Page 15 of Fragile Wicked Things

"It must have been an incredible experience to walk the grounds of a place full of great knowledge. What employment did that degree provide?" I said.

"Her most important job, taking care of me!" Lewellyn joked.

Too engrossed in the topic, I didn't pick up on the cue. "Well, what did you want to do? What did you want to become?"

Isabelle sat quietly for a moment, then she said, "I pictured myself working at a gallery in New York."

"I miss New York. Remember when we lived there, Edward?" Catherine said, and he nodded.

"Do you work for a gallery here in New Orleans?" I wanted to know so much that I never stopped with the questions. She shook her head. "You should try," I blurted. "With your education, I'm sure they'd hire you. We've only just met, but I'm a good judge of character, and I know you'd excel at it."

"And where did you study, Jane?" India asked me.

"Lowood," I said in a faint voice.

"I never heard of it. Where is the college exactly?"

"It's not a college. Lowood is a school...just a school."

"I assumed with your enthusiasm over my sister's education, that you'd be, well, more like one of us. Not educated? Yet Edward hired you," said India.

"Catherine hired her." Rochester corrected her, taking no credit for my employment.

"Public education? Oh, dear. At least you weren't subjected to what those poor children have been going through of late. Appalling. I can't condone the desegregation of the schools. Why, it could lead to interracial marriages," India said.

"I quite agree," Mrs. Roth said. "What is your view, Edward?"

Rochester shifted in his chair, and looked first at Catherine and then the others. "The African race is a rubber ball.The harder you dash it to the ground, the higher it will rise.'"

India looked at him with a quizzical stare.

"African Proverb," Rochester explained, which seemed to exasperate India—her mouth fell open and she became flustered.

"Good God, what kind of school did you attend to pick up African proverbs?" Lewellyn said with a laugh.

"Life," Rochester said.

"When I was ten, we were caught in a most hateful riot. It frightened me. Do you remember that, Edward?" Catherine said.

Her words concerned me. I wondered if she was becoming forgetful and whom she thought she spoke to when she asked Rochester that question. He never answered, but didn't correct her either. An awkward silence fell, which India filled by drawing everyone's attention back to me.

"Well, Jane, educated or not, you must have some talents that you can show us afterwards. Do you play?"

"I assure you she does not," Rochester answered for me, which annoyed me.

I was confused by his behavior that night—how he could bestow an act of kindness on me, ask for forgiveness, and then ignore me in the presence of everyone.

His flirtation with me may have been meaningless, and tonight he illustrated that if he chose someone to marry, it would be someone like India.

"Please don't speak for me, Mr. Rochester." This caught him off guard, and he stared at me. At least I had his attention. "I don't play any instrument, sing, or paint. My talents are compassion, patience, and selflessness, qualities required to care for people."

"I quite agree," Catherine said.

"Such are the qualities of a nun," Rochester said. "I wonder if it is a religious habit you'd feel more comfortable in rather than that dress. I'm afraid you're turning a hue of red, Jane."

His comment hurt me to my core, and made me feel like a child playing dress-up for the adults. I took a short breath and fought back tears. "Does my embarrassment amuse you, Mr. Rochester?"

His mouth fell open but no words escaped him. He turned away to avoid looking me in the eye as I did him. "Not at all. Again, I must apologize for my behavior."

"I seem to bring out the worst in you."

Rochester turned to me then and whispered so that I alone could hear. "It is I who brings out the worst in myself, having sacrificed my soul at the devil's altar."

His eyes penetrated mine, and I saw something in them that concerned me, something that tormented him.

But those were the last words of any significance he spoke to me that night.

What followed was talk for the sake of politeness without having to say anything of any importance.

The Roths were about to embark on a trip to Europe in the new year, although I wasn't sure why they were going since they didn't seem to have enjoyed their last trip abroad.

Everything had been "dreadful" according to Lewellyn, from the lack of society down to the food.

Europeans lacked hospitality and couldn't be compared to the Southern one, Lewellyn opined.

Having read much about Europe, I knew many details about the continent, and I was sure that nowhere had it ever been described as "dreadful.

" Not the food, not the wine, not the art.

Having tuned out Lewellyn, my interest wasn’t piqued until he was halfway through a sentence. "…they’re sisters, twins actually, and no one has seen them for quite some time. Disappeared on their eighteenth birthdays."

"Oh, how dreadful," said India.

Lewellyn continued, "Of course, the police don’t suspect foul play. There were signs of an animal attack. Quite gruesome. Their blood-stained personal belongings were scatter about by the roadside, but no bodies."

Rochester turned to Lewellyn. "Animal attack?"

"Oh, no more talk of such ghastly stories," Mrs. Roth said.

"Why do they suspect an animal attack if there are no bodies? What have the police found?" Rochester seemed determined to get answers.

