Jane Eyre Austen (8 page)

“I’m sure yours is virtuous, and it is yours I desire.”

She paused a moment. In her heart she was screaming,
ok, take my tongue, take my body
, but she waited as her head regained control and finally said, “But sir, if you wish it to remain virtuous than you shall allow me to excuse myself.”  She wondered was he really asking her to kiss him, or was he just playing? 

“No, my lady, I shall not allow your leaving, but sadly I am not your master and therefore cannot command you to do as I fancy.  If your inclination is to make haste then do so, for at this moment your virtue is in peril.”

“No, sir, I disagree most fervently, for you would never put any part of me in peril. This I know absolutely.”

“Don’t tempt me. I am still a man.”  The threat in his tone answered her question. He was not playing.

“An honorable one,” she whispered.

“And you are a child, playing with fire.  I fear if you continue this game you will find your fingers singed.”  He finally released his gaze, freeing her. She breathed in and relaxed.

She arched a brow, “Ah, I see you no longer wish to play this game.  I shall take my leave then, and bid you good night, sir.”

“Good night sweet and virtuous Jane. I hope I shall always find you in that state.”

She stood up but then hesitated, “Do you really, sir?  For I fear it would be a very solitary life for me to continue in my present state.”

He groaned rolling his eyes, “You test my will, Ms. Eyre.  I should wonder if you are still young enough to put across my knee.”

She chuckled, “Would you punish me for my virtue’s sake, or my wicked tongue?”

“I would punish you for my pleasure.” 

Whoa, what?   Jane’s breath hitched, but then she rallied, pressing him further, “And yet, as you so aptly observed, you are not my master, and therefore have no say in my punishments.”

“Would you have me as your master?  An old man, ten years your senior, more likely to bore you to death than give you the entertainments of youth that you deserve.”

“Is that how you see yourself, sir?  A fine pair we make then, an old man and a plain girl.”

“You are not plain. There is beauty in your youth, and your wit is remarkable,” he added drily.

“Ah, but the beauty of youth is not perceived by the young.  This beauty does not last. It fades and then I will simply be plain, and old.”  She laughed, “And youth does not enjoy my wit. They find it caustic and peculiar.”

She placed her hand lightly against his arm, “Good night then, sir. My wicked tongue and virtuous youth take their leave.”

“Good night, Ms. Eyre. I thank you for your delightful company and discourse.”  He took her hand and placed his lips gently on her finger. Her thumb gently caressed his as he let her hand drop.  She curtsied and left, a small smile hinting at her lips.

She could have flown home, she was so giddy.  Her head warned her though that she was indeed playing with fire.  He had already asked to court her, and while it was implied it would be an arrangement, he clearly didn’t feel that way now.  Or did he?  When she entered the kitchen she heard her mother yelling, a highly uncharacteristic sound coming from her normally docile mother. 

“Mother, why are you so agitated?” she asked quickly.

“Susannah has lied to me Jane!  She has taken the tea towels and hidden them from me and refuses to admit it.”

Jane looked over at Susannah who looked stricken with fear.  She swallowed, “Mother, please, I will deal with the tea towels.  Have some tea and calm yourself. It is not good for your nerves to be in such a state.”

“You sound like Susannah!  My nerves suffer because of your treatment to your mother!”

“Please Mother, I am sorry.  Might I pour you some tea so you can rest?” Jane pleaded.

Her mother sighed and pointed a finger at Susannah, “Beware, I am watching you.  You might find yourself without employment if you don’t keep a hold of your tongue.”  She turned to Jane, “You may bring me tea in my room.  I am quite done with this house this evening.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jane curtsied and watched her mother leave.  She turned to Susannah and whispered, “Holy cow!  How long has she been like that?”

Susannah was already turning on the tea pot. Jane went to the cabinet for her mother’s sleeping pills and was crushing one to add to her tea. 

Susannah whispered, “Just the last twenty minutes.  It was like a switch was flipped.  She was washing the dishes and then suddenly started searching for towels.  When I pointed to the drawer, it was like she didn’t recognize the towels there. She started yelling about the linens, ‘what have I done with her linens!’”

“Should we take her to the hospital?” Jane asked.

Susannah shook her head, “James called the doctor. He’ll let us know what he says.”

Jane brought the tea and shortbread cookies into her mother’s room.  She was sitting beside the fireplace working on a cross stitch when Jane set the tray down.  She kissed her mother’s cheek but said nothing, afraid to start a fight.

When she returned to the kitchen Susannah and James were hugging. James looked up.  “I’ll bring her in tomorrow.  Jane, if she gets violent…”

Tears stung at her eyes, “I know James, I’m so sorry to ask you to do this.”

“I love your mother too, Jane. We both do.  I’ll call you after we meet with the doctor.”  He looked at her and sighed, “We should keep her sedated until then, ok?”

She nodded, “Yes, of course.”  She leaned against the kitchen counter. “Their anniversary is coming up.  Maybe the stress…”

Susannah nodded, “Sure.  That’s probably all it is.” 

Jane nodded gratefully, “I’ve got it from here. You guys enjoy your evening.”

Susannah hugged her quickly, “Call us if you need us.”

James added, “We could stay here if you want.”

“No, no, that’s ok. You need some space.  She’ll be asleep in twenty minutes and I’ll keep her sedated all evening.”

They nodded and left. Jane headed upstairs to change into sweats and listened carefully outside her mother’s door.  When she heard the cross stitch hoop fall to the floor, she went in, scooped her mother up, and settled her in bed.

