A World Far Away – Part II

This entry is part 2 of 11 in the series (Vol 4) A World Far Away

Ξ From the Journals of Edward Rochester – 1811-1815 Ξ

  ~ It was now or never. I resolved on the spot that Edward Fairfax Rochester—and no other—must be, would be, the winner of the field. ~

Carter sat in silence, pondering all I had told him. The coach rattled steadily onward.

“And now, James. Recall that I spoke to you about treachery. But I was ignorant of just how deep it ran until Jonas Mason died more than two years later. I am sure you well remember that year, heralded as it was by Catherine Fairfax’s death in the carriage accident.”

He nodded. “It was a tragedy indeed, a mere six months before her own wedding. But everyone suffered that day, Edward. Especially your brother. His own injuries were extremely serious. I feared he would never use his hand or arm again—”

“My brother,” I replied with vehemence, “was an arrogant fool whose reckless disregard for everyone but himself killed her. But I never heard about it, until that first time you wrote to me after my father died. He had commanded me to forget all about Catherine Fairfax, and I’m sure it never occurred to him to notify me of her death, banished as I had been to that world so far away.”

“You left the country so soon after your mother’s funeral. I thought you might write and let me know to where, but I never heard from you.”

“I was angry and ashamed, desperate to conceal everything about my situation. I wrote to Henry within mere weeks of my marriage, begging him to keep it a secret. I described everything in disgusting detail so he would have no choice. How he prized his stellar reputation! But the consequences of the marriage he had arranged for me were far worse than he imagined, I’m sure. If word got out, it would be a blight on the family name that could never be eradicated. Most willingly did he comply with my request.”

“Catherine, poor girl, lingered for several hours after the accident.” Carter shaded his eyes at the grim memory. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Edward, but there was nothing I could for her. And Rowland was yet unconscious, his arm broken and mangled…your father was beside himself.”

“No doubt,” I replied with contempt. “But did Henry tell you nothing about me? Did you even ask?”

“Of course I did. He told me you had left England to seek your fortune, but nothing more. He spoke not a word about your marriage or where you had gone. I asked him to tell me so I might write to you, but he never answered me. It wasn’t until your brother’s death almost a year later that I learned you were in the West Indies. But what is this treachery you spoke of? What fresh duplicity did Mason’s death uncover?”

I smiled grimly. “Certainly my father never intended me to know all the intimate details of the sordid arrangement he’d made. It’s almost laughable now, but it was Henry himself who’d revealed them, and in a most peculiar way. Jonas Mason had been dead perhaps a year, when one afternoon, Lucias, the old butler, informed me that a gentleman—a lawyer, in fact—had come to Alta Arboleta, and he was looking for me.”

~ A World Far Away ~ End Part II ~

© 2016 by R.Q. Bell and Imaginality Press; All rights reserved.

A World Far Away – Part I

This entry is part 1 of 11 in the series (Vol 4) A World Far Away

Ξ From the Journals of Edward Rochester – 1811-1815 Ξ

Carter sat in silence. Before he could ask any more questions, the post boy announced our coach was about to depart. I tossed a coin onto the table and we left the inn.

Outside, the gloomy weather did not help my mood. A drizzling, gray mist obscured the morning sun as we hurried across the yard. Pilot raced ahead and leapt up into the coach, followed by myself and Carter. The door was slammed shut, then we lurched forward and rumbled on our way.

 “Edward, what was the voyage like?” He broke the silence after we had bumped a few miles along the road. “Did you know? I had planned to ship out on the HMS Magnamine as ship’s surgeon not long after you departed England, but my father’s death prevented me.”

“The Royal Navy? I had no idea you had a pirate’s heart, James.”

He laughed. “The chance for adventure, not to mention the steady wage, were irresistable. Had my father lived, I don’t believe I would have remained behind.”

