Page 44 of Jane Deyre

At first, I think of pretending to be a cat like Pilote, but then something else comes to mind. I hold out my floral dress and curtsy.

Adele’s face lights up. “I know. You’re a ballerina!”

“Nope.”

My face scrunches as I think of another clue. I pull off a shoe and hobble around the room.

Adele puts on a thinking face. “Cinderella?”

“Close.” If only I had a tiara.

Before I can offer up another clue, Adele takes another guess. “A princess?”

I high-five her. “You guessed it!”Mr. Rochester’s princess.

My charge smiles brightly. “You’re good at pretending, Jane.”

Her words strike a chord of sadness. My whole life I’ve wanted to be something I’m not.

I look down at my watch. It’s almost twelve thirty.

It’s time for lunch.

Time to stop pretending.

Men like Ward Rochester don’t want plain Janes like me.

Given that it’s still pouring, I assume our formal lunch will be taking place in the dining room. And where I assume Adele, who beat me downstairs, has ventured.

When I get to the castle-size dining room, Adele is nowhere in sight. In fact, the only person there is Ms. Fairfax. Seated alone at the massive antique table that could easily accommodate twenty. She’s reading a book and looks up at the sound of my footsteps. She visibly pales at the sight of me in Edwina’s floral dress. And her eyes flutter. Almost like she’s doing a double take. She clears her throat and composes herself. The color returns to her face.

“Excuse me. Can I help you?” There’s no trace of wanting to help me in her glacial voice. I adjust the cashmere sweater I’m wearing tied around my shoulders. Why is it that I get a chill anytime I’m in a room with her?

“Uh, um... I’m here for lunch. I was told lunch is served every day at twelve thirty and was mandatory.”

In the dark, dreary room with the rain battering the windows, she looks more sinister than ever. “You are on your own today. Mrs. Rochester is not feeling well and is taking her meals in her room. And because Grace cannot use any of the kitchen equipment on account of the power outage, it’s impossible for her to prepare a sit-down lunch.”

“Have you seen Adele?”

“I believe the little imp is in the kitchen. Now, please leave; you’re interrupting me.” She casts her eyes back down at the book and flips a page.

I don’t move an inch. She senses my presence and looks up again. Her testiness morphs into anger. Her eyes are narrowed, her lips pinched.

“What part of ‘please leave’ don’t you understand, Jane?”

I hold my own, trying not to wilt under her impenetrable gaze.

“Ms. Fairfax, do you by chance have a key to the front door of the guesthouse?”

Her brows lift. “What makes you think that? The only person who would have one is Grace.”

“She doesn’t.”

She scoffs. “That stupid, forgetful mute is losing her marbles.”

Her insult affronts me, but I let it go. “Well, since it’s missing, could you please arrange for a locksmith to make a new one. I actually may need a whole new lock... with a deadbolt.”

She glowers at me. “Mr. Rochester already mentioned it to me. But it’s going to have to wait until tomorrow because no one can get into the property with the front gate not in service. I’ve heard we won’t have power until the evening at the very earliest.”