When Lucy hugged me good-bye, she slipped me a packet. “Letters from Ferndean,” she whispered. I shook Mr. Douglas’s hand and headed toward Alderton House with my charges.
I walked with the Juniors while Rufina, Adèle, Nettie, and Rose chased one another toward an Oriental plane tree that might have been one of the originals planted in the park nearly two hundred years ago. Under the last vestiges of its lacy leaf cover, the Seniors circled ’round and ’round until they felt dizzy. All was laughter and shouting until Nettie slipped and fell. She landed hard, twisting her foot under her. I raced to her side.
“I’m not hurt, miss. Not much,” said the lisping girl as I offered her my hand to pull her up. But once on her feet, the color drained from her face and she turned an ashen white. “Ow!” She flinched. “It pains me something fierce.”
Rufina rushed to her classmate’s side. “Nettie, put your arm over my shoulder. Adela? Get on her other side.”
Rose offered Nettie a quick kiss on the cheek, but no physical assistance.
For a while, Adèle, Rufina, and Nettie struggled across the grassy lawn of Hyde Park, but soon Rufina shook off the French girl’s assistance. “I know you are trying to help, but I think Nettie can hop along better with just one of us, and I am fine, honest I am. She does not weigh much. Not really.”
Rufina and Nettie managed without my interference. The two girls were roughly the same height, but Rufina’s endurance astonished me. Rufina was sturdy, but the strength she showed amazed me, as did her leadership, because under Rufina’s command the situation was quickly in hand.
Yesterday I doubted that any of the girls could have smothered Selina. I didn’t believe they had reason—and I doubted they had the strength. And I wondered that they would pull together as a team.
Now I knew differently, and the scars from the canings suggested a new reason for animosity.
A rather more disturbing thought: What if the girls had worked in tandem? What if two or more of them had pressed the pillow to Selina’s face? What if Selina had been the one responsible for canings—and they decided to put a stop to the torture? Especially since no adult was there to supervise them?
What exactly were my students capable of?
I didn’t have the luxury of pondering this overmuch. We arrived back at Alderton House just as Mr. Waverly was leaving. “Ah, Miss Eyre.” He emphasized my last name to send me a message: I know your secret.
“Mr. Waverly.” I nodded. “Run along, girls. I shall be there shortly. Rufina? Tend to Nettie, please.”
“How goes the investigation?” I waited until the front door had shut behind the girls.
He wasted no time on niceties. “Were you aware that another girl died at a school where Miss Miller was in charge?”
“They called it typhus, but the real killer was starvation,” I said, remembering our deprivations at Lowood.
“Indeed? Well, I have also learned that she slips out at night.”
This confounded me. Yes, I’d noted that she’d been missing for large portions of the day yesterday, but…could the long and narrow set of footprints have been Miss Miller’s, not Miss Jones’s?
“What do you intend to do?” I struggled to keep my voice calm.
“You shall see soon,” he said cryptically, removing his pipe and blowing out a stream of smoke. “I have one other person in the school yet to interview. That young footman. Confound him. He manages to scurry out each time I arrive. Someone must be assisting him in giving me the slip. But I shall catch up to him!” With that, he turned on his heel and left.
Purposefully holding myself erect, I made it inside the doorway before collapsing against the frame. What did his questions about Nan Miller mean?
After climbing to the first floor, I saw the Junior girls racing down the stairs from their dormitory after depositing their bonnets and exchanging their boots for mourning shoes. “Ladies,” I warned them sternly, “this is still a house of mourning.”
In the main classroom, Rufina situated Nettie with her foot propped up on a leather ottoman. Rose took her injured friend’s bonnet and cloak and went to borrow a rag from Cook. When she returned with the length of cotton fabric, I wrapped Nettie’s ankle as tightly as was comfortable.
With our injured party taken care of, I asked Adèle to collect the girls’ essays comparing bird beaks. While she picked up the papers, I wrote German vocabulary words on the blackboard and instructed the girls to use these words in simple sentences. Instead of correcting the girls’ assignments, however, I opened my letters and read:
Dear Jane,
I trust this missive will find you in good health. Mr. Rochester and little Ned are fine, as am I. It will please you to know that the master has followed Mr. Carter’s instructions to the letter. He has stayed recumbent more than I can ever recall, and I’ve known him all of his life, and he has been diligent about applying hot compresses to his eyes on a regular basis. It causes him no end of aggravation, but he has committed to improving his status. Meanwhile, he meets with workmen and hears their proposals for rebuilding Thornfield. I do believe the project has acted as a tonic on his psyche.
Ned’s appetite is good. Yesterday he smiled at me when I held him. I believe he will have your hair color and Mr. Rochester’s nose. It will be a fine combination; Ned is bound to grow up to be a handsome lad.
Enclosed you will find a letter from Mr. Rochester. Although I am more than happy to serve as his secretary, John and I came up with a plan. By scoring a sheet of paper with a stylus, we created raised guidelines, much like the lines printed on paper for students who are learning their letters. John nailed together a half frame, consisting of two pieces of molding set at right angles. A clasp completed his invention.
We presented this to the Master, who was quite pleased with our efforts. By securing the paper within the two-sided “frame” and using his sense of touch to follow the raised lines, Mr. Rochester is able to write to you without assistance, although I do suspect you’ll find his writing a touch wobbly.
I send you warmest regards.
Your humble servant,
Alice Fairfax
I smiled and tucked that letter back in my pocket. A lump formed in my throat as I read about Ned and Edward. How thoughtful of Mrs. Fairfax to work with John to create a contraption to help Edward write! My heart filled with warmth toward the old lady. How lucky we were to have Alice Fairfax in our lives! Oh, how I missed my family back at Ferndean!
On the second sheet I found a wobbly script, occasionally overlapping itself, but on the whole easy enough to decipher.
Darling Jane,
Oh, but I miss you, my dearest wife. Letting you go was torture to me! I feel like God reached down and ripped out my heart. I listen for your footsteps. I wait for your touch. I awaken in the night and feel such emptiness as I have never known.
I curse this blasted eye and my infirmities! A man should not be at the mercy of his deficiencies, as I am at mine. I pray we shall never be separated again, my darling Jane, for I tell you, I can scarcely breathe for the pain of missing you.
At least, I take solace in knowing that soon we will be together again!
I will come to London as quickly as I can, my sweetheart. I miss you so much!
Your loving husband,
Edward
I wiped the tears from my eyes with my linen handkerchief. Why was I here when he was there? What possible use could I be to these girls? For a long while, I turned the letter over and over in my fingers. It was a spider’s silk thread that bound me to my real life—and I worried that at any moment that thread might snap and I would find myself all alone.