“It’s a mercy for me that you did not go. As to my own voyage—you know I am not much of a sailor. The crossing to the West Indies lasted a month, and I was sick for the whole of it, I can tell you. Three days out from port, we ran into a terrible storm. Nearly dead with seasickness, exhaustion and hunger, now I thought I should be drowned as well. A most decidedly unpleasant experience, I can tell you.”

“And yet you survived the passage—twice.”

“Yes, but would that I never had gone to Jamaica at all. There I was, washed up on the shores of a foreign land, in the home of a complete stranger, Jonas Mason. Resigned to my fate, I fully expected, nay hoped, to be introduced to my bride-to-be that very day. Yet she was no where in sight.”

He looked surprised. “Why ever not?”

“At first they insisted I recoup my strength, for the voyage had been difficult. But I soon rose from my sickbed, assuring Mason and his son that I was fit and ready. Yet for another week, they prevented even a glimpse of her.”

“Indeed?”

“They intended our first meeting should be in the grande ballroom of the governor’s mansion in Spanish Town, at a gala affaire hosted by the colonial governor himself. Mason was one of the wealthiest men on the island. His connections and influence reached into every corner of its society. The ball was to be the highlight of the season.

“To what end?”

“Oh, there were devious hearts at play, James, and for a long time, I did not realize just how treacherous. It had been more than two weeks since my arrival, but the introduction was continually delayed, the litany of excuses being first my illness, then Miss Mason must overcome her “low spirits.” Was I to interpret this as her reluctance respecting our engagement? I was anxious to acquit myself well, but I became hesitant, wondering if she was even desirous of the match. Yet my impatience to begin was difficult to suppress. I had come there to marry her, for God’s sake! Ought I not be accorded the courtesy of an introduction before the wedding day? But her father would not be moved. I must await the ball.”

“Perhaps it was the simplest way to proclaim the match,” remarked Carter thoughtfully. “Were you not the guest of honor, after all? Did not the idea of such a magnificent welcome please you?”

“Oh, if that had been their intent, perhaps. It was a very grande affair, to be sure. But Carter, what do you think? When I strode into that ballroom, my hands were sweating. I had plucked up my courage and screwed it to the sticking place, convinced I was ready to make a go of it. But after traveling thousands of miles, enduring weeks of seasickness, tropical storms, and illness, did I find a woman already courted, won and waiting at the top of the ballroom for me? I did not. Just another wretched fool among many, I was there with half a dozen others that evening, most of whom like me, were foreigners: an Italian, a Spaniard, even an American from Virginia. And they had been enticed by the same inducement: matrimony to a rich man’s daughter.”

“But what your father had told you…”

“…all lies, from beginning to end. Everything I thought I knew about the arrangement was nothing more than a tapestry of falsehoods. I had blundered into an arena, and of course there could be only one left standing. Which one of us would it be? Had I been rational and taken a moment to consider, to think things through, I should have realized what was going on.”

“And yet, whispered Carter. “You remained.”

“I thought only of my father’s anger, of Rowland’s smug satisfaction should I return to England a loser, vanquished in the sport of courtship. How he would ridicule me for my incompetence! For my entire life, James, I had been a failure in my father’s eyes. When I stood in that ballroom, watching the others crowd around her, contending for a smile, in a flash I knew with more certainty than ever I felt in my life that this was it. This one chance, tossed to me like a bone to a starving dog, was slipping through my teeth! It was now or never. I resolved on the spot that Edward Fairfax Rochester—and no other—must be, would be, the winner of the field.”

~ A World Far Away ~ End Part I ~

© 2016 by R.Q. Bell and Imaginality Press; All rights reserved.

The Road to Exile – Conclusion

This entry is part 11 of 11 in the series (Vol 3) The Road to Exile

Ξ From the Journals of Edward Rochester – 1809-1810 Ξ

Our coach had stopped at a wayside inn to change horses, so Carter and I went inside to warm ourselves and have a cup of tea.

He shook his head. “I would never have believed Miss Fairfax capable of such an idea.”

“No man with any pride would tolerate the infamous arrangement she suggested, even if he was the most profligate creature ever to walk the earth. It is entirely hypocritical of course, but such is our nature, Carter, that we must vanquish all. A divided conquest is no conquest at all.”

