Page 79 of Jane Deyre
“Not really.” That’s an understatement. It was awful. I was ignored and ridiculed. Having a reason to leave it was a relief.
She looks up at me. “Is Papa going to marry that lady?”
My heart clenches. “Who do you mean?”
“You know, that lady with dark brown hair and the pretty white dress.”
My throat constricts. “What makes you ask that?”
“I saw them kissing.”
A sick feeling grips my insides. “You were downstairs?”
Adele giggles. “Please don’t get mad at me, Jane. I snuck out of bed and wanted to see the guests. I peeked inside the great room... nobody saw me... until mean old Ms. Fairfax found me.”
I need to get my mind off Mr. Rochester. Offher. The grass can’t compete with the trees. He cannot care for me as I am not of his kind. Wealthy. Educated. Successful. And beautiful. A spasm of anguish seizes my heart.
“Jane, would you read me a story?”
Maybe a distraction will take away the pain. “Sweetie, why don’t you pick out a book?”
With a bright smile, she jumps out of the bed and returns with a book.Cinderella.
Snuggling with her, I open to the first page and begin to read it aloud, trying my best to act out all the characters. The parallels to my own life are uncanny. I am poor Cinderella... Ms. Fairfax my evil stepmother... Blanche Ingram my wicked stepsister... Grace Poole, my mouse-y friend... Edwina my fairy godmother... and Ward Rochester my prince. My prince has come, but I will never have him. Edwina, unlike Cinderella’s fairy godmother, can’t wave a magic wand and transform me. Turn me into a princess and give me a happily-ever-after. By the time I’m halfway done, tears choke my throat. One slips out from the corner of an eye onto the glossy illustrated page. The scene: One minute past midnight. The carriage transforming back into a pumpkin. The coachmen into mice. And Cinderella back to her poor peasant self. Her regal gown replaced by rags.
Timing is everything, right, reader? More tears appear.
Adele looks up at me, genuine concern in her eyes. “Jane, why are you crying?”
I brush away my tears with the back of my hand. “I feel sad for Cinderella.”I feel sad for myself.
Adele throws her arms around me and flashes a cheery smile. “Don’t feel sad for Cinderella. She marries the prince and lives happily ever after in a big, beautiful castle.”
Myprince is going to marry someone else. The regal and beautiful Blanche Ingram. And if Ms. Fairfax has her way, I will be living again in a dump. Cleaning soot and cobwebs. Nursing a broken heart. Growing old alone.
With all my effort, my heart heavy, I manage to finish the story. The words “the end” resonate with me. A different kind of closure. One that fills me with hopelessness and heartache. I have reached the end of my romantic fantasy. Reality sets in. Mr. Rochester belongs to another.
Adele’s eyes wax heavy. She can barely keep them open.
“Jane,” she says, her voice soft as a whisper, “would you stay with me until I fall asleep? And say goodnight to Speedy and Stripette before you go back downstairs?”
Tucking her in, I stroke her silky hair. “Of course, my sweetness.” I plant a kiss on her forehead, and not bothering to kick off my heels, I lie down next to her. Clutching her Yoda doll, she falls asleep quickly, her soft snores soothing my soul.
I lower my tear-soaked lashes.
The next thing I hear are muffled chimes coming from the grandfather clock in the great room. Nine of them. Gah! I fell fast asleep for an hour.
I bolt to a sitting position. Then, jump out of Adele’s bed and head back downstairs.
Dreading having to return to the dinner party.
Dreading having to sit next to Mr. Rochester.
Dreading having to see him again.
When I get downstairs, the dining room is empty. Except for Grace who’s clearing the table. Gathering plates and cutlery. Stacking them in her hands. The poor woman looks exhausted.
“Grace, let me help you.” Giving her no chance to respond, I pick up the remaining plates, including Mr. Rochester’s. Then extinguish all the candles and feel the little flames burn out in my heart.