Page 62 of John Eyre

Coffee was brought in almost immediately, courtesy of one of the footmen. Mrs. Rochester was pouring it out for her guests when the gentlemen entered the drawing room. A portly older man—Mr. Eshton, John presumed—and the two Eshton sons, George and Louis. The three of them looked thoroughly imposing in their evening black.

At the sight of them, Stephen drew closer to John.

“They’re only men,” John said, just loud enough for the boys to hear. “Do you see? They can’t hurt you.”

George Eshton took a seat next to Mrs. Rochester on the sofa, moving the folds of her skirt out of the way so he wouldn’t crush them under his leg. It was a courteous impulse—and a presumptuous one. Who was he to make free with her person in such a way? As if he had the right to do so.

And perhaps he had.

He was a well-favored gentleman. Languidly elegant, with a pleasing countenance, thick golden hair, and a tall, athletic build. Looking at him now, John felt a sharp twinge of jealousy. He was no golden godlike man. He was an academic, plain of face and feature. Was it any wonder that Mrs. Rochester preferred the company of George Eshton to him?

The elder Mr. Eshton sank into a chair near to both the fire and his wife, and Louis Eshton sat down in front of the drawing room piano. It was a grander affair than the cabinet piano in the library. An expensive instrument made for entertaining. He tinkled the keys in a soft accompaniment to the clinking of coffee cups and lively conversation.

“Whatever induced you to take charge of two little waifs?” George Eshton asked Mrs. Rochester.

“Why shouldn’t I have?” Mrs. Rochester asked. “I have room enough for them.”

“Yes, but—”

“And they had need of me.” She sipped her coffee. “There’s no great mystery about it.”

“Won’t you introduce them to us?” Miss Lynn asked.

“On no account,” Mrs. Rochester replied. “They’re too shy of strangers at present. It’s enough that they can observe you.”

“They observe us?” Miss Lynn laughed. “I’d thought it the other way around. Isn’t that right, aunt?”

“I did want to have a look at them,” Mrs. Eshton admitted. “All of Millcote is anxious to see what sort of children you’ve brought back from the Continent. You can’t blame our curiosity.”

Mrs. Rochester smiled slightly. “Are my affairs so fascinating? I wouldn’t have thought so. We lead a quiet life here.”

“Too quiet,” George Eshton said. “It isn’t good for you, my dear.”

My dear.

The casual endearment struck John like a blow. Were the pair of them so familiar with each other? So intimate?

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Rochester said. “I’m content as I am. And if I grow restless, I shall take myself off again.”

“And what of your wards?” he asked.

“What about them?”

Mrs. Eshton opened her fan and proceeded to wave it vigorously. “You should send them to school.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mrs. Rochester said. “Not in their current state. It would be a cruelty.”

“You will have to send them away when you remarry,” the elder Mr. Eshton pronounced.

Mrs. Rochester took another sip of her coffee. “Will I?”

“If your husband wishes it.” Mr. Eshton turned to George. “What say you on the subject, my boy?”

“I say nothing. I haven’t any right to.” George paused, smiling. “Though I have reason to hope that one day I shall.”

“Oh, George!” Mrs. Eshton fluttered her fan in excitement. “You don’t mean to suggest that you—”

“Enough,” Mrs. Rochester said crossly. “Have we nothing better to discuss than my domestic entanglements? Even the most uncivilized societies have music to entertain them.”