“But why leave the country?”

“Catherine would have been merciless in her persistence, had I remained in England. Rowland had snatched away the only thing in the world I ever thought would be mine. I was so blinded by my hatred of him, I would one day give in to her. Gladly.”

He sighed. “I am sorry, Edward.”

“And yet I must give him credit for preventing the worse agony of knowing her faithlessness. She had proclaimed her intention of dishonoring her vows to him. Might not she one day do the same to me? And let me assure you—it is an ordeal I would wish upon no man.”

“And so you left the country…it must be Jamaica, then?”

“All I knew was that I must go away from her presence immediately.”

“So far away?”

“My mother was dead, Carter. There was no one left who cared for me. Since the night of the party, the echo of my father’s challenge rang so in my head that I could not be rid of it! For years I had begged to be given my due, to prove myself worthy of his respect. He had thrown the gauntlet of Jamaica at my feet.…and it stuck in my vitals, haunted me day and night, til I knew I must act. Otherwise, it would only confirm his belief that I was weak and had no resource in myself. The only path I could see lay across the Atlantic. So, I took it.”

~ Exile ~ Conclusion ~

© 2016 by R.Q. Bell and Imaginality Press; All rights reserved.

The Road to Exile – Part X

This entry is part 10 of 11 in the series (Vol 3) The Road to Exile

Ξ From the Journals of Edward Rochester – 1809-1810 Ξ

 ~ “You still love me, Edward. Why will you not say it?” ~

I shook my head. “Be silent, Catherine. Speak no more…it was never meant to be.”

I retreated to the door, but she came closer, eager to press her point. Her eyes glowed with excitement.

“Oh, but it can be, Edward, if you do not leave England. I will be mistress of Thornfield, yes, but I am also mistress of my own heart, and I tell you truly. It has never belonged to your brother.”

It shocked and thrilled me to hear such a declaration. My brother’s bride-to-be, standing before me, confessing it was not him whom she wanted—but me.

“How can you say such things?” I whispered. “You would marry a man knowing you cared nothing for him, and never could? It is despicable.”

“Whatever do love and marriage have to do with one another, Edward? You are so naïve! My marriage to your brother will please my father, and it will please me for I shall get what I want.”

“The Thornfield estate,” I said quietly.

“I have loved it since I was a little girl! And though I shall not be the wife of a baronet, who knows what may happen? My father’s father was raised up to the rank. Enough money and the proper influence, why not your brother?”

“All our plans, our schemes were nothing but lies, every one of them?”

“No, Edward,” her voice softened again. “Not entirely. I do care for you, truly I do.”

“And yet knowing that you would marry my brother.”

“Your brother will have what I want.”

“You cannot want me very much, then.”

“Oh, but I shall have you nevertheless, shan’t I?”

“How can you say so? You will be another man’s wife.”

“I have no illusions that Rowland will be faithful to me. Why should I pretend to be faithful to him? Shall I remain at home, pining away while he’s off to London having his fun? Certainly not! Do not look so shocked, Edward. Of course I shall do my duty: one or two offspring, and I am done. But I’ll no longer share his bed, nor he mine. We shall take up with those who are more pleasing to us, that is all. It will be the usual marriage of convenience. His fortune, my name.”

I stood with my back to the library door, poised to leave as she closed the last distance between us and took my hand again, the fire of defiance in her beautiful eyes.

“Catherine, why are you doing this?”

“Why, Edward?” Softly, she pressed her lips in my hand, then placed it on her cheek. At her feverish touch, all the jealousy in my heart against Rowland rose up before me like a viper, and I despised him for everything he had, for everything he would take from me. I seized her and pulled her to me, then kissed her desperately, wanting to shout my triumph to the world.

When our lips parted, she whispered, “It is you I have loved, Edward…only you. Kiss me again.”

She tried to pull me closer, but I pushed her away.

“No!”