She sat by the fireplace watching her mother sleep peacefully, amazed at how her evening had begun and ended.  She wondered if she was going to go insane like her mother. Was there some kind of test?  God knows she wouldn’t want to burden future generations.  She groaned, disgusted at her own callousness. Her mother was not a burden. 

She crawled into her own bed, setting the alarm for three and half hours-- her mother’s next dosage.

After a restless night, Jane did her best to hide the circles under her eyes before returning to work.  During lunch she called James from the conference room and was shocked at the news.  The doctor felt her mother had suffered a stroke and probably had had several small strokes over the past few years.  It explained the crazy behavior.  The doctor had admitted her to the hospital and was running tests to be sure.  James said she freaked out and they had to sedate her. She was barely able to keep her eyes open now. 

Jane hung up and sat dazed for a few minutes when the door opened and Mr. Poole walked in.  He gave her a surprised look; she stood up hastily and exited, passing several suits along the way.

“Jane!” He called after her.

She stopped, turned slowly and walked back, her eyes cast down, afraid to look at him.

“Jane, what is wrong?  Have I upset you?”

She met his gaze immediately, reassuring him, “My mother is ill. It’s nothing I’m sure.”

He relaxed and his eyes softened, “I’m giving the presentation you prepared. It’s excellent work, Jane. You give my words life.”

She returned his smile, nodded and left.  She had no energy left to be witty or smart.

Jane returned to her desk to work on a project for one of the in-house lawyers.  His notes, however, were not as logical as Mr. Poole’s and his final conclusion bothered her.  She spent an afternoon researching his project and came up with what she thought was a better solution and emailed him.  Disguising her suggestion as a question regarding formatting, she was disappointed but not surprised that he never replied.  She talked to Mrs. Fairfax about it.  Mrs. Fairfax was certain that Mr. Poole would figure it out and that it was best she didn’t follow up with more questions.

She was working late, finishing up the project when Mr. Poole came in.  It was the first time she’d seen him since the conference room and her heart leapt to attention.

“Hello, Jane. How is your mother?” he asked.

“Well enough,” she managed to say.

“Jane, really. . .” His voice was soft, informal.  No games today she thought. 

“She probably had a stroke; she’s in the hospital on Coumadin.” 

“Why are you here then?” he asked.

She turned to the computer and saved the file.  “I was on a roll, wanted to finish this.”  She looked at him and smirked, “Mom’s not able to handle the hospital situation. They’ve got her sedated.”  She shrugged, “It’s difficult to watch.”

“I’m sorry, Jane.  Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, thank you.  I appreciate it.  I won’t be able to accompany you on Friday, though. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.  She should be home in a couple of days, assuming…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.  Tears began to sting her eyes and she just shook her head, hoping he would just leave before she lost it.

“Assuming what, Jane?”

She blinked back the tears and plastered on a fake smile, “Assuming she’s not so batty she’s violent.”  She pulled her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk. She wanted to get out of there quickly, but he stood there, looking at her with pity. 

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t look at me like that, Gray.  I hate pity.  Good night.”

He sat frozen on the edge of her desk watching her hasty retreat.  Shocked at the reality of her life and surprised at her candor.  She called him by his first name. 

Last week he had caught himself seducing her and tried to put an end to those thoughts.  Throwing himself into work, he figured his curiosity would soon pale, like it always did.  But it didn’t.  Every night he relived every word spoken between them.  He rubbed his lower lip; he knew tonight he would relive this scene again.  It didn’t matter if they were playing a game-- jousting verbally, trying to outwit each other. It only mattered that it was her.

She received a text from Ben asking her to lunch that day.   Jane texted back that if he was around at noon, she’d treat.  She didn’t ask about his meeting.  Ben was in security. The reason people contacted him was for information or protection and it was always confidential.

She dressed more contemporary than usual, a purple dress she had found in Notting Hill with matching shoes and purse.  She pulled her hair up in a French twist and wore more makeup than usual on her eyes.  She wanted to look different, not like the pitiful creature she felt herself to be.

Ben appreciated the effort; he came in at eleven forty-five that morning and stopped at her desk.  He grinned, “You look amazing, as always, Janie.”  He motioned to her for a hug and embraced her.  His nose nuzzled her hair and he growled, “Jesus, Janie, you’re giving me a hard on!” 

“You’re an ass,” she warned, pushing him away.

He whispered, “I want your ass.”  He looked back at her, grinned and brushed her cheek gently, “I love it when you blush, Janie.”

Clayton appeared in the hallway, clearing his throat to announce his presence.  Jane felt herself turn crimson and glared at Ben who looked incredibly pleased.  She buzzed Mrs. Fairfax and sent Clayton in. 

Jane let Mrs. Fairfax know she was going to lunch and followed Ben silently onto the elevator. 

Ben put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.  “Do you like Poole?”

Her eyes forward, she shrugged, “I enjoy talking with him.”

“That’s not what I asked, Janie.”

She slid her eyes toward him, “Please tell me this isn’t why you wanted to take me to lunch.”

They ordered lunch and sat down in a booth. Ben sat next to her, close enough that his thigh was leaning against hers. 

He spoke quietly in her ear, “Janie, will you ever spend the night with me?”

She laughed, but answered quietly, “No.”

“No?  That’s it? Not ‘I’m sorry’, not ‘I’d love to’, just ‘no’?  You know you want to…” He gave her a seductive look that wasn’t entirely lost on her.

She raised an eyebrow, “No. I might be curious, but no, I don’t want to.”  She took a bite of sandwich and then held his gaze. “Ben, you love someone else-- really, truly, once in a lifetime love. Why the hell would you screw that up?”