Page 40 of John Eyre

Enjoy being a relative word.

John had yet to hear either of them laugh, though he was pleased to see them running and chasing each other, and even more so to observe the brightness in their formerly dull eyes.

He set his hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “At this rate, you’ll soon be frozen through. Another half an hour, and then we’ll return to the schoolroom.”

The boys trotted off again. John watched them go, satisfied that they understood his meaning.

Mrs. Rochester didn’t wait long to resume their conversation. “You speak of love that can move mountains. Can a gentleman love in such a way? I’d have thought such strength of emotion only existed in novels and poetry.”

John turned his attention back to her. “I can’t speak for other gentlemen. All I know is that I’ve never experienced it myself. But you…” His gaze drifted over her mourning black. “I suppose you felt such a love for your husband.”

“Why on earth would you suppose that?”

“Mr. Fairfax said he died a year ago. Yet you’re still in full mourning. Another lady might have transitioned to shades of gray or lavender by this time. But you haven’t done so. I’d assumed it was because you were still deeply grieved by his loss.”

“And therefore I must have loved him greatly?”

“That’s the logical conclusion.”

A glint of wry humor flashed in her eyes. “My dear Mr. Eyre, what makes you think that it’s my husband for whom I wear mourning clothes?”

John searched her face. It was difficult to tell if she was being serious. He rather doubted it. Their brief acquaintance had impressed upon him her perpetual habit of keeping people off balance. It was, he gathered, some manner of protective mechanism. A way to stop them from getting too close to her.

“I’m afraid you’ve had a great deal of loss in your life,” he said.

Her expression of amusement faded. “Haven’t we all? You’ve just admitted to having lost Lady Helen.”

“She wasn’t mine to lose.” The truth of the statement sank into John’s bones. He wasn’t entirely ready for it. He was too used to feeling responsible for Helen’s death. Too accustomed to his own guilt. He cleared his throat. “But your husband, and your parents—”

“Enough talk of death,” Mrs. Rochester said. “It isn’t why I sought out your company. I wished to speak to you of faith.”

“It’s not a subject I’m in any position to remark upon, not when my own faith is at its lowest ebb. Of course, if you’ve changed your mind about my taking Stephen and Peter to church—”

“I told you, the boys aren’t to be paraded in front of strangers.”

“No, of course not.”

“Besides,” she added, “I would have thought you reluctant to attend church on any account. Mr. Fairfax informs me that you’ve had several invitations to tea from the vicar in Hay, and that you’ve each time sent your regrets.”

“True enough.” The vicar, Mr. Taylor, seemed a civil sort of gentleman, eager to make John’s acquaintance, and thereby lure him to Sunday services. John had politely declined his invitations, claiming to be too busy for social calls at present.

“You have no wish to meet our estimable vicar?”

“Not at the moment.” John paused. “I notice that you don’t attend church yourself.”

“What has that to do with anything?”

“It makes me wonder if your faith is as feeble as mine.”

“I daresay you think faith is measured by how often one attends Sunday services. How loud one sings from a hymnbook.” Her eyes found his. Something inexplicable flickered behind her gaze. “Do you believe in good and evil, Mr. Eyre?”

The question sent a strange chill through John’s veins. She asked it with such gravity. Such solemn intent. He wished he could answer with the same conviction. Instead, his answer was tepid at best. “As much as any Christian.”

“Which is to say, not very much at all.” Her skirts brushed against his leg. Somehow, during the course of their walk, they’d drawn closer to each other. As close as a pair of lovers sharing whispered confidences. “I know how it is. We all of us are raised on stories of God and the devil. Abstract ideas of good and bad. But what about in the real world? Do you believe in the forces of evil? And that godly people can ultimately triumph over them?”

“I would like to believe. But in our world, you must admit that evil often triumphs. Bad people prevail, while good, honest people are ground into dust. For evidence, you need look no further than the inhabitants of any workhouse.”

“And yet my faith is stronger than it’s ever been.” She gave him a look, as challenging as her tone. “Do you doubt it?”