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I don’t have a hard time keeping my face expressionless because it’s exactly how I’m feeling. I’m still numb at knowing he’s hidden his daughter from me. It’s not like him at all, but it’s what he’s done, and now I’m just...lost.
“Will you excuse us for a moment,” I hear him murmur to Addie.
“Of course.”
When Addie glances at me, I muster a smile. “It’s been nice meeting you.”
She returns my smile, albeit uncertainly. “I’ll see you at home?”
I keep smiling, unable to answer.
When the door closes behind her, Mr. Rochester wastes no time, crossing the room to crouch in front of me. “Jane.”
But for once, hearing him say my name doesn’t make me melt.
His hands enfold mine. “Look at me.” Our gazes meet, and he draws his breath sharply.
“There’s dirt in my eyes,” I mutter, knowing – feeling – how...glassy my eyes have become.
“I didn’t mean to lie to you about her.” He waits, but when I still don’t speak, he continues tightly, “I wasn’t lying when I told you I never talk to the women—-” He breaks off.
Too late, bastard, I think. So I say it for him. “The women you fuck?”
“I don’t see you like that,” he says sharply.
I only give him a brittle smile, knowing it can do the job of saying it all. He’s a goddamn liar, and I hate him for it.
“I know you’re angry, but just hear me out first. I’ve never let any woman close enough to me that she’d deserve to know about Adele. But you—-” His grip tightens. “You were different right from the start. And it’s like what you said. Everything happened so fast and it...bothered me, too. I’ve never meant to hide the fact I have a daughter from you, but somehow...I couldn’t make myself tell you either.” A grim expression settles on his face. “I suppose I felt if I did...then it would be acknowledging that my life has to change.”
I feel his sapphire blue eyes on me, but I can’t make myself say a word. I’m still frozen in numbness, but I also know that the moment its icy layer cracks open—-
The pain would be there, and it would eat me alive.
I get what he’s saying. Hurt has never made me unreasonable and impractical, so I do see it from his point of view.
But what I don’t know...what I can’t be sure of...is if I should believe him.
“Jane.” Mr. Rochester’s voice is unlike anything I’ve heard from him. It’s hoarse and low, almost...vulnerable.
But for some reason, the knowledge just makes me want to distance myself. I instinctively try pulling my hands away, but it only makes Mr. Rochester’s grip tighten.
“Jane. Talk to me.”
I shake my head mutely.
“Please—-”
“I can’t,” I hear myself say stiltedly. He wouldn’t understand. No one can, not unless they lived the same life I did.
For many years, I’ve tried to mold myself into a daughter that my step-aunt would want. She’s the only mother I’ve ever known and for such a long time, I had thought there would be something I could do to make her love me.
But all she did was beat me.
Over and over, until my tears have permanently dried, and my heart has turned into stone—-
By the time I left home at eighteen, my old, sensitive self was gone. The new one – the current me – had only one goal in mind.
I would work to be independent, and I would work so that I wouldn’t need to seek comfort in love. Money would take care of all of my needs. Money would be all I’d need. And I had succeeded...until Mr. Rochester.
“GOOD MORNING...” ADDIE greets me as soon as I enter the dining room, and she waits until I’m seated across her before finishing mischievously, “Mom.”
I roll my eyes. “Good morning, brat.” But she knows I don’t mean it, and the exchange is merely a part of what’s become our daily routine.
It’s been over a month since Addie has started living with us. At first, Mr. Rochester had been coldly furious and was adamantly demanding that she return to the ladies’ college she was enrolled in for her first year.
But then in the middle of their confrontation, Addie had dashed out of his study and went all the way up to my bedroom, where I had been busily packing my stuff. Her cries had me rushing to open the door. I had been seriously worried that Mr. Rochester was beating her black and blue.
But the young girl had only thrown herself in my arms, begging me to make her Papa see reason.
Please tell him you understand me, Addie had sobbed, and that I deserve to choose where I want to study. Please, Ms. Reed! Please!
And even though I had been aware I was being manipulated, her big dark eyes were just impossible to resist. And so I had been forced to say, “Please listen to her.”
