Chapter X

So far, I have recorded in detail the events of my insignificant existence: to the first ten years of my life I have given almost as many chapters. But this is not to be a regular autobiography; therefore I now pass a space of eight years almost in silence.

When the typhus fever had gradually disappeared from Lowood, it generated public attention on the school. Inquiry was made into the origin of the epidemic, and various facts came out which caused public indignation. The unhealthy nature of the site; the quantity and quality of the children’s food; the bad water used in its preparation; the pupils’ poor clothing and accommodations – all these things were discovered, and the discovery produced a result bad to Mr. Brocklehurst, but good to the institution.

Several wealthy individuals in the county subscribed largely for the erection of a more convenient building in a better place; new regulations were made; improvements in diet and clothing introduced; the funds of the school were given to the management of a committee. The school, thus improved, became in time a truly useful and noble institution. I remained there, after its regeneration, for eight years: six as pupil, and two as teacher.

During these eight years my life was uniform. In time I rose to be the first girl of the first class; then I was made a teacher; I eagerly did that job for two years: but at the end of that time I changed.

Miss Temple’s friendship and society had been my continual solace; she was for me mother, governess, and, finally, companion. At this period she married, removed with her husband to a distant county, and was lost to me.

From the day she left I was no longer the same. I was quiet; I believed I was content: to the eyes of others, usually even to my own, I appeared a disciplined character.

But when I saw Miss Temple in her travelling dress step into a post-chaise, shortly after the marriage ceremony; watched the chaise disappear in the distance, I retired to my own room, and there spent in solitude the greatest part of the day.

I walked about the room most of the time. I was regretting my loss, and thinking how to repair it; but when the evening came, another discovery came to me, namely, that the real world was wide, full of hopes and fears, awaiting those who had courage to seek real knowledge of life.

I went to my window, opened it, and looked out. I recalled the time when I had arrived at Lowood, and I had never quitted it since. My vacations had all been spent at school: Mrs. Reed had never sent for me to Gateshead. And now I felt that it was not enough; I tired of the routine of eight years in one afternoon. I desired liberty; for liberty I uttered a prayer: I cried, half desperate, “if not total liberty, grant me at least a new servitude!”

Servitude! Any one may serve: I have served here eight years; now all I want is to serve elsewhere. I sat up in bed: it was a chilly night; I covered my shoulders with a shawl, and then I began to think again with all my might.

“What do I want? A new place, in a new house, amongst new faces, under new circumstances. What do people do to get a new place? They apply to friends, I suppose: I have no friends. There are many others who have no friends, and they should be their own helpers; and what is their resource?”

I could not tell: nothing answered me; I then ordered my brain to find a response, and quickly. I got up, undrew the curtain, noted a star or two, shivered with cold, and again crept to bed.

A kind fairy, in my absence, had surely dropped the required suggestion on my pillow; for as I lay down, it came quietly and naturally to my mind. – “Those who want situations advertise; you must advertise in the **shire Herald.”

“How? I know nothing about advertising.”

Responses came fast: —

“You must enclose the advertisement and the money to pay for it directed to the editor of the Herald; answers must be addressed to J.E., at the Lowton post-office; you can go and inquire in about a week, if any letter has come, and act accordingly.”

I was up early: I had my advertisement written, enclosed, and directed before the bell rang to wake the school; it ran thus: —

“A young lady accustomed to tuition” (had I not been a teacher two years?) “is desirous of meeting with a situation in a private family where the children are under fourteen. She is qualified to teach the usual branches of a good English education, together with French, Drawing, and Music” (in those days, reader, this now narrow catalogue of skills, would have been held sufficient). “Address, J.E., Post-office, Lowton, **shire.”

This document remained locked in my drawer all day: after tea, I asked leave of the new superintendent to go to Lowton; permission was readily given; I went. It was a walk of two miles, and the evening was wet, but the days were still long; I visited a shop or two, slipped the letter into the post-office, and came back through heavy rain, with wet clothes, but with a happy heart.

The following week seemed long: it came to an end at last, however, and I found myself on the road to Lowton.

The post-office was kept by an old dame, who wore horn spectacles on her nose, and black mittens on her hands.

“Are there any letters for J.E.?” I asked.

She peered at me over her spectacles, and then she opened a drawer and fumbled among its contents for a long time. At last, having held a document before her glasses for nearly five minutes, she presented it across the counter, – it was for J.E.

“Is there only one?” I demanded.

“There are no more,” said she; and I put it in my pocket: I could not open it then; rules obliged me to be back by eight, and it was already half-past seven.

Various duties awaited me on my arrival. I had to sit with the girls during their hour of study; then it was my turn to read prayers; to see them to bed: afterwards I supped with the other teachers. When I finally retired for the night, I took out my letter; the contents were brief.

