as he raced Sophie and twirled her around in the air. The films were a collage of colour, sound and music, pool parties and apparently infamous house parties. I'd searched the family name on the internet (in a village café) while he was away. The Rochesters were quite notorious in these parts of England for their upper crust lineage, Nathanial's generosity and adherence to charity, and various scandals involving most of his relatives.

I told myself the whisper of scandal was just cyber space gossip. The living room lights flickered while Rochester turned down the sound and put on some music, 'a better soundtrack to our lives', he assured me. The movies needn't have been silent but he said he preferred them that way.

Mrs Fairfax excused herself by then to go to bed. Merida and Leah had left to go into town to meet their boyfriends and play pool on their night off. Sophie had fallen asleep on the couch, her head on Rochester's thigh. Rochester was not normally demonstrative, but for the first time, I saw him lovingly scoop the child into his arms and take her upstairs to her room.

When he came back, I was watching an old movie in the drawing room on the large screen.

'I love this film,' he said. He was sipping a drink. 'Sometimes I prefer films to real life.'

I thought it was a strange statement for a guy whose real life was pretty amazing.

'Do you want a brandy?' he asked.

'No thank you,' I replied.

'Why not? Everyone out in the country drinks in the evening. There's little else to do,' he laughed.

'I just don't like the taste,' I replied.

I hadn't touched alcohol since Irma had had her drink spiked. Perhaps my new found sobriety was for the best. But who knew? If I was cold, brandy might be hard to resist. Seated by the fire, the night was warm and the atmosphere comforting.

'Everything in moderation,' Rochester said. 'That's what my father used to say. But then he died a washed up alcoholic, so what would he know?'

I was shocked that Rochester would say that about his father. It sounded so disrespectful, but later, when I learned more of his upbringing, I realized he was only being honest.

It had been such a nice day. If I went to the wall, past where Rochester was seated, pulled back the curtain and opened the window, I'd hear the ocean in the distance.

Meanwhile, Rochester took a few more sips of his drink, smiled and said, 'Dutch courage,' as he wandered over to the piano.

He played a few notes, then a few bars of a classical tune which was familiar to me, but not familiar enough for me to name. Then he started messing around with some jazz and a song that I'd once rocked out to at a karaoke party at the house of one of my classmates; another excuse to escape from school. That song, I knew. It was about hardship and survival and it had a memorable melody. I hummed along with it as I read my magazine, trying to find something interesting to say about the society ladies who lunched in these parts and held charity auctions after the meal.

'You have a nice voice,' he said, when he stopped playing.

'Thank you,' I replied. 'You play well; I didn't know you were a musician.'

'I'm not. I manage a band sometimes. It's just a hobby, if people still use that word. My friends stay here to rehearse in the vacant ball room. It has good acoustics,' he chuckled.

I looked at the guitars stacked in the corner.

'They're sort of for show. The Ingram's, my oldest friends from school, used to live across the village on one of the neighbouring houses, Highcliff. Now they live in the States but when they come home to visit their family… well, we put together the band; they play a few gigs in the village. I graduated from university as you'd call it, with first class honours but I don't really use my education as it was intended. It's not what father had in mind for me.'

'Perhaps it's true that no education is wasted.'

'Do you really believe that Anne?'

'I'm only eighteen. I try to believe what I'm told,' I smiled.

He laughed. I doubted my father knew of my existence and I was pretty sure he'd never had anything in mind for me, so to speak. I could tell Rochester felt _hemmed in_ by family expectations but all that bluster had changed along with a sadness that seemed to have washed over him since we first met.

'You're looking straight at me for once, Anne. Do you think I'm… hot?' he joked.

I laughed out loud and shook my head at his conceit.

'No,' I lied, perhaps a bit too swiftly.

'Well, that was quick,' he mused.

'It's just that… I didn't mean you are not… attractive; I should have made it clear that what people are like on the surface is not always of interest to me.'

'Really? That betrays depth beyond your years. You should explain yourself further Anne. There aren't too many schoolgirls who would have given me that answer.'

'I should have said that beauty, although memorable, is not as meaningful as a person's actions. I think society places too much emphasis on what people look like and not what people do.' I glanced dismissively at a famous celebrity on the cover of a magazine near my feet.

Rochester laughed out loud as if my childish comments amused him endlessly.

'You're blushing, Anne.'

'It's the fire, it's hot in here,' I covered.

He laughed in my face over his brandy.

I got up.

'Good night… Rochester… Nathanial… Nate,' I hedged.

He smiled.

'Are you leaving? Stay and play pool with me; we can watch the sunrise.'

'I have to be up early.'

'Sophie will sleep in on Sunday. She always does.'

'Goodnight… Nathanial.'

'Of course you are free to leave me, Anne, but won't you sit for a moment while I play?' He gestured to the piano, '… Anyway, we'll be lucky to see the sun tomorrow; according to the weather report, no need to wake early.'

I smiled.

'Goodnight,' I said as I went to leave.

'Goodnight Anne. Congratulations on getting your driver's licence,' he smiled as I walked out of the room.

The lights in the hallway were low and I couldn't see a clear path to my bedroom so I put my hand on the rail. The house was long and the halls wide. I picked a torch out of the little cupboard at the top of the stairs, kept there for power blackouts. I found my way to my door and went to the bathroom. I noticed my bed had been turned down and a hot water bottle placed under the covers, along with a chocolate on the pillow. I think the chocolate was from Sophie but the water bottle was from Mrs Fairfax. I could have been forgiven for thinking Thornton was more like a six star hotel than a country house.

As I brushed my hair and cleaned my teeth, I heard laughter from another room - the one upstairs, again. I turned off the tap and pressed my ear to the wallpaper. I heard only silence.

That night, I tossed and turned for a while before falling into a deep sleep of perfect dreams, sunlight and ocean. Sophie and I were running along the beach barefoot through the sand. We were flying a kite we'd made from an online kit. The kite flew high, touching the sky.

When I woke up at nine in the morning, it was raining. The sky was overcast. Once again I heard laughter and music from the rooms upstairs although I'd assumed Mrs Poole had already gone out for her morning walk.


	10. House Guests Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**House Guests**

That afternoon, after Sophie had finished her riding lesson, we raced each other up to the main house. Mrs Fairfax came walking out of the entrance hall, waving a note.

'I just received a message, Anne. The house is going to be a bit chaotic for the next few days. Mr Rochester is preparing to leave soon and when he returns he's bringing a party of guests back with him, friends and a family from the neighbouring properties, who are visiting. It's traditional to be welcoming out here in the country Anne. You and Sophie will be expected to attend dinner every evening. He's bringing his girlfriend, Nicola Ingram, back with him.'

My face froze.

I wasn't aware he had a girlfriend though I suppose it was not really any of my business. The previous evening we'd spent together as friends more than employer and employee. I'd just assumed, like me, he was alone in the world apart from casual acquaintances. Though he had Sophie and the monetary advantages his inheritance had given him, he had no close relatives. But of course, his extreme wealth and his noble lineage really meant he was nothing like me, apart from a shared experience we'd both felt, a common bond of childhood neglect.

The next morning over breakfast Mrs Fairfax tried to warn me.

'This is a strange place for a young girl Anne; not much to do apart from looking after Sophie and once the house guests arrive, well, it becomes more like a hotel with, let's just say, rambunctious guests.'

'You forget, I used to live with wild kids in foster homes before my expensive schooling. I am happy here Mrs Fairfax, perhaps for the first time. This is one of the most beautiful places I've visited or lived in.'

'Just be careful Anne. You know little of the real world or of men like Rochester.'

'I suppose you must think I'm very naïve for an eighteen-year-old from London but I've been shut up in a girls' school for the past few years and there was no topic off limits and no cruelty other girls wouldn't stoop to in order to rise to the top, so to speak. There is a kind of serenity to my days here, something missing that I longed for. Sometimes, my judgments are flawed. Perhaps I have been harsh in my assessments of people. You have all been so kind to me here in a way I was not used to, and I have learnt to take things at face value and not look for the bad in the good.'

Mrs Fairfax smiled.

'Just be careful, Anne, like I said. And remember, sometimes when we are young, we have the most clarity.'

I wasn't sure what she meant.

That afternoon when we were playing with Sophie's doll family and her house in the school room, Sophie started telling me about a dark-haired lady that roamed the halls at night. In the weeks I'd been with her, Sophie had literally started talking to me almost totally in English.

'I saw her once, well, heard her. She was singing a song in French and I understood all the words. She wore a full length dress and had wild hair. The maid, Leah, told me there are strange creatures upstairs who only come out when we are asleep and if you see them they reach for you and squeeze you and make you scream until you beg them to stop!'

Suddenly Sophie, who was always demonstrative with people she liked, wrapped her arms around me and squealed.

'Shh, Sophie. What have I told you about shrieking? You'll frighten the entire house.'

'Well, it's a scary story. And anyway, she's not a ghost, this lady, she's a creature with fangs and once she bites you, she goes crazy from the blood and yells the place down.'

'Utter nonsense,' I said as Sophie tried to tickle me, quite successfully I might add.

Sophie was laughing by then and winding herself around me until we both ended up in a bunch on the floor and Mrs Fairfax came hurrying in with tea.

Sophie had a note she pulled out from her jean's pocket.

'Oh, I nearly forgot,' Sophie said, 'it's from my riding instructor. I said you were eighteen and single. He wants to meet you.'

I laughed at Sophie playing matchmaker. I wanted to see in myself what others might see – a person worthy of friendship and love, as we all are. But something, or someone, held me back from responding to the note – just a few words of friendship offering a riding lesson saying, _'you must be a very special person for Sophie to think so highly of you.'_

It was sweet and funny and I said we could invite him to have lunch with us one day after lessons in the meadow. I hadn't agreed to the riding lesson since I was slightly afraid of horses and getting too used to living at Thornton.

Already, I was intrigued, attracted, possibly enraptured by Nathanial Rochester; but I would never let him know that. There was no way he could possibly return my feelings and I wanted to save myself the embarrassment of sharing them.


	11. Secrets and lies Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

**Secrets and Lies**

After a few days' absence, Mr Rochester returned. He was finalizing some paperwork in relation to the horse sales. Sophie and I were playing piano in the drawing room; there were more off notes than on when Sophie played her part. He could hear us from his desk and seemed to find the whole scenario very funny. Sophie looked up and ran to him until he said, 'Off me, Sophie!' Pretending to be annoyed, he added, 'We have guests arriving this afternoon, I must finish my work.' It was clear her affection for him existed despite his gruffness. On some level, Rochester's basic kindness was obvious to Sophie. She would go to hug him regardless of his apparent coldness. It didn't occur to her that someone raised undemonstratively, might not wish to hug her back. I believe most children have excellent instincts about those closest to them and Rochester responded to her regardless.

After music lessons finished, he took us for a long drive around the estate and we had an early lunch at the local pub. It was as far from my inner-city London reality as I could have imagined. I was embarrassed that the girl at the bar, who was new and didn't know Rochester, assumed we were a family. Deep down, although it was not a vague possibility, the idea brought me a feeling of happiness I'd never previously known. Although Rochester, at twenty-eight, was older than me, I'd never met anyone like him – anyone as interesting or as strong minded as him. He was nothing like the boys or teachers I'd met. If I had known myself better, I would have been able to put words to the feelings I was experiencing for the first time. Instead, I looked away as he glanced at me when he carried a tired Sophie to the car. I was scared of getting close to anyone, much less this powerful man who was officially my employer.

That afternoon Rochester's friends, the Ingram's, arrived. They had already fallen asleep in the upstairs wing after their long trip. Sophie was at her riding lesson so Nate asked me to join him to play pool in the living room. It was a fine afternoon but already the faint glimmer of sunlight had fallen behind clouds in the sky. There was music playing in the drawing room and the kitchen staff were busy shopping in the village to buy extra food.

A warm silence had settled over the house as Nate told me about the people who were staying for the house party. I'd already heard about the "beautiful" Nicola Ingram from Mrs Fairfax.

'I'm not sure, but I have a hunch he's thinking of marrying this one,' she had said. 'Rochester is probably just biding his time to make sure she is genuine and not after his money. Although the Ingrams are one of the finest families in the district, she doesn't stand to inherit anything like the fortune that Rochester has and he would never marry a woman who was just after prestige.'

I suppose that meant Nathanial's future wife would become Lady Somebody, which all sounded a bit grand in the twenty-first century.

I'd never heard Nathanial mention his title and I was pretty sure he never used it. It was a bit embarrassing in this modern day and age. I'd seen so much need in some of the poorer boroughs of central London. I wondered if Mrs Fairfax was exaggerating as she was prone to doing. I knew her generation would be impressed by hereditary titles, but I wasn't. I would have just fainted if, for example, he'd introduced himself as Lord Rochester and asked me to address him as _Sir_. In fact, I may have left.

I collected Sophie from her riding lesson. When we returned we had to walk past the sitting room. Unbeknownst to me, Sophie had taken pictures on her father's mobile phone of all my paintings, her riding instructor, the food we had eaten and anything else she had found interesting during the day. When I walked into the kitchen to gather our drinks, Sophie and her father were flicking through the photos together. I noticed when she stopped at the photo of Enrique, the riding instructor, and added that we had arranged to have lunch together, he paused.

I couldn't help but feel a slight thrill at the thought that he seemed jealous.

Mrs Fairfax came to take the child for her bath after her riding lesson and I picked up the smart phone.

'I asked Sophie not to do that,' I said, trying to hide my surprise.

'Don't be silly, Anne. I love your paintings. I enjoyed looking at your work. There are so many fine subjects to paint around here.'

'Yes. There are so many amazing views, amazing architecture, the scenery itself. There are endless subjects to paint and draw. Art is not a chore - it's fun.'

'And what do you know of fun, Anne?'

'Very little,' I said wearily. 'Before I came here, fun existed mostly in my imagination.'

Rochester nodded agreeably.

'That is what I like about the country,' he said heartily, 'the animals, to ride, to be free here, away from prying eyes.'

I wondered what he could possibly wish to be free from.

Rochester looked away, as if he was suddenly bored with my conversation. I noticed the riding jacket he wore was made of black velvet; it suited him, made him look like the rich heir of a dynasty, the experienced, confident, older man that he was.

He flicked to the portrait I had done of him, standing in jeans and a t-shirt in the sun, hunched over and looking quite solemn at the pool table. He looked a lot younger than his twenty-eight years in that moment - almost innocent.

'Is that how you view me?'

'It was just a sketch. Not meant for other people to see.'

By _other people_, it was clear I meant him.

He smiled. His eyes were warm. I suppose he'd suspected my little schoolgirl crush by now, but he was too polite to make me any more embarrassed than I already was.

He wandered over to the music, turned it down and announced, 'My friends will be down soon. We are going riding; then I expect you to have dinner with us tonight, and every night, until they leave.'

'Is that really necessary?' I said. The thought of too much socializing with strangers made me want to hide from the world.

'Yes, as your employer,' he said jokingly, 'I'm asking you to be there, Anne. We could use some young adult company. We are all older than you and rich and bored with ourselves. Besides, it will be good practice for Sophie to speak English in company.'

