My Mr. Rochester 1

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My Legacy


Anno Domini 2081

One rainy afternoon when I was thirteen, I was summoned to the morning room to sit with Mrs. Reed and her two younger children. This was no kindness on Mrs. Reed’s part. The vicar was coming for tea. No doubt she meant to show how well she cared for me.

I am an orphan. I belong to no one. My mother died not long after I was born, and it’s said my father died of grief within six months of her death.

According to custom I should have gone to my father’s brother. But my mother’s brother was an Anointed Elder, well connected and financially comfortable, so I was sent to him at Gateshead Righteous Household near New Bellefleur in the south of Idaho.

Uncle Reed also succumbed to an early death, from a wasting disease no one would ever speak of. When he lay dying upstairs a year after my arrival, he made his wife swear before God to keep me and raise me as she would her own children. Mr. Fleming, the vicar, was witness to her solemn oath.

I didn’t mind going to the morning room to see the vicar. Mrs. Reed was always civil to me in front of visitors, and there were sure to be raspberry teacakes. I didn’t particularly like Mr. Fleming, but that was unremarkable. I didn’t particularly like anybody.

I didn’t dislike him.

In a mood to seek approval, I brushed my hair and secured it in a chignon at the nape of my neck. I changed into my new dress, a soft white cotton and silk blend with a high waist and a scooped neck. The skirt flowed from just below my breasts to mid calf length. I put on my gold cross pendant, my one piece of jewelry and the only memento from my mother.

Mrs. Reed nodded approval when I entered the room. John Reed scowled as usual then pretended not to see me.

Eliza, two years younger than me, had the honor of pouring Mr. Fleming’s tea. As the pot