Джейн Эйр / Jane Eyre

“Oh, it’s no trouble! Your hands are almost numbed with cold. Leah, bring Miss Eyre something hot to drink, and a sandwich or two. Here are the keys of the storeroom.”

She was so kind and welcoming, it was as if I were a visiting lady, not the new governess. And I anticipated only coldness and stiffness. I felt rather confused at being the object of more attention than I had ever before received.

“Will I have the pleasure of seeing Miss Fairfax tonight?” I asked.

“Miss Fairfax? Oh, you mean Miss Varens! Varens is the name of your future pupil.”

“Then she is not your daughter?”

“No, no – I have no family,” said Mrs. Fairfax.

I wanted to know how Miss Varens was connected with her, but I remembered it was not polite to ask too many questions.

“I am so glad you have come; it will be quite pleasant living here now with a companion. It’s lovely here anyway, of course – this is a fine old house, and very respectable – but it can get dreary in the wintertime, especially when one is alone. Leah’s a nice girl, and John and Mary are good people, but they’re servants and keep to themselves. One needs someone intelligent to talk to! You know, all last winter, I swear not a soul came to the house but the butcher and the postman with their deliveries. I felt quite cut off. The spring and summer were more pleasant, of course, and then, just recently, Adèle arrived with her nurse. A child always livens up a house. And now you are here too, I’m sure I’ll be quite content!”

My heart warmed as I listened to her talking of friendship and conversation. I wished with all my heart that I could be as good a friend as she hoped.

“But I’ll not keep you up any longer,” she said. “It’s midnight, and I’m sure you’re quite exhausted. I’ll show you to your room. I’ve given you one near to mine, at the back of the house.[20] It’s quite small, but I think you’ll like it better than the big rooms at the front.”

I agreed I was very tired, and we went upstairs. Mrs. Fairfax opened the door to my room, which was small, but welcoming. After a long journey I was now at last in safe haven. I was too tired to stay awake any longer. I quickly unpacked my things, and within minutes I was in a deep sleep.

Chapter 12

When I woke up, I thought that a brighter era of life was beginning for me, one that was to have its flowers and pleasures, as well as its thorns and toils. I dressed myself with care. But I didn’t have any fine clothes. I wished, as I often had before, that I wasn’t so small and plain. I wished I were taller and prettier. Meanwhile, I was pale, little and had irregular features.

I left my room tidy and went downstairs. There was no one around, I walked through the hall, taking in the paintings, the bronze lamps and the clock. The front door stood half-open, so I stepped outside and across the dewy lawn into the sunshine, and looked up at the house. Now I looked respectable enough to appear in front of Mrs. Fairfax and my new pupil, who would at least not run from me with antipathy.

I descended the slippery steps, then I reached the hall. I looked at some pictures on the walls and at a great clock whose case was of oak curiously carved. Everything seemed so luxurious to me though I was so little accustomed to luxury. I looked out of the open window. A row of old thorn trees divided the grounds from the meadows all around – they must have given the house its name.[21] In the distance there were moors, and on a nearby hilltop I could see a little village with a church.

I was yet enjoying the calm prospect and pleasant fresh air and thinking what a great place it was for one lonely little dame like Mrs. Fairfax to inhabit, when that lady appeared at the door.

“What! out already?” she said. “I see you’re an early riser! So, how do you like Thornfield?”

“I like it very much.”

“It is a pretty place,” she said. “But I fear it will get out of order, unless Mr. Rochester resides here permanently.”

“Mr. Rochester!” I exclaimed. “Who is he?”

“The owner of Thornfield,” she said. “Did not you know he was called Rochester?”

“No. I thought Thornfield belonged to you.”

“To me? Bless you, child!” she laughed. “No, I’m just the housekeeper, the manager! I am distantly related to the Rochesters by the mother’s side, or at least my husband was. But this connection is nothing to me. I consider myself an ordinary housekeeper and him my employer.”

I felt better pleased than ever. The equality between her and me was real.

“And the little girl – my pupil?”

“She is Mr. Rochester’s ward. He asked me to find a teacher for her. He wants her to be brought up here, in – shire.”

As I was thinking about this discovery, a little girl, followed by her nurse, came running up the lawn. My pupil was quite a child, perhaps seven or eight years old, with a pale, small-featured face, and curls to her waist.

“Good morning, Miss Adèle,” said Mrs. Fairfax. “Come and speak to the lady who is to teach you, and to make you a clever woman some day.”