Jane Slayre (7 page)

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to do me in, it would have been easier to do it at home, if not for fear of being tainted by my common blood. For the first time that morning, I felt my lips curl up in a smile. I should be happy, after all. I had finally made my escape.

Instead, my stomach felt more twisted than the French horn that was left abandoned against the gallery wall. Something wasn't right. If not kidnappers, who--or what--might be lurking about? I heard someone approaching and I moved quickly to stand in the dark corner behind the door. I saw a fellow passenger, the woman who had boarded the coach some miles past Gateshead, being led by the hand. Her guide was an older man with a ridiculous mustache.

"This way, my beauty," he said. "I can show you such things as you never imagined."

"As I never imagined? I only wanted to see the crystal you mentioned for sale. I could probably resell it for double the price in town."

He took her in his arms. "You won't be getting to town."

That's when I saw his bared fangs. I started to cry out in warning, but the guard returned and the vampyre hid with his prey behind the gallery.

I stepped out of the shadows.

"There you are," the guard said. "Come along. We'll be getting back on the road."

"But my fellow passenger." I wish I had known her name. "She's there!"

I pointed to the gallery and reached in my pockets, prepared to pull out a stake in case the vampyre took the guard unawares. But the guard looked and came back, apparently seeing nothing. Perhaps they'd slipped away out a back entrance?

"There's no one there, child. Come."

"But, the woman--"

"Eh, she didn't pay full fare. If she misses her ride, she'll find another."

Afraid for what sort of ride she might find, I stared into the dark

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room as the guard lifted me to carry me away. I was only a child. What more could I say?

Once more I was stowed away in the coach. My protector mounted his own seat, sounded his hollow horn, and away we rattled over the stony streets. As the misty afternoon waned into dusk, I began to feel that we were getting very far indeed from Gates-head, and very cheerful for it. The country changed. Great grey hills heaved up round the horizon. As twilight deepened, we descended a valley, dark with wood, and long after night had over-clouded the prospect, I heard a wild wind rushing amongst trees.

It was as if a knot of tension finally uncoiled in my stomach, allowing me to find a sort of relaxed inner peace. I fell asleep. I had not long slumbered when the sudden cessation of motion awoke me. The coach door opened, and a person like a servant stood at it. I saw her face and dress by the light of the lamps.

"Is there a little girl called Jane Slayre here?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, and was then lifted out. My trunk was handed down, and the coach instantly drove away.

I was stiff with long sitting, and bewildered with the noise and motion of the coach. Gathering my faculties, I looked about me. Rain, wind, and darkness filled the air; nevertheless, I dimly discerned a wall before me, and a door open in it. Through this door I passed with my new guide. She shut and locked it behind her. There was now visible a house or houses--for the building spread far--with many windows, and lights burning in some. We went up a broad, pebbly path, splashing wet, and were admitted at a door; then the servant led me through a passage into a room with a fire, where she left me alone.

I stood and warmed my numbed fingers over the blaze. There was no candle, but the uncertain light from the hearth showed, by intervals, papered walls, carpet, curtains, shining mahogany furniture. It was a parlour, not so spacious or splendid as the drawing room at Gateshead, but comfortable enough. I puzzled to make out the weapons hanging in a row down the wall as if treasured works

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of art--swords, with long blades that gleamed in the firelight. I supposed someone was a collector, perhaps one of the teachers. The door opened and a woman entered. Another woman followed close behind.

The first was a tall lady with dark hair, dark eyes, and a pale and large forehead. Her figure was partly enveloped in a shawl. Her countenance was grave but gentle, her bearing erect. I guessed she might be around twenty-nine years of age, her companion some years younger.

"The child is very young to be sent alone," said the tall lady, putting her candle down on the table. She considered me attentively for a minute or two. "She had better be put to bed soon. She looks tired. Are you tired?" she asked, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"A little, ma'am."

