Jane Eyre Austen (2 page)

He grinned stupidly now and clapped his hands, “A wonder to behold.  Tell me; when did you begin your employ?”

“This is my first day.” She clasped her hands in front of her, wondering how long they could go on like this.  The other man stood almost gawking at their interchange.

“I am well pleased; might I ask who brought you into my employ?”

“Mrs. Fairfax.”

He laughed again, “Then I suppose I am Rochester, and you are Ms. Eyre.  Good day, Clayton and I thank you for your help.”

“Good day, sir” she curtsied quickly and closed the door quietly as she left.

Clayton looked at Gray, “What the hell was that?”

Gray leaned forward, grinning, “That was an amusing diversion!”

Clayton scoffed, “She’s a little young, don’t you think?”

He scowled at Clayton’s admonishment, “Just a diversion, verbal sparring.”  He nodded at the papers, “Have you read them?” 

“Not yet.”  Clayton turned his attention to the papers while Gray mused about his new employee.  She had managed to entertain and surprise him.  Very unusual for such a young woman, but she was unusual.  Peculiar even.  Finally, someone who piqued his interest.  Clayton was right however, she was young.  He would have to find out how young.  And how the hell did Fairfax find her?

Mrs. Fairfax looked up expectantly as Jane closed the door.  “How did it go?” she asked warmly.

Jane relaxed, her shoulders shifting downward, and she let out a breath she had had been holding, “It’s working; there’s an HP 5500 with probably a bunch of copies of the document he was trying to print.”

She nodded, picked up the phone and held up a finger telling Jane to wait.  She spoke briefly to someone asking them to bring the copies immediately to her office.  Putting the phone down she smiled warmly again at Jane.  “Did he comment on your name?”

She rolled her eyes and grinned, “Yes. He’s decided to call me Ms. Eyre, as you are Mrs. Fairfax.” 

She laughed quietly, “I thought he’d get a kick out of it.  Did he have a conversation with you?”

Jane moved in front of her desk, “You are curious Mrs. Fairfax.  Yes, we enjoyed a verbal tango.”

“I hoped so Jane. His wife Elizabeth had a quick wit that kept him on his toes. I know he misses it.  He’s a good man, eccentric, but good.  I think you two will suit each other.”

“Thank you Mrs. Fairfax, that’s very kind of you.  I hope I don’t disappoint you, although I’m sure he’s used to sharper repartee.”

She shook her head, “Jane Eyre Austen, you have the wit of Wilde.  It would be nice for the rest of us to see him puzzling for a rejoinder for once.”

She grinned, saluted Mrs. Fairfax, “I shall endeavor to do my best.”

She skipped lightly outside and returned to the desk with Michelle who looked at her curiously.

“What?” Jane asked innocently.

“He scares the crap out of me; I have never, ever left his office without needing to go to the restroom to stop myself from crying.” Michelle admitted.

“Oh, I’m sorry.  He wasn’t exactly nice; in fact I think he inadvertently called me ugly.”  She puzzled over the Ms. Eyre comment and then laughed, “Oh well.  I’ll get him next time!”

Michelle’s eyes opened wide, “I’m impressed.  What do you mean he called you ugly?”

Jane rolled her eyes, “He called me by my middle name, Jane Eyre – she wasn’t known as a beauty.  In fact, for most of the book the nicest thing anyone says is that she’s plain.”

Michelle looked shocked, “You’re adorable!  How dare he!”

Jane shrugged, “He did refer to himself as Mr. Rochester though, also not known for his looks…”  She contemplated that for a moment.

“Ugh, don’t tell me Rochester and Eyre get together…” Michelle looked disgusted at the idea.

Jane blushed slightly, “Uh, well, yes but I don’t think that’s what he was saying.  There’s a Mrs. Fairfax in the book too.”  She scratched her head, “He’s not married?”

Michelle shook her head, “Wife died three years ago in childbirth.”

Jane’s mouth dropped open, shocked that could happen in this day and age.  She wanted to ask Michelle more but Clayton left the office.  He nodded at her and shook his head smiling as he made his way out of the office.

