Page 44 of Zenith
17
The following morning, an unexpected visitor arrived at Thornfield.
“I have come to see Jane. Is she here?”
The French accent echoing through the gallery was unmistakable, and I darted to the balcony and leaned over the railing. Adele stood in the middle of the foyer, obviously having pushed past a startled Alice when she’d opened the front door.
They made a fine pair, both waifs in stature, each as fairylike as the other. Adele had a suitcase propped beside her and a bag slung over her shoulder, and it looked to be more than a fleeting visit. Had she left her job at The Gossiping Shrew to come here? What for? Had Rivers harassed her? I was desperate to know.
“Adele!” I exclaimed, pushing away from the banister and running down the stairs to greet her.
“Jane!” she cried, dropping her bag onto the floor and rushing to meet me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. Once, her familiarity would have put me on edge—for we had only known each other a short time—but Adele Varens threw herself into everything and everyone she came into contact with, it seemed.
“I have much to tell you,” she said, pulling away. “I think I have something that may help you if you want to hear it.”
“Jane?”
I turned at the sound of Alice’s voice and beckoned her closer.
“Alice, this is Adele. I met her when I was in London.”
I explained the connection, and to Alice’s surprise, Adele kissed her on both cheeks, declaring, “Any friend of Jane’s is a friend of mine.”
Heavy footsteps on the stairs drew my attention, and I saw Edward had come to see what the commotion was. His eyes were narrowed at the sight of a stranger, and his shoulders tensed.
“Jane,” he said, his voice rumbling through the gallery. His command was clear. I was to introduce her at once and explain her intrusion. I raised my eyebrows at him, and he nodded, noting he understood his tone was not welcome.
Grasping Adele’s hand, I directed her to face him. “Adele Varens, this is Edward Rochester. He owns Thornfield.”
She paused, turned, and studied him from head to foot, her left eyebrow rising.
Finally, she spun around and declared, “Jane, you did not tell me about him! What a fine specimen!”
Edward glowered at her back, and I suppressed a laugh. I could see his patience was going to be tried a great deal in the future, and it had nothing to do with Blanche Ingram. I wondered how he got on in Paris at all if he did not like her flair for the finer things—meaning, the finer men—in life.
“I did not tell you a great deal of things, I’m afraid,” I told her.
“Yes, I know, but didn’t I say to you I did not care? You can tell me it all later if you wish.” She shrugged and turned her attention to the gallery. “This place needs a woman’s touch.”
Edward’s scowl deepened, and I shooed him away. Alice fetched us a set of keys, and I was left with Adele to take her bags upstairs. Once we were alone, Adele sat me on the end of the bed, determined to show me what had brought her all the way to Thornfield.
“I know you warned me to stay away, but I could not,” she said, taking out her mobile phone. “I was so angry when you told me Rivers had laid his hands on you!”
“Oh, Adele, you didn’t get into trouble, did you?”
“Not at all!” she declared with a huff. “I am very good, you know.”
“Good at what?”
She winked suggestively. “Spying. I went to the studio to confront Rivers, but I found he already had a visitor. Jane, I could not believe my luck! It was a woman named Blanche, and when I heard them discussing you, I took out my phone and recorded them. I thought it might be useful.”
She held up her phone and pressed her finger on the video, bringing it to life. I watched in horror as the conversation she’d captured between Rivers and Blanche played out. They argued bitterly about his failed attempt at strangling me, his misplaced love, and the revelation of my fortune. It was all there. The admission, the motive…
“Oh, Rivers…” I said with a moan.
“His actions say more about him than you,” was Adele’s reply. “He was weak-willed.”
