Jane Slayre (44 page)

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I smiled. "Growing up in what felt like eternal darkness, I know it all too well."

"Indeed. I sense you have a unique perspective, and talents I can use. Morton, when I came back to it two years ago, was a defenseless community, and getting poorer and more defenseless as people were reluctant to return. I established a training school for boys. I mean now to open a second one for girls. In learning to protect themselves, they will keep vampyres from attaching to the area and draining it continually. Over time, Morton will thrive again."

"A noble cause." I approved.

"My mother and my aunt were killed in helping my uncles', as you say, noble cause. They bravely chose to fight. Miss Oliver, the only daughter of the sole rich man in my parish--Mr. Oliver, the proprietor of a needle factory and iron foundry in the valley--also lost her mother to an attack, and she feels strongly attached to our project. She is too delicate to train, but she has given us the funding for the school. I have hired a building for the purpose, with a cottage of two rooms attached to it for the mistress's house. Her salary will be thirty pounds a year. Her house is already furnished, very simply, but sufficiently, by the kindness of a lady. Miss Oliver also means to provide an assistant for the school's mistress, an orphan from the workhouse that she will agree to clothe and fund. Will you be the school's mistress?"

"I thank you for the proposal, Mr. Rivers, and I accept it with all my heart."

"But you comprehend me? It is a village school. Your scholars will be only poor girls--cottagers' children--at the best, farmers' daughters. They are used to rough work, which serves us well, but they may not be up to the level of education you expect."

"Perhaps there will be time to help them with some reading, writing, and ciphering between training sessions."

"You know what you undertake, then?"

"I do."

He now smiled, and not a bitter or a sad smile, but one well

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pleased and deeply gratified. "We will go to my house to begin your training tomorrow and open the school, if you like, next week."

"Very well. So be it."

Diana and Mary Rivers became more sad and silent as the day approached for leaving their brother and their home.

"He will sacrifice all to his long-framed resolves," Diana said. "St. John looks quiet, Jane, but he hides a fever in his vitals."

St. John, at that moment, passed the window reading a letter. He entered and said, "Our uncle John is dead."

Both the sisters seemed struck, not shocked or appalled.

"Dead?" Diana repeated.

"Yes. Read." he threw the letter into her lap. She glanced over it and handed it to Mary. Mary perused it in silence and returned it to her brother. All three looked at each other, and all three smiled--a dreary, pensive smile.

"At any rate, it makes us no worse off than we were before," remarked Mary.

"Only it forces rather strongly on the mind the picture of what might have been," said Mr. Rivers, "and contrasts it somewhat too vividly with what is."

He folded the letter, locked it in his desk, and again went out.

For some minutes no one spoke.

Diana then turned to me. "Jane, you will wonder at us and our mysteries and think us hard-hearted beings not to be more moved at the death of so near a relation as an uncle; but we have not seen him since we were children. He was my mother's brother. My father and he quarreled long ago, after my mother's death."

Aha, I thought. No doubt their father blamed their uncle, for St. John had revealed how his mother died, fighting alongside his uncle.

"My father disapproved of my uncle's vocation, and he did not like to see my mother encouraging St. John to learn the ways of

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her family from my uncle. Once Mother died, why--" Here, Diana composed herself before she could continue. "They parted in anger and were never reconciled. My uncle continued pursuing his mission in other areas, where he also went on to make some successful business dealings and build a fortune. To add insult, my father lost money in his own speculations at around the same time."

"Yes, that must have seemed so unfair."

"Our uncle never married and had no near kindred but ourselves and one other person, not more closely related than we. My father always cherished the idea that my uncle would atone for my mother's death by leaving his possessions to us. That letter informs us that he has bequeathed every penny to the other relation, with the exception of thirty guineas, to be divided between St. John, Diana, and Mary Rivers, for the purchase of three mourning rings. He had a right, of course, to do as he pleased. It was not his fault our mother chose to fight and was struck down, along with our aunt and uncle, the parents of our other relation. I'm sure he fancied that we have each other, and that is a fortune unto itself. Our aunt and uncle had no other children. Still, a momentary damp is cast on the spirits by the receipt of such news. Mary and I would have esteemed ourselves rich with a thousand pounds each, and to St. John such a sum would have been valuable for the good it would have enabled him to do."