Lewellyn ignored his mother-in-law, saying, "Turns out, they’re not the only ones to have disappeared. There was a similar disappearance outside Jackson, Mississippi involving a married coup?—"

"—Oh, heavens, no more," Mrs. Roth said, louder this time. "Let’s only speak of pleasant things."

Rochester fidgeted in his chair, and a shadow came over his face. He was lost in his thoughts and didn’t hear India speak to him.

"Are you attending the New Year's Eve Masquerade Ball?" I overheard her ask Rochester a second time.

"I don't dance," he said without looking her way.

"Catherine, help me persuade your grandson to attend. It will be a grand affair. The Greers are going and you know they only appear at balls of a certain stature," Mrs. Roth said.

"Why, I think it's a wonderful idea, Edward," Catherine said.

"Balls bore me."

"They never used to," Catherine continued. "I insist you be there, Edward, as Jane's escort."

This upset India and her mother, who turned to one another; Mrs. Roth pushed out her lower lip.

"That's a wonderful idea, although I do hope Jane doesn't feel out of place in society," India said.

The wicked stepsister tore off my dress, exposing my true self.

Later, when we returned to the drawing room, India played the piano with Rochester.

Lewellyn said something nonsensical to Catherine, who had her eyes closed, but that didn't stop him from talking.

I sat near Isabelle and Mrs. Roth. Isabelle tried to include me in the conversation, but Mrs. Roth had a knack for turning the dialogue to matters I knew nothing about.

When I overheard Rochester offer India a tour of his study, I politely excused myself, saying that I needed fresh air, although I don't think anyone heard me.

It had been warmer earlier in the day, but the temperature had dropped to a mere 48 degrees that evening, colder than usual.

I wrapped my coat over my gown and fled.

Outside was dark, but I could see my way among the grand oak trees with Thornfield Hall lit up.

The ground crunched under my feet. From across the way, I heard the horses and wandered over to the stable.

When I opened the wooden gate, I noticed a small light on, and since I heard no one, I assumed Thomas had left it on from earlier in the day.

Loulou, Rochester's favorite horse, looked at me and pulled back; her way of telling me to go away.

She could feel her own master's disappointment in me, too.

I tried whispering to her as I had seen Rochester do countless times, but the horse refused to listen and turned away from me.

Then I heard it—a woman's sigh followed by a giggle. There was the sound of shuffling, and then I realized the horses were dragging hay with their hooves. Did I imagine the giggle?

"Hello," I said, barely above a whisper, my voice trapped in my throat.

I took a step closer to an empty stall. Suddenly I saw movement through the black iron rods of the stall—Rochester was with India. He hadn't shown her his study after all and brought her out here in seclusion so they could?—

She giggled again—India stood up against the wall in the corner; Rochester had himself pressed against her, holding her with one breast exposed. He kissed her lips, and her cheeks and licked his way down to her neck. I let out a gasp.

"Who's there?" Rochester asked in anger and turned. His eyes darkened when they landed on me.

I ran out, headed straight towards the grand oak trees and stumbled as I reached the other side of the drive.

Rochester followed me, but I wanted nothing to do with him.

I couldn't bear the thought of seeing him again and I hid in the maze.

I pressed myself into a bush, wanting to hide away from the world.

I listened to the sound of my own breathing.

After a while, I stepped out and started to make my way back to the house, but somewhere I took a wrong turn and couldn't find my way out.

I thought I had entered into the maze a short distance, but each time I went around a corner, there was yet another dead end.

I felt as Theseus did when the moon had cast its light on him, exposing bones and skulls littering his path, bloodstains splattered all about.

My imagination was cruel, deceiving me into believing my own path was bloodstained.

Where had I put my ball of string to help guide me back out?

I traveled in circles, going deeper inside.

The light from the house operated as a shining beacon, yet each time I headed towards it, I was confronted by another wall as though the maze rearranged itself with me in it.

Running from one dead end to another, the walls closed in on me, and I began to panic.

Turning a corner, I ran smack into the creature who dwelled in the labyrinth—with the monstrous head of a bull and the body of a man—the Minotaur.

He made a sound as he moved towards me and although he was a monster through no fault of his own, I knew in his ferociousness that he would devour me, body and soul.

I let out a scream as he grabbed me, hysterical to his touch.

"Stop it!" Rochester said.

I became quiet at the sound of his voice. "How did you find me?"

"I saw you come in here and knew you'd get lost. Are you all right?"

"I was frightened. I thought you were...Yes, I'm fine." It was silly of me to be frightened by the statue of the Minotaur. How could I believe the monster was capable of coming to life?

He looked at me and spoke with a softness in his voice.

"Jane, my—." He stopped, bit his lip, then pulled back, jaw clenched; all manner of curtness had returned.

"Follow me. From behind the Minotaur, there's an easy way out, one left turn, the remaining all right until you find yourself out of this hell. "