Page 32 of Euphoria
No doubt she was imagining the wedding would take place on the back lawn before summer was over. Archways of red roses, rows of chairs with ribbons and sashes, a fine red carpet for Queen Bee to walk upon in her immaculate white dress, a thousand guests in fine suits and dresses, a twenty-piece string orchestra, and a ten-tiered wedding cake dusted with gold and Swiss chocolate.
“She has connections, wealth, and strong family ties with the Rochester family,” she went on. “And just look at them! Aren’t they perfect together?”
I didn’t answer her question, knowing anything I said would taste like razor blades.
I could just leave, I thought.If the sight of them is causing me so much pain, I could tender my resignation and find a new position far away from here.
But what would that achieve? I’d spent so much time and effort on the hotel, regardless of any praise I might have hoped to receive from Mr. Rochester. I couldn’t throw it all way.
Turning my attention back to Blanche, I disregarded the master of Thornfield and mulled over what I knew about her. I’d been privy to her whims as a member of the staff and had observed her in her natural habitat.
She was very showy, using her beauty and fine taste to set herself apart as Queen Bee of the pack, but she was not very genuine. She spoke about her dear friends like they were desperate hangers-on when their backs were turned, she belittled the staff, treating them like second-class citizens, and I had not once heard her pay a compliment which was not for her own benefit.
Her mind was poor, her heart cold, and she was not original in the slightest. With the way she pranced about, I wondered if a free thought had appeared in her mind at all. She repeated phrases and opinions like a parrot but had never once formed a complete judgment on any topic that was entirely her own.
No wonder Mr. Rochester was as unhappy as he seemed the night I first met him if this was the caliber of people he surrounded himself with. Perhaps it was arrogant of me to judge Blanche so harshly, but she hadn’t granted me any concessions in the slightest.
What goes around comes around, or so they say.
Turning away from the party, I took a step toward the house, but Alice called out to me, halting my stride.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To the office,” I replied, facing her. “I have work to do.”
She cast an inquisitive eye over me. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”
“The sun and my pale skin are at odds, I fear,” I lied. “I dare not stay out too long. Besides, while I have a spare moment, I have some work to complete on the retreat.”
“Good thinking,” she said, not picking up on my heartsickness. “Go while you have a moment to breathe!”
Knowing Alice loved to watch these fancy parties unfold and hear the gossip about who was on the outs with whom, I left her to gaze longingly at the finery and escaped into the office where I was at peace once more.
The guests were only staying for another fortnight, and then they would disperse and go their separate ways until summer came around again. Perhaps next year, they’d spend the entirety of their downtime in Morocco or Spain. Even Greece was a favorite with the rich and famous.
Once he was rid of them, I figured Mr. Rochester would go back to Europe—or wherever he spent his time tending to his business affairs—with Blanche on his arm and an impending wedding to plan. Then I would be left in blessed peace!
As you know, reader, it was a blow every time I saw them together, but if they were gone, then I could begin the rebuilding of my heart and the walls that housed it.
Please let them be married elsewhere.
“Jane, there you are.”
I glanced up from my work and trembled at the sight of Mr. Rochester, the sound of my name on his tongue reviving old wounds.He was addressing me?
He brought the sweet scent of summer with him, and I raised my eyes as I drew in a breath. I studied the lines of his chest through the white fabric of his shirt before turning away.
“Am I needed, sir?” I asked formally.
“I needed a reprieve,” he admitted, lingering in the doorway.
I didn’t reply, not that I knew what he wanted to hear, anyway.
He looked over his shoulder into the gallery before moving into the room. “May I ask you a question, Jane?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, not willing to deny my employer.
“I would ask your opinion of Blanche.”
