Page 18 of Fragile Wicked Things

Nine

I came undone. For days leading up to the ball, my nerves were on edge and, incapable of eating, I had lost weight.

The moment Rochester and I stepped into the entranceway at the ball, I excused myself and hurried to the ladies' room.

The attendant, an older woman with wavy hair and silver-framed glasses, opened up her sewing kit, assuring me she'd tighten the strap that had come loose. The red dress was slightly off the shoulder, but a strap along the inside kept the short sleeves from falling too low down my arms. She pinned me, and as I stared at my image reflected in the mirror, I couldn’t recognize myself.

When the attendant had finished, I lifted the white-feathered mask to my face. Just breathe. Deep. First in. Then out. I found Rochester waiting for me in the corridor.

"Are you all right?" he said.

"Nervous."

"Come. I won't leave your side." He gave me his arm and led me to the grand ballroom.

The New Year's Eve ball was held at the Old Dance Hall in the center of town.

Rooted deep within the history of New Orleans' high society, it had been reinvigorated by the women's auxiliary a few years before.

The hall, paneled in a mahogany wood, housed several tables and chairs where people gathered, chatted, drank and adjusted their masks.

Did they know I pretended to be upper class, costumed to look like them?

Oh, how I wish Catherine had been there that night, but she had been too ill to attend.

Rochester sat us down on a settee, our eyes squarely fixed on the ladies and gentlemen in a multitude of colored masks swaying to the music.

Only they weren't dancing the way Thomas taught me.

I feared I would be a disappointment to Rochester, but when I looked at him, I noticed he rubbed the sweat from his hands, and I could have sworn he appeared more nervous than me.

"I'm glad you wore a different mask."

"Catherine didn't like the other one either. You women are peculiar."

We fell into a silence, a comfortable one, not awkward as though we felt the need to fill up the air with unnecessary dialogue.

Fragmented sentences reached me; snippets of a conversation about a young woman I didn't know and her upcoming nuptials to a young man I didn't know; another about a new dress shop that had opened in town.

"Can I get you something?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Rochester."

"May I ask a favor of you? Will you call me Edward like you used to?"

I let out a little laugh, relaxed for the first time that evening, which wasn't the usual outcome in Rochester’s presence.

My smile vanished when I caught two masked women staring in our direction and when they lowered their masks, I snatched a glimpse of India's stare and her mother's too-rouged lips.

"Didn't Mrs. Roth want you to take her daughter to the ball?"

"Mrs. Roth doesn't want me near India."

"I suppose your little conquest cost you the opportunity of her hand in marriage?" I couldn't believe my forthrightness, but I had to know if he still considered India.

"As I thought it would." He smiled, and I grasped his meaning. He had meant to present himself in such a dishonorable manner that Mrs. Roth would stop pushing her daughter on him.

Still, I wanted to continue the conversation, to hear from him again that he didn't care for her. "Yet, I thought with her education, she would make a suitable wife for you."

"Suitable wife? Educated, yes. That woman can quote from a book yet not have an opinion of her own.

When she speaks, it illustrates her poor mind and barren heart.

She is not original. There is an absence of passion about her, except towards my bank account.

No, she is not suitable for me. None of them are.

These women here are interested in my money and my stature in society, but if they caught a glimpse of my true self. .." He fell silent.

"What is your true self, Edward?"

Rochester looked at me, then removed his mask. "Do you find me handsome?"

I paused, the effect of which had him squirm a little. "Yes, when you're kind."

"This is not my true face."

"You are a mystery, Edward."

"Do you like mysteries?"

"Isn't life full of mysteries?"

Rochester leaned in and gave me a mischievous smile. "If we travel down that hallway towards the library, we'll find an old woman who will entertain us with our fortunes. Unless you don't believe in the mystical."

"Well, it depends. Does she have a crystal ball?" I asked.

"Shall we see?"

Rochester took me by my hand and steered me down a path towards my future, although truth be told, I didn't believe in any of it.

The staff at Lowood were superstitious, and I looked at it as nothing more than nonsense.

We waited out in the hallway for our turn.

Giggling and shrieking came from behind the library door, and after what seemed like ten minutes, the door burst open, and three young women ran out, masks in hand.

