17 Jane Eyre - Bedtime With Stephanie Poppins

This is SD Hudson Magic Jane Eyre Chapter 17 A week passed and no news arrived at Mr Rochester.

Ten days and still he did not come.

Mrs Fairfax said she should not be surprised if he was to go straight from the Lees to London and thence to the Continent and not show his face again at Thornfield for a year to come.

He had not unfrequently quitted it in a manner quite as abrupt and unexpected.

When I heard this I was beginning to feel a strange chill and failing at the heart.

I was actually permitting myself to experience a sickening sense of disappointment.

But rallying my wits and recollecting my principles I at once called my sensations to order and it was wonderful how I got over the temporary blunder.

How I cleared up the mistake of supposing Mr Rochester's movements a matter in which I had any cause to take a vital interest.

Not that I humbled myself by a slavish notion of inferiority.

On the contrary I just said,

You have nothing to do with the Master of Thornfield further than to receive the salary he gives you for teaching his protégé and to be grateful for such respectful and kind treatment.

Be sure that is the only tie he seriously acknowledges between you and him.

So don't make him the object of your fine feelings,

Your raptures,

Agonies and so forth.

He is not of your order.

Keep to your caste and be too self-respecting to lavish the love of the whole heart,

Soul and strength where such a gift is not wanted and would be despised.

I went on with my day's business tranquilly.

But ever and anon vague suggestions kept wandering across my brain of reasons why I should quit Thornfield.

And I kept involuntarily framing advertisements and pondering conjectures about new situations.

These thoughts I did not think it necessary to check.

They might germinate and bear fruit if they could.

Mr Rochester had been absent upwards of a fortnight when the Post brought Mrs Fairfax a letter.

It is from the Master,

Said she as she looked at the direction.

Now I suppose we shall know whether we do expect his return or not.

And while she broke the seal and perused the document,

I went on taking my coffee.

It was breakfast and hot.

I attributed to that circumstance a fiery glow which suddenly rose to my face.

Why my hand shook and why I involuntarily spilt half the contents of my cup into my saucer,

I did not choose to consider.

Well,

I sometimes think we are too quiet,

But we run a chance of being busy enough now,

For a little while at least,

Said Mrs Fairfax,

Still holding the note.

Ere I permitted myself to request an explanation.

I tied the string of Adele's pinafore,

Which happened to be loose,

Having helped her alter to another bung,

And refilled her mug with milk.

I said nonchalantly,

Mr Rochester is not likely to return soon,

I suppose.

Indeed he is,

In three days,

He said.

That will be the next Thursday,

And not alone either.

I don't know how many of the fine people at the lease are coming with him.

He sends directions for all the best bedrooms to be prepared,

And the library and drawing rooms to be cleaned,

And I am to get more kitchen hands from the George Inn as milk coat,

And from wherever else I can.

The ladies will bring their maids,

And the gentlemen their valets,

So we shall have a full house of it.

Then Mrs Fairfax swallowed her breakfast and hastened away to commence operations.

The three days were,

As she had foretold,

Busy enough.

I had thought all the rooms at Thornfield beautifully clean,

But it appears I was mistaken.

Three women were got to help,

And such scrubbing,

Brushing,

Washing of paint and beating of carpets,

Such taking down and putting up of pictures,

Polishing of mirrors and lustres,

Lighting of fires in bedrooms,

Airing of sheets and featherbeds on hearths,

I never beheld before or since.

Adele ran quite wild in the midst of it.

The preparations for company and the prospect of their arrival seemed to throw her into ecstasies.

She would have Sophie to look after all her toilette,

As she called frogs,

To furbish up any that were passé,

And to air and arrange the new.

For herself she did nothing but keep her around in the front chambers,

Jump on and off the bedsteads,

And lie on the mattresses and piled up bolsters,

Before the enormous fires roaring in the chimneys.

From school duties she was exonerated.

Mrs Fairfax had pressed me into her service,

And I was all day in the storeroom,

Helping,

Or hindering,

Her and the cook,

Learning to make custards and cheesecakes and French pastry,

To truss game and garnish dessert dishes.

The party were expected to arrive on Thursday afternoon,

In time for dinner at six.

During the intervening period I had no time to nurse my thoughts,

And I believe I was as active and gay as anybody.

Adele accepted.

Still,

Now and then,

I received a damping check to my cheerfulness,

And was,

In spite of myself,

Thrown back on the region of doubts and dark conjectures.

This was when I chanced to see the third-story staircase door open slowly,

And give passage to the form of Grace Paul,

In prim cap,

White apron and handkerchief.

