Page 38 of Fragile Wicked Things

"You were his handler. Did you get the women for him?"

"They weren't harmed and were paid well. Three women each month, a little from each, to survive. That's not a lot to ask for."

"You call what he did to them not harmful? I'm going to be sick." Thomas grabbed a pail from under the kitchen sink and put it on the floor in front of me, but I overcame the queasiness. "Am I insane? Because all of this is madness. I wish I had never come to Thornfield."

"We won't stay here. We can go up north, to New York and start over."

"We? I don't know what you've become."

"Please, forgive me. You're right. This place is mad, and we must get as far away as possible. You'll see. Things will be better once we're free from this place. Free from Rochester."

It was simple to say yes, to leave Thornfield behind, but could that be the answer?

I was no longer certain where things stood with Thomas, and now I knew what he did for money.

It marked him in my eyes. Still, I couldn’t shake the image of Rochester locking himself away in the tomb with his love.

Catherine brought me here to save him, just as she had done.

What is it she asked of me? To stay and consider the recklessness that follows Rochester’s despair.

But who will save me?

"OK," I said at last. "We'll leave once Rochester returns."

There it was again, another expression on his face, a shift of the eyes, a turning away of his face. "He's not coming back, Jane."

"You can't be sure of that."

"Mr. Rochester knew he wasn't returning.

He wanted me to take care of a few things and left you with a great sum of money, so much that you never have to worry about bills.

He said the account once belonged to Catherine, but she returned it to him, and now it's yours.

He wanted to free you, to give you a life you never thought possible.

He said you're brilliant and could go to university.

Mr. Rochester wanted all these things for you. "

"He did that?"

"Jane, he made it clear that you were free to pursue anything. He thought only of your happiness."

Happiness—that was a strange word to me—so odd that I didn't know what I could possibly do with it. I was free, yet I couldn't help but set about freeing Rochester from his prison.

It took convincing, but soon, Thomas agreed with me.

On the thirtieth night of Rochester's absence, we drove to the cemetery to bring him home.

Thomas snuck a bag of blood into his belongings, and I pretended not to notice.

Once Rochester was safe at Thornfield, Thomas and I planned to leave for New York City.

Thomas slid the edge of a crowbar into the crack of the mausoleum door and, after much exertion, propped it open.

Standing in utter darkness, I called out to Rochester, but there was no answer, so I pulled the flashlight from my bag, searching for any sign of him.

Thomas walked to the small tombstone and read it.

"They had a daughter?"

"Yes," I said, then took the light off the small tomb and shone it elsewhere, pointing the light into every dark corner. Still, I could not find him. "Mr. Rochester?"

Thomas took the flashlight from me and walked farther in, shining the light against every part of the mausoleum so as not to miss Rochester.

When he stepped away, the darkness closed in on me, wrapping itself around me with warm comfort.

Darkness had always frightened me, but the fear I once had dissipated.

I closed my eyes so that I could no longer see the light shining from Thomas’s flashlight, and, in my blindness, I felt Rochester was near.

Opening my eyes, I turned, and in the blackness, I could somehow see him crouched on the floor, his back up against a crevice in the corner.

A light cast a wider net on us, and then I heard Thomas’s soft footsteps coming up behind me, flashlight in hand.

I knelt to Rochester, but he didn't look at me as though neither Thomas nor I were there.

Rochester was gone, his body left behind in this motionless shell. I reached out and held his hand.

"Mr. Rochester. We've come to bring you home," I said.

His body did not respond, and when I let go of his hand, it fell limp. I turned to Thomas, fearful that we had come too late.

"Try again," Thomas said.

I shuffled closer, placed my hands on him and forced him to look up at me. "We've come to take you home. Edward."

He started at the sound of his name, and his eyes turned to me. "Is it you—is it, Jane? You have come back to me then?"

"I have."

Rochester let me help him up, never once taking his eyes off me as I wrapped my arm around his waist and led him out, freeing him from his self-imposed prison. Never had I seen or felt him in this weakened state. He had resigned himself to this death.

* * *

It would be weeks before Rochester returned, at least in part, to whom he had been before Catherine's death, no longer hiding away in the attic, no longer lifeless, with a guarantee that he would participate in life at Thornfield.

He never spoke of his duration alone in the tomb, though I'm certain it allowed him time for reflection—on his life with Catherine and his life going forward.

There were times when I caught him in moments of stillness, a book opened on his lap, a page never turned, and I knew he thought of her.

Thomas grew impatient, asking when we were to leave, and each time I responded that I didn't know, which invariably led to him questioning whether my loyalty was to him or Rochester.

My loyalty was to myself first, but I couldn't leave Rochester until I knew he would be well cared for.

We brought someone, a man Thomas had heard about with a shady past, from California to New Orleans, but after questioning him, I sent him away, telling Thomas he was not right to care for Rochester.

In frustration, Thomas began another search for a handler and returned to the city, spending a few days more hoping to find someone worthy of my approval.

Alone, Rochester and I dined together and afterwards, stemming from routine, made our way to the drawing room.

He took to reading again, a book of poetry, but that night, I didn't listen to his voice.

Instead, I watched him as his lips moved to form the words, as his face expressed the passion in what he read, his features aglow in the firelight.

"Jane? Is there something wrong?" he said.

"No, Mr. Roch...Edward."

"Jane, I know you well enough to understand better. Half-truths should never be spoken."

"I worry about you. Soon, we must leave, but that isn't possible until we find someone to replace Thomas."