I made a mental note to wear the new items of clothing I'd bought from the village store; black denim jeans and a wine coloured sweater. I thought the outfit was fashionable and new and not too overdone. The main street of the village had a small selection of stores that sold clothes for young women and girls and Sophie and I had spent more than two hours shopping there recently. Sophie had squealed in delight at everything in the shop until I reminded her how I expected her to behave when we were outside the house. I looked at her sternly, but she just smiled, knowing, after weeks of being around each other every day, that she could almost twist me around her little finger. She also knew that, although neither gruff nor impatient like her father sometimes appeared to be, I meant what I said. She instantly stopped winding her coat around the dressing room partition and sat on the chair, humming softly, the songs we'd been teaching each other around the piano.

That night I took Sophie down to dinner. The child was dressed for the occasion wearing a burgundy velvet dress with matching stockings and ballet slippers.

The house guests were making more noise than Sophie ever had as they laughed uproariously at the punch line of a joke. Apparently, we'd missed both the set up and the ending.

Only the men, of whom there were three, smiled at me.

Nicola, dressed in a low top, short skirt and stilettos with her long hair straightened and falling down to her waist, remained blank faced and unwelcoming. The house guests spoke mostly amongst themselves and did their best to exclude me and Sophie.

Rochester was busy telling stories and when Sophie started to yawn, I excused myself, tired, and took her upstairs.

I'd been teaching her various English words previously unknown to her and she'd been teaching me a French song which we hummed as we walked. Then I sang some of a new song we'd heard on the radio and Sophie insisted on making up a dance to it when we reached her room. She looked like one of those kids on a reality show and I found myself laughing, despite myself, at her antics as I searched for her nightgown.

I made sure she cleaned her teeth properly by promising to tell her the story of Cinderella to help her fall asleep. Sophie loved that story; all about the beautiful girl with a wicked step-mother and the handsome Prince Charming who falls in love with the girl and identifies her from her missing slipper. It was a popular fairy tale for a reason and one I used to tell some of the smaller girls in foster care. We all loved it and it seemed to resonate with Sophie as she closed her eyes.

It had been a long day and I was grateful for the luxury of my own room when I too, fell fast asleep.


	12. Fire Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**Fire**

Hacking and coughing, I was awoken at two in the morning, barely able to breathe. The faint trace of smoke had started to funnel under the door of my bedroom. I wore only a light t-shirt and pyjama pants to bed, and it was cold when I threw the covers off me; but there was no time to pause and dress or even grab my coat.

Gasping, I heard a piercing scream from above. I could smell more smoke as I began to cough. I ran down the hallway, pushing my messy bed hair from my eyes.

The trail of smoke seemed to lead to Rochester's room, six doors down. Everyone had stayed up to all hours and the rest of the house guests seemed oblivious to the danger.

I knocked frantically on the door. When I turned the handle it opened easily.

The room itself was enormous, with high, Baroque ceilings and a wide old-fashioned bed situated in the middle. There was no time to think. I ran to the bed where Rochester lay. Perhaps he'd already inhaled smoke because he didn't move when I said his name.

'Wake up Nathanial,' I said, shaking him. He didn't stir. I reached over his bare chest and grabbed his broad shoulders and shook him again. He finally opened his eyes, then coughed and spluttered in the greying air.

'Anne,' he whispered, 'what's happening?'

'The curtain! Look, fire - Nathanial, get up!'

I tried to drag him but he was tall and twice my weight in muscle. He managed to get out of bed and with my help sat upright and then he moved suddenly.

'Get the blanket Anne, quickly!'

He ripped the mats up and threw the blankets onto the curtains and the edge of the bed. I turned on the tap in the bathroom and filled a bucket that was sitting under the basin. I started throwing water at the drapes, wondering where I could dial for the fire department, but in just a few minutes we managed to contain the fire. The stone floors where the carpet had been ripped up prevented the fire from spreading beyond the curtains. Rochester had been planning renovations for a while and the lack of floor covering curtailed the heat at the foot of his bed.

When the flames had been put out, I felt intense relief mixed with exhaustion.

I leaned on the wall then slumped to the floor.

Rochester collapsed at the foot of the bed, head in hands. Then, it seemed like the only thing left to kill us was smoke inhalation.

Slowly, he rose. He was shirtless and beautiful in the moonlight as I looked out for a moment from behind my own hands. I was shivering from the open window, the icy water sloshing at my feet.

He brought me a towelling robe from the bathroom and handed it to me.

'You are cold, put this on. Tell no one about the fire.'

'What?'

'Tell no one about what has happened here tonight.'

'Why?'

He paused.

'Can I trust you Anne?'

I looked at him from behind my messed up hair, my cold feet suckered together.

'Yes,' I answered, hesitantly.

He knelt down beside me in the dark, finally the same height as me, eye to eye.

'Promise me.'

'I promise. You can trust me,' I said slowly.

'Stay here for a moment, it's safe now. I'll be back.'

I was frozen and in shock but somehow, curled in his dressing gown after moving to the dry couch on the other side of the room, I fell fast asleep. I heard him walking into the room; it seemed like moments later, but was in reality probably half an hour.

He leaned over me; he'd hastily put on a t-shirt, one printed with a photograph of some old rock band he must have liked from about ten years ago. He smelled of a person freshly showered, so close was he when I opened my eyes I could see his chest moving, breathing heavily; I was bleary eyed, deep in dreams. Suddenly he looked like no one I trusted, like one of the numerous strangers who'd beaten down a door to my path in life. He reached towards me but I pushed him away. He wasn't easily dissuaded.

Without asking, Rochester scooped me up close and carried me in his arms quietly, down the hall to my bedroom, and placed me on my bed. The covers were already pulled back where I'd hastily left them. I was tired, sleepy, and almost delirious. He leant over me as if he was checking my breathing which was steady.

'Anne?'

He touched my wrist.

'Open your eyes.'

'What happened? Who lit the fire?' I asked. My questions fell over themselves without care.

'I think one of the maids dropped a match; Merida was smoking when she returned from the village; it's nothing for you to worry about. The extra staff will be leaving soon enough and I'll get Mrs Fairfax to talk to them and my guests about fire safety over the next few days,' he mused.

'Don't joke,' I said. 'We could have been killed.'

'It wasn't that bad.'

'It could have been.'

Instinct told me he was lying, lying to protect someone, but I couldn't put all of my suspicions together to form another accusation in the dark. Nor would I question a person who obviously did not trust me enough to share the truth, whatever that was.

The handsome man in the night paused before he looked down at me and spoke again, 'You saved my life tonight, Anne. Thank you. I owe you.' He leant closer to me and took my hand. I pulled it away, sensing his lie in the dark.

'You owe me nothing, Rochester,' I said.

I would be lying if I didn't say the memory of his flat, hard chest against me as he held me and carried me to my bed, did not conjure unexpected feelings of warmth and security that had always eluded me.

There was also a new sensation, one I'd pushed aside and never allowed myself to feel before - desire. Wanting the closeness of another human being was new to me; trusting someone was almost incomprehensible. I'd avoided human contact for years, ever since my aunt had abandoned me. I pulled the covers to my chest as I lay on my side, thinking he'd go soon enough.

'Are you just going to let me leave Anne?' He asked.

I turned around, my eyes made out his shadow in the moonlight.

'I want to know the rest,' I whispered, reaching to touch his face.

His voice cracked, as he spoke, low and hesitant.

'When I was younger, a year older than you, I made a terrible mistake; one that has haunted me to this day.'

He stopped talking. The room was filled with silence. I reached out and touched his chest, leant into him, listened to his beating heart. He knelt on the bed and held me close and warm, whispering my name in the night. Then he pulled me tighter, slightly, wrapping his arms around me and breathing into me as if his breath could also sustain my own. Nate was warm and close enough to hear my heart beat for the first time. I listened to his breathing as he seemed to contemplate whether or not to tell me something.

Then, for a moment, I wanted to kiss him, wanted him to stay with me. But it was only for a moment and I'd never admit it to a man who appeared to have the upper hand in all aspects of knowledge.

Instead, I pushed him away from me, annoyed that he held back whilst expecting so much from me. He seemed wary of offering me more information or even a plausible explanation for the inexplicable.

Besides, I thought, the last thing I needed was an older, more experienced man taking what was, for a moment, freely offered, then surely laughing in my face.

I wrapped my blanket around my shoulders, got off the bed and stood at the door.

'Please leave now. It is time for me to go to sleep.'

He got up reluctantly and left the room. The door slapped behind him softly and all was quiet in the house except my breathing which was deep as I crawled under my covers and drifted back into an unsettled sleep and an even more unsettling dream.

In my dream, I was getting married.

It was my wedding day and I was dressed in a long cream gown with the finest lace and flowers in a posy of pink that spilled out across the front of my dress. Then I looked across the room as I prepared to walk down the aisle and Sophie was smiling, dressed in ivory and lace, excited to be my bridesmaid.

Music played as we began to walk down the aisle.

I walked alone. This bothered me, initially; but little Sophie caught the train of my dress and I didn't notice my aloneness at all, because I was about to be joined to someone… but who? I couldn't remember his name and when I reached the front of the church after passing hundreds of seated guests whose faces were unfamiliar to me, Nicola, dressed as a bride, greeted me with a smile and pushed me to one side.

'What are you doing here?' She demanded to know. 'This is my wedding and this man is to be my husband.'

The man who stood in the corner talking to his best man was Nathanial Rochester. In silence, he turned to face us.

'Get out,' Nicola said. 'Get out you poor, plain, uninteresting girl! Leave this place!'

It was more like a nightmare than a dream.


	13. Sounds in the Silence Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Sounds In The Silence**

Rochester behaved as if nothing was amiss the next day.

After lessons, Sophie and I heard the house party arrive back from the stables. We were padding upstairs, our hair wet from swimming. Sophie was so good now; she didn't need her floaties but I still watched her like a hawk. We were both laughing and dripping water on the floor. Meanwhile Leah was, _tut tutting _us as the group entered the hallway.

I pulled my long robe around me and Sophie stood close; I needn't have bothered. Neither the house guests nor Rochester appeared to notice us at all as we walked upstairs. When I turned around as we reached the top, all of the visitors were deep in conversation. I could hear their upper class accents spinning off the walls. As I glanced downward, Rochester was in the middle of the group – the centre of everyone's attention.

Nicola Ingram was tall and graceful. She'd had her tumble of blonde hair styled fashionably around her shoulders. Nicola, who wore long riding boots and jeans with a designer label, was busy laughing at everything Rochester said. I saw her flick something off his scarlet riding jacket and link her arm through his. She clasped his firm hand to hers behind their backs.

Sophie was playing quietly that afternoon and I could hear animated conversation coming from the drawing room. The men were getting ready to go swimming after finishing a game of pool. When their voices became softer, I walked downstairs with the car keys, preparing to go the village.

The drawing room, which I was required to walk past, was filled with stale smoke and recent conversation.

'Anne?'

'I… I thought you'd left.'

Rochester walked out from the connecting library.

'Are you hiding from us?'

'No. I was with Sophie.'

'Never mind. I want to introduce you to someone properly. Anne, this is Nicola Ingram.'

I smiled at the woman who was maybe a few years older than me and very self-possessed.

'Nicola and her brother are close friends of mine from London,' Rochester stated.

I noticed her frown when he said the word _friend_. The haughty woman looked me up and down from her secure position next to Rochester.

'Hello. And who are you?'

'I'm Anne Eyre, Sophie's governess.'

'Oh, so you're the nanny; I grew up with loads of nannies; we used to play tricks on them. They were all just awful,' she said disdainfully, looking straight at me.

I ignored her insulting remarks.

'I also tutor Sophie in English. I'm preparing her for school.'

'Yes, and doing a brilliant job,' Rochester said, backs turned to us as he went to make drinks.

'I must go,' I added. 'I don't want to miss the post office.'

'Perhaps she's off to meet her boyfriend in town,' I heard another girl snipe. Nicola's friend giggled.

I heard fading whispers from the females as I attempted to leave the room.

'Why doesn't she just use email? Oh but of course, Rochester, it doesn't work all the way out here in the wilderness,' Nicola scoffed. 'I really don't know why you left London. We must do something about that next summer, darling.'

This woman, Nicola, was clearly making plans for their life together. If he was using her to make me jealous, it was working.

I felt superfluous. I didn't want to listen to any more of their idle conversation and was glad to be out of the house as I navigated the not overly familiar terrain, stumbling along Hay Lane and towards the pathway that lead to the village.

I needed a walk to clear my head, and the longer the better.

The summer days were becoming brisker, with autumn approaching. I couldn't really understand why my eyes were smarting with tears as I walked. I knew I could drive but I wanted to take as long as possible to get to the village, and then to return would take up the entire afternoon. I wanted to stay out of the house that had previously been so welcoming to me now that it had been invaded by an unfriendly adversary. I'd met girls like Nicola at school. When they set their sights on their male prey, they marked any other female, even one who didn't rate by their standards, as competition.

That night was just as bad.

I was compelled to go to the dining room with Sophie and we were asked by Mrs Fairfax to dress for dinner again, something I'd been previously annoyed about.

'I've nothing to wear,' I said. 'Perhaps I'll just take tea in the play room and read.'

'No, you are invited, Anne. Nathanial especially asked for you though I daresay he wouldn't miss either me or Sophie,' she joked. 'And never mind about your outfit, dear, just wear a different top and make sure Sophie looks her prettiest. Mr Rochester doesn't like her not to be well presented around his friends. We're expecting an engagement announcement very soon. He's ordered some jewellery to be brought down from London next week. They do make a lovely couple, don't you think?'

'Yes,' I said. There was no point in showing my hesitation. I was used to being overlooked, underestimated and ignored. It was normal for me from my past, but not now, not here and never in my future.

'Oh, and Anne? It wouldn't hurt you to put on a little lipstick and blush tonight. It's a party – there is no need for a teenage girl to look so unhappy and severe.'

She touched my cheek in what I could only describe as a motherly gesture. It was what I occasionally did to Sophie when she'd said or done something particularly sweet. I smiled tepidly.

Mrs Fairfax left the room.

After Sophie was dressed in a beautiful sapphire blue outfit (a newly bought design from one of Rochester's recent trips to France), I looked properly at myself in the mirror. I washed my face and did my best to hide the damage of recent tears staining my cheeks.


	14. Dinner Party Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Dinner Party**

I decided to dress for dinner, to give Nicola something to worry about.

I bathed and dried and used tongs on my hair in a fairly good attempt to imitate the fashionable models I'd noticed in magazines discarded where Nicola had left them.

It is true I only had one dress; I'd spent the part of my salary I wasn't saving at the local village shop on brushes and paper and art supplies; but the dress was new and very fashionable – a dark, above the knee, fitted sixties style. I wore it over a cherry coloured polo sweater, black opaque stockings and knee length, black riding boots - the ones I'd been mysteriously provided with even after I'd said I did not wish to take lessons.

Sophie wore a pink dress with a bow at the back and flat, ballet slippers. She looked like the flower girl at a wedding as she skipped across the ballroom and into the dining room.

The table was lit up with candles and flowers. Mrs Fairfax had been told to hire extra staff from the village specifically for the weekend. The dinner party was in full swing when Sophie and I entered the room. Although Rochester looked up momentarily and smiled, his eyes noting that I was more appropriately dressed as Mrs Fairfax had remarked, he did not stop talking to Nicola. There were other friends, a guy named Riff and another woman called Jess. Riff wore a black leather jacket. He was the lead singer in _Riffraff,_ the band Rochester managed. Riff was half asleep throughout dinner but still managed to drink at regular intervals. His girlfriend hung off his every word, nuzzling his shoulder.