When I watched her glide along the gallery,

Her quiet tread muffled in a list slipper,

When I saw her look into the bustling,

Topsy-turvy bedrooms,

To say a word perhaps to the charwoman about the proper way to polish a grate,

Or clean a marble mantelpiece,

Or take stains from papered walls,

And then to pass on.

She would thus descend to the kitchen once a day,

Eat her dinner,

Smoke a moderate pipe on the half,

And go back carrying her pot of porter with her,

For her private solace in her own gloomy upper haunt.

Only one hour in the twenty-four did she pass with her fellow servants.

All the rest of the time was spent in some low-sealed,

Oaken chamber of the second story.

There she sat and sewed,

And probably laughed rarely to herself,

As companionless as a prisoner in his dungeon.

The strangest thing of all was,

Not a soul in the house except me noticed her habits,

Or seemed to marvel at them.

No one discussed her position or employment,

No one pitted her solitude or isolation.

I once indeed overheard part of a dialogue between Leah and one of the charwomen,

Of which Grace formed the subject.

"'She gets good wages,

I guess?

' "'Yes,

' said Leah.

"'I wish I had as good.

Not that mine is to complain of.

There's no stinginess at Thornfield,

But they're not one fifth of the sum Mrs.

Poole receives.

And she's laying by.

She goes every quarter to the bank at Millcote,

I see.

I should not wonder,

But she's saved enough to keep her independent if she'd like to leave.

But I suppose she's gotten used to the place.

And then she's not forty yet,

And strong and able for anything.

It's too soon for her to give up business.

' "'She's a good hand,

I dare say,

' said the charwomen.

"'She understands what she has to do.

Nobody better.

' The charwomen went on.

But here Leah turned and perceived me,

And she instantly gave her companion a nudge.

"'Doesn't she know?

' I heard the woman whisper.

Leah shook her head,

And the conversation was of course dropped.

All I had gathered from it amounted to this,

That there was a mystery at Thornfield,

And that from participation in that mystery,

I was purposely excluded.

Thursday came,

And all work had been completed the previous evening.

Carpets were laid down,

Bed hangings festooned,

Radiant white counterpane spread,

Toilet tables arranged,

Furniture rubbed,

Flowers piled in vases.

Both chambers and saloons looked as fresh and as bright as hands could make them.

The hall too was scoured,

And the great carved clock,

As well as the steps and banisters of the staircase,

Were polished to the brightness of glass.

In the dining room,

The sideboard flushed resplendent with plate.

In the drawing room and boudoir,

Vases of exotics bloomed on all sides.

Afternoon arrived.

Mrs Fairfax assumed her best black satin gown,

Her gloves and her gold watch,

For it was her part to receive the company.

Adele too would be dressed,

Though I thought she had little chance of being introduced to the party that day.

However,

To please her,

I allowed Sophie to apparel her in one of her short,

Full muslin frocks.

For myself,

I had no need to make any change.

I should not be called upon to quit my sanctum of the schoolroom,

For sanctum it now had become to me.

It had been a mild,

Serene spring day,

One of those days which towards the end of March,

Or the beginning of April,

Rise shining over the earth as heralds of summer.

It was drawing to an end now,

But the evening was warm,

And I sat to work in the schoolroom with the window open.

"'It gets late,

' said Mrs Fairfax,

Entering in rustling state.

"'I'm glad I ordered dinner,

"'an hour after the time Mr Rochester mentioned,

"'for it's past six now.

"'I've sent John down to the gates "'to see if there's anything on the road.

' She went to the window.

"'Here he is,

' said she suddenly.

"'Any news,

John?

' "'They're coming,

Ma'am,

' was the answer.

"'They'll be here in ten minutes.

' Adele flew to the window,

And I followed,

Taking care to stand on one side,

So that screened by the curtain,

I could see without being seen.

The ten minutes John had given seemed very long,

But at last wheels were heard.

Four equestrians galloped up the drive,

And after them came two open carriages.

Fluttering veils and waving plumes filled the vehicles.

Two of the cavaliers were young,

Dashing-looking gentlemen.

The third was Mr Rochester on his black horse.

Pilot was bounding before him,

And at his side rode a lady.

He and she were the first of the party.

Her purple riding habit almost swept the ground.

Her veil streamed long on the breeze,

Mingling with its transparent folds,

And gleaming through them shone rich raven ringlets.

"'Miss Ingram!

' exclaimed Mrs Fairfax,

And away she hurried to her post below.