“If J.E., who advertised in the **shire Herald of last Thursday, has the skills mentioned, and if she is in a position to give satisfactory references as to character and competency, a situation can be offered her where there is one pupil, a little girl, under ten years of age; and where the salary is thirty pounds per year. J.E. is asked to send references, name, address, and all particulars to the direction: —

“Mrs. Fairfax, Thornfield, near Millcote, **shire.”

I examined the document long: the writing was old-fashioned and rather uncertain, like that of an elderly lady. This circumstance was satisfactory: I now felt that an elderly lady was a good ingredient in the business. Mrs. Fairfax! I saw her in a black gown and widow’s cap: a model of elderly English respectability. Thornfield! that, doubtless, was the name of her house: a neat orderly spot, I was sure. I longed to go where there was life and movement: Millcote was a large manufacturing town on the banks of the A**; a busy place enough, it would be a complete change at least. Not that I liked the idea of long chimneys and clouds of smoke – “but,” I argued, “Thornfield will, probably, be a good way from the town.”

Next day new steps were to be taken; I told the superintendent I had a prospect of getting a new situation where the salary would be double what I now received; I asked her to break the news^[28] to Mr. Brocklehurst, or some of the committee, and ask if they permitted to mention them as references. She kindly agreed to act as mediatrix in the matter. The next day she laid the affair before Mr. Brocklehurst, who said that Mrs. Reed must be written to, as she was my guardian. As Mrs. Reed didn’t mind, a formal leave was eventually given me to better my condition, together with their consent to issue the necessary references. On receiving the papers, Mrs. Fairfax stated that she was satisfied, and fixed the two-week period for my taking the post of governess in her house.

I now busied myself in preparations: the fortnight passed rapidly. In half-an-hour the carrier was to call for my luggage to take it to Lowton, while I myself was to meet the coach at an early hour the next morning. I sat down and tried to rest. I could not; I was too much excited. A phase of my life was closing to-night, a new one opening to-morrow.

“Miss,” said a servant who met me in the lobby, “a person below wishes to see you.”

“The carrier, no doubt,” I thought, and ran downstairs.

“It’s her, I am sure!” cried the individual who stopped my progress and took my hand.

I looked: I saw a woman, very good-looking, with black hair and eyes.

“Well, who is it?” she asked, in a voice and with a smile I half recognized; “you’ve not quite forgotten me, I think, Miss Jane?”

In another second I was embracing and kissing her: “Bessie! Bessie! Bessie!” that was all I said; she half laughed, half cried, and we both went into the parlour. By the fire stood a little fellow of three years old. “That is my little boy,” said Bessie.

“Then you are married, Bessie?”

“Yes; nearly five years ago to Robert Leaven, the coachman; and I’ve a little girl besides Bobby there, that I’ve christened Jane.”

“Well, and how do they all get on^[29]? Tell me everything about them, Bessie.”

“Georgiana went up to London last winter with her mama, and a young lord fell in love with her: but his relations were against the match; and – what do you think? – he and Miss Georgiana decided to run away; but they were found out and stopped. It was Miss Reed that found them out: I believe she was envious; and now she and her sister lead a cat and dog life together; they are always quarrelling —”

“Well, and what of John Reed?”

“Oh, he is not doing so well as his mama could wish. He went to college, and he got – plucked, I think they call it: and then his uncles wanted him to be a barrister, and study the law.”

“And Mrs. Reed?”

“I think she’s not quite easy in her mind: Mr. John’s conduct does not please her – he spends a deal of money.”

“Did she send you here, Bessie?”

“No, indeed: but I have long wanted to see you, and when I heard that there had been a letter from you, and that you were going to another part of the country, I thought I’d just go, and get a look at you before you went away.

“Oh, there was something I wanted to ask you. Have you ever heard anything from your father’s kinsfolk, the Eyres?”

“Never in my life.”

“Well, one day, nearly seven years ago, a Mr. Eyre^[30] came to Gateshead and wanted to see you; Missis said you were at school fifty miles off; he seemed so much disappointed, for he could not stay: he was going on a voyage to a foreign country, and the ship was to sail from London in a day or two. He looked quite a gentleman, and I believe he was your father’s brother.”

“What foreign country was he going to, Bessie?”

“An island thousands of miles off, where they make wine —”

“Madeira?” I suggested.

“Yes, that is it – that is the very word.”

“So he went?”

“Yes; he did not stay many minutes in the house: Missis was very high with him. My Robert believes he was a wine-merchant.”

Bessie and I talked about old times an hour longer. We parted finally and each went her separate way; she went back to Gateshead, I took the coach which was to carry me to new duties and a new life in Millcote.