As the first course was served, Jess started to nibble Riff's ear which made Sophie giggle. Meanwhile, Nicola looked enraptured at the man seated opposite her, Nathanial, and even made a point of getting up out of her seat to cut up his food for him while he'd excused himself to take a phone call. I'm not sure that was the best move on her part. He didn't look entirely pleased when he returned.

Sophie and I were seated near the end of the long table.

To my right was a good-looking stranger, a man who did not seem to know the rest of the party. He had dark brown hair with a long fringe and was around the same age as Rochester. He smiled warmly and introduced himself to me.

'How do you do? I'm Christopher Mason. May I ask who I have the pleasure of sitting alongside?'

His accent was from somewhere across the sea; America or Ireland; perhaps both. I noticed Mr Rochester's casual glance in my direction and it pleased me that now it was his turn to see my attention diverted elsewhere.

'I'm Anne Eyre, Sophie's English tutor. I'm also her nanny,' I said, quite loudly and proudly.

The young man smiled at me, then looked coldly at Sophie, who smiled back at him in her trusting way. Sophie looked particularly adorable with her curls tied in a pink ribbon. She was an enchanting child, (_like a pet_ Rochester had noted, when Sophie was out of earshot, with his usual droll humour).

I noticed Christopher again glanced at the child coldly, and I wondered why.

'And… how old is the child?' he asked me, almost impatiently, as the first course of lobster bisque was served.

'Sophie is six,' I said, quietly.

He nodded as if mentally doing some arithmetic that I couldn't possibly understand. I broke some bread and took the soup spoon, grateful for the etiquette lessons I'd considered stupid at Lockwood School. I knew to use the round spoon first and to eat using utensils from the outside in. I'd taught Sophie to do the same and she was behaving extremely well for a soon-to-be tired six-year-old.

The conversation around the table grew more animated, the smoke thicker and the music louder. Mrs Fairfax had taken Sophie off to bed after pudding, which was covered in a delicious cloud of caramel sauce over cream and strawberries. After I'd finished eating, I decided it was time for me to also escape.

Nathanial Rochester had been happily talking with Nicola all evening, barely acknowledging my presence and not bothering to speak to me even once. On the other side of Nicola was a good-looking man called Matthew Eaton. He ate with relish, talked animatedly all evening and was extremely good natured. Matthew had also been to university with Rochester and every now and then tapped on his glass to tell jokes that were vaguely funny.

The only time Nathanial looked over at me was when I spoke to Christopher Mason and he only appeared to be interested in our conversation when Christopher started telling me about his life in New Orleans (where he'd come from before his legal office transferred him to London).

After coffee was served, Christopher excused himself on the grounds of being tired from his long journey.

'Nonsense, man,' Rochester said. 'London is just a few miles…'

'Yes, but Ireland is a few hours, by plane and before that I was in America so I'm afraid I've had a long week…'

He smiled and said, 'It's been nice to talk to you Anne, I hope I see you in the morning.'

I wasn't sure what he meant by that comment. After he left, the conversation became rowdier as Riff and Jess started playing guitar and bickering between chord progressions.

Finally, I managed to get up and leave the room unnoticed.

I wound up the stairs, haunted by the generations of Rochesters that lined the wall along with statues and paintings of birds and other exotic creatures that had been lured to this place from other lands; captured and kept here. The wind outside was howling as I made my way to my room. When I got ready for bed, I again had the sense that I was not alone.

A loud thump was followed by a scream beyond the rafters. The house guests, to my knowledge, had remained in the dining room. Mrs Poole was normally asleep at this hour but I thought Edwina Fairfax had told me she had gone into the village to meet a friend. It was unusual that she hadn't made an appearance at dinner, although she tended to eat in the village on most occasions. The sound was not of this world. It definitely wasn't Mrs Fairfax or Sophie who were both asleep by now, or either of the maids who weren't in bed yet.

The next morning, at breakfast, most of the guests were still asleep. Nicola was bleary eyed but had obviously decided to eat breakfast and be civil. She made an effort to smile at me, saying, 'Good morning Anne,' in a way that could almost have been described as warm. I suppose once she felt secure in her perceived superiority there was no need to treat me like a threat.

Mrs Fairfax announced that the entire party would be leaving to go to a recording session in London. One of their friends, Matthew Eaton, owned a music studio there. They had left after breakfast without so much as a goodbye. I was told they would return when they were finished.

Sophie looked quite dismayed that she hadn't had the chance to wave them off. 'Come on Sophie,' I said. 'It's just us again. Let's go over our sentences for the week then go outside.' Reluctantly, she walked upstairs with me after breakfast. Mrs Fairfax shook her head, clearly not impressed by Nathanial's thoughtless behaviour.

After our English lesson, Sophie and I walked around the estate that morning repeating our bilingual game of naming every object in sight in both French and English. This helped my language skills as well.

At one point, after we'd exhausted the words to describe everything we saw, Sophie grabbed my fingers and asked me why I wasn't listening to her chatter or her jokes. For some reason, today, I didn't find them funny. Together we walked around the frosty grounds back towards Thornton Hall. I found myself glancing at the trees and the sky with my young charge, hardly thinking about our conversation or the answers I gave to Sophie's many questions. I was distracted, thinking about Nathanial, wondering when he would return.

When he did return, the following evening, I was seated in the drawing room, enduring the mundane chatter of the female guests who basically ignored my presence in their company. Tonight, Christopher Mason was noticeably absent and the seat beside me was empty. Sophie had been taken upstairs early after she had been passed around the group like a toy. Her prattle had become decidedly irritating to Nicola who disliked anything or anyone that took Nathanial's attention away from her.

After the evening meal was served, I ate just enough pudding, before I felt I could leave the crowded room without being missed.

Nathanial Rochester and I stood up simultaneously as he announced, 'Anne, I hope you are not leaving us. We have arranged after dinner party games - a magician has arrived to entertain us with card tricks and illusions,' he stated.

I had never really enjoyed fairground entertainment but it would be extremely obvious if I left in full view of everyone.

Nicola stood up and tapped her glass with a spoon before stating, 'Ladies and gentlemen, we have organised, for your entertainment and because it is my birthday request, a fortune teller! A palmist from the local country fair is visiting for the evening to read everyone's fortunes!' Nicola then clapped her hands loudly.

'Come Anne, she will be set up in the library in ten minutes… you must go early since you are always the first to leave.'

Nicola nodded, clearly happy to be rid of me sooner than she expected. My absence would allow her to linger exclusively with her intended husband.

Rochester stood and whispered something about, 'I'll just finalize the payment.' Nicola looked extremely self-satisfied. The most amiable of our house guests, Matthew Eaton, jumped up and said, 'Okay, I'll go first then.'

Nicola smiled approvingly. 'Each time slot goes for ten minutes,' she said. 'Anne, I've scheduled you in next.'

Having once worked as a society party planner, Nicola was in her element organising others. I had no doubt both the magician, who was happily pulling a card from behind my ear as I inwardly cringed, and the fortune teller, were the result of her suggestions and probably known to her.


	15. Fortune Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Fortune**

It was easier to comply with everyone's wishes but I had little faith in so-called fortune tellers. Matthew and I were clearly the guinea pigs for this form of entertainment but I wasn't particularly bothered either way since I didn't believe in the validity of it. Whether the reader said good or bad to me or about me was not of any particular concern.

The library was dark when I entered as if the novels themselves were whispering their secrets. Matthew Eaton was leaving sheepishly as I entered. 'She's good, but a bit spooky,' was his only comment.

At the far end of the hall there was a shadowy figure seated in a lazy chair, apparently hunched behind a curtain. Her voice was raspy and deep.

I hesitated as I approached.

'Do I… do I get to see you?'

'Reveal myself to you? No dear, I work better incognito.'

'Oh.'

I sat down.

'You are a sceptic dear.'

'Excuse me?'

'You do not believe in these dark arts.'

'Um… no, not really.'

'I can hear disbelief in your voice. Why have you come here then?'

'Out of politeness.'

'Mmm… I see.'

'My employer requested it.'

'Oh. Is he the tall, dark and very handsome one?'

I laughed.

'Um… you could say that, I suppose so.'

'Mm… let's see. Do you have anything to offer me my dear?'

'What? Oh, you mean a question?'

'Questions come later. I mean a donation.'

'Oh.' I thought she had been paid but I searched the pocket hidden in my waistband and found some gold coins which I placed on the table.

'Thank you,' she said.

A long pause precluded her first observation.

'You are slightly conflicted.'

'What makes you say that?'

'You are not an easy person to understand. Most of my clients come in here, shivering. Why aren't you cold?'

'It's summer.'

'It is quite drafty in here. You are afraid of something or someone.'

'I don't think so. I try not to be afraid of anyone.'

'Nevertheless, there is someone, a man who has you perplexed.'

'Prove it,' I said.

'These are not things that can be proven. My words simply are or they… are not. In this case, they are.

I nodded casually.

'You are solitary but dependent… do you… do you teach a child in this mansion?'

'Yes.' I hesitated.

She jumped on my answer.

'You see, I was right, solitary but dependent. You seek love but you do not know it when you see it.'

I paused, trying to work out her previous comment before thinking about the next one.

'Don't you mean independent?'

'No, dependent. You have grown dependent on others, more than you ever thought you would…'

I screwed up my face, more than a little irritated.

'You could say what you said to just about any young woman.'

'Not in this house. In this house, you have a rival.'

I couldn't believe she'd picked up Nicola Ingram.

'A rival? For what?' I challenged her to spell it out.

'For the affections of another.'

I was silent.

'Do you disagree with an elderly lady?'

'If that is what you say you are,' I added. I was starting to get suspicious. The older woman had hidden her large hands behind gloves as she took my coins, just a little too swiftly to be well mannered.

'In your circumstances, you have many choices.'

'Really?' I asked sarcastically.

'You have not had an easy upbringing. I can see that in your face. Now, if you wish to know more, I must read your palm.'

'Whatever,' I said under my breath, exasperated.

I held my hand out to her across the table.

'Mmm…. Normally I can see lines for marriage and children but I…. I have to… ah, there they are. I see both in your future although in truth, your destiny is not clear since both of these are a matter of choice.'

'I believe you,' I said.

'I look into your hand and it does not reveal your inner most secrets. I wonder what is in your mind as you sit there and what rests in your heart. Are you happy? Are you sad? You see, with a hand like this… it is hard to tell, you do not reveal your true feelings to anyone. Although, I see a great fondness that you have here and here (she pointed to a random line on my palm) for children,' she whispered eerily. 'You had a harsh childhood and in a way, to make up for that, you are extra kind to the children that come into your life.'

I really had started to twig that this whole scenario was some sort of a set up. Obviously, this fortune teller had been given information about me in advance. For fun, I decided to play along with the joke.

'May I ask you a question?'

'Of course Anne, that is what I am here for.'

'What… what I really want to talk about is… a man…'

'Ah, the tall, dark and handsome one? The one who is your employer?'

'No, the one who was seated next to me recently at dinner.'

The voice behind the curtain sounded more agitated.

'Do you have feelings for this person?'

'I believe so.'

'Not for the dark, handsome one?'

'Oh, I have feelings for him too; feelings of irritation, anger and annoyance! Shall I add to those feelings Nathanial Rochester?'

I pulled the curtains apart to reveal Nathanial and Jess, who was seated on his knee, doing her _actress voice_ as she later told me, with prompting of questions quickly scribbled by Nathanial on pen and paper.

Both of them laughed uproariously as I stood up, smiling ever so slightly.

'Don't tell the others, Anne,' Jess pleaded.

'We always play practical jokes at these dinner parties. Please don't spoil it, Anne. Didn't you think it was funny?' Nathanial asked.

'It was quite funny, Nathanial, but let me give you a tip. Big hands give you away.'

I think I'd caught on to the practical joke about half way through and I hadn't in all honesty found it as hysterical as they did, but I suppose it wiled away the evening. Of course, if Nathanial thought his obnoxious questions would reveal my inner most thoughts, he was sadly mistaken. From the start - well, almost - I'd guessed it was him.


	16. Wounded Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen **

**Wounded**

Days and nights continued in a strange pattern as the house guests came and went. Sophie and I tried to maintain our learning routine (her spoken English was nearly perfect), but most evenings there was extra noise and the atmosphere of a party; I didn't mind this. In fact, I enjoyed falling asleep knowing that Sophie had learnt all that was required of her, and more. The atmosphere of the house was often enhanced by these merry parties. It was only occasionally, during dinner, that I was quick to retreat.

The following night, Nicola was making more pointed comments about her _dreadful_ childhood nannies and how they were all, _miserable women with few prospects_, calling them, _dowdy and plain in the nicest possible way_. I began to shift uncomfortably in my seat. I felt her comments were directed at me, even though her brother interrupted her and contradicted her. Nicola's opinions were loudly vocalised; enough was enough.

When I slipped out of the room, I heard footsteps following behind me.

'Anne, what's the matter? You look unhappy.' Nathanial said.

'I'm tired. I'm going to bed.'

'Since I returned with The Eatons you haven't been the same.'

Was he trying to make me admit jealousy or was he just not perceptive enough to care?

'Really?' I said, playing cool. 'Perhaps it's since you played that stupid trick pretending to be a fortune teller - as if I would pour all of my thoughts onto your table.'

In his presence, it felt as if my own feelings were a mystery, even to me. Turning at the top of the staircase, I challenged him.

'These days of merriment have been frivolous but mostly fun.'

He smiled approvingly.

I didn't tell him about the previous afternoon when I had tried unsuccessfully to unbolt the door that led to the highest floor of Thornton Hall.

Instead, I blurted out, 'As if the dinner conversation wasn't humiliation enough, I have heard screams in the night. Last night, again, I heard a woman's laughter. It was not Mrs Poole who was in the village having dinner with friends.'

'The house is full of guests, Anne. The rooms are packed; sometimes there are _hangers on_ in the music business; I cannot be responsible for every stranger that friends drag in here. It's all a bit of a joke, a bit of summer fun. It will all be over soon,' he shrugged, 'and then everyone will return to their normal life. I doubt the band will last beyond this contract. It's their final album and the others didn't exactly set the world on fire. I'm sorry if they are annoying. The walls are paper thin in these old places; I've been intending to get proper insulation for years. If it's a problem, you could move to a cottage on the estate until my guests leave.'

'Sure,' I said, turning from him. 'In fact, maybe Sophie should come with me,' I said sarcastically, adding, 'since we are both so unwanted.'

He went to take my arm but I shook it free. In truth I was less worried about _things that went bump in the night_ than I was about Nicola Ingram. I wasn't sure how long I could cope with a changed household where I would soon be superfluous. I had no intention of moving to an isolated cottage on the estate, as he well knew. When we reached my room, I said, 'Goodnight.' Turning, I shut the door.

That night I was again woken from my sleep; not by Sophie or Mrs Fairfax but by Rochester.

'What is it?' I whispered. The look on his face was intense and troubled.

'Anne? Wake up, Anne! Didn't you do some sort of first aid course?'

'Yes, I had to, to work with children,' I said groggily.

'I need your help, Anne. Would you help me? Please come with me, now?'

I grabbed my coat and pulled on my socks; my feet were freezing. The heating was turned off in the summer evenings but the house was so large and icy in the night. We went to one of the upstairs sitting rooms where I was surprised to see Christopher Mason lying on the sofa curled up in some sort of obvious pain.

'I'm warning you Christopher, don't tell her anything.'

'And Anne? If he talks, don't listen to him.'