The cavalcade following the sweep of the drive quickly turned the angle of the house,

And I lost sight of it.

Adele now petitioned to go down.

I took her on my knee and gave her to understand she must not on any account think of venturing in sight of the ladies,

Either now or at any other time.

A joyous stir was audible in the hall.

Gentlemen's deep tones and ladies' silvery accents blent harmonious together.

But distinguishable above all,

Though not loud,

Was the sonorous voice of the master of Thornfield welcoming his fair and gallant guests under his roof.

Then light steps attended the stairs,

And there was a tripping through the gallery,

And soft cheerful laughs,

And opening and closing of doors,

And for a time,

A hush.

"'Elle changeant de toilette?

' said Adele,

Who,

Listening attentively,

Had followed every movement.

"'Chez maman,

' said she,

Quand il y avait du monde.

Je le suivais partout,

Au salon et à leur chambre.

Souvent,

Je regardais les fins de chambre coiffées et habillées,

Les dents,

Et c'était si amusant,

Comme cela on apprend.

"'Don't you feel hungry,

Adele?

' I said.

"'Mais oui,

Mademoiselle,

Voilà cinq ou six oeufs que nous n'avons pas mangés.

'" "'Well now,

While the ladies are in their rooms,

I'll venture down and get you something to eat.

'" And issuing from my asylum with precaution,

I saw the back stairs,

Which conducted directly to the kitchen.

All in that region was fire and commotion.

The soup and fish were in that last stage of projection,

And the cook hung over her crucibles in a frame of mind and body,

Threatening spontaneous combustion.

In the servants' hall,

Two coachmen and three gentlemen's gentlemen stood or sat around the fire.

The Abigails,

I suppose,

Were upstairs with their mistresses.

The new servants that had been hired from Millcote were bustling about everywhere.

Threading this chaos,

I at last reached the larder.

There I took possession of a cold chicken,

A roll of bread,

Some tarts,

A plate or two,

And a knife and fork.

And with this booty I made a hasty retreat.

I had just regained the gallery and was shutting the back door behind me when an accelerated hum warned me the ladies were about to issue from their chambers.

I could not proceed to the schoolroom without passing some of their doors and running the risk of being surprised with my cargo.

I stood still at the end,

Which being windowless was dark,

For the sun was set and the twilight gathering.

Presently the chambers gave up their fair tenants one after the other.

Each came out gaily and airily,

With dress that gleamed lustrous through the dusk.

For a moment they stood grouped together at the other extremity of the gallery,

Conversing in a key of sweet subdued vivacity.

They then descended the staircase almost as noiselessly as a bright mist rolls down a hill.

Their collective appearance had left me on an impression of high-born elegance such as I had never before received.

I found Adele peeping through the schoolroom door,

Which she held ajar.

What beautiful ladies,

Cried she in English.

Oh,

I wish I might go to them.

Do you think Mr.

Rochester might send for us by and by after dinner?

No,

Indeed I don't.

Mr.

Rochester has something else to think about,

Said I.

Never mind the ladies tonight.

Perhaps you will see them tomorrow.

Now here is your dinner.

Adele was really hungry,

So the chicken and tarts served to divert her attention for a time.

It was well I secured this forage,

For both she,

I and Sophie,

To whom I conveyed a share of our repast,

Would have run a chance of getting no dinner at all.

Everyone downstairs was too much engaged to think of us.

The dessert was not carried out until after nine,

And at ten,

Footmen were still running to and fro with trays and coffee cups.

I allowed Adele to sit up much later than usual,

For she declared she could not possibly go to sleep while the doors kept opening and shutting.

Besides,

She added,

A message might possibly come down from Mr.

Rochester when she was undressed.

I told her stories as long as she would listen to them,

And then for a change I took her out into the gallery.

The hall lamp was now lit,

And it amused her to look over the balustrades.

While the evening was far advanced,

A sound of music issued from the drawing room,

Whither the piano had been removed.

Adele and I sat down on the top step of the stairs to listen,

And presently a voice,

Blend with the rich tones of the instrument,

Came to us.

It was a lady who sang,

And very sweet her notes were.

I listened along,

And suddenly I discovered my ear was wholly intent on analysing the mingled sounds.

I was trying to discriminate amidst the confusion of accents those of Mr.

Rochester.

And when it caught them,

Which it soon did,

I found a further task in framing the tones,

Rendered by distant inarticulate,

Into words.

The clock struck eleven.

I looked at Adele,

Whose head leant against my shoulder.

Her eyes were waxing heavy,

So I took her in my arms and carried her off to bed.