My Plain Jane (The Lady Janies #2)(69)

“What?” Jane said.

“I am the reason you did not inherit his twenty thousand pounds.”

“What??” Helen said.

But Jane wasn’t preoccupied with the money part. “I have another uncle?” she said. “I have family and you kept him from me?”

“Yes. I couldn’t stand seeing you happy.”

Uncle Reed bowed his head. “I am sorry for you, Jane.”

For a moment, Jane was angry. And really, given the revelation, she should’ve stayed angry. Family: it was the only thing she’d ever longed for, and now to learn she could have had it?

“Twenty thousand pounds?” Helen said. “You could’ve had twenty thousand pounds?” She took a few steps toward the bed. “No, we will never forgive you!”

“Helen, please,” Jane said.

Because the truth was, she felt sorry for her aunt. To harbor such hatred. To house it inside her heart, and protect it with such passion that it ate her alive.

“I forgive you,” Jane said.

“What??” Helen exclaimed.

“If I didn’t forgive her, I would end up as wasted away as she is now,” Jane said to Helen.

Uncle Reed let out a sigh of relief. Then he looked at Jane’s face, as if seeing her for the first time. “Jane Eyre, you are a sight to behold. To have gone from such a plain child . . .”

“I love you, Uncle,” Jane said. “I hope you can move on, now that this is done.”

Uncle Reed nodded. “Take care, dear niece.”

She wet a cloth in the basin next to Aunt Reed’s bed, and then placed it on her forehead. “Sleep well, Aunt. And know that I hold no ill will for you.”

Jane and Helen walked out, leaving her uncle to take leave of his wife on his own.

When they returned to Thornfield, the remaining guests had all left. Jane thought perhaps Mr. Rochester would be gone as well, but Mrs. Fairfax said he was in residence.

“But I don’t expect him to be here for long,” she said over tea. “I believe there to be a proposal very soon. Ingram Park is a day’s ride, and I am sure the master will be taking great pains to make the trip very soon and very often.”

Jane frowned.

“What’s the matter, dear? You’ve hardly touched your biscuit.”

That evening, Mr. Rochester found Jane in the library.

“Miss Eyre. It’s about time you came back to us. What kept you?”

“I’ve been gone three days,” Jane said. She literally could not have returned any sooner.

“It’s too long. Come, let’s go for a walk. It’s a lovely evening.”

They went to the garden, and Jane decided once and for all she could no longer take the not knowing. She could handle anything—Aunt Reed, her lost uncle, she could even handle Mr. Rochester getting married—but she could no longer handle the not knowing.

Helen pointed her finger at Rochester. “Are you going to marry Miss Ingram, yes or no?”

Jane signaled Helen to be quiet. But the ghost had a point.

“Sir,” Jane began. “I am wondering about my future at this estate, and I hate to be indelicate, but should I advertise for a new governess position?”

Mr. Rochester stopped under a tree, the long branches of which blanketed the grass in shade.

“Jane, you know I am soon to be married.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet pouch. He opened the drawstrings and took out a pearl necklace. “These are to be a gift for the future Mrs. Rochester. What do you think?”

Jane frowned, trying to imagine the necklace on Blanche Ingram. “They will suit her bird-neck—I mean, they will suit her very well.” Because everything suited the likes of Blanche Ingram very well. “I guess I will advertise.”

Mr. Rochester grunted. “Miss Eyre, listen to me. I believe there is a string below your rib, and it stretches across class and age to me, and it is attached beneath my rib. And if you find another suitable position, and leave me, you will pull it out. And I will bleed.”

“What do you mean?” Jane said.

“It sounds rather obvious, and slightly disgusting,” Helen said. “He’ll bleed.”

Mr. Rochester placed his hands on her shoulders. “Jane, I do not wish to marry Miss Ingram.”

Jane glanced up. “Excuse me?”

“I wish to marry you.”

Helen gasped. “What?”

Mr. Rochester grabbed Jane’s hand. “Say yes, Jane. Say you will have me.”

“No,” Helen said. She made a move to grab Jane’s other hand, but of course her hand passed right through Jane’s. “Please, Jane, my oldest and dearest friend. Please don’t answer right away.”

Jane looked frantically from Mr. Rochester to Helen, back to Mr. Rochester, and back to Helen. He was everything she’d ever dreamed about. Tall. Dark. Brooding. But he also had a penchant for lying, and making Jane think she was crazy, and not telling her the full story.

“Please, Jane,” Helen said. “For me. Say you need time to think.”

He was handsome and charming, and Mrs. Fairfax did say his bursts of anger were often not often.

But Mr. Blackwood and Charlotte had doubted his good intentions and questioned his very nature.