I was left hovering by the door. The light was low as Rochester went to grab a first aid kit from the kitchen two floors below us. He came running back a few minutes later. I stood mute as he handed it to me.

'Can you manage this, Anne? Help him?'

I was already pressing a bundled up t-shirt onto the gash in Christopher's stomach.

I put on some gloves while Rochester took over. I cleaned the wound, just as I'd been shown to and got some hot water from the bathroom and generally did anything I could, including wrapping a bandage around Christopher's stomach. This was only temporary help. The man needed stitches, badly, and probably a tetanus shot. There were knife wounds and puncture marks the size of pencil dots across his veins in some sort of pattern I couldn't begin to make out.

Typically, once I looked like I had it under control, Rochester had disappeared. When he returned, ten minutes later, looking stressed out, Christopher was doubled up in pain as I applied pressure to the bandage.

It was no use.

'We need help,' I said.

'I know,' he replied.

Our house guest lay limp, moaning in pain as Rochester hoisted Christopher Mason over his shoulders and carried him downstairs via the scullery. Outside, there was a waiting car.

I was left shaking my head. I could not have imagined what fight had caused Christopher's wounds or how they had been inflicted. I sat on a couch in the dark of the drawing room and finally fell asleep, crumpled under an old coat, still wondering.

'Anne, Anne, wake up.' Rochester shook me awake. It was six in the morning and the sun had barely risen. The house was quiet. A hush had settled over it like mist.

'Come with me.'

I grabbed my coat and hastily pulled it on over my pyjamas.

We walked together outside to the stables in the cool morning air.

'I didn't want to talk in the house. Our voices might wake everyone up.'

'How is he?'

'He'll live.'

'Who… who did that to him?'

Rochester took my arm as if he wanted to tell me something but was weighing up the cost of speaking aloud. He shook his head as he spoke.

'I can't tell you.'

I turned to leave but his voice stopped me.

'When I was your age I made a mistake. Its consequences have marked me for life. But recently…' He leant towards me as we spoke, 'I have met someone who might understand, who might want to… be with me if only I could tell them the truth; with her I feel I could reform myself and learn to live again.'

He was clearly describing his feelings for Nicola Ingram.

'Anne?'

'Nathanial?'

'Do you think love justifies telling a lie?'

'I think you are talking in riddles. But if I'm to treat your words as if they are meant in all seriousness, I would say that love should not need a lie but that sometimes the truth is less kind.'

He slumped up against a stone wall, centuries old.

'What do you mean, Anne?'

'When we lie, if we do so to save a person we love from hurt, that's understandable. When you wore a riding jacket that didn't suit you as well as your velvet one, I didn't tell you because you were already saddled up and ready to ride out when you asked my opinion.'

He paused.

'Ah,' then he laughed. Nathanial reached over and took my hand. 'Just your presence here makes the day better. I do not know what I shall do without you.'

'Am I leaving?'

'I fear that you will… someday.'

So, he was already planning for the time when I would leave, when he would ask me to go because Sophie was going to school and Nicola would be her stepmother. Poor child, I thought, but there seemed no point in vocalising my feelings. The man had clearly made up his mind to go through with the marriage that all of the household staff whispered about behind closed doors. Nicola Ingram was the sort of woman who was only nice to children and underlings when others (particularly the man she'd set her sights on) noticed.

Of course, in front of Nathanial, she was all smiles. Like most men in love, he couldn't see through her and he would resent me for pointing out her faults, so I stayed silent on the matter of the beautiful Nicola Ingram.

I wondered how he could think so little of my feelings, how he could imagine I had none. He had trusted me with last night's secrets and told me about Nicola so easily, as if I was now more than an employee but less than a girlfriend; a friend, of sorts, was how he had begun to treat me.

I did not want to think about Nicola Ingram and turned away. There was still a secret in this house that intrigued me. I wondered why, after all these months of friendship (if indeed we were friends), he did not trust me enough to share it.

'I still don't understand about last night.' I ventured. 'Were you and Christopher fighting over a woman?'

'You could say that.'

'Does he… does he like Nicola too?'

Nathanial laughed. I changed tack.

'Did you… it looked like someone stabbed him with a pen or worse.'

'I cannot explain further, Anne. I must entrust you only with my silence. I value your opinion Anne. I need to know if I'm justified in not telling the woman I love everything about me.'

'You mean, about this, about whatever has occurred here tonight with Christopher?'

'Sort of…'

I shrugged, annoyed that he would never offer me a straight answer but always asked my opinions as if they should be freely supplied. I had nothing to lose any more so I told him exactly what I thought.

'I think true love should overcome all obstacles. Just because the woman in question doesn't have as big a fortune as you, it doesn't necessarily mean she's a total gold digger… I guess, well, she is attractive, beautiful even, that's if you go for trashy blondes. Her father is also a lord or whatever and I mean, clearly, you are an appealing alliance. Both families will be thrilled.'

Nate's face went blank.

'Anne? Who do you think I'm talking about?'

I looked him square in the eyes.

'Nicola Ingram.'

'I'm not talking about her. I'm asking you what _you_ would do to secure your own happiness? What lengths would you go to for true love?'

He reached over and wound his scarf around my shoulders as I began to shiver. He leant into me, closely; I wanted to touch him but I held back; I didn't want to be bought with riddles, rhymes and lies.

'I would do anything within the limits of my own conscience.'

'Yet I cannot risk telling you everything,' he looked away.

'Nor I you,' I whispered, half turning from him.

'You are an unusual person, Anne. You see things from an unconventional angle.'

'Well, I've had an unconventional life, so far.'

'Do you ever want a conventional one? Are you too young to think about marriage and children?'

'Of course, unless I met the right person.'

'I think in the end, most of us want the normal things: love, security, protection. Am I right, Anne? Is that what you want from life?'

'At the moment, I'm planning to go to university,' I laughed. 'But it is true that for someone who studied hard at school, I have no great desire to continue studying. I might get a job instead or as well. I want to see more of the world after I leave here.'

'Yes, of course. I suppose what I'm asking is, if it took a lie to get to a greater good, would you be prepared to be involved in something like that?

'I've often thought that people who never tell lies have never had to; but sometimes I wonder if anything good can come from bad. If there is something you haven't told the woman you wish to be your wife, then maybe you should tell her.'

'Even if telling her means she'll probably leave me?'

'You must be the judge of that, Nate.'

'You called me Nate,' he smiled. 'I liked it.'

I turned from him, shivering, fed up with his egotistical flirting and the constant talking about this other woman as if I was just a teenage girl with no feelings of my own. I moved towards the house.

'Where are you going?'

'I don't think this conversation is going anywhere. I'm cold, I'm going inside; Sophie has her riding lesson and I need to get her clothes ready.'

I walked down the driveway, my head reeling with questions. His words were loaded, like a gun.


	17. Leaving Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Leaving **

The telephone rang again the next afternoon. Leah picked it up. The voice on the other end of the line was asking for me; Anne Eyre. Nobody ever rang Thornton Hall asking after me.

'Perhaps it is your aunt?' Mrs Fairfax offered.

I shook my head.

More likely someone from Social Services, doing a survey about my progress since leaving the system, I thought, inwardly cringing. Then I remembered the system was overcrowded, so that was unlikely. I shook my head again yet Leah persisted until I got up from my seat and went to the door of the kitchen.

'Anne, it's some lawyer in London by the name of Price. He says he got your address from Social Services. It must be important.'

I took the phone.

'You can take the call in the study, Anne. It's private in there,' Mrs Fairfax said.

The study was one of the most imposing rooms in the entire mansion, yet it was designed to be the most comfortable with large brown leather lounge chairs and Rochester's relatives dotted in paintings all over the walls, staring out at me, judging me.

'Is this Anne Elizabeth Eyre?' the voice on the line said. He repeated my full name, date and place of birth.

'Yes, who is this?'

'This is Louis Price from _Price &amp; Sons_. We're a legal firm based in London. Anne, I have some news for you. Your aunt is failing and she has instructed me to ask you to come and see her. It is her one and only desire, her final wish to set things right with you. She has something of legal importance to tell you and she asked me to make a formal request for you to come and see her.'

'I… I'm in Cornwall.'

'Yes, I know.'

'Since she threw me out of her house when I was small, I have no idea why she would wish to speak to me now.'

'She asked me to appeal to your good nature, Anne, your intelligence. It's very important and would be to your advantage if you speak with her and not on the telephone; she wishes to do this in person.'

Minutes later, I stood with the telephone receiver in my hand. I had not really thought about going into London again so soon, but something inside me, some family instinct, told me I should go. I could not deny her this final wish, although she had been cruel to me when I was younger. Two wrongs did not seem to make a right in my world. I needed to hear what the woman had to say.

I threw some overnight belongings into a bag along with my sketches and realized I had no money, no wages for the month. I would have to ask Rochester for a cash-in-hand payment, something I didn't wish to do, but I had no choice.

I walked outside in my shirt, which was rolled up, along with my jeans, and a cardigan wrapped around my shoulders to shield me from the light, summer breeze.

Rochester was playing water polo with Nicola, (who was dressed in a revealing bikini), Nicola's brother and Sophie. Sophie kept shouting in French which made me smile. They made a fine family in the sun, all of the intruders (as I thought of them), so blonde and pale, unlike me, soon to be sun-kissed. I hovered near the edge of the rippled, blue water.

Nicola scowled at me. 'What do you want?' she said speaking to me as if she was in no doubt that I was merely _the help_. 'If you want Sophie, we're in the middle of a game,' she added.

I ignored her and looked at Nathanial Rochester.

'I need to speak with you. It can't wait.'

He paused, nodded and got out of the pool.

Can I just say that the sight of a man as hot as Rochester, emerging wet and dripping from the water on a sunny day, was one I would literally engrave in the final pages of my teenage diary? Nicola and I and even Mrs Fairfax, who was seated in the corner, couldn't stop staring. Mrs Fairfax, who was reading a magazine, actually pulled down her sunglasses slightly to get a proper look at his muscular chest. Apart from Sophie, we all literally stopped and stared at him; his beautiful face and body in the warmth of sun on his skin.

Nicola swam over to Nate as he was picking up his towel and leaned up to peck him on the cheek. He smiled in return, playfully, appearing to respond. Sophie frowned because the game had halted.

'I'll just be a minute,' he said to her.

Sophie huffed and gave a slight smile when she realised it was me creating the interruption.

My employer and I walked together in the sun, my hair trailing down my back as I hadn't bothered to tie it up. My faded jeans were rolled up into shorter ones as my one concession to summer. I had bare feet. It was the weekend and on my days off, I'd turned one of the bathrooms into an old-fashioned darkroom and had been developing photos of Sophie and the surrounding areas of Cornwall. There was also a picture perfect image of the estate cottage which was situated by the sea.

Nathanial Rochester had wrapped a towel around his waist and pulled on his crumpled t-shirt over his wet chest. I'd noticed the T-shirt, the old rock band one, was his favourite. He started to dry his thick, wet hair with a hand towel as we walked. It was endearing; this lack of interest in fashion, this need he had for a woman (not a girl, like me, I supposed) to look after him. Nicola was twenty-one and certainly seemed to display the confidence that announced she was up to the job of looking after this lonely young man.

'What is it Anne?' He asked.

'I just spoke to a lawyer. I need to return to London to visit my aunt who is ill and not expected to recover. She has something to tell me, apparently, that cannot be said over the phone.'

He paused for a minute, taking in my words and what they meant.

'So, you are leaving?' He looked at me incredulously. 'How will Sophie and I cope without you?'

'I am sure you will both be fine. You appear to be _otherwise engaged_.'

I tried to hide my jealousy, telling myself I had no right to feel it. I could see Nicola fussing over Sophie in the distance and then she took off her towel, spread it on the lawn and lay out in brightest light, displaying her perfect body in the sun. Meanwhile, Rochester was studying my face intently.

He raised his eyebrows.

'Isn't this the aunt who was cruel to you? Who practically threw you out onto the street?'

'Yes, but she is the only family member I have. I cannot ignore her final wish.'

'Well you're a better person than I am… When are you coming back?' he asked me directly.

Rochester was surprisingly anxious about my proposed return. He realized he would have to find a new nanny - if that is what I was - one who could also speak French. Not an easy task, late in the summer, and very impractical for him. Although his relationship with Sophie had appeared to have improved since I'd arrived at Thornton, he was generally distracted by work and horses. He had not intended to be his child's _hand maid_ as he sarcastically worded it.

I shrugged.

'It all began, when she called Social Services after I held an iron to my aunt's boyfriend's hand.'

Rochester winced.

'Why did you do that?'

I looked away.

'He tried to get too close. '

He looked a little disconcerted. Apparently, I didn't need to draw a picture.

I continued… 'My aunt felt I was partly to blame for ruining her relationship with her boyfriend and in retrospect, if I'd known how much trouble my accusation would cause, I probably should have kept quiet. Had I been older… '

Rochester sighed 'How old were you Anne?'

I paused.

'About Sophie's age,' I replied, aware the more he knew about me the less he would like me. It was always this way with me. That was why I'd stopped sharing my upbringing with strangers. At first, they pretended to have empathy, even a little sympathy, but then they started distancing themselves from me. They would treat me as if I was damaged goods and not worth knowing.

'Anne, listen to me. You were not to blame and I don't think you owe this aunt of yours anything. She should have stood up for you - I would have.'

'I can stand up for myself,' I whispered.

'I know,' he smiled.

'I need to go to London.'

'Of course.'

'And I need to borrow some money since I haven't been paid this….'

'No problem.'

I didn't want to tell him that last month's pay had gone on the novels I needed for my reading list at university and the camera. I'd purchased an expensive one because I'd wanted the best. All would have been unnecessary trinkets in my aunt's eyes. Recently, my life had been so amazing and for the first time, I wanted to record it. I wanted to remember everything. However, I didn't want to tell Rochester about the purchase of the camera which was none of his business anyway. He'd have told me I could use his movie camera, and I wanted my own; something that I knew could never be taken from me.

He scribbled his signature on a cheque and went to hand it to me. I was shocked at the amount of zeros at the end. This was way too much.

'It needs to be cash, Rochester. I cannot pay for my train ticket with a cheque.'

'Of course,' he said without hesitation. We had walked all the way to his office. He handed me some cash from a locked drawer in his desk.

I took it and said, 'thank you.'

'So, it's Rochester now?'

'You are… officially my employer.'

'I am your friend, Anne, as you are mine. Please come back to me… and Sophie… and this place. We need you.'

I squeezed the large bundle of money, surprised he would think that I'd be dishonest about my intentions. Well, not surprised, really. I mean, what did he expect? He'd allowed me to become close to him and Sophie only to flaunt his girlfriend in my face. Still, he owed me nothing except my wages and his kindness had been extremely unexpected. I turned from him with the notes in my hand then I realised, as I went to stuff them in my purse, that they made a larger bundle than I'd earned.

I hesitated at the door.

'But this is next month's wages also…'

'I want you to return,' he said.

'I have promised that I will… in a week.'

'It's a bonus. Added incentive,' he said.

Why? I wondered… I had nowhere else I wanted to be, except by his side. Yet I used all of my strength at that moment to leave him without a backward glance. My own survival depended on my detachment. Without a touch, I left, lest he should realize how much he now meant to me.