"And hungry, too, no doubt. Let her have some supper before she goes to bed, Miss Miller."

"But, perhaps we should wait and see first? In case--"

"Nonsense. She is clearly full of life, and there's no meat to be had. Is this the first time you have left your parents to come to school, my little girl?"

I explained to her that I had no parents. She inquired how long they had been dead, how old I was, what my name was, and whether I could read, write, and sew a little. She touched my cheek gently with her forefinger. "I hope you should be a good child."

Mr. Bokorhurst's conversation with Mrs. Reed came to mind, but I shut it out. Yes, I recalled his connection to Miss Abbot, but so far, the women who greeted me seemed nothing out of the ordinary. No waxen pallor, extended fangs, or misarranged limbs. I reasoned I was safe enough. I would prove myself a good child with nothing to fear at my new school.

The tall woman now left me to the more ordinary Miss Miller. Miss Miller, red-faced and careworn, was hurried in gait and action like one who had a multiplicity of tasks on hand. She looked, indeed, what I afterwards found she really was, an underteacher.

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She led me along, passing from compartment to compartment, from passage to passage, of a large and irregular building. We emerged from the total and somewhat dreary silence pervading that portion of the house and came upon the hum of many voices as we entered a wide, long room, with great tables, two at each end.

A congregation of girls of every age, from nine or ten to twenty, sat on benches around the tables. Seen by the dim light of the candles, two on each table, their number to me appeared countless, though not in reality exceeding eighty. They were uniformly dressed in brown stuff frocks of quaint fashion, and long holland pinafores. They were apparently going over tomorrow's lesson. The hum I had heard was the combined result of their whispered repetitions.

Miss Miller signed to me to sit on a bench near the door. She walked up to the top of the long room. "Monitors, collect the lesson books and put them away!"

Four tall girls arose from different tables and went around gathering the books.

"Monitors, fetch the supper trays!" Miss Miller said, once the books were gathered and put away.

The tall girls went out and returned presently, each bearing a tray with a thin oaten cake divided into portions, and a pitcher of water and a mug in the middle of each tray. The portions were handed around. Those who liked took a draught of the water, the mug being common to all. When it came to my turn, I drank, for I was thirsty, but did not touch the food, excitement and fatigue rendering me incapable of eating.

Once the meal was over, Miss Miller read prayers, and the classes filed off, two and two, upstairs. By the time I reached my room, I was so overcome with weariness that I barely noticed what sort of a place the bedroom was, except that, like the schoolroom, it was long. Tonight I was to be Miss Miller's bedfellow. She helped me undress. Once tucked in, I glanced at the long rows of beds, each filled with two occupants. In as little as ten minutes, the single

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light was extinguished, and amid silence and complete darkness I fell asleep.

The night passed rapidly. I was too tired even to dream. When I opened my eyes, a loud bell was ringing. The girls got up quickly and started dressing. Day had not yet begun to dawn, and rush-lights burned in the room. I rose reluctantly. It was bitter cold, and I dressed as well as I could for shivering, and washed when there was a basin at liberty, which did not soon occur as there was but one basin to every six girls on the stands down the middle of the room. Some barely shivered, seemingly insensitive to the cold. I couldn't imagine that I would ever get used to such extreme frigidity inside.

Again, the bell rang. All formed in file, two and two, and I joined in as in that order we descended the stairs and entered the cold and dimly lit schoolroom.

"Form classes!" Miss Miller said.

A great tumult succeeded for some minutes, during which Miss Miller repeatedly exclaimed, "Silence!" and "Order!" When it subsided, I saw them all drawn up in four semicircles, before four chairs, placed at the four tables. All held books in their hands, and a great book, like a Bible, lay on each table before the vacant seat.

A distant bell tinkled. Immediately three ladies entered the room; each walked to a table and took her seat. Miss Miller assumed the fourth vacant chair, which was that nearest the door, and around which the smallest of the children were assembled. I was called to this inferior class and placed at the bottom of it.