I turned to the door. The hatred I felt for Rowland was stronger than ever. But a woman who could play us one against the other? How could I ever have thought that I loved her?

“This can never be.”

“You do love me, Edward!” Her voice rose in desperation, yet still she had the self-command for one last attempt. She lifted her chin. “You may not have spoken the words, but your actions have said it!”

“Love does not behave in such a manner. You will excuse me, for I have a duty to our guests.”

“Don’t go, Edward, please. I do not wish it!”

“And yet I shall. You have made your choice, Catherine Fairfax. I leave you to it.”

I yanked open the door. As I strode away, I heard her hard, yet frantic voice cry out, “Edward Rochester, one day your heart, too, will be divided between that which is right—and that which you love!

~ Exile ~ End Part 10 ~

© 2016 by R.Q. Bell and Imaginality Press; All rights reserved.

The Road to Exile – Part IX

This entry is part 9 of 11 in the series (Vol 3) The Road to Exile

Ξ From the Journals of Edward Rochester – 1809-1810 Ξ

I struggled to maintain some composure, while attempting to sound resolute. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Miss Fairfax, but I have not decided I shall go.”

She smiled, then drew a gloved, slender finger down the sleeve of my coat. “I am not at all disappointed, Edward. Why would you think so?”

I shivered. I told myself she was only showing kindness and sisterly affection for a grieving brother. I should tell her to release me. But I said nothing. Her touch was warm, and welcome.

“You should change out of this wet coat, Edward. It is quite damp from the weather…you will catch a chill.”

It had rained off and on all morning, and the fresh scent of the spring shower clung to every garment, her veil, her hair. I stared into the hearth, trying to ignore the increasing awkwardness of our situation.

“Yes, yes, you are right…I should go upstairs directly, for I am sure I am unfit to appear before our guests. Father has no mind to attend to any such duty, I can assure you.”

“Please…do not go, Edward.”

“Why not? You have just admonished me that I may become ill from standing here in these wet clothes, and now you prevent me?”

“I was speaking of your departure from England,” she whispered. “Do not go. I do not wish it. Surely, from all you have said, you would rather remain at Thornfield.”

“What are you saying, Catherine? Why should you wish me to stay? You are betrothed to my brother. You will be his wife in two years.”

“Yes, I will,” she replied, with the bearing and air of self-importance befitting a baronet’s daughter. “Your brother was my choice for a husband, but tell me.” She suddenly seized my hands. “Can you say the same for yourself? This journey which has been arranged for you? Is it truly what you want? To marry a woman whom you have never seen? Have you nothing to say about it? I don’t believe you want to leave England.” She lifted her chin. “Tell your father you have no wish to go.”

“And why would I do that? It’s all arranged.”

She nodded. “Yes. But must you go so far to find a wife? Is there not one in England who will suffice?”

“You do not understand. I have a duty to my family, to my father…my mother. It is what she wanted. I cannot sully her memory by acting against her wishes.”

I looked at Miss Fairfax again, suddenly mistrustful of her questions. The softness in her voice had vanished. Her tone had become sharp, and penetrating. I felt like a witness before a judge. “But why should you care whither I am bound? As Rowland’s wife, you will one day be mistress of Thornfield Hall.”

She smiled again. “Yes, I shall be. But Edward, have you not ever wished that circumstances had been different?”

“What do you mean?”

“Had you been the eldest son, all this would be yours!” She let go my hands and held her arms wide, pirouetting before me, almost giddy. “Then it all would be perfect, in every way.”

“But I am not the eldest son. Rowland will inherit. And you shall marry him. Is that not enough?”

She turned and threw back her head, and laughed. Clear and ringing, it was full of mockery and triumph. She came towards me and again took my hand then held it to her face. When she spoke, her voice was hard and full of impatience.

“Oh, Edward, why can you not admit you still have feelings for me? I know that you do.”

I lurched backwards, suddenly desperate to put some distance between us. “Do not speak so! You are to marry another man…my brother, for God’s sake!”