	18. Aunt Tessa Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Aunt Tessa**__

The train journey was long, and I thought of his face, his body, his expressions, playing the images in my head like the schoolgirl I'd been. I put these thoughts of love out of my mind. I knew he was so far out of my reach that these images of unrequited love were both imaginary and laughable. A girl can dream.

And let's face it, Rochester made all other men seem pale in comparison. The boys I'd met casually, at school mixers arranged between the boys' and girls' schools and even at the train station on those afternoons where I travelled to wherever home was, could never compete, even in my schoolgirl memory.

I pulled out the novel I'd begun from my reading list, one of the classics, _Persuasion,_ and began to read. I checked my texts intermittently (there were none from him but one from Sophie wishing me _Bon Chance!_) Her pretty French words made me smile. I had tried to give Sophie the safe and secure upbringing in those few months I'd been with her that I'd never properly experienced myself. I hoped I'd succeeded but my influence was limited in many ways. Sophie, like most children, craved approval from her father. I suppose I had no measure of success except her smiles and the happiness I'd felt when we learnt new things together, like the map of the United States, which was new to me and I'd had to teach myself before I could teach her.

I knew when I was forced to leave Sophie and Nate (as I persistently thought of him), I'd miss them both. I should never have let either of them into my heart, I thought, as I snapped my mobile into its cover, folded _Persuasion_ into the scarf in my bag (_it was a wonderful story about love lost and found_) and shut my eyes. The train chugged into the industrial heartland of central London as I slept.

When I woke, there was an apprehensive feeling in my stomach that I'd carried with me all through the journey. The flutters were the opposite of the anticipation I'd felt the first time I went to Thornton and arrived near the estate cottage which overlooked the ocean. This feeling was one of dread.

I took the tube to my aunt's house in South London. You couldn't see your surroundings on the tube as it fed like a snake through all of central London, but you felt covered up, literally unseen in the grey and the dark. I remembered the streets without having to check the A-Z directory. My Aunt Tessa's house was particularly familiar. It was a cold and drab summer's day. The temperature felt more like autumn. The summer sky began to spit down rain as I reached the steps of Tessa's house in the expensive enclave of real estate that was Knightsbridge. I walked to the door and rang the bell. Her nurse opened the door and led me, gratefully almost, to my aunt's sitting room.

She was seated by the fire with a checked rug wrapped around her knees and the television on. Aunt Tessa looked up as I entered the room. Her hair was greying and she looked older than her years and thinner. Her face was soft in the firelight. There were dark shadows under her eyes.

'Hello Anne,' she said softly.

'Hello,' I replied, formally.

'Thank you for coming.'

We made small talk about the journey then she eyed me up and down and spoke of her real reason for wishing to see me after all these years.

'I brought you here to let you know that when you went away, after you were in foster care, your schooling was paid for by me. It was my financial advisor's signature on those cheques.'

I looked at her incredulously.

'Why?'

'It is not what you think, Anne. I did not do it for your good, just out of my own guilt. I wouldn't see the truth before my eyes. When you fought with my ex-boyfriend, I knew he was in the wrong, but I didn't want to admit it. I am sorry for that alone. As you know, I didn't warm to you, as a child. You were too inquisitive, too knowing and the truth is, I just didn't like you.' She paused before speaking again. 'Is it wrong to be envious of a child?'

'Yes.'

'Do you forgive me, Anne? It's just that I feel I want your forgiveness before…'

'Yes. I forgive you,' I said, wanting her to stop speaking so I could leave.

'Then you must hear the rest of this story…'

I knew she would not have dragged me all the way to her house without spilling more bile.

'I knew your father. The reason that I paid for your schooling was that he left me, gave me, the money that was supposed to be for your upbringing and your future.'

I was shocked.

'He lived in America after you were born and when he and your mother separated he remarried. After a few months, he wanted to see you and I told him a terrible lie which he never bothered to fully check. I told him you had died in the time during which we'd had no contact. I told them something plausibly tragic and as I was your legal guardian their signatures were never required. Your mother was out to it by then anyway and your father - absent father that he was - he'd only been eighteen when you were born; his name wasn't even on your birth certificate. He never bothered to check; that is how much he cared about you Anne. By then, I'd sent you away. You see, I was in love with him and I was jealous of your mother.

Envious, even though she has spent her life going in and out of psychiatric clinics. It is true she has never wished to see you. I was jealous that she had something of your father's that I did not; you. So I made up the terrible lie to keep you away from them and him, away from us. The money was in my hands by then and your father did not ask for it to be returned. Out of guilt, I paid for your schooling but that was it. I invested the rest, wisely, I might add.'

Did she expect me to congratulate her? I was shocked and stood up. I'd feared she'd use these last moments of her existence to hurt me.

'I brought you here, Anne, because you also have an uncle. The letter is there, on the coffee table. He has asked after you; he lost touch with your father when they too, were infants; he only recently heard of your birth; but not the lie of your death. He has a small fortune, apparently, made it in the City last decade. He wants to leave it to you so that you can inherit his wealth. He has no children of his own, nor is he likely to.'

She coughed, making her face look more pinched in and unappealing than ever.

'He asks you to write to him; you must do so, Anne. I have gone through the money your father left, but you will surely be looked after by this uncle. He has made that promise in the letter. This goes some way to my atonement, to making up for all my lies.'

I looked at her, speechless. I gathered she'd been jealous of my mother, me… the world… and had seemingly endless psychological issues of her own. Talk was pointless. I just wanted to leave her room and never see the woman again.

I took the letter and gathered my coat as I left. I let her have the final words.

'Anne, you have cursed me. I always knew you'd be the death of me.'

As I left the house, sometimes I thought my whole family must have been mad, that my only hope in life was forging a new path, finding new people, creating my own way. I was not reduced to tears as I walked along the footpath; I was calm, controlled.

I felt some inner comfort and distant nourishment as I looked at the name of my uncle on the paper and read his welcoming letter. I resolved to contact him as I ordered tea at the Berkeley, one of the nicest hotels in town. I'd earnt it. It was almost a relief to know that my parents had not intentionally abandoned me to a system which had nearly destroyed me; that they'd been victims themselves, something I was determined not to be. And what of my aunt? She was the saddest victim of all. I had only pity for her.

I shed a tear for my lost upbringing in the bathrooms of that posh hotel and afterwards resolved not to cry over it again, to save my tears for something good, some future happiness. I believed I'd finally earned some tears of joy.

I stayed in a nice hotel that night. I had more than enough money to pay for the room with a sunken bath and cable television. The next day, before I was due to start my return journey to Devon and then on to Cornwall, I decided to go shopping in the street I'd read about in society magazines, Pont Street. Then I went to Harvey Nichols and realised how much Sophie would love the beautiful counters and lush shop windows. I dreamt of what was good as I wandered through the departments. I bought a gift for the maids and Mrs Fairfax and afterwards I caught a double decker bus and treated myself to an afternoon in Oxford Street. I walked along to Regent Street, to a famous toy store, where I selected a doll to add to Sophie's collection, one that looked a little bit like her and one I thought she would love.

After her father married and she was sent to boarding school, she would need all the strength, creativity and imaginary friends she could muster. I, of course, would have to start afresh. I did not envisage returning to the place I grew up in; I wasn't sure what I'd do after September but resolved to finalize my university scholarship applications. Then, if all went as planned, perhaps enrolling in a few subjects would be a start; I could study at night and work during the day… that was _the plan_ of escape once all the preparations for Nicola Ingram's wedding were underway.


	19. Engagement Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Engagement**

After I'd travelled from Devon to Cornwall, I took a taxi from the bus stop in the village to Hay Lane. I wanted to re-live the extraordinary sight of the estate in what was left of the summer sun. It was afternoon by then and Thornton Hall in the sunset was truly memorable. I took a photograph to add to my collection. All of the angles of the old mansion swept up into the fading light. The image of pink and gold took my breath away as I snapped a few more photographs. Sophie had texted me and had ridden to the gate with her father on her horse, Xavier, to greet me. I was very surprised, but I shouldn't have been. Sophie and her father were excellent riders.

My heart sank when I saw Nathanial's handsome, smiling face. 'If you had telephoned earlier, Anne, we would have driven to the station to collect you. It was Sophie's biggest wish to greet you in the twilight,' he said enthusiastically.

I smiled again.

'I wanted to make my own way to Thornton. I wanted to take some photographs. These moments in the summer light won't come again for a long time.'

It had been a privilege to see the faces of Sophie and Nate waiting for me at the gate, even more exciting than any photographs I could take.

'_Bienvenue!_ Anne! You've returned to us!' Sophie squealed as she slid off her saddle and ran into my arms to give me a welcome hug. Nathanial led the horse up the track as Sophie spoke to me in a rush of tumbling over sentences while the three of us walked towards Thornton Hall.

'… and I know all the words you left for me to learn and we got Mrs Fairfax to prepare dinner especially in your honour – she made apricot chicken.' I must admit, just the thought of my favourite dish excited me. Apricot chicken consisted of chicken pieces mixed with onions, apricots, nectar and spices then baked in a casserole dish until the sauce simmered and reduced in the oven. The chicken would be served with rice or my favourite creamy potatoes. Sophie talked on excitedly as my mouth watered. Even with a delicious meal, I wondered how I could endure another dinner with the Ingrams. I could always plead exhaustion after my lengthy day's travel.

Before dinner, I spoke with Mrs Fairfax in the kitchen. She was showing me how to make bread and butter pudding, a recipe I'd always wanted to make. I'd looked it up on the web but Mrs Fairfax had cooking skills passed down through generations of women in her family, skills that couldn't be taught online and I'd resolved to learn some of them.

For this delicious recipe, I was spreading the fruit bread with strawberry jam as Mrs Fairfax stirred the milk, eggs, sugar and vanilla all the while chatting to me like a close relative. I'd changed into an evening skirt, one I'd bought from the most fashionable shop in London and wore a cream antique blouse and bracelets I'd bought from a market store in Notting Hill. I'd even curled my hair in an effort to look my best. It was as if, knowledge of my family and the wrong that had been done to me, was a weight from my shoulders. It was no hardship to dress up tonight. Deep inside, I knew I wanted to look my most desirable, to make it harder for him to say our inevitable goodbyes.

I'd already bought a jobs magazine from the train station and had started looking for employment on the internet. I'd told Mrs Fairfax that I'd be ready to leave when summer ended and had started looking for work closer to Cambridge, where I intended to start my classes.

'I'm so proud of you, Anne,' she said. 'You are such a smart girl; it's no wonder you have been accepted into one of the best universities in the world.'

'Thank you,' I replied.

I hoped, although my academic record was flawless, that I hadn't just been accepted because I'd fitted a slot that was marked _underprivileged_. Still, my interviews had gone well and I'd had excellent references from my teachers and youth workers. That same day, I'd found a letter waiting for me, confirming my scholarship, but I'd still need extra money.

'I think I may have found some jobs to apply for in Cambridge…'

'Oh, no need to look, Anne. Mr Rochester has a company there and he will give you an excellent reference. All it will take is one phone call from him and I'm sure he can arrange suitable employment for you while you complete your studies. I don't think we've ever had a staff member that was going on to Cambridge! Even Rochester went to university in the States after Oxford… oh, of course it was a top college, but then he's never had anything to prove since he was born. His family gave him everything,' and here Edwina Fairfax leaned closer, 'which makes your achievement that much bigger but don't tell him I said that,' she laughed. 'And guess what? He's made preparations to travel to Europe. He's ordered engagement rings from London for Nicola to choose from. They arrived in a parcel by express delivery and with a guard who travelled with them all the way from Paris!'

I tried to smile but I felt gutted.

We talked on as we cooked, then Sophie came into the kitchen reciting the poem I had taught her and announcing her intentions to sing me her new songs (the ones she'd been learning from her latest CD collection) after dinner.

The house was alive that evening. The Masons, the Ingrams, and some other neighbours were at the table. I found I was off colour, though, after another half an hour of listening to the irritating Nicola describing all the reality TV shows where she'd been offered a guest spot back in LA.

'Of course, I wasn't tempted to take any of them since….' And then she looked at Nathanial, pawing him after the entrée, 'my heart belongs here.'

After the main course, I excused myself, suddenly feeling nauseous. I didn't know why but I suspected it had something to do with the casual way Nicola gave me dagger eyes, then brushed some lint off Nathanial's jacket. He was speaking animatedly with Matthew Eaton when she leant over to take his hand and I was glad to notice their fingers did not linger together for more than a moment.

Even so, it was time for me to leave and I excused myself and took a torch with me again to navigate the long hallway, at the end of which, the lights were almost too low to see in the dark shadows. When I reached the door of my bedroom I heard footsteps rushing behind me.

'Anne, why did you leave early?'

'I'm tired from my journey. Um… you're right, I should have congratulated you.'

'Why?'

'You've obviously done a great job with Sophie while I was away. She is looking wonderfully happy today.'

'She's happy because you've returned to Thornton Hall.'

'Oh well, of course. I should also congratulate you on your engagement.'

I felt faint. Perhaps it was from exhaustion or emotion but I opened the door to my large bedroom, thinking he'd leave pretty quickly.

'What engagement?'

'The whole house is talking about your marriage to Nicola. They say you've made preparations to travel to Europe, after Sophie goes away to school, for your honeymoon. Mrs Fairfax…'

He smiled incredulously, 'What?' he asked, quite rudely, I thought.

'Mrs Fairfax says while I was away she'd never seen you look so happy. That you've been constantly with the Ingram's and have been singing with Nicola and her brother in the drawing room playing piano and guitar with them every evening until late.'

'I've been managing their band, Anne. I probably demonstrated a few chord progressions! You know they are trying out the new songs in the local pubs in the village. It's true that suddenly I feel like listening to music again.'

'Oh,' I said. 'Nevertheless, it's time for me to go.'

He shrugged regretfully.

'Well, congratulations on Cambridge. It's quite an achievement.'

'You mean, coming from my background.'

'I mean, coming from _any_ background.'

'Thank you,' I said. 'I know.' I wished I was more excited about going.

'Modesty never became you.'

'I'm not sure what you mean.'

'You are a modest person, Anne, but I suspect your talents far exceed your current situation so I must let you leave. You are worth more than being stifled in this place.'

I looked around at my beautiful room; the view at night, through my window, of a garden lit with lights that led to the ocean, was perfect. This view was a glimpse of freedom, a better world than the one from which I'd fled. I didn't know how I'd have the strength to leave this place - and Sophie - and him.

Suddenly there was a loud thump on the roof of my bedroom.

I jumped and turned to the wall.

'What was that?'

'Nothing. Just a squirrel, perhaps. They get into the roof at night.'

For some reason I associated squirrels with winter; the frozen St James' Park I'd walked through many times on my way to the West End when I lived in London. I'd never seen any squirrels in the grounds of the estate but then I'd never looked very hard, either.

I reached for my dressing gown and threw it on the bed.

'What is to become of your daughter?'

'You have prepared her well. She is to go to school, Anne. But I'm sending her to the best one I know; it's new, modern and with a progressive education ethos. It will not be anything like the way we were brought up.'

'Good,' I said. 'I shall stay in touch with Sophie to make sure that happens,' I smiled, feeling, in my nineteenth year, very grown up, almost my own person, finally. I was adult enough to know that the minute I left Thornton Hall, Sophie would no longer be my responsibility and she would forget me. She would grow up and move on as all children do; just as some adults, like her father, already had.

I opened the door to my sitting room and went inside, expecting Nathanial to leave. He lingered at the threshold.

'I shall miss you, Anne.'

