Page 78 of Jane Deyre
The dinner party is still in full swing. I’m relieved Max is now sitting in Mr. Rochester’s spot, but now I have to contend with Ward sitting next to me. He keeps his distance; doesn’t look at me. Not as much as a sideways glance. It’s as if there’s a block of ice between us. I can’t ward off (reader, no pun intended) the chill in my bones. Edwina is now reminiscing about her illustrious life. Blanche sucking up to her. I would glom on to her every word if I didn’t feel so glum. So distraught. My meal is cold, and I’m glad when Grace removes my plate. The glazed duck barely touched, she looks at me with concern. She knows something’s wrong.
As she carts away the plate, a sweet voice sings in my ears.
“Jane, I can’t sleep.”
My eyes flit to the entrance of the dining room. Standing in the archway is Adele, clad in her pajamas and clutching her Yoda doll.
“Who’s this?” asks Blanche.
An enchanted, very inebriated Edwina replies. “My dear guests, please meet my lovely goddaughter, Adele.” She makes eye contact with her and smiles. “Come here, darling.” Her face bright, Adele bounds over to Edwina and hugs her.
“Your goddaughter?” Blanche looks shocked. “There’s no mention of her in your memoir.”
“That’s because the dear child unexpectedly appeared at our door a few weeks ago. Make that only two.”
For the first time this evening, Blanche doesn’t say a word. Her eyes dart to Mr. Rochester, who’s now sitting diagonally across from her. His countenance is frozen except for a slight tic in his jaw. She gawps at him.
“Ward, you have a daughter?”
Before he can respond, another voice enters the room. Not anything like Adele’s sweet one. Ms. Fairfax. Seething. Standing at the entranceway, stiff as a board, every muscle in her spindly body clenched. Her narrowed eyes bounce from Adele to me.
“I’ve been looking all over for this impetuous child. I told her to go to sleep, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“I wasn’t tired,” retorts Adele. “You didn’t even tuck me in or read me a story.”
Ms. Fairfax gives her a malicious look and then continues to address me. “It’snotmy job. I have far more important things to do. Like run this household.” She hardens her gaze at me. “You’re the nanny. Put her to bed. Make her go to sleep. And don’t think you’ll be paid one cent extra. It’syourjob!”
She does an about-face and disappears.
Blanche throws backs her head again and laughs her haughty laugh, but is unable to latch her hand on to Ward’s upper arm since he’s sitting to the right of me. The laugh goes on for what seems like forever until she straightens up and looks at me derisively. She imbibes some champagne.
“You, Jane Deyre, are such a joke. You’re acting as a nanny waiting to become an actress. Too funny.”
She sets downs her champagne. With another toss of her head and a sardonic smile.
Indignation whips through me. Without another word, I rise and tread over to Adele. Keep my head high. Take her hand. “C’mon, honey, let me put you back to bed.” I usher her out of the room. I feel her father’s searing gaze on my back. I look over my shoulder. His eyes meet mine and I turn my head away. Before he can see my tears fall.
Screw him. Screw Blanche.
The only person that truly matters to me is Adele.
Five minutes later, Adele’s back in her bed. I sit on the edge of it next to her. She plays with my pearls.
“Jane, you look so pretty! I helped Papa pick out your new outfit.”
“You did?”
She nods. “Uh-huh. The dress and your new shoes. Where did you get your pretty necklace?”
From your papa. And the pearl earrings too.No, reader. That’s not what I tell her. I make up something fast.
“Um, uh, I’ve had them for a while. I just haven’t had an occasion to wear them.”
“You should wear them all the time!”
Truth, reader: I’m never going to wear them again. Maybe I’ll hock them. Bring them to a pawnshop. Make some extra money.
Adele breaks into my despondent thoughts. “How was the party? Was it fun?”