Business now began. The day's prayer was read, then certain texts of Scripture were said, and to these succeeded a protracted reading of chapters in the Bible, which lasted an hour. By the time that exercise was terminated, day had fully dawned. The indefatigable bell now sounded for the fourth time. The classes were marshaled and marched into another room to breakfast. How glad I was to behold a prospect of getting something to eat! I felt weak and somewhat nauseated from going almost entirely without food the previous day.

The refectory was a great, low-ceiling, gloomy room. On two

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long tables smoked basins of something hot, which sent forth a far from inviting odor.

"Disgusting! The porridge is burnt again!" some of the taller girls whispered amongst themselves, but loud enough that I overheard.

"Silence!" One of the upper teachers, a small, smartly dressed woman, claimed the head position at of one of the tables. A more buxom lady, also perhaps an upper teacher, presided at the other.

I looked in vain for the woman who had first greeted me yesterday. Miss Miller occupied the foot of the table where I sat, and a strange, elderly lady, the French teacher as I afterwards found, took the corresponding seat at the other board. A long grace was said and a hymn sung. A servant brought in some tea for the teachers, and the meal began.

Ravenous and now faint, I devoured a spoonful or two of my portion before I discerned the vile flavor, reminiscent of when Abbot had lost a thumb in the soup. I saw girls taste the food and try to swallow it, but in most cases the effort was soon relinquished. Some girls must have been forewarned, for a few didn't take bowls at all. The breakfast period ended, and no one had breakfasted. I saw one teacher take a basin of the porridge and taste it. She looked at the others.

"Abominable stuff! How shameful!" the stout one whispered.

A quarter of an hour passed before lessons again began. Miss Miller went to the middle of the room.

"Silence! To your seats!" she called out.

In five minutes the confused throng was resolved into order. The upper teachers resumed their posts, but still, all seemed to wait. Ranged on benches down the sides of the room, the eighty girls sat motionless and erect.

I looked at them, and also at intervals examined the teachers. To my relief, none of them looked to be vampyres or demons, but I'd learned not to judge from appearances. One teacher was fair and stout. Another, dark with a sharp, pinched face. The French teacher had grizzled white hair, but a friendly face. And Miss Miller,

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poor thing! She looked purple, weather-beaten, and overworked. As my eye wandered from face to face, the whole assembly suddenly rose simultaneously, as if moved by a common spring.

What was the matter? I had heard no order given. Before I knew what had happened, the classes were again seated. All eyes were now turned to one point. Mine followed in the general direction and encountered the person who had received me last night. She stood at the bottom of the long room, on the hearth. Cold as it was, there was a fire at each end of the room. She surveyed the two rows of girls silently and gravely. Miss Miller approached and seemed to ask her a question, and, having received her answer, went back to her place.

"Monitors of the first class, fetch the globes!" Miss Miller said.

While the monitors were following orders, the lady consulted moved slowly across the room. Seen in broad daylight, she looked tall, fair, and shapely. On each of her temples her dark brown hair was clustered in round curls according to the fashion. Her dress, also in the mode of the day, was of purple cloth, relieved by a sort of Spanish trimming of black velvet. A gold watch shone at her girdle. Here was everything I imagined a truly great lady of fine breeding to be. She was Miss Temple--Maria Temple, as I afterwards saw the name written in a prayer book entrusted to me to carry to church--the superintendent of Lowood.

Miss Temple took her seat before a pair of globes placed on one of the tables, summoned the first class round her, and commenced giving a lesson on geography. The teachers called lower classes. Repetitions in history and grammar went on for an hour. Writing and arithmetic succeeded, and music lessons were given by Miss Temple to some of the elder girls. The duration of each lesson was measured by the clock, which at last struck twelve.

The superintendent rose. "I have a word to address to the pupils. You had an inedible breakfast. You must be hungry. I have ordered that a lunch of bread and cheese shall be served to all."