Michelle sat down and began explaining the organization of her office supplies.  Jane secretly wondered if Michelle was a little ADHD.

The office had planned a Baby Shower for Michelle, it was a pot luck affair scheduled for lunch.  Jane made individual mincemeat pies and spent the previous two nights furiously knitting a cap and teddy bear to give to Michelle on Friday.  Arriving early she brought in her present wrapped in tissue paper and tied with yarn, and set the silver tray with pastries next to it on the desk.

When Mr. Poole approached his office his head was down, and he was reading something on his phone.  He looked up and nodded to Jane and then stopped, glancing briefly in the direction of the items and appeared to be unhappy with their presence.  He gave her a questioning look and slipped his phone in his pocket.  She watched his demeanor change from curious to amused.

“Are those mincemeats?” he teased.

“Yes sir,” she answered evenly.

“And why are there mincemeats on your desk this morning Ms. Eyre?”

She held his gaze, “There is to be a party today sir, for Michelle.”

He looked confused, “Michelle?”

Her eyes widened in wonder.  How could he not know who Michelle was?  She nodded slowly, “Yes sir, the woman whose position I am filling while she is on maternity leave.”

Understanding washed over his face followed by concern, “When is this party?”

“It is a luncheon.”

He nodded, still having a look of concern on his face.  He turned toward her office and he heard him call out, “Fairfax, a word if you please.”

Jane waited nervously for Mrs. Fairfax to call her in and tell her she was fired for bringing mincemeats.  Instead nothing happened.  Michelle spent the day visiting friends and she caught up with Jane right before lunch.  They headed to the conference room together and Michelle was sweet enough to introduce Jane to everyone there.

Jane chatted with (you just said she was introduced to everyone!) a few people but found herself sidling over to Mrs. Fairfax.  She smiled warmly at Jane, and Jane noticed Mrs. Fairfax’s plate had three of her mincemeat pastries.  Jane grinned, “You must really like mincemeat.”

Mrs. Fairfax shook her head, “Oh no, I was instructed to make sure I saved these for Mr. Poole.”  She grinned.  “He’s planning on sticking his head in as soon as he’s done with his conference call.”

“That’ll scare the crap out of Michelle.” Jane whispered.

There was a sudden chill behind her back and she turned; Mr. Poole stood behind her.  She blushed immediately, “Hello sir,” and prayed that he hadn’t heard her.

“Ms. Eyre, Mrs. Fairfax,” he grinned wickedly, “I have come to taste the fruits of my peasants’ labors.”  He picked up a mincemeat and stuffed it into his mouth.

One eyebrow rose and Jane said quietly, “I should wonder you don’t choke, sir.  Are you sure your peasants haven’t poisoned the fruits you acquire?” 

He swallowed and grinned even more, “My dear Ms. Eyre, surely you are too sweet and innocent to conceive of such malice.”

Mrs. Fairfax laughed and left to get him a drink.  Jane watched her leave and slowly released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.  Relaxing, she couldn’t help but grin, “Sir, I believe I told you I strive to honor the names of the women after whom I am christened. However there may be more of Lizzie Borden in me than Jane Eyre.”

His eyes opened wide and his head tilted back as he laughed loudly.  The room silenced, shocked by his reaction.  Mrs. Fairfax returned and handed him a drink; she was grinning stupidly.  The room noise slowly began to return to its normal hum but Jane still felt the eyes on her.  A blush creeping up her cheeks, she turned her eyes down.

“Lizzie Borden would not be so shy, I dare say,” he observed.

She flicked her eyes to his amused gaze and fought to regain her composure.  “Perhaps it would be an excellent defense, to seem so fragile and yet have malevolence in your heart.”

“I daresay Ms. Eyre; you are incapable of any cruelty, in thought or act.  Do not try to deny it.”  He winked at her, “Your mincemeats are delicious.  Pray, what gift did I bring for Michelle, Fairfax?”

She flicked her eyes toward him and then back to Michelle who was opening gifts, “$200.00.”

He nodded, “I suppose I shall have to replenish petty cash?”

She waved him away, dismissing the idea.  Jane giggled, she seemed to simply ignore his eccentricity and he didn’t care. 