“Then it is true!” Her laughter rang in my ears. “You still love me, Edward. Why will you not say it?”

~ Exile ~ End Part 9 ~

© 2016 by R.Q. Bell and Imaginality Press; All rights reserved.

The Road to Exile – Part VIII

This entry is part 8 of 11 in the series (Vol 3) The Road to Exile

Ξ From the Journals of Edward Rochester – 1809-1810 Ξ

~ Go to Jamaica. Be that Englishman! ~

Carter was astonished. “Jamaica was your father’s idea? You never told me that.”

“To what end, James? I was furious with Henry, that he thought I would simply acquiesce to his proposal?”

“You had no intention of going then?”

“No.”

“And your mother’s opinion of the plan?”

I shook my head. “I am almost ashamed to tell you, but I presumed she was in agreement with my father about it. Rarely did she contravene his will. Why should this occasion be any different? I saw her later that evening, and curse me for it, but I never asked her. God, what an arrogant fool I was! Full of pride, anger, resentment. After the events of that evening, I had no intentions of looking the fool while Sir Basil give his daughter in marriage to that devil, Rowland.”

“And yet,” replied Carter, “you did go to Jamaica. What changed your mind? Your mother’s death?”

“The day of her funeral, something happened for which I was completely unprepared. We had returned to the house from the memorial service at the little church near the front gates of Thornfield Hall. Henry shut himself away for the remainder of the afternoon, and I retreated to the library, that refuge wherein I had spent so much of my childhood with her.

***

I sat near the hearth, staring at the place where she used to sit composing letters, sewing, writing in a diary, or directing my early schooling. The aura of her presence still lingered, giving me comfort as it had when I was a boy.

“Edward?”

I looked up. It was Miss Fairfax. Robed in black, a vapory veil still covered her face. I stood at once.

“Kit…Miss Fairfax. Thank you for coming.”

A pang of jealousy pricked me as I thought of her and Rowland.

“How could I not come, Edward?” she said with genuine sympathy. “The moment we received the dreadful news, Father insisted.” She strode across the room towards me. “Of course, I would have been here on any account. I am so sorry about your mother. Do, accept my sincere condolences.”

She held out her hand, still sheathed by a silken black glove.

“Thank you.”

I pressed it warmly with gratitude, but did not immediately release it. Nor did she make an effort to withdraw it from me. Then, as though it had stung me, I suddenly let go.

“You…you have seen Rowland, then?” I asked, trying to suppress the sudden agitation I felt.

Catherine removed the veil. Her dark eyes were looking at me quite intently. “I thought…I believe he is with the other guests.”

She drew near. “I was with him at the graveside, next to Father. Did you not see me, Edward? I was standing in your shadow.”

“Were you? I am…sorry for not acknowledging you. I suppose I must have seen you. Do, forgive me. I…I have too many things on my mind to be of much use to anyone.”

Coming closer still, she said, “Yes, your head is full of many plans I am sure, with your own departure forthcoming.”

“My departure? Oh, yes, of course—”

I stopped short, suddenly wary of revealing to her any specifics about the arrangements my father had made for me. “What can you know of it?”

“Only that you are to journey to some warm and exotic destination halfway around the world and there, take to yourself a wife.”

“How do you know this?”

“Rowland told me.”

“Indeed?”

Rowland! How had he learned of Henry’s little scheme? I remembered the argument we had at Christmas. Father had sent him from the room before revealing any details of the plan for Jamaica. And then like a thunderbolt, his final words before returning to the party struck me: You will enlighten him I trust, Father…about everything.

That bloody bastard! I thought he was referring to his engagement with Miss Fairfax, but no. He had known about the Jamaica venture all along! His influence with Henry was powerful, and no doubt his persuasions had been pivotal to the final decision.

My hatred flamed afresh, but I must not let the demon show itself here. Not now.

And especially, not in front of her.

~ Exile ~ End Part 8 ~

© 2016 by R.Q. Bell and Imaginality Press; All rights reserved.

The Road to Exile – Part VII

This entry is part 7 of 11 in the series (Vol 3) The Road to Exile

Ξ From the Journals of Edward Rochester – 1809-1810 Ξ “You will hold your tongue,” said Henry, in an ominous tone. “He is a Rochester, and your brother.  Show some respect.” “Perhaps you will compel him to do likewise?”    He frowned. “While it is sometimes true that mutual affection has little to do with … Read more

The Road to Exile – Part VI

Ξ From the Journals of Edward Rochester – 1809-1810 Ξ

“What in blazes is going on in here?” Henry Rochester demanded imperiously.

“Everyone in the house can hear your shouting from here to the front door, for God’s sake. If you think I will allow you to embarrass your mother in front of her guests, you are gravely mistaken. Keep a civil tongue, or I swear, I’ll rip them out of your heads.”

Rowland yawned. “It is the usual discussion, Father. Edward again is chafing at the lot of a second son.”

I glared at him. “Tell him the truth. We were discussing Miss Fairfax.”

“Yes, I suppose that is more accurate,” he replied coolly.

Henry interrupted again. “What has Miss Fairfax to do with this?”

“Edward believes I have usurped his place, he having doted on her since their childhood and all. Or so he says. The imminent announcement of our engagement has ruined his plans forever.”

Henry’s soft laughter cut me to the heart. “You’re not serious, Edward? You, wed Miss Fairfax?”

“And why not Miss Fairfax?”

“She’s a baronet’s daughter.”

“What should that mean to me, to her, if we love each other?”

“You cannot seriously be asking me that question.” replied Henry with irritation.

“I tried to tell him the same thing, Father,” interrupted Rowland, who was beginning to sound like the toadying fifteen year old he had once been. “He refuses to see reason. He is so besotted by love,” he sneered. “Or his desires of a more carnal nature—”

“You lecherous fiend!” I lunged toward him.

“Enough!” cried Henry, stepping between us. He turned to his eldest. “Rowland, leave us at once.  See to our guests.”

“But Father—”

“You heard me. I will not have the two of you ruin this evening. Now get out.”

Rowland glared at me. “Oh, very well. As usual, I shall miss out on all the fun. But I trust, Father, you will enlighten his understanding? About everything?”

“Go!” retorted Henry, his temper flaring again.

Rowland obeyed without another word. After his departure, we stood in silence for a time. I was hardly aware of my father’s presence as I stared at the closed door of the library, the image of Rowland’s impudent grin burned in my mind. The sounds of the party drifted down the hallway, but it seemed like a world far away, a world in which I would never have a part. 

Abruptly I asked, “What did he mean, ‘enlighten my understanding’?”

“Sit down, Edward.”

My heart went cold. “Is it true, then? They are engaged?”

“Yes.”

“But how can this be? Why was I not told?”

The phrases from Catherine’s letter echoed again in my thoughts. Edward, you must come home for Christmas…there is something I must tell you… And this evening, the words she uttered not two hours ago. I understood them now. “It is too late…”  Oh, God. Why Catherine? Why did you not tell me?

“How long?” I whispered. “How long have they been engaged?”

“Only very lately,” replied Henry. “I was not aware they were fond of each other.”

“They are not!” I exclaimed. “Kit…Miss Fairfax, has never looked at Rowland in that way. He is more than twelve years her senior. She is but sixteen. What can her father be thinking to consent to such an unequal union?”

“The wedding will not take place for another two years at least, perhaps even three,” replied Henry quietly. “I would hardly call it unequal, however. The Rochester estate is a highly coveted prize. Why should not the baronet consent to the match?”

I was becoming agitated again. “He can hardly be acquainted with her. He is so much older. They have nothing in common. She is but a girl—”

I stopped, knowing that was not true. She was no longer the merry little child who had been my playfellow, but was a young woman, fresh, mature and so very aware of the world.

“Rowland does not love her. He’s a selfish bastard and well you know it.”

“Hold your tongue,” muttered Henry ominously. “He is a Rochester, and your brother.  Show some respect.”

~ Exile – End Part 6 ~

© 2016 by R.Q. Bell and Imaginality Press; All rights reserved.

The Road to Exile – Part V

Ξ From the Journals of Edward Rochester – 1809-1810 Ξ

Rowland stood before me in an attitude of such self-righteous arrogance it was almost as if I was ten years old, enduring his humiliations all over again. This time, however, I was not that child, but my own man, and my fingers twitched to be around his throat.

“Already engaged?” I fell into a chair, reeling from the shock and could only ask weakly, “What gives you the right? Miss Fairfax and I…you know very well that she and I were meant to—”

“I know no such thing, little brother. You and Miss Fairfax? Don’t be absurd.” He looked at me with mock sincerity. “Ah. You actually believe it, don’t you? That she wanted to marry you?”

I leapt out of the chair, my anger doubled at the sight of his conceited grin, and I half-choked on the reply. “It has always been understood between us, that is all. It is to be this Spring, after I finish school. Dammit, she will be my bride, not yours!”     

His voice rose to match my increasing anger. “No, she will not! Your idiotic notion is preposterous, Edward. You have created your own little dreamworld. She never had any such intention.”

“Of course she did! We were always together. We grew fond of each other, and talked of it so often. I simply believed it was meant to be.”

Again, he smiled with that withering look of judgment. “You talked about it, did you? Since you were children? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“There is nothing ridiculous about it. It is…as I said.”

“Miss Fairfax is the only daughter of a baronet, for God’s sake. She would never marry a second son who can bring neither rank nor fortune into such a marriage. Your wild fancies have carried you away for so long you have ill-considered the consequences of such impropriety.”

He laughed as I pushed past him and stumbled to the mantlepiece. Every feeling of bitterness and hatred of him I ever harbored from childhood rose up in my throat. I had nothing to say to these words: they were not new to me. For as long as I could remember, he had hurled them at me daily, repeating them incessantly until this reproach of my inferior position became a vague sing-song in my ears.

“You are insufferable,” I shouted helplessly. “For once, I would possess what you wanted, but could not have. And that idea galls you, doesn’t it?”

“You believe Miss Fairfax is what I want?”

“You have said it yourself, Rowland. You are engaged to her. Why else would you do it?”

He came closer. “You are far too trusting of women, Edward. Miss Fairfax is a pretty enough girl, and when she comes into her full womanhood, will be quite comely. To be sure, she will provide me pleasure enough, for awhile at least. But you see Edward, I understand men like Sir Basil. He is interested in connections, wealth, power. The Rochester estate will bring all of those things, and the Rochester estate will be mine.” He laid special emphasis on that last word. “But yes, you are right. A most delightful benefit that accrues to me is that our marriage will prevent you from having her.”

“Catherine could never love you!”

“Oh, let me assure you. Love has very little to do with this. Besides, she is very much her father’s child. You have been so smitten by your fantasy you cannot see that. But, it matters not, for we both shall get what we want out of the bargain.”

“You’re nothing but a heartless bastard, pretending to do your duty to our father all the while you enjoy rubbing my nose in it!”

“Pretending to do my duty?” His voice rose again, for I had touched a nerve. “You are so pathetic Edward, do you know that? You have ever been so, always groveling after me to go somewhere you did not belong.”

“The blood that flows in my veins is just as much Rochester blood as yours. And I will not relinquish the rights that bestows upon me.”

“There can be no rights where you are concerned: birth order, my dear little brother, is everything.  Casting aspersions on my paternity will gain you nothing.” He shrugged, then added, “Providence raised me above you. Just accept it.”

“Providence? You have never acknowledged Providence in your life, yet now its invocation suits your purpose to justify what you have done?” I took a step towards him then muttered, “Let the authorities then consign me to His judgment after I have wrung your neck!”

How I loathed him and everything that would be his and could never be mine, for God help me, he was right. He was right! And I despised him all the more for it.

He stepped back, a genuine look of surprise on his face. “You would do it, wouldn’t you?”

Just then the library door banged open and in strode our father, glowering at us both.

“What in blazes is going on in here?”

~ Exile – End Part 5 ~

© 2016 by R.Q. Bell and Imaginality Press; All rights reserved.

The Road to Exile – Part IV

Ξ From the Journals of Edward Rochester – 1809-1810 Ξ

He removed her cloak and tossed it to me.

“See to that, will you, Edward?” And off they went, arm in arm down the hall and into the drawing room where I spied a group of guests gathered round the pianoforte singing Christmas carols.

I followed them into the house and stopped in the hallway. Fury like a volcano rose within me as I watched him hover amidst a cluster of family friends, entertaining them with a ready joke or a compliment, especially to Miss Fairfax, who appeared indifferent rather than pleased with his unctous charms.

He had swooped out the door and snatched her from my arm as a hawk captures its frightened prey. How often had he simply taken what was mine? How fond he was of boasting that one day Thornfield would belong to him, and when that day came, I had best look to myself.

Well, not this time. I would not retreat before his belligerence now or ever again. He must feel the sting of my wrath this once. It had been building for years, and it was time to let the demon loose! 

I stormed into the drawing room and there he stood, already another glass of Christmas punch in hand, Miss Fairfax at his side, amidst a small gathering, familiar faces all: Captain Dent and his wife, Mariah. Arthur and Mrs. Eshton, and George Lynn, recently returned from St. James where he had been knighted.

I stood before my brother simmering with rage.

“See to this yourself, you bastard.” I threw her cloak at him.   

“Well, well, what have we here, little brother?”

Neatly, he snatched it out of the air, not spilling a drop of his drink. Everyone in the circle around us abruptly ceased their conversations. Miss Fairfax looked at me pleadingly, her face shaded by a strange expression, a mixture of injured pride and embarrassment.

“Edward, please,” she whispered. “It is too late.”

“I should have done this a long time ago.” The indignation and rage had risen within me and would not be silenced. I faced him. “I will speak with you alone, Rowland. Now.”

His eyes widened in surprise, I suppose at my audacity to call him out. But I would brook no refusal, and he knew it. Would he comport himself as a gentleman? Would he show the courtesy due our mother on this occasion? For an instant, I feared I had unleashed the devil in him once again.

“Well, well,” he laughed. “The cub has claws after all. If you will excuse me,” he bowed to the others. “It seems my little brother desires an audience.”

He signaled for a servant, who came immediately and took the cloak. He drained the remainder of the drink in one draft. “Shall we?”

I bowed to take my leave of our friends. As we made our way through the sea of guests, I felt strangely exhilarated, thrilled by their amazement as a murmur of gossip rippled through their ranks, and all eyes were upon us as we walked out of the room. Among those who watched was our father, Henry Rochester.

A few moments later, I burst into the library, half expecting my mother to be sitting at her accustomed spot at the large table in one corner, writing letters or correcting my ciphers. But that table had been removed years ago, when I had been sent away to school. She never again used this room to attend her daily business.

A fire burned well in the hearth, and the air was warm, but the room somehow felt cold and lifeless. Rowland’s booted step behind me broke the hush of silence. I was in his face at once.

“What makes you think you can get away with it this time?”

“Get away with what, Edward? Do, speak plainly.”

“Don’t pretend to be ignorant. You know very well that I speak of Miss Fairfax. I will know your intentions.”

“My intentions?”

“How do you justify the presumptuous and intimate nature of your greeting? It was nothing but disrespect and impudence from beginning to end. Her father is a guest in this house!”

“Oh, Sir Basil above all men could have no objections. And of course he is here. He has come at our request.”

“Your request?  What do you mean?”

“Just this,” he smirked. “Sir Basil will proclaim it to the world tonight. Miss Fairfax is to be my wife. What do you think of that?”

~ Exile – End Part 4 ~

© 2016 by R.Q. Bell and Imaginality Press; All rights reserved.