My Plain Jane (The Lady Janies #2)(21)

“No. I just meant if I were a witch, there would be just one of us. Of me. Sir, if you cannot move, I can fetch someone from Thornfield Hall. I live there.”

At this, he raised his eyebrows.

“I do. My name is Jane Eyre. I can get help.”

“You live at Thornfield Hall, witch?”

“I’m not a witch; I’m a governess. I’m employed by Mr. Rochester.”

“Ah,” he said. “Do help me up.”

Helping him up would require more height and girth than Jane had. She looked left and right, hoping by some miracle that someone more muscular than she would appear. No one did.

Helen shrugged. “He doesn’t look so hurt.”

Jane shot her a look.

“All you must do is stand by my side and help me to my horse,” the rider said.

Helen put a hand on her hip. “How are you supposed to do that? He’s twice your size.”

“Um . . .”

The man frowned. “Conversely, you could bring the horse to me.”

Jane glanced at the dark beast. “No, let’s try it your way.”

The large dog bounded toward the rider again and licked his face. “Down, Pilot.”

“Aw, he’s such a cute puppy,” Helen said.

Granted, he wasn’t as scary as before, but Jane would hardly call him a cute puppy.

The man climbed to his feet and draped an arm around Jane’s shoulder; he smelled of brush and pipe smoke. It was quite nice, not at all like the sour stench of the drunken louts in the Tully Pub.

She blushed. This was the closest she’d ever been to a man, besides the unconscious barkeep, and we promise she was only using him for a shield. Had this extremely handsome man not been wounded, their contact would have been considered very inappropriate.

Jane helped him to his horse.

“Are you acquainted with this Mr. Rochester?” he asked.

“No, sir, I’ve never met him.”

“What do you know of him?”

“He is loyal and pays his staff in a timely fashion, and the bursts of anger are rare. Mostly.”

At this, he tilted his head. And his hair flopped. She’d never seen a man’s hair flop so adorably. Admittedly, she’d never seen a man’s hair flop before, but surely this was something special. Jane’s cheeks flushed.

“Sir, if you are recovered, I should return to Thornfield.”

“As you wish,” the rider said. He hoisted himself onto the beast. “Farewell, Miss Eyre, if that is indeed your name.”

“Why on earth would that not be your name?” Helen asked.

The strange man kicked his horse and the beast galloped away, trailed by the dog.

“Goodness,” Helen murmured, “he was . . .”

“Tall? Dark? Brooding?” Jane filled in. He was just like the men in the great romances. He was just like Mr. Darcy. “I agree.”

“I was going to say angry,” Helen said.

“Well, he had a right to be. He was spooked by a couple of witches!” Jane replied.

Helen gave her a quizzical look. “Did you hit your head as well?”

Back at Thornfield, Jane removed her muddy shoes and scurried past the master’s study. The door to the study had been shut the night before . . . but now it was wide open. And there was a fire. And a large dog.

“Pilot!” exclaimed Helen. The dog whipped his head toward her. “He heard me!” Helen clapped.

Jane threw a hand over Helen’s mouth, hitting—of course—nothing but air. What was the rider’s dog doing here? Unless . . . it was at that moment that the rider—Mr. Rochester, it must be!—stepped through the doorway of the study.

“Miss Eyre,” he said.

Jane froze with her arm out at a strange angle, still covering Helen’s mouth.

“You’re Mr. Rochester,” Jane said in disbelief, slowly lowering her arm.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that he didn’t mention the fact that he was your employer back there on the road?” Helen said. “I mean, it would’ve saved us a lot of mystery.”

Jane shot her a look.

But Helen kept talking. “Four words: ‘Mr. Rochester? That’s me!’ Then you could’ve been introduced and had a laugh about it.”

“Shut it,” Jane said through gritted teeth.

“Pilot will agree with me, won’t you, boy?” Pilot whined and trotted over to Helen’s feet and flipped onto his back.

“That’s strange,” Mr. Rochester commented. “First, you bewitch my horse. Now you’ve bewitched my dog.”

Helen smiled widely. “Maybe we are witches!”

“Pilot!” Mr. Rochester barked. The dog reluctantly returned to his master. Between the sudden reveal of Mr. Rochester, and Helen’s commentary, Jane was at a loss for words.

“You are much quieter than you were earlier,” Mr. Rochester said.

“Maybe that’s because you’re suddenly Mr. Rochester,” Jane said.

“It’s not so sudden for me,” he said. “It’s been coming on for quite some time.”

Jane laughed nervously. Handsome and witty. She glanced down at her fidgeting hands and forced them to be still.

“Well, Miss Eyre. Good day.”