'And I you,' I said matter of factly. 'Now, if you don't mind, I'm tired. I want to go to bed.'

He was clearly reluctant to leave.

'You have guests.'

Nathanial paused.

'Why do you have to leave?' he asked.

'Because you are getting married.'

'Who told you this?'

'The servants, Mrs Fairfax and everyone in the village says an announcement is imminent. They say traditionally your family places a notice in a London newspaper. I am staying until everything is settled with Sophie and then I'm leaving. I have applied for another job, closer to where I'm studying.'

'But I don't want you to leave.'

'Well, I don't care what you want. This is about what I want and I intend to go.'

'Why Anne?'

I was becoming frustrated, exhausted with all of these word games.

'Because I don't want to stay here, in the place where I have been happiest, in the place where I have felt loved only to become a shadow in the light of that vacuous woman.'

'You mean Nicola Ingram?'

'Yes, your fiancée.'

'She is not my fiancée.'

'Well, not yet.'

'Not ever. Anne, if you were to leave me now, I don't know if I'd survive. You have become as normal to me as every breath I take.'

'Oh please, Nate. Those are the words to an old song I don't wish to hear.'

I walked over to my door.

'Please leave now.'

'Why?'

'I am about to pack my things.'

'Where are you going to go?'

'I told you, I'm going to university. I aim to change my fate.'

'Your fate is with me, I feel sure of it.'

'As far as I know, the last time I read my employment contract, you didn't own me. I have my own mind, obviously, and my own desires and I've decided to leave Thornton - earlier than I'd anticipated, it seems,' I added, under my breath.

I turned from him, knelt on the floor, pulled my suitcase out from under my bed and flung it open, just as he reached for me and also found himself kneeling beside me.

He touched my face and turned it towards his own. There was a loud noise as the band started to rehearse in the drawing room downstairs. The sound of the drums and base made a heavy beat and the raucous, drink-fuelled conversations became louder, drowning out our muffled voices which were raised louder causing even more commotion. He held my shoulders in his hands and I was aware of the strength in his grasp. This did not dissuade me.

'You are right, Anne. It is up to you to decide your destiny yet I feel if I say what I am about to, you will reject me; if I were to let you leave this house tonight you would just as easily forget me.'

'Forget you? Forget Sophie and this place I have called my home? You must be joking! I will never forget you.'

This led to an unexpected moment.

He pulled me into him so that my thin, unloved body and his were breathing almost in the same moment, and he kissed me. A kiss as soft and sweet as a summer's day, a kiss I'd long remember and one I'd thought about since the afternoon I'd met him in Hay Lane. It was a kiss I never thought I'd get. For the first time, I felt what I could only describe as, unearthly.

My hands moved into his hair and his into mine. Before I knew it, I had completely lost control; lost control with a man who thought only enough of me to hide away with me in my room, to keep me a secret from his rich friends and the entire world. Suddenly I pushed him, gently, but he took no notice, leaning into me again, wanting me and I him.

'Stop,' I whispered, not knowing if this was the right step to take with him.

'No,' he said in return, 'Not until you promise me something…'

'Anything,' I laughed.

'Now you really can't refuse,' he moved off me so that we were separated for the first time in minutes. 'Marry me, Anne. It is you I want. I know you are young but I want only you to be with me forever and for us to be a family.'

I stopped smiling. He may as well have been speaking Italian. His words seemed to make almost zero sense.

'Marry you? But... You want _me_ as your wife? Have you thought about this? Have you honestly compared me to Nicola?'

'Yes, and there is no comparison.'

'Exactly. I have no money, I am not beautiful and I've never appeared in any of those society magazines that are flung all over your house.'

'You are beautiful to me. Your face is the only one I want to see when I wake up in the morning. Besides, I don't care, Anne. That stuff is not important. It is inconsequential.'

'Inconsequential? In your world everyone is status obsessed.'

'But I am not. All I want is you. And you are more than my equal, Anne; you are my better, in so many ways. I want to be worthy of you.'

'I disagree,' I said. 'We are equals.'

'Okay,' he agreed, 'equals.'

'You would say anything just to sleep with a new girl.'

'Anne, if that is all I wanted, I could pick up a girl in the village pub any night of the week.'

It was true. A guy as hot and rich as him, was prey to many local women, to almost any woman. How did he know I was different? It was as if he could see into my mind. I could never marry a man, be with any man, just for money. I'd been broke before and I wasn't afraid of it.

What he said, in essence, was what I'd longed to hear. His words were more perfect to me than the music I'd constantly listened to in my many walks along Hay Lane. I looked at him in the near dark, loving him, totally.

'I've wanted to make it official for a long time but I thought you were too young to get involved with me. This decision decides your destiny; one that will make you a young mother; that will require you to stay with me and Sophie and be a family.'

_A family_... I longed to be part of one; my own, although I'd never put my feelings into words; I longed to be part of his world; I was speechless; this moment had to be a farce.

'But what of Nicola?' I asked, almost trancelike.

'Nicola is nothing to me, she's a girl I've known for years; we got together a few times at her instigation and she's dated half of London as well. She's more interested in becoming famous and being in magazines than me. And could you imagine her influence on Sophie? She likes children even less than I do,' he joked. 'Besides, neither of us are together for the right reasons. Her family want us to form a property alliance; that is all. She'll forget me and move on. I heard she already has her eye on some guy in the village. Nicola is no hindrance to our union.'

Those words should have given me a clue, but I did not want to listen to my head.

'I want to marry you, Anne. I love you. I want us to be what we lack. Together we would be a family. Together we would know love.'

_Know _love? It sounded deeply seductive, almost as seductive as the look in his eyes.

'Are you serious? Is this a joke?'

'Of course, I mean, of course I am serious. To prove it we should not sleep together until its official.

'Oh, so you're assuming I'd let you stay tonight?'

'Not at all, I just want you to know I'm completely serious.'

Still, I could not believe him.

'This is not a joke. I love you Anne Eyre. Will you marry me?'

'Yes,' I said quietly, 'I will marry you Nathanial Rochester.'

He covered me with kisses until I kissed him in return and I would not have stopped but for the fact that he did. I looked up, following his gaze. There was a shadow at my partially closed door and before Rochester left the room, I heard a creak in the floorboards and saw movement in the distance.


	20. Preparations Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

**Preparations**

What was I thinking? Lost in love, I did not question the scruples of a man who had already organised the honeymoon.

The wedding was organised so quickly the servants openly gossiped about my supposed pregnancy; I was not pregnant, obviously. But as neither of us had any family to organise and I had few friends I wished to invite, there seemed no reason to wait. We both wanted to move forward with our future. I longed to go to Europe; it had always been my dream to see other places. To see them first with my husband and new step-daughter would make them even more special.

There were to be only a few guests back at the finest country hotel for the reception. Sophie insisted on ordering and helping to choose our wedding and bridesmaid dresses which arrived in huge boxes shipped from Paris, again at exorbitant cost; Nathanial assured us that money was no object. Nate and I chose our wedding rings; I selected a large ruby and diamond ring. Mrs Fairfax and Leah, and especially Sophie, gasped when they saw it. Perhaps I would not have chosen such a large ruby or so many diamonds if the other options I had to choose from had been any smaller! I loved the fact that Nathanial did not want to place any limits on either beauty or excesses, although I was mindful material wealth was not the basis of my love for Nathanial Rochester. He was a man unlike any other; I loved him so much it scared me.

I chose a plain but simple gown to offset the ring and my elaborate, upswept braided hair. A village hairdresser had practised various designs on me and we came up with one that was both fashionable and traditional.

Sophie's hair and dress was a more elaborate version of my own. Her gown was also tied with pale blue ribbons and cream lace. Sophie looked a dream and told me I did too. At least, I looked as much like one of those women in the photographs of bridal magazines as I ever would.

Mrs Fairfax put her hand over her mouth when she saw me during my final fitting as I stood on a chair in the middle of my sitting room.

'Oh Anne, I am speechless. You look a picture. You look… beautiful.'

It was nice to hear, although I knew I'd take a lot of convincing.

I wound the veil over my head and Sophie trailed around the edges on the floor as Leah took many photographs for us to keep, some with our jeans sticking out from under the edges of our dresses. I proposed to frame these informal photographs and give them to Nathanial as a wedding present – after we were married. I did not want him to see my wedding dress in advance; no future bride plans to let her fiancée see the dress before the wedding.

'You are my something blue,' I told Sophie as I touched her nose and straightened her sky coloured ribbons as she giggled. But I wasn't taking any chances. Merida gave me a cobalt garter, to tie above my knee and Mrs Fairfax gave me a silk handkerchief ("something old", passed down through the generations) which was also "something borrowed". The "new" was my dress.

I compared my gown with the many outfits I'd been given to wear in foster care; clothes, passed down from so many others. I felt re-assembled, whole and made new again, from my toes upwards as I tried on all of the fashionable designs I'd bought to wear on my honeymoon. Sophie chose some of them. Six-year-olds have pretty good taste, or at least, _this _six year old did.

'I want you to buy everything new for our honeymoon, darling,' Nate said over breakfast. The room was quiet except for our eating and speaking.

All of the houseguests, including the band, had left to go on tour. Nicola had been the first to go. She'd exited, draped over a new boyfriend and seemingly without a backward glance, just as Nate said she would.

An unfamiliar hush had swept over Thornton Hall. 'You needn't ever want for anything again,' Nate assured me as we finished our breakfast.

In the days leading up to the wedding, Mrs Fairfax seemed extra cautious in her communications with me.

'Anne, just be careful. I'm only warning you because I've never seen him act quite so suddenly in matters of the heart. He's been single, as far as I know, since he got back to London from America, the first time, a while ago now.' We were seated outside picking some berries as Edwina continued, 'I mean, look at him, Anne. 'It must have been by choice. I suppose it was true that he and Nicola meant nothing to one another… that he just flirted with her to make you jealous but a man who is quick to discard a woman… well, you don't seem very streetwise in that way. I urge you to be careful Anne.'

I tried to hide my distaste for her words. After all, it could not be easy for her to believe a man like him would love a girl like me. It would take some getting used to the fact that I would now help to make decisions in the house.

'You're not pregnant are you, Anne?'

'No,' I said, frustrated at everyone's insinuating glances, from the grocer in the village to Leah's in the kitchen. 'Honestly, it is impossible! For the umpteenth time, we've never even slept together. Is it so hard to believe that he would choose me, that he would want to marry… me?'

'No, Anne, of course not. You are a sweet but very young girl with remarkable intelligence and you have been an exceptional governess to Sophie, but you should consider keeping it the way it has been, Anne, until you are married. Then you can be sure of him. I've known him since he was small and now I think… he's the sort of man who prefers the chase to the actual domesticity of wedded bliss, if you know what I mean.'

I didn't, not really.

She looked at me like she knew something about Rochester I did not but was afraid to tell me. And of course, I was afraid to ask, wary of anything that could ruin my happiness.

I wandered through the downstairs sitting room that afternoon after I'd taken Sophie riding. I ran my hands over his old photograph albums. I knew little about his time in the United States but I'd seen some pictures of a road trip he and Christopher had taken along Route 66 and also some snaps of the streets and sidewalks of New Orleans where I knew he'd spent many months working on a film that never got released. I did think it was weird that he wanted to wait for us to be together but the marriage was only a few days away and I agreed with him that we should use this time to get to know each other in ways that some people didn't. We would be friends as well as lovers, a perfect match. 


	21. Wedding Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-one**

**Wedding **

Sophie and I rose early the morning of my wedding day. Mrs Fairfax took care of Sophie while I bathed and had my hair and make-up done. The church was filled with more than the usual amount of people from Sunday services and the local community. No expense had been spared in preparations for the wedding, but I'd requested a _small and tasteful _ceremony. The household staff were dressed in their best and the most luxurious of Nathanial's cars was decorated with ribbons to take us to the church.

We had not seen each other for two days because Nate had to finalise some business in London. I arrived at the church with Sophie who looked so small trying to adjust my train. Leah, Merida and a few girls from the village library, whom I'd befriended, acted as my bridesmaids. I was not nervous, as I knew deep in my soul this would be the happiest day of my life, so far.

When I looked inside the church, preparations had been made for a far more lavish ceremony than I'd intended. Most of the villagers were seated. There were huge bunches of flowers and ribbons at the end of every pew, festive garlands as far as the eye could see. The stained glass windows shed light on the entire room, with just the right amount of sun to create patterns on the walls and coloured light from the glass. These details had been left to Mrs Fairfax and she'd done an incredible job. We had not hired a photographer because one of Nate's friends, a cinematographer, was invited. He'd brought his camera with him. As the music played, I had the feeling this event would irrevocably change my life.

My diamond tiara was covered with flowers. My hairdresser from the village had decided with me that the flowers would be removed after I'd said my vows to reveal the glittering jewellery Nathanial had bestowed upon me. It was a very grand tiara but Nate had insisted upon my acceptance of this family heirloom.

There were mostly unfamiliar faces in the small crowd that gathered to wish us well. I knew some of the people from the village. The band was the same one that played at the local pub on Saturday nights. They were brilliantly talented and had learnt some classical pieces for the occasion, putting their own spin on them. Afterwards, the band would play our first song. Nate, alongside Sophie, had picked the music, which was to be a surprise. Afterwards we would celebrate with a few friends and spend our first night together in a luxurious hotel that overlooked the sea in Devon. The next day we would make our way to the airport and Nate's private jet. Nathanial's sports car, the one he was driving when we met, would be decked out with a _Just Married_ sign for the trip.

And yet…

There was a look of apprehension on Nathanial's face as Sophie and I walked slowly down the aisle in time to the music. The church was perfect, the faces of the congregation were glowing and Sophie was practically delirious with happiness as she smiled up at me throwing flower petals near my shoes.

I leant down to whisper to her.

'Now you have to go first,' as the music started and Mrs Fairfax ushered her in front and she started dropping the pink petals shyly.

Everything was perfect in that moment and as I glanced through the veil towards the man who looked at me, expectantly, I felt only perfect hope and joy at the prospect of our imminent union.

The service began and our vows were traditional.

Rochester looked nervous as words were spoken aloud. His voice, normally rich and deep, cracked for a moment as a draft edged under the door.

Now, don't quote me on the exact vows that were said. What follows, is my memory of them…

We reached the point in the service where the vicar asked both of us and the congregation if we knew of, 'any impediment why we would not lawfully be joined together in holy matrimony and that if we did we should speak now…' or something to that effect.

Those words jumbled in my mind. All I could think about was the face of my husband-to-be, Sophie's delight and Mrs Fairfax. She looked humbled, pleased that her concerns were unfounded. Meanwhile, some mysterious friends of Nate's had arrived and taken seats in the first isle whilst the musicians above us in the balcony prepared to play our post-marriage song…

In the silence between sentences, a loud bang could be heard at the far end of the ancient stone building.

The vicar paused and after a moment it was obvious that the rattle at the base of the village church was simply the wind on a summer's day.

He continued…

'Speak now or forever hold your peace…'

There was more silence as the vicar went through the motions then asked the question he knew by rote and considered rhetorical. He had never, in all the hundreds of marriages he had presided over, ever been answered with anything other than perfect silence. I looked into the eyes of the man I loved as more indirect noise interrupted the service.

A door finally opened and slammed shut in the space of a few seconds.

'The marriage ceremony cannot continue.'

A man's voice spoke from behind me.