This explanation given, the subject was dropped, and no further reference made to it by either Mr. Rivers or his sisters. The next day I left Marsh End for Morton. The day after, Diana and Mary quitted it for their work. In a week, Mr. Rivers and Hannah repaired to the parsonage, and so the old grange was abandoned.

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CHAPTER 34

MY HOME, AS MISTRESS of St. John's training school, was a cottage. I had a little room with whitewashed walls and a sanded floor, containing four painted chairs and a table, a clock, a cupboard, with two or three plates and dishes, and a set of tea-things. Above was a chamber of the same dimensions as the kitchen, with a deal bedstead and chest of drawers that was small, yet too large to be filled with my scanty wardrobe. Through the kindness of my gentle and generous friends, I had a modest stock of such things as are necessary.

The first evening of my first day teaching twenty girls the moves that St. John had only recently shown me, I ached from head to toe. I expected the work to be physically challenging, but the repetition of the movements revealed muscles and joints I did not know my body possessed. With the fee of an orange, I dismissed the orphan who served as my assistant so I could groan over my pains in private.

Most of my students were unmannered, rough, and intractable, but all that might serve them well against such violent opponents. Others were docile, with a wish to learn and a disposition that pleased me.

To torture myself in the quiet hours, I thought of the life I might be living as Mr. Rochester's mistress. Just now, I might be settling to sleep in a bed of silk, in a southern clime, amongst the luxuries of a pleasure villa, delirious with his love half my time.

Yes, I had spent time in handsome St. John's arms--but to learn fighting holds and releases, not to be loved. I held Mr. Rochester in my heart, and it would ever be so.

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I felt I had made the right choice, and yet, alone in my cottage, I wept. I hid my eyes and leant my head against the stone frame of my door, but soon a slight noise near the wicket, which shut in my tiny garden from the meadow beyond it, made me look up. A dog--old Carlo, Mr. Rivers's pointer, as I saw in a moment--was pushing the gate with his nose, and St. John himself leant upon it with folded arms. I asked him to come in.

"No, I cannot stay. I have only brought you a little parcel. It contains pencils and paper. I want you to look at some sketches and see how you might improve on them. You seem to have a knack with engineering. The ideas you had for my rapid-fire crossbow worked out perfectly."

"Thank you." I approached to take the parcel, and the roll of sketches. He examined my face, I thought, with austerity, as I came near. The traces of tears were doubtless visible upon it.

"Have you found your first day's work harder than you expected?" he asked.

"Oh, no! On the contrary, I think in time I shall get on with my scholars very well."

"More frequent exercise should increase your endurance. I counsel you to resist firmly every temptation that would incline you to look back on what you had. Pursue your present career steadily, for some months at least."

"Good evening, Mr. Rivers," a sweet voice hailed, turning our attention. "And good evening, old Carlo. Your dog is quicker to recognise his friends than you are, sir. He pricked his ears and wagged his tail when I was at the bottom of the field, and you had your back towards me."

Mr. Rivers had started at the first of those musical accents, as if a thunderbolt had split a cloud over his head. A youthful, graceful woman, clad all in white, approached. After bending to caress Carlo, she lifted her head, and there bloomed a face of perfect beauty. No charm was wanting. The girl had regular and delicate features: dark eyes, sweetly formed lips, even and gleaming teeth,

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and the ornament of rich, plenteous tresses. Nature had surely formed her in a partial mood.

What did St. John Rivers think of this earthly angel? He had already withdrawn his eye from her and was looking at a humble tuft of daisies by the wicket.

"A lovely evening, but late for you to be out alone," he said as he crushed the snowy heads of the closed flowers with his foot.

"Oh, I only came home this afternoon. Papa told me you had opened your school, and that the new mistress had come. I put on my bonnet after tea and ran up the valley to see her."

"This is she, Miss Jane Spencer," said St. John, gesturing to me in an offhand manner. He nodded, addressing me now. "Your benefactress, Miss Rosamond Oliver."

"Do you think you shall like Morton?" she asked me with a direct and naive simplicity of tone and manner.