"Leave? Why should you leave? You came back for me."

"To free you from that punishment you have fixed yourself to," I said.

Rochester laid down his book and moved towards me, sitting on the sofa and taking my hand.

"For thirty days and nights, I lay still in that tomb, relived my life with Catherine and rejected my life before her.

My Catherine is gone. I had hoped that being near her would change things for me, but I grew overwrought with despair and loneliness.

My ghosts haunted me there. They called my name, taunted me, and drove me mad until I would shout at them to stop, plead with them to forgive me. Peace is not meant to be mine."

"You were stricken by your loss," I said.

"No, it was my child that affected me. The ghosts had worn me down, torn me apart.

Their voices wouldn't get out of my head.

My daughter pled with me to hold her hand, but I hid from her under the bed because I knew her ghost meant to torture me.

She called me in her angelic voice, but I never answered.

Imagine a demon trapped by the ghosts it created, held by its sins.

A soulless monster cowering in a dark corner, praying for forgiveness, praying to be saved.

In that darkness, I heard my name called.

Edward. When I came out of that black hole, it was your face I saw; you chased away my ghosts.

You came back for me." Here, he looked at me, his face softened, hopeful, but I pulled my hand away.

"You misunderstand my purpose. It was to return you to Thornfield and stay for a little while until you were settled, but not always. We cannot stay."

“We? A lifetime is what I seek from you. I see what impedes my happiness, and I’ll send Thomas away," he said, his voice cold.

I stood to move away from him, but he grabbed me and yanked me back down near him. His hold was aggressive at first, but then it softened, as did his voice when he spoke to me.

"Jane, I promise you this, you will not regret being mine. If it is a marriage you desire, then I will happily comply to make our union legal."

"I cannot marry you and become part of you."

"A part of me you must become. A part of me you already are."

"If I remain here with you, I will abandon part of myself, which will not do. I seek something else."

"Love? Is there not enough between us? If not, I promise it will come over time."

"I scorn your idea of love." I could not help but say that as I rose again and stood before him. "It's a counterfeit sentiment you offer. The thought of saying yes to you makes me shudder and predetermines an early death for me."

Rochester looked at me fixedly, and I could not tell if he was incensed or surprised, but I suspected it was an injury that I inflicted on him.

"Please, forgive me. My words were mean-spirited and not at all what I meant. Understand that I cannot stay."

He sat there, unmoved, in his iron silence, and all I felt was his despair and disappointment that I should not subject myself to him, to his desires; that I resisted being a comfort to him in his loneliness.

"I scarcely expected to hear you express such things," he said in a gentle tone that drew me to sit back down near him. His gentleness had such a potent force that it broke me down with grief. "Please stay. Let me hear the words 'I will be yours'."

"I will not be yours."

"You mean to leave me then?"

"I do."

He embraced me. "Do you mean it now?"

"I do."

He kissed me on my forehead and cheek. "And now?"

"I do," I said, extricating myself from his embrace.

"This is wicked what you do to me. It is not wickedness to love a monster like me who can be gentle and loving.

Oh, Jane, think about my horrible life when you are gone; all chance at happiness disappears with you.

What am I left with? The memory of my love in this home will diminish; my darkness will grow, and my ghosts will destroy me. Will you not yield?"

"No."

"Then you condemn me and all who come into my path.

" His voice rose, and he stood before me, his face inches from mine, his eyes desperate.

Then, when all else failed and gentle tones and reasoning subsided, he tried to coerce me into obedience.

He took my hand in his, but I pulled it away.

"You will leave me then? I'm to be alone again.

" He sank back down, landing with a heavy thud on the sofa, and turned away, lost, as I had found him in the mausoleum.

I could not be held accountable for his happiness, so I walked out of the room, out of Thornfield, and down the drive, wiping at tears as they streamed down. I would stay at Thomas’s house in his absence.

The following day, Thomas returned with news that he had found a suitable new handler and that I should meet him in New Orleans.

However, after the encounter with Rochester, I resolved that we should leave immediately and approved of the man he recommended.

Arrangements had been made for him to arrive the following day, and Thomas and I were to pack what few belongings we had.

Hours later, I went to Thomas’s home, bent on leaving without saying goodbye to Rochester, but he wasn’t home. I waited a good half-hour more before Thomas arrived, looking downtrodden by the front door, lost in his own thoughts. He had not seen me.

“Thomas?”

He looked up at me without saying anything.

“Is something wrong?” He shook his head. “Where were you?” Still he didn’t answer, looked away from me and moved into the kitchen. I followed. "I want to leave at first light," I told him.

"I'll take you to the train station."

"What do you mean you'll take me? You're coming with me." A long silence followed. "Thomas?" He turned away, and then I understood without him having to say anything at all. "You're not coming with me." It was meant to be a question but came out as a statement.

"I'm staying."

"You were with Rochester just now, weren’t you?

Did he offer more money?" Thomas shook his head.

"He's doing it to punish me for leaving him.

Your grandmother regretted her decision to work for him, and you will, too.

Leave this place. Come away with me now.

" The mention of Auntie grew out of desperation.

Had I not felt the agony of abandonment and betrayal, had I thought things through for a moment, I would have understood then what I know now.

Thomas sacrificed his own happiness for me.

Rochester refused to let us both go and, when presented with the situation by Rochester, Thomas decided that I would be the one to escape Thornfield.

Finally, his eyes met mine, and he said, "You must leave."

"Then I'm to be alone again," I said.