The entire congregation turned their heads; even Sophie, who was used to behaving as if she was in her own little world, had stopped fidgeting with the flower petals in her hair and on the train of my gown. I froze as she looked up.

Christopher Mason, dressed in an expensive suit, his curls brushed from the determined expression on his face, stood before us.

Nathanial turned to the vicar and said, 'Just ignore him. Please… continue.'

'I'm here to declare the existence of an impediment to this marriage.'

I was frozen. I'd always been wary of happiness being snatched from my grasp, just when it was within reach, but this was inconceivable.

'Just continue…' Nate said under his breath, turning from the small crowd of drop-jawed onlookers.

Rochester took my cold hand which was a good thing. If he hadn't steadied me I think I might have collapsed.

'Take no notice of him Anne,' he whispered.

It was kind of hard not to.

'I declare the existence of an impediment… an _insurmountable_ impediment,' Christopher announced from just a few feet away from us. He walked closer, near me until he was standing close by. He peered into my eyes as if he could see into my soul.

'There is something you do not know,' he turned to the congregation. 'There is a secret that exists…'

Sophie looked up at me, wide-eyed and innocent. There were many things she had not been told, did not know, so those words were not particularly shocking to her. She took my hand as Nathanial held the other.

'Proceed,' Nathanial stated clearly, but he appeared to be talking to the vicar and ignoring Christopher Mason.

'I'm sorry Nate; I tried to call you out on this; I tried to reason with you. There is no way I can let you go through with this; you could be charged with bigamy…'

The word had a vague meaning to me, but it hadn't sunk in yet.

'What are you saying?' The vicar (in all his many Saturdays of repeating the standard words) had never encountered a wedding like this one. He was almost as surprised as me.

He cleared his throat before speaking.

'Eight years ago Nathanial Fairfax Rochester married my sister, BereniceAntoinetta Mason in a church in New Orleans on the twenty-sixth day of November.'

'How do you know this?'

'I was there. I am her brother. This man, Nathanial, is my brother-in-law.'

I could literally hear the congregation give a collective sigh, but the judgement of others was not uppermost on my mind. In those seconds, I began to lose all hopes I may have had for my future.

The intruder continued, 'Our father was a rich industrialist who had companies all over the world and it was thought a merging of class and money would be fortuitous for both families but who knows, maybe they were in love. I only know they were married quickly; they had only known each other for two weeks. I was a witness; here is the documentation.'

He pulled from his coat a piece of paper. I did not wish to see the contents as I slumped in the aisle. Later, I was told the document was a copy of the marriage certificate of Nathanial Fairfax Louis Rochester and Berenice Antoinetta Mason, signed by both parties, witnessed and dated in New Orleans.

Rochester looked at him.

'That document may prove I was once married but it does not prove Berenice Mason Rochester is still alive.'

Christopher shrugged.

'She was a few weeks ago.'

'And where is this Berenice Antoinetta Rochester?', the lawyer who stood with him asked Christopher. 'We must ask you to produce her.'

At this point Rochester turned and faced the congregation.

'This girl… my…Anne knew nothing about this,' was all the words he could find to say. Then he took my hand and walked with me quickly down the aisle.

'Come on then, all of you who would do anything within your power to make trouble; come and meet the first Mrs Rochester; meet my wife.'

The band did not play and the sun did not shine as we hurried down the steps. No rice was thrown in celebration and no bells chimed. No wedding ring joined the large sparkling stone of my engagement ring. But what was worse, our love had been built on what I hated most – a lie.

The journey in his car was the fastest of my life. Through it all he spluttered broken words, 'forgive me Anne, I should have told you. There is an explanation, I promise you.'

I couldn't speak. I leant my head on the window until it occurred to me to ask, 'Where is Sophie?'

'She is okay, she is alright. She is with Edwina Fairfax.'

I scowled.

'Don't blame Mrs Fairfax. She knew nothing, or she knew something. Edwina knew we had a visitor, a woman who stays upstairs but I'd convinced her she was a lodger. No one except Christopher knew I had been married. It's a long story and one I will try to tell you soon, if you can stand to listen.'


	22. Mrs Rochester Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-two**

**Mrs Rochester**

Berenice Antoinetta Rochester, lost in her confined, silent world, was beautiful.

More beautiful than either Nicola or me, or any of the local girls, she had long dark hair that hung to her waist in a messy, knotted braid and wore no make-up. She stared at me accusingly… and then at her husband. Her cheeks were flushed as though she had been crying. Her eyes were wild as she stared frozen into space. The woman wore faded pink pyjama pants and an old jumper – it looked like it must have been Nathanial's since it had the words of his former school stencilled on the front of it. She looked to be about the same age as Nathanial.

Mrs Poole, the person I'd been told was a lodger, was really Berenice Rochester's "keeper". This mystery had been hidden behind a bolted door. The lodger was hiding, locked up all day long, seen only at night, in shadows. From the day I'd arrived, I had been told Mrs Poole came and went as she pleased and did not like to be disturbed. I'd been fooled. The frail, unstable woman in the locked room had been able to look down on me in the garden, on all of us, from her barred, rooftop window. This woman was Nathanial's wife. What living hell it must have been for her, in her lucid moments, to witness her husband's happiness and his child's laughter.

When she looked up, she saw Nathanial and greedily flung herself upon him, kissing him passionately, or trying to… she hung off his chest and whimpered like a kitten as he attempted to cradle her sobs; then in the blink of an eye she turned and merged from a docile lamb into a wild, caged animal.

There was chafing on her wrists from where she had obviously been restrained.

'It's one of her good days,' Emma Poole yelled above the commotion, as Berenice's brother, the lawyer and I looked on in stunned silence.

When Berenice had been constrained, Nathanial spoke.

'Emma Poole is my wife's psychiatric nurse; she has worked here for as long as Berenice has lived with me.'

I stared at Nathanial Rochester whilst Berenice's eyes bored into me. I realized I was still wearing what remained of the wreckage of my wedding gown. The lace hem was torn and stained from the long walk through the muddy gardens. It was a degradation the dress had never been intended to endure. I'd already ripped off the veil.

This image of me caused the ensuing commotion, I think.

Berenice, his wife, had managed to free her wrist from the strap which bound her to the wall and she lunged at me and screamed like a mad woman… because she was a mad woman.

Nathanial caught her by her fragile, scarred wrists; she scratched and screamed into her husband's face until she drew blood with her blunt nails. Berenice then licked her fingertips, her hunger for his blood seemingly insatiable. She was… a woman, a beauty and also a monster. Nathanial's wife kicked out as she was constrained; she spat and screamed as she reached over to me, clutching at the hem of my dress. When she did this, she bared her teeth, which seemed more like fangs in that moment.

His wife could not speak any audible words but kissed Nate's fingertips, the same hands that were holding her down. She licked and bit his fingers. I looked away, and then looked back. Like lightening, she shot from him to me, seemingly flying through the air. The woman (if that's what she was) lunged at me until a guard held her down and she cried and screeched and kicked again as they subdued her with some sort of deep sleep medication shot straight into her arm with a syringe.

I fled from the room feeling muddied, beaten and almost completely broken. I was feeling blessed to have escaped that room with my life but betrayed to the core, and so tired from this deceit that I locked myself in the bathroom and turned on the taps.

I stood in front of the full length mirror in the wreckage of my wedding finery. Slowly, and then quickly, I began to rip off every layer, hardly waiting to unbutton those wretched ties. I stripped off the layers of my wedding gown until I stood naked and crying, a pathetic shadow of my former self. Less than an hour ago, the dress had captured the promise of my future life but now, as I collapsed into the bath and poured in half a bottle of bubbles, the dress had become meaningless to me. It carried the weight of betrayal in every designer fold.

Finally, the tears began to flow. These were tears I hadn't shown for many years and with them my entire life, my messed up existence. The water soothed the cuts and bruises and cleaned off the mud from my body but my mind was in turmoil.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door, a soft knock. I heard a woman's voice, Mrs Fairfax's.

'Anne, dear? Anne? Are you alright?'

Silence.

'Anne, I swear, I didn't know, I suspected something was amiss, but I didn't know the truth. Please answer me, Anne, are you alright?'

I could hardly speak but she kept asking.

Finally I croaked out the words even I was unsure of, '… Yes.'

I heard her footsteps walking away from the door.

I leant into my knees as the bubbles piled around me, covering my body, hiding my skin as I hunched over my hands.

Another knock.

'Anne… Anne?' he whispered. It was Rochester. Suddenly he'd become a surname to me again, a man I couldn't trust.

'Let me in,' Rochester said.

'No.'

'Anne, please…. Let me in. I need to tell you something.'

I got out of the bath and wrapped a towel around me. I dried myself, partially, then dragged on the pyjamas I'd discarded in a drawer, the old ones, not fit for my wedding night. I didn't care. After I wrapped my robe around me, my hair still dripping with bathwater, I opened the door.

He started to talk but as his mouth moved, I walked past him then collapsed.

When I woke, I was lying on my bed. My forehead was bruised, slightly and Rochester lay slumped on the couch on the other side of the room. His shirt was ripped and stained, his suit jacket discarded. It was early morning, but still ink black outside.

I opened my eyes wide, wishing I'd opened my eyes wider, earlier. How could I have let myself fall in love with a lie?

He stirred as I pulled off my blanket.

'Anne? Are you awake?'

'Yes.' I said.

'You must hate me.'

I remained silent.

'I am so sorry… I couldn't tell you, I couldn't risk losing you. I love you.'

I sat in silence on the end of my bed.

'She is the secret. Hers is the story that haunts my life…'


	23. Jamaica Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-three**

**Jamaica **

I remained speechless as he spoke.

'I was born as you know into the richest, most aristocratic of families. But it was my brother who was to inherit the lands, the title, the house… everything. When he was nineteen he died; he went out hunting and returned in a body bag. We are unsure what happened but there were bullet holes in his forehead.

There is madness in my family, Anne, and no one has ever spoken of it openly, but eccentric behaviour, selfishness and violence; these were the traits of my relatives. When I travelled to America, fresh out of school and attended college there, it was a whole new world, an open way of living, with no family feuds and no more secrets or violence… or lies, or so I thought.'

He stoked the flames of the fire that had been lit in my room and continued speaking in his rich, low tones. 'There were no family fires to contend with there; I was free at last.'

I did not stir; I felt I at least owed him the chance to unburden his conscience.

'As you know, I had significant funds and agreed to produce a film with Christopher when our screenplay won a competition. It was just a low-budget movie but we were granted enough funds to make the film the way we wanted and we were sent to New Orleans, one stiflingly hot summer, to film it. Christopher Mason was my best friend at university and my co-producer. Berenice Antoinetta Mason was his sister. We'd already auditioned an actress for the leading role but when his sister walked in… she had the part. She was…'

'Beautiful?' I answered for him.

'Seductive.' He countered.

'And you could not resist marrying her.'

'I could not but not for the reasons you think. I hardly knew her.'

'Then why did you marry her? You were so young, my age.'

'Their family, the Masons, were one of the oldest in New Orleans. Her father and my father did business together; it was arranged. I was now the only son and due to inherit everything. I went from being previously ignored by my family to somehow coming up in their world. My wedding to Berenice was a business transaction for my father, the merging of two family enterprises,' he added bitterly.

'And Berenice?'

'She… loved me.'

'That makes it worse. And you?'

'I loved her the first moment I saw her.'

Breathless, I knew it. She must have been so exquisite he had not bothered to ask any questions about the arrangement, barely needing any incentive to marry her. The money had just been a bonus to keep his father happy and the family business running strong.

Nevertheless, the words that had come out of Nathanial's mouth left me almost speechless. They were not exactly the words a woman expects to hear on her wedding night.

I started to dress, not caring if he stayed in the room. I began pulling on my woollen jumper over my pyjama top, buttoning up my jeans, pulling on socks as he finished his unrehearsed speech. I'd cut my hair in the bathroom, it was shorter around my ears, a shaggy long bob.

'You look like a waif,' he said, suddenly noticing my hair in the firelight.

'I feel like one,' I replied. 'I am not the same person I was yesterday. I do not want to look like that girl.' He reached out to touch me but I pulled away from him. He continued to speak…

'Christopher swears he didn't know that she was… more than different… more than mad… she thinks she's a creature of the night. Have you heard of bloodsuckers Anne?'

'Only in horror movies.'

'I have lived a horror movie and now I want to return to the light.'

He continued speaking in low tones. I could not stop myself from listening even though his words were abhorrent to me.

'We honeymooned in Jamaica. That first night was perfect; then I noticed, almost immediately after that night, some strangeness. She would not go out in the light; She had a horror of blood in the daylight but a craving to touch my wounds or "kiss them better" as she put it, when I least expected it. Unknowingly, I'd scratched myself on the bedpost and she began crazily licking my arm when I woke. It was not normal. The medical examiner at the resort said she was… deluded, psychotic.'

'Please, I said. I don't need to hear any more about your wife,' I muttered under my breath. He kept speaking anyway…

'I could not admit the truth of her apparent insanity. At first, I just thought it was behavioural, containable. She wanted to be with me all night, staying awake long after I fell asleep, waking me up as she paced the floors.

When I woke the next morning she was staring into my eyes and her eyes… she told me they turned red in the dark, then black in daylight. Even after we'd…' he hesitated, not wanting to say the obvious words, '… slept together, she would stay in bed all day and only want to go out at night. She spent vast amounts of money on a designer wardrobe but did not wish to be seen in daylight. Then she became violent and angry over nothing and one day, before we were due to arrive back in England, I found her sharing a hammock with a bartender she'd picked up that afternoon. When I went to move her, she appeared to be in a trance; the man was dead.

Investigations proved nothing and she was not blamed but still…. I did not know the beautiful woman I'd married, Anne. She was a stranger to me; she was not, human. She acted human enough in her lucid moments but her habits were strange, her thirsts, unquenchable. I could not control her. Finally, when we arrived back in England, she tried to kill me.'

He lifted his shirt and showed me a stab mark and scars on his hip mixed with what appeared to be bite marks.

'That night?' I asked.

'Christopher came here to visit her. He went to the room, alone, and Berenice tried to kill him, her own brother. I did not think he would talk because he knows I am trapped by her insanity, but blood is thicker than water,' he laughed bitterly.

Nathanial continued, 'Before she'd tried to kill me, she had wanted me to feed from her blood just as she had fed on mine but I would not. She became agitated, pacing around the bedroom again once we were here at Thornton. My wife started screaming and wound herself up into a wild frenzy. Then she tried to stab me. She did not know her own mind. She was not properly diagnosed or medicated. A stranger was found outside the grounds of the estate, not long after I'd refused her, dead and drained of his blood.'

'Stop… you are telling me an unimaginable story. I don't want to hear any more. I would think it all lies if I hadn't seen the evidence myself.'

'I can't stop, Anne. You deserve the truth.'

'Why didn't you leave her? Divorce her?'

'After she tried to kill me, then herself, I refused to call in the police. We called in psychiatrists, instead. She denied everything, hid her true nature from them but after careful observation, they told me, if I were to press charges, take photographs of her violence, she would be sectioned and held indefinitely in a psychiatric institution.'

He put his head in his hands then looked up.

'I couldn't do it, Anne. Have you seen those places? Have you ever seen a prison for the criminally insane? They restrain people in padded cells, drug them all day; I couldn't do it because I loved her. But I could not live with her and she did not return my love. Over time, she deteriorated, degenerated into whatever she is now.'

'Then why didn't you divorce her?'

