Disclaimer: as much as I want to say the opposite…but all characters belong to JKR and Bronte.
Summery: what if Mr. Rochester was right? What if Jane was indeed a witch and her story was a mixture of Harry's childhood's misfortunes and Merope's sad youth? What would Mr. Rochester do if he found out? Would he react like Tom Riddle? I think not, for he was indeed in love! Inspired by Bittersweet by Apocalyptica.
"Bessie, I swear I did not do it!"
"Miss Jane, I know it's impossible for you to reach those books with your height, but Mrs. Reed would not listen, so be a good child and stay in the …"
"I'm not going to the red room! Please not the red room!" I cried. I could feel something surging up inside me, and in my fear I gave it full rein. I did not know what had happened but Bessie gave a small scream.
"The red room!" she whispered incredulously, "where is the door to the red room? It seems…it has vanished!"
I looked at the spot she was looking at, and indeed, there it was: the blank wall where the door was supposed to be.
"Did you do it?" She asked, still shocked.
"How can I vanish a door?" I asked defiantly. Why would she ask me question like that?
"What is all this?" I heard the cold voice of my aunt say. "Bessie, did I not ask you to take her to the red room? She has to be punished, for throwing those books at her cousins."
"I was ma'am, but the room…that is the door, it's vanished"
"what nonsense is this? How can it…" but she trailed off as her eyes fell on the blank wall where the door should have been. She went forward and touched the wall; it seemed solid enough. She was enraged.
"I've had enough with you," she said spitefully, addressing me. "Lock her up in the nursery, Bessie, until Mr. Brocklehurst arrives." Poor Bessie, hastily obeyed and dragged me along with her to the nursery.
Once locked in, I sat down in the dim light of a single candle, wondering at the cruelty of my aunt. Tears of anger ran down my cheeks. How could she blame me for everything that happened in her own strange, haunted house? Oh yes, it was haunted, and by her husband for she had broken her promise to him, to raise me as one of her own. She was cruel, I hated her! And again tears filled up my eyes as I remembered how many times I had tried to be good to make her like me a little, for I wanted to be loved and to love her, but she would always punish me even when I hadn't done anything!
I did not know how long I had been struggling with tears and my 'evil' thoughts as Bessie called them when I said how unjust Mrs. Reed was. But at last Bessie came in and called me. She said that Mr. Brocklehurst was waiting for me with Mrs. Reed in the drawing room.
"Who is he, Bessie?" I asked
"The director of Lowood Institute: a school you are to go to."
"Oh! I think I should like that." I contemplated "I would be gone from here and I would never have to…" but I stopped feeling Bessie's reproving glance.
"Now, now, Miss Eyre, be a good child." She said. "here, go in, your aunt is waiting." She opened the door and pushed me slightly forward.
I wondered what Mr. Brocklehurst would be like. I hoped he was nice and not cruel like aunt Reed. Would he be big and intimidating? I hoped not, for Bessie had told me that people disliked me if I were afraid of them.
I saw Mrs. Reed, occupying her usual seat by the fire and in front of her was a very strange looking man sitting in an armchair, which I had never seen before in that room. His somewhat graying hair was long and tied behind him and his extraordinary beard was long enough to touch his chest. Although he had dressed like a gentleman, he did not quite look like the few other gentlemen I had seen. When I entered he looked at me with strikingly blue eyes from behind half-moon spectacles. He smiled at me but I caught Mrs. Reed's cold eyes; she beckoned me to go forward.
"Jane, this is Mr. Brocklehurst." She said.
"Good evening," he said.
"Good evening, sir" I mumbled.
"Well, I trust that you are a good child, Miss Eyre."
I could not answer in the affirmative, for in my little world I had been told otherwise. Mrs. Reed however answered for me.
"I suppose the less said on the subject the better" she said.
"oh, what a pity" he said seemingly sadly. "I should like to talk with you, young lady." He looked at me in a way as if he was trying to determine for himself whether what Mrs. Reed had said was true.
"Would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?" he asked Mrs. Reed, and I was afraid for a second that she was indeed going to let me be alone with this strange man in the room, but I saw in her countenance that she would not like to do so. But hardly a moment later, she stood with a blank expression and left in silence. Mr. Brocklehurst was smiling as he turned to me. He nonchalantly, took out a wooden stick, and I thought Mrs. Reed had told him to punish me, just like she always did. But he only moved it towards the door and I thought I could hear the door lock.
"Well, why don't you sit down, Jane?" he said kindly as he gestured towards the chair Mrs. Reed had just vacated.
How was it? Is the idea hopeless or should I continue? Plz R&R