My Plain Jane (The Lady Janies #2)(40)

“Oh, I agree.” Mrs. Dent picked up a vase of wildflowers, and the three of them began to critique the contents.

Meanwhile, Miss Eyre’s young student was surrounded by a court of men and women she mistakenly believed were admiring her, because they’d lead with comments such as “What a pretty dress!” and “Adorable ringlets.”

“Rochester, I thought you were not fond of children.” Blanche Ingram looked at the girl as one might a rabid squirrel.

“Nor am I.” Rochester hardly took his eyes off the young lady everyone said he was going to marry.

“Then what induced you to take charge of such a little doll as that?” She pointed at Adele. “Where did you pick her up?”

“I did not pick her up; she was left on my hands.”

From across the room, Miss Eyre leaned toward the ghost and whispered, “Isn’t that good of him? So compassionate.”

The ghost frowned. “He talks about Adele like she’s a stray dog. He often calls her ‘the brat.’”

Miss Eyre just shook her head and continued gazing at Rochester.

“You should have sent her to school.” Miss Ingram seemed unaffected by Rochester’s generous nature.

“I could not afford it: schools are so dear,” replied Rochester.

Alexander glanced around the lavishly decorated house, which had to have at least twenty bedrooms and two kitchens, a stable, orchards and fields and gardens surrounding, and not to mention a carriage house filled with vehicles all bearing the Thornfield crest.

Oh, yes. Schools were so dear.

“But you hired a governess. That’s even more expensive. You have to keep them both. You know how governesses like to take over the house, and children demand so much food and then refuse to eat any of it.” Miss Ingram sent a scathing glance toward Miss Eyre, who seemed to be shrinking in her window seat. “Oh, look, she’s right here. Why do you think she’s down here, socializing, making us take care of her charge?”

“Because,” said the ghost, “he ordered her to come down here!”

Miss Eyre leaned forward again, as though waiting for Rochester to defend her, but the master of the house looked indifferent to the subject.

“Well, she’s here,” he said.

“He cornered her in the hallway earlier,” continued the ghost. “She tried to say she wanted to stay upstairs, but she was given no choice!”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Miss Eyre murmured, her gaze still locked on Rochester. “I don’t mind. Think of how much better this is than Lowood.”

Alexander leaned toward Miss Bront?, wanting to tell her that now might be a good time to speak to Miss Eyre, even if ladies of “Amy Eshton’s” station didn’t interact with governesses. But then the conversation moved a little too close for Alexander to privately convey his instructions.

Blanche Ingram turned toward her sister. “Remember how our governesses used to call us villainous children? Oh, they hated us so.”

“All fifty of them!” Mary Ingram laughed as she looked at Miss Bront?. “What about you, dear Amy? Did you have many governesses?”

Miss Bront? gave a nervous laugh, pitching her voice slightly higher than normal. “Oh, Louis and I had only one over the years, and she didn’t mind us. She let us get away with anything. We regularly destroyed her desk and books, and she gave us candy.”

The Miss Ingrams both giggled. “That is too good,” said Mary Ingram. “Too good.”

Alexander glanced toward Miss Eyre to see what she’d thought of Miss Bront?’s story, but she was watching Rochester, as though waiting for him to put a stop to this rude conversation about her kind.

Strangely, Rochester did nothing. He did not defend the breed, nor ask his guests to be less rude, or even turn to acknowledge Miss Eyre. That was odd, though, because he’d been so protective of her when Alexander had written. And he’d acted warmly earlier, but here, he was cold and close to cruel.

What a confusing man. Did he like his governess or did he hate her? It was impossible to tell.

“They’re always so plain, too, don’t you think?” Miss Ingram gazed at Miss Bront?, whose mouth dropped open, but no sound emerged. “This one is particularly plain. Why, I’ve never seen such a plain girl in all my life.”

Miss Eyre’s cheeks went red, her eyes darting between Rochester and Miss Ingram.

“What?” The ghost balled her hands into fists.

Meanwhile, a few of the guests desperately tried to change the subject. “We should do something fun,” said Lady Lynn. “Let’s play a game.”

“Charades?” asked Branwell/Louis. “I like charades.”

“Excuse me.” Toward the window (Alexander tried very hard not to look directly), the ghost paced back and forth in front of Miss Eyre. “Is no one going to deal with the fact that earlier today Rochester ordered you to come down here and now he’s just ignoring you? Which is especially rude because you look amazing today, but I guess no one cares?”

“Oh, Helen. I look as I always look. You know that.” Though Miss Eyre kept her voice low and her face downward, tears filled her eyes.

“Charades can be fun,” said Colonel Dent. “I don’t think I’d mind.”

“I. Mind!” Helen stomped her foot, and suddenly the floor trembled. “Jane is the best and you’re all the worst!”