Two were twins, and the other looked nothing like them.

The sisters sank breathless into chairs as three men gathered, wanting details.

The fortune teller knew every detail about them, they claimed.

She even named the men they would marry, but when their escorts asked for the names, the sisters giggled and told them they only had initials and telling them would serve no purpose.

Our turn arrived, and I grabbed Rochester's hand, pulling him along with me into the room, but when the fortune teller saw him, her face darkened. She shuddered and asked him to leave. My giddiness subsided. "I prefer he stay."

"The lady requires protection," Rochester joked.

"Yes, she does," the old woman said, her gaze directly on Rochester. "I am Madame Rousseau. Remove your masks. Both of you."

Once the masks were off, I made a face at Rochester, lifted my eyebrows and smiled at the psychic's serious tone. We sat opposite her, and she grabbed my hand, hesitated, and spoke to me in a deep whisper.

"I look into one's true soul," she explained. "Understand there are things that will be revealed you may not want to be disclosed in front of others."

The reaction from the twins and the old woman, who had played the part so well up to that point, made me reconsider.

Maybe she could see into the future. Her audacity unnerved me, but when I looked at her costumed turban and outrageous makeup, I realized she meant to put on a show.

She could no more tell the future than I could.

"My destiny is not predetermined," I told her. "Ready."

She took my hand into both of hers, thumbing the lines of my palm.

"You suffered a great loss as a child. A parent, no parents.

Not much love in your life. Loneliness. You learned to suppress any passion that you had.

But that's your past, which may or may not be repeated.

There will be a change in your employment.

I can see you have a quick mind that will take you on new adventures.

I suppose you'd want to know about your love line.

All the young ladies want to know. You're in love. "

My face flushed.

"It must be me," Rochester quipped.

"I assure you, Mr. Rochester, you are not the object of my affection," I teased.

"Ah, but she is right. You are in love. With whom?" said Rochester with no lightness in his voice.

"Shhh," the old woman said.

Rochester raised his eyebrows at me, feigning an injury at being reprimanded.

"This man you love...you cannot unlove."

"He must be my soulmate then if I can't unlove him."

The fortune teller then yanked my hand closer to her, squeezed tighter and spoke, her speech guttural. "There is darkness."

"You speak in riddles. Tell me. Is there darkness in my future?"

"Yes. And here. Death follows you."

I tried pulling my hand away to stop her from seeing more, but she held on fast.

"Leave this place," she said.

"That's enough!" Rochester grabbed her and pushed her off me.

I breathed hard, frightened by the fortune, my face hot. Then the fortune teller turned to Rochester, her eyes squinted, her lips twisted.

"You're cold. I can't see you. Why can't I read your future?"

* * *

"Slow down," Rochester said.

I gulped down the scotch he had given me but ignored him. The liquid steadied my nerves. "She knew things." The words blurted out.

"She knew nothing. She has the ability to read body language and will say things to make you believe she knows more than she does. It is a sham to entertain us," he said.

"Her words unnerved me, especially after Auntie told me to leave this place."

Rochester turned to me, jaw clenched. "When?"

"Last night."

"Tell me everything she told you," he said in haste.

"Auntie said it wasn't safe for me here. She's worried that I've been spending too much time with her grandson and that the tension in New Orleans lately is not conducive to a…friendship like ours."

"She's right. Should Thomas be at the wrong place with you, Jane, I won't be able to protect him. People here don't see the world the way we do."

"No, they don't." I liked that he said "we."

"I should send him away," Rochester said.

My eyes darted to him, and at first, I opened my mouth in protest, but I thought better of it. Thomas was from the North and didn't know what to expect here, but I knew better—Kansas was no different. I wanted him to stay out of selfishness so I wouldn't be alone.

"Jane…Jane." I looked at Rochester after the second time he called my name.

"Yes."

"I want you…" He hesitated, eyebrows knotted, and he opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Finally, he said "…to dance with me. Give me your hand."

We fastened our masks and joined the others on the dance floor. I felt giddy as I waited for the band to begin. When the music finally started, it wasn't a dance that I knew. Rochester noticed me waver.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"I don't know how to dance to this."