"I hope I shall. I have many inducements to do so."

"Do you like your house?"

"Very much."

"And have I made a good choice of an assistant for you in young Dinah Winn?"

"You have indeed. She is teachable and handy."

"I shall come up and help you sometimes," Miss Oliver added. "You will have to teach me, too, at first, as Mr. Rivers has not encouraged me at all. He thinks it unbecoming for a lady to fight. Well, if my mother knew at least how to defend herself, things may have been so very different." She sighed sweetly. "I admire you, Miss Slayre. I'm not much for fighting, I know, but I do mean to learn a few tricks. I was at a ball and dancing until two o'clock this morning! If I can dance with such stamina, I daresay perhaps I can fight."

"I agree, Miss Oliver." I ignored her comment revealing St. John's opinion of a lady fighting. I was aware that he did not wish his sisters to take on the cause. Perhaps it escaped his notice that I was a lady, or he set me to a different standard somehow. I recalled

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that his mother and his aunt died fighting. He must wish to protect the women he loved, and I did not fall under that category. Miss Oliver, on the other hand, must have been in his heart.

It seemed to me that Mr. St. John's upper lip curled a moment. He lifted his gaze, too, from the daisies, and turned it on her. An unsmiling, searching gaze it was.

As he stood, mute and grave, she again fell to caressing Carlo. "Poor Carlo loves me. He is not stern and distant to his friends. Oh, I forgot! I am so giddy and thoughtless! Do excuse me. Diana and Mary have left you, and Moor house is shut up, and you must be lonely. I am sure I pity you. Do come and see Papa."

"Not tonight, Miss Rosamond. And you should head on home before it gets dark."

"Well, if you are so obstinate, I will leave you. But expect me to repeat the invitation soon. Good evening!"

She held out her hand. He just touched it.

"Good evening!" he repeated in a voice low and hollow as an echo.

She turned twice to gaze after him as she walked away. He never turned at all.

"It's a pleasant evening. You needn't have stayed on my account. Miss Oliver seemed very eager to get you to herself," I said, calling his attention back from the crushed daisies.

"We have business. I need an assistant in my workshop, someone to help me reason through my designs and see them to fruition. Your keen insights might prove most valuable to me. It is too late to bring you there tonight. I shall leave you to your rest. But if you could be so kind as to look over the sketches and make some additional notes, I would be grateful. In a few days, once the girls have picked up some of the basic stances, we might grant them leave to take a day off and spend that time with my inventions."

"That sounds agreeable. I will have a look. While we're there, might I have a look at your library? You've mentioned some volumes I should like to peruse."

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"Of course," he agreed readily. "I am glad you have interest in further study."

I was pleased to be of use. He and his sisters had been so good to me and I liked to feel I had something to give back to him. Also, his inventing fascinated me. Lastly, I wondered if I might find some books in his library of paranormal references, which might aid in my research on werewolves.

I continued training the village girls as actively and faithfully as I could. It was truly hard work at first, and besides training with the girls half the day, I trained with St. John on my own, just the two of us. He taught me new holds and evasive moves and worked with me to improve my strength and endurance. I mourned daily the loss of my daggers. They were left in my parcel on the coach. No vampyres had been reported to have newly moved into the area, and while I was glad of it, I was eager for the chance to put my new skills to the test.

Fortunately, Mr. St. John's shop had much work to keep me occupied. He had shown me the gauntlet he'd used on that first night when I'd encountered him. It fit securely over the hand and contained a trigger that could be activated with one finger, sending a stake from a loaded wrist chamber to fire out with deadly force. The fault of the design, besides its being nearly too heavy to lift with one hand--a drawback I overcame as I gained strength--was that it could only hold one stake at a time.

Reloading was not always possible if one suddenly became surrounded by vampyres. St. John, with my help, improved on his design for a rapid-fire crossbow, one that held several stakes in a track to fire them in succession without delay. Together, we also developed what he called a mechanical, automatic, crank-operated six-stake shooter; I shortened this name to the more efficient stake-o-matic. With six barrels each holding a stake and a crank-driven launching device, the stake-o-matic could, like the crossbow, shoot