CHAPTER 3:Comment S'Appelle Ta Gouvernante?

Soon I was within viewing distance of Thornfield. Although gloomy, it did not look uninhabited. I could see light from some of the windows. Mrs. Fairfax made it matter of pride to keep the house in a constant state of readiness in case I should arrive unannounced as I did now. I must declare, seeing that light made it almost welcoming and it reminded me of how Thornfield might have been if were it not for my wretchedness.

As soon as my groom helped me to dismount, I directed that Carter, the surgeon be summoned to examine my ankle. I had not detected any broken bones, but I did not want to take any chances. A footman came and walked me into the dining room where I was placed next to the fire. When Mrs. Fairfax entered and saw my leg propped up and resting on a cushion, her elderly face registered a co-mingling of emotions resulting in a preposterous expression: a look of complete surprise at my sudden arrival, alarm over my injured state, and annoyance at me for not having sent advance notice. After some flustered words of concern on her part, and brusque words on mine, she ordered tea be brought in.

Much to my consternation I heard foolish little Adele's childish voice in the hallway. Obviously, she had seen me or heard me enter and was eager to come into my presence, so without ceremony she burst into the room, planted a kiss on my cheek and cried that she was "tellement ravie de vous revoir." No doubt, there was another pressing reason for her coming to see me, she was looking for a boite, as I could see by her eyes looking about the room for anything resembling a present. Now excessively irritated, I wished her to go, but I stopped and took the opportunity of asking her about her gouvernante.

I learnt that yes, the pale little person who came to my aid in Hay Lane did in fact belong to Thornfield. Her human name was Miss Jane Eyre. It seemed too plain a name for someone resembling a fairy. It was not elegant like the names the gentry generally gave their own daughters, such as Georgiana, Clementina, or Blanche. There was no such pretentiousness attached to a name as hers. On the other hand it was the perfect name for a little plain governess who preferred not to attract notice.

I did not see Miss Eyre again that night. At Carter's direction I went to bed early, but I did not fall asleep straightaway. I was reading by the light of a candle when I heard a light tread that I did not recognise glide past my bed chamber door and stop at a neighbouring one down the gallery. I knew that the elf-maiden was ready to retire for the night after spending the day in Hay Lane casting spells, bewitching men's horses, and performing other acts of mischief.

Chapter 4:  Watching Her (Click here.)