My Plain Jane (The Lady Janies #2)(50)

Charlotte propped her head in her hand and sighed dreamily. “He said that? That sounds just like Mr. Darcy.”

“I know! That’s what I told Helen! He’s said it more than once, actually. So you see, I am needed here. I am doing him good.”

Charlotte frowned. “But why, then, is he leading everyone to believe that he’s going to marry Miss Ingram?”

Jane stared off into the distance again. Her hand, Charlotte noticed, was trembling.

“So it’s true, then? Mr. Rochester is going to marry Miss Ingram?” she whispered.

“Yes, they’re getting married. At least that’s what everybody says. Including Miss Ingram.”

“She’s not even that pretty,” Jane muttered. “Who needs such glossy hair, anyway? And her neck . . .”

“Swanlike,” Charlotte sighed.

“People really shouldn’t have necks like swans,” Jane said. “It’s absurd. She’s a bird neck, is what she is.”

“Plus, Miss Ingram is the worst, haughtiest, most unkind of persons. I’d feel sorry for anybody who ended up with her,” Charlotte added.

Jane looked at her and smiled brilliantly. The smile transformed her from very plain to quite pretty in an instant. “Oh, thank you for saying that. That makes me feel much better.”

“Anytime.” Charlotte really did believe that Jane was a greatly superior human being compared to Miss Ingram. “But Miss Ingram definitely has the impression that she’s to be Rochester’s bride. . . .”

Jane grabbed Charlotte’s hand. “But why does Miss Ingram think she’s marrying Mr. Rochester? Has he asked her? Surely he hasn’t asked her, or he wouldn’t act so friendly with . . .”

“He hasn’t asked her,” Charlotte said.

Another transformative smile. “He hasn’t?”

“She thinks he will ask her on this visit.”

Clouds darkened Jane’s expression. “Oh, she does, does she?”

“Don’t you worry about Miss Ingram,” Charlotte said generously. “I’m sure it will work out. It sounds like he loves you.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. I see, now, why you can’t leave him.”

“But you won’t tell anyone? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes. We’re friends. I’ll just tell Mr. Blackwood that it’s no use. You’ve made up your mind,” Charlotte said.

She could only imagine how he was going to take the news.





SEVENTEEN


Jane

The guests came back from the picnic and still Mr. Rochester hadn’t returned. Jane mulled over her conversation with Charlotte. She couldn’t believe her feelings for Rochester had been so obvious. More disheartening was the fact that everyone in the party thought Rochester would propose to Blanche Ingram sooner rather than later.

And the third most disheartening thing was the pressure she now felt to join the ghost-hating Society.

“Five thousand pounds,” Helen said.

Jane was trying to focus on her work with Adele, but Helen’s pacing and frequent outbursts about the money were making it difficult.

Still, she’d rather try to teach Adele than meet up with the guests in the parlor. Mr. Rochester wasn’t back. He would never know that she wasn’t there.

“Do you know what you could do with five thousand pounds?” Helen said.

“Do tell,” Jane whispered. Adele was still conjugating verbs and didn’t hear her.

“You could . . . you could . . . buy all the burlap in the world and then burn it in one big bonfire, which would also keep you so cozy warm.”

Jane couldn’t help smiling.

“Besides that, Mr. Rochester is by no means a sure thing, but five thousand pounds is.”

Jane couldn’t help frowning.

A knock came at the door, and Mrs. Fairfax entered.

“Miss Eyre, I have a rather peculiar request. An old fortune-teller has come to Thornfield. She has entreated that all of the ladies in the house visit her in the master’s study to have their fortunes revealed.”

Jane gave her an incredulous look. “I have no fortune, Mrs. Fairfax, let alone one that could be told.”

“Not yet,” said Helen. “But if you go with Mr. Blackwood—”

“Please, Miss Eyre. She is quite persistent, and you’re the only lady yet to be seen.”

“Why the ladies?” Jane asked.

Mrs. Fairfax ignored the question and made a shooing gesture toward the door.

Jane glanced toward Helen, who shrugged. Perhaps Jane needed something to take her mind off Rochester. And Charlotte. And the Society. And the blasted Ingrams.

“Very well. I will come down at once.”

Mrs. Fairfax led the way to the study, followed by Jane and Helen.

“Well, this is all very exciting,” Helen said. “Perhaps she’ll tell you some glamorous thing that lies in your future. Like five thousand pounds.”

Jane didn’t answer.

When they arrived at the door, they found it closed and locked. “I believe Miss Ingram is finishing up,” Mrs. Fairfax said.

Sure enough, moments later, the latch unhinged and out came Miss Blanche Ingram. Her face was dark, and her frown pronounced.