'Her family are catholic and do not recognize divorce. They threatened to disown her; she would have ended up in an institution without me to care for her. This way, legally, I am still responsible for her. In any case, she has cursed me all the same. When you arrived, I had not expected to ever feel love again.'

I was speechless with the weight of his words.

'Don't leave me Anne. I beg you, don't go.'

I looked at him, honestly feeling sorry for him. But it was not my pity he needed. It was my love, my devotion.

'I think I must,' was all I could utter.

'Stay here with me; we will be husband and wife in our eyes, if not the world's. And honestly, who cares what people think? I have never followed the rules of this world anyway and it is not unusual to live together in this day and age. I will give you everything you ever wanted.'

'All I ever wanted,' I said, 'was you.'

'And you have me,' he said reaching out to me, pressing me to him, covering my wrist with kisses and then moving up to my chest, my neck. I could barely refuse him. But I pushed him off me again.

'No,' I said. 'I must leave. Tonight.'

'Don't go, Anne. Who is there to disapprove? There is no one in this world who will judge us once they see where the truth lies.'

'I do not want to live this lie.'

'Who would know? Apart from the staff, the village and they are all gossips anyway, who is there to care?'

'I care.' I could barely speak. 'I would know, and I would judge myself harshly for living with another woman's husband. I must leave, I cannot wait,' I cried out as I pushed him away from me and ran down the stairs.

He had taught me to drive and I used that skill to flee to the village in one of his many fast and beautiful cars. I parked the vehicle in the parking lot near the station and sheltered from the cold behind a wall where no one would see me if they came searching. When the bus arrived that would take me to Devon, I sent Rochester a text telling him where he could collect the car. Then I threw my phone away.


	24. Lost Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-four**

**Lost**

Feeling the weight of my world on my shoulders, I travelled to Cambridge, not knowing what else to do. In that university town, I found a room to stay in until term started at university, but I could not settle. For days and nights, I could not relax or find any measure of equilibrium.

I knew I had to pull myself together. There was no one else to do it for me.

I had my saved wages, and I found a job working in a restaurant in the evenings which would leave my days free to attend classes, if I could settle into them. My approved scholarship would pay for the rest. I filled the weeks until term started with ordinary activities: watching television, reading and working.

Making the adjustment to the life of an impoverished university student was not so hard, but it didn't make me happy. Academic learning interested me less as every day went by. I simply could not see a future for myself. I attempted to make friends with people whose company quickly seemed shallow to me. My world had become uninteresting even to myself. I could not settle and searched within myself for something beyond the limits of my fragile reality.

After a few weeks, I deferred my courses and took a bus back to Devon where I found myself wandering through a village fair. I'd found the business card Connor Rivers had given me and contacted the family who invited me to visit them. I arrived at the country market with my suitcase in tow. The Connor siblings were selling candles in the marketplace to make money for their local church. They were still fundraising for their trip to India where they would go to build a school. We talked over lunch and they asked me where I was staying. I shrugged and they offered a place to stay. I accepted their offer without hesitation.

It was eight weeks since I'd left Thornton and I was truly lost.

The siblings were warm towards me and we got along well. The girls were still at school and Connor, as head of their small family at just twenty, was very involved in the local church community. Connor, who studied Theology, was very religious; He intended to become a minister. His sisters giggled after he glanced at me whilst saying grace before one of our evening meals. They seemed to think we were boyfriend and girlfriend by the way he passed me the butter and touched my fingers as he did so. He looked at them both, witheringly. His sisters smiled as if their brother was used to their teasing.

Connor told me they needed help at the local primary school, a tutor in English and French. I was grateful for this job offer as I was so over working at the local cafe and this gave me an opportunity to practise languages. There was also a school trip that I'd been invited on. Some of my university friends kept in touch; but my heart was heavy and I wasn't interested in making further social connections. My heart was elsewhere, back at Thornton with Nathanial Rochester and Sophie Varens.

I was glad to have been able to defer university until I got my head together. Mornings were spent tutoring at the school and I found being around small children distracted me from the past. At least I felt I was doing something useful and I intended to return to my courses next year, so I had not thrown away that opportunity. I was aware, however, that I was in danger of drifting through life like an astronaut drifts through space.


	25. Rivers Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-five**

**Rivers **

I'd been with the Rivers family for six months and I had not contacted Nathanial Rochester or Sophie or Mrs Fairfax in that time. Of course, it was impossible for them to contact me, even if they wanted to, as I'd abandoned all formal communication, including my email.

I was extremely grateful that Connor Rivers had found me a teaching assistant's job at the local church school. At Lockwood, religion had been incorporated into our daily routine, so this was not new to me.

His sisters, Rainbow and Daisy, became my friends. They were one and two years' younger than me and studying at the local fashion college. In the evenings, as I prepared items for the morning's lessons with the television playing and the usual evening news in the foreground, they spread patterns on the floor and sewed and sketched. Between the three of us, the house looked like a remnants factory. One night, as I was sorting felt covering for arts and crafts, I looked up to see Connor looking at me, strangely.

'Anne, I have something to tell you.'

'What is it?'

'I need to talk to you… in private.'

The girls looked up and giggled as we walked into the spare room.

'Anne, there was a solicitor looking for you in the village this morning. I said I knew you; I did not tell him that you were staying with us.'

I had no idea what to say. He knew me well enough by now to know I was hiding from something, or someone. Connor gave me the solicitor's details and told me to call him straight away. I borrowed his phone and went outside and stood in the street to make the call.

When I came inside, my life had changed.

My adopted family and I stood in the kitchen.

'It's my uncle, the one I met only briefly. He's died and left me a fortune.'

Connor raised his eyebrows.

'This can't be for real.'

Instantly, I knew what I wanted to do.

'I want to share it with you all; this family has treated me like a sister.'

Connor looked at the kitchen floor.

'Anne, this is a bit of a shock. You can give something towards the school in India if you like, but you must keep the majority of the money. It's the first time you've had any by the sounds of it, and we could never take it from you; it wouldn't be… right.'

Rainbow chimed in, looking disappointed nevertheless, ' That's so true, our brother is absolutely right, though I fancy that new frock I saw in town yesterday,' she said smiling impishly and pointing to a fashionable dress in one of the magazines on the coffee table.

Connor glared at her.

Daisy smiled and said placidly, 'I'm so happy for you, Anne. Truly, we cannot accept any money for ourselves but I would be so happy if you would give me something to share with the orphans in India…'

'Of course,' I said.

'And come with us,' Rainbow added, 'Help us build the school.'

I smiled, thinking this seemed like a good, practical idea.

For the first time since I'd left Thornton, I felt I was part of a family. I also asked to stay with them as friends, be part of a house share. Daisy and Rainbow were quick to agree. Connor nodded with a more perplexed look on his face than I'd previously seen. This was my first experience of having house mates and I was prepared to enjoy this taste of self-devised freedom.

A few days later, Connor came to me and announced after dinner, 'When we travel to India to build a school, help orphans and spread the word of God, I was wondering… I thought you might agree to come with me, as my wife.'

I was surprised. It wasn't common for teenagers to marry but Connor appeared to know what he wanted; me. I was flattered in many ways but I could not hide my astonishment; nor could I go against my heart. He noted the look of disappointment on my face.

'I know we don't know each other that well but I would not wish to travel alone with you unless we are family.'

I didn't know what to say. I wasn't sure how I felt about Connor but I knew I did not love him in a romantic way. I might possibly grow to love him – as I would a brother but I gathered that was not the kind of love he wanted from me.

The truth was, I had never loved any man before Rochester and now that I'd seen what I'd seen… that was history, but I was forever changed, forever older, less naïve, less able to bend to the wishes of a relative stranger.

'I will let you think it over, Anne,' he offered as he walked out of the room.

Days later, I felt lost and troubled. Connor had begun to treat me differently as he waited for my response. I knew I owed Connor an answer and an explanation. Later that night, after dinner, this is what I told him.

'I have thought about your offer. I would like to go to India with you and help build the school but not as your wife - as your friend, as part of your family. You and your sisters have been more of a family than my own, far more, but I don't think we should get married; I don't love you.'

'Love will come.'

His response was hard to fathom but he was stubborn in his beliefs.

I held firm to mine. 'I don't believe that kind of love can be forced,' I replied.

'And I do not think that we should travel together unless we are married, it is against my beliefs. God has put us together; we should marry and happiness will follow; you should not hesitate, Anne. You may not have another opportunity and I do not want to travel with you unless we are husband and wife. Even in this day and age where everyone is out of control and so many people just "hook up" and don't bother to commit to each other, I want to do what I believe is right. You have a choice; I have brought you into my family, Anne, but there are limits, as to what is acceptable to my good nature.'

Wow. That made him sound like a real prince.

'Are there limits to your love as well?' I asked.

He did not smile, it was our first argument. Connor Rivers paused before he spoke again.

'I know why you are hesitating; that solicitor I met told me he'd gone looking for you at Thornton Hall; it's him, isn't it? Your rich employer, the one you were in love with, the one you fled from in the night, the one you were sharing a roof with, a bed with. Did you really think he would bother to marry you after that? Not everyone in this community is as non-judgemental as me. You should abandon this unlawful desire of yours; it is against God's plan for you.'

'And who are you to judge me? Who are you to tell me that?'

'I'm your friend, Anne. I've been your friend and I'd like to be more. Anne, listen to me; I am trying to help you. He was already married when he asked you to marry him. What kind of person does that? He didn't tell you he had a wife? Or did you just not care? He's a liar Anne, he's ten years older than you, for starters, so he's probably had a lot more practice telling girls he loves them.'

'You know nothing about love!'

'Oh, and you do?'

I paused as he continued to speak.

'I know enough to know a man much older than you, a rich powerful man, was just using you. If he loved you, do you honestly think he would have let you go?'

'He had no choice,' I whispered, almost to myself.

'But you do,' he said.

By now, I wasn't listening. I ran upstairs and gathered my bag, my purse.

On a whim I searched the internet for the bus timetable. Next, I stumbled upon a local news item about Thornton Hall. There was a photograph and half the estate appeared to be blackened ash. The article said two people had been killed in the blaze of a fire, one was a man. There were no more details released. I felt shocked and saddened.

My path was clear.

I packed my bags after the household had gone to bed. I wrote a note and left it on the kitchen table adding an envelope marked _Daisy &amp;_ _Rainbow_, lined with cash. I also wrote them a cheque to go towards the school in India and thanked the Rivers family for their kindness. There was something I had to do; some friends I had to go and see. I promised to stay in touch and hoped they would forgive me for leaving so abruptly.

I ran out of the house into the fading light and walked quickly, stumbling to the bus stop… I followed the dream in my head, the dream I'd had the night before about Nathanial and Sophie and Thornton Hall.


	26. Home Chapter 26

**Chapter twenty-six**

**Home**

Once again, my belongings were in my back pack. I had no car so I walked to the nearest bus stop in the night, driven by my own desire for the truth. It was as if he was calling me, _'Anne, Anne!'_ Just his voice mixed with a light breeze. Hours later, I heard the crash of the ocean, ever nearer to the inland home I had once inhabited.

'How much further to Thornton Hall?'

The bus driver looked at my sweaty face and messed hair, my dark jeans and smudged fingernails and merely raised an eyebrow when I told him I would be staying on the bus until it reached Cornwall. I knew the way from the bus stop on the main road that led to Hay Lane; I knew my way in the dark.

I saw the cottage in the distance at the far end of the road. It was situated nearer the cliffs. To my right lay Thornton Hall.

Even the gate that led to the property was blackened as I approached. From the front, the house still had its immense façade, but as I walked slowly down the driveway towards the main building, I had such a feeling of apprehension, that I started to jog, and then run towards it.

I felt intense panic inside. I wondered if those I'd loved had survived. The edges of my jeans were filthy by the time I arrived, not to mention my joggers. Light rain started to fall from the sky. It was nearly dark by the time I reached the main entrance. I hadn't anticipated all the mud as I walked to the side of the house and noticed it was a shell of the building it had previously been.

All that was left of the ballroom I'd once stood in was ash. There were still the remnants of the fire all over what was left of the burnt walls, and most of the roof was missing. There were a few police dotted around the estate. The kitchen and far rooms were barely intact and when I rapped on the scullery door, I was surprised that Merida opened it. Mrs Fairfax, who was dressed for winter, then came out to greet me.

'You have returned,' she said.

'Yes,' I replied.

'Oh, Anne, we were so worried about you.'

'I saw what happened on the internet… did he, is he?'

'Nathanial is still alive. Sophie was not here.'

I breathed a sigh of relief.

'There was no one else in the house at the time except me and Leah, Mrs Poole, Hector and… Berenice Rochester.'

I winced at the name.

'She is dead Anne. Berenice and Hector both died in the blaze.'

I looked at her.

'It's not what you think. Mrs Rochester started the fire; she was obsessed with burning flames. She once told Mrs Poole, it was the only way she could ever die; but the poor beautiful wretch was a complete lunatic, so who knows if it was true? Anne, I don't know if, in the end, it was her own doing or if the smoke overtook her. Nathanial, actually tried to save her, he tried to save all of us. With her, he was overcome by the fumes, the firemen rescued him but not in time; he is, much altered Anne.'

'Where is he?'

'He's on the bench, overlooking the ocean. He went there to listen to the sea.'

I turned from her….

'But I must warn you, Anne…'

I started running, fed up with warnings.

Nathanial was seated with his dog, Pilot, beside him. Apart from being slightly more hairy than I'd ever seen him (he'd grown a beard) he was the same person, but when I called his name, he turned, and his eyes looked glazed over.

'Is that… can it really be you, Anne?'

'Yes, it is me.' I walked towards him; crouched beside him, put my head on his knee.

'I have come back to you.'

'Anne? I can barely see you. The smoke caused an injury.'

'I am here, to stay with you, if you will have me.'

I reached up and put my arms around him and hugged him, never wishing to let him go.

As you may have gathered, dear reader, I married him.

Months passed. The Hall was rebuilt.

By the time our baby son was placed in his arms, his vision had cleared and Thornton Hall had been reconstructed and refurbished.

We made plans to travel, to go abroad, to see the world as we'd always dreamt and planned to do.

I felt a contentment that had previously eluded me and when we returned from Europe, I began to study again. I wanted to complete the courses I'd enrolled in, not throw away the opportunity of a further education.

Sophie attended the local village school but we still studied together at home, if studying is what you would call the laughter and learning we enjoyed. My family teach me daily about all the things that were missing before I found these loves and helped to create this life.

I looked at Nathanial Rochester and our baby as he played on the blanket beneath us. In the distance, Sophie was walking her horse through the veil of trees that shaded the far corner of our home. Thornton Hall had been restored in all its springtime glory. The restoration of the house went some way to revitalising Nathanial; or perhaps it was the family we continued to raise, restoring us both.

Every person deserves to know this contentment and daily I count my blessings. Before I fall into sleep at night with the sound of my husband's breathing beside me, I wonder at the extreme good fortune that led me to Thornton Hall and try to accept but not take for granted the joys that have been given to me in this life, joys that go far beyond any of my wildest imaginings.

Summer Day is the author of **Pride &amp; Princesses**, a novel inspired by Pride and Prejudice and **Wuthering Nights**, a novel inspired by Wuthering Heights.

Follow Summer Day on:  
Twitter: /summerdaylight summerdaylight  
Blog: 


End file.

Jane Eyre, Family, Romance