Mrs. Fairfax breathed, “That’s beautiful Jane. Did you make that?”

Jane’s smiled warmly at Michelle and she answered Mrs. Fairfax, “Yes, ma’am.” 

Michelle came over to hug her, “This is so precious; thank you Jane!”

“You are very welcome Michelle!” Jane hugged her back.

Mr. Poole reached for the items, eyeing Jane carefully, “A cable knit hat?  Did you make the bear as well?”  He smiled warmly at Michelle and handed the items back to her.  She handed them around, as she had done with the other presents, all of the guests making the appropriate cooing noises.

His eyes flicked to her, “Did you knit them both Jane?”

“Yes, sir.”

He grinned, “Quite accomplished.”

She closed her eyes and sighed, knowing that rolling her eyes in front of Mr. Gray Poole or Mr. Edward Rochester would result in an immediate dismissal.  She murmured “Thank you, sir,” and kept her eyes forward, attempting to watch Michelle intently.  He made her feel like a small school child when he complimented her that way.  He was teasing her, clearly not professional, but at the same time he wasn’t being forward.  It left her feeling unsettled, and completely baffled.

He reached into his pocket and turned away. She watched him press his phone to his ear and bark, “Poole,” as he left the room.

Mrs. Fairfax nudged her, “I don’t think I’ve seen him laugh in years Jane.  Thank you for that.”

The blood drained from her face, worried she had overstepped her bounds.  She nodded, “You’re welcome.  But I’ve done nothing.”

Mrs. Fairfax watched her carefully, “Jane, you’ve done everything.  You are a breath of fresh air.”

She shook her head, “You don’t think… I mean do you think he thinks I’m flirting?”  Her voice was urgent and she could feel the blush return to her cheeks.

Mrs. Fairfax laughed, “No, no, not at all.  You are just challenging him.  He needs that.”  She sighed, “He was different before Lizzie died.  He laughed so much more.”  Her eyes saddened and she shook her head, “It was good to hear him laugh.”

Jane relaxed slightly. She hadn’t been flirting.  Had she?

Saturday morning Jane’s eyes opened and she recognized the scent of shortbread baking.  She threw her hair back in a ponytail, pulled on her shorts and a t-shirt and quietly descended the stairs.  Entering the kitchen she grinned. Today must be a good day; she spied her mother in the kitchen baking muffins and fresh squeezed orange juice in pitchers.

“Good morning mother.”  Jane kissed her cheek.  “What can I do to help?”

“Set the table dear.”  She smiled sweetly, “will you be going to town today Jane?”

“Yes ma’am, might I get something for you?”

“Yes, please.  I would like some fresh fruits if they are in season.  And roses, I don’t like the arrangements that have been sent for this evening.  We need at least three dozen to do a proper centerpiece on the mantle.”

“White?” she asked, knowing the answer.

Her mother smiled and nodded yes.  “Jane, please be back by noon; there is much to be done.”

“Yes, mother.”  Jane leaned over and gave her mother another kiss on the cheek.  After setting the table she grabbed her purse, a muffin, and headed out the door.  It was seven am. She should have enough time to drive to the city, go for a run, and hit the farmer’s market before all the goods were purchased.

The air was chilly, even for a late summer day.  She plugged in her ear buds and turned on Nine-Inch-Nails.  It was early enough that she could probably run a five mile loop.  She ran a half mile, stretched, and then started running again.  When she passed Gray Poole she knew he didn’t recognize her.  Her hair was up; she was dressed so differently, no makeup, and out of their normal element.  He on the other hand was immediately recognizable.  She was shocked that his body was so toned; he must use weights in addition to running she mused.  His scowl was still present though. She grinned as she kicked forward leaving him in her dust.  As she approached her third mile fatigue began to set in and she welcomed it, falling into a steady beat, ignoring the pain and instead feeling the music push her forward.  He caught up with her and when he glanced over she saw the spark of recognition.  She slowed her pace slightly, letting him get ahead of her, too tired to verbally spar with him.  Or perhaps just too nervous, she mused.  Suddenly in addition to the burning muscles, she now had butterflies to contend with.  She watched as his powerful legs carried him forward.