Джейн Эйр / Jane Eyre

“There are no more,” she said, and putting it into my pocket I hurried back to Lowood. I had to be back by eight, and it was half-past seven already. I decided to open the letter in my own room.

When I got back, there were things to do. I had to sit with the girls during their hour of study; then it was my turn to read prayers; to see them to bed. At last, I had supper with the other teachers. Then I had to wait again until my inevitable companion Miss Gryce fell asleep, hoping she would do it before our candle burned down to nothing. There still remained an inch of candle when I heard her snoring. I now took out my letter; the seal was an initial F.; I broke it; the contents were brief.

“If J.E. possesses the acquirements mentioned, and if she possesses a satisfactory character, a situation can be offered her, where there is one pupil, a little girl, under ten years, and where the salary is thirty pounds per year. J.E. is requested to send references, name, address, and all particulars to the direction: Mrs. Fairfax, Thornfield, near Millcote, – shire.”

I read it again and again. The handwriting was old-fashioned and uncertain, like that of elderly women. Mrs. Fairfax! I saw her in a black gown and widow’s cap, a model of elderly English respectability. Thornfield! that, doubtless, was the name of her house: a neat orderly spot. – shire was seventy miles nearer London than the remote county where I now resided. I longed to go where there was life and movement. It would be a complete change at least.

Here the candle went out.

My plans could no longer wait. Having sought and obtained an audience of the superintendent during the recreation, I told her I had a chance to get a new situation where the salary would be double what I now received (for at Lowood I only got 15 pounds per year), and I needed references from Mr. Brocklehurst, or some of the committee. She was glad to help me. The next day she spoke with Mr. Brocklehurst, who said that Mrs. Reed must be written to, as she was my guardian. Mrs. Reed’s reply was brief, I could do as I pleased as she had no desire to interfere in any of my affairs. Right after that, formal leave was given me to better my condition if I could. I also got an assurance, that as I had always conducted myself well, both as teacher and pupil, at Lowood, which was signed by the inspectors of the institution.

I sent all the references to Mrs. Fairfax, and got that lady’s reply, stating that she was satisfied, and fixing that day fortnight as the period for my assuming the post of governess in her house. I busied myself with preparation immediately.

On my way to Thornfield I was thinking that a phase of my life was closing tonight, a new one opening tomorrow.

Chapter 11

It had been a long day. The road took sixteen hours, then I waited for two more hours in the George Inn at Millcote, feeling anxious and distressed as there was no one to meet me. I asked the waiter about Thornfield but he did not know the place. But some time later he returned and called me by my name. “Person here waiting for you,” he added.

I jumped up, a man was standing by the open door, and in the lamp-lit street I dimly saw a one-horse carriage. He hardly spoke, he put my luggage on the roof and helped me in. As I asked him how far Thornfield was, he answered that the road usually took about an hour and a half.

I was again alone with my thoughts. I concluded that Mrs. Fairfax was not very rich and felt better as I had never lived amongst fine people but once, and I had been very miserable with them. I wondered if she lived alone except this little girl. If so, I was sure I would get along with her. At least, I resolved to do my best. At Lowood, I had taken the same resolution and I had kept it.

The roads were heavy, the night misty. About two hours later the driver got down and opened a pair of gates. We continued up a long drive and stopped in front of the house. Candlelight glowed from one window at the front; the rest were dark. I climbed out of the buggy with my suitcase, and went to the front door, where a maid was waiting.

“Will you walk this way, ma’am?” she said, and I followed her across the large, square hallway with high doors all round.

She opened a door and showed me through. I couldn’t have hoped for a happier scene. The room was small, lit by candles and warmed by a crackling fire. In an armchair sat a plump old lady in a black dress, a cap and a shawl. She was knitting, and at her feet, close to the hearth, curled a contented-looking cat. It was Mrs. Fairfax, just as I had imagined her – except that she looked much friendlier than I had hoped.

“How do you do, my dear?” she said. “I’m afraid you’ve had a long journey – John drives so slowly – and you must be freezing. Come to the fireside.”

“Mrs. Fairfax?”

“Yes, that’s me,” she said. She got up and conducted me to her own chair, where she helped me with my shawl and bonnet strings.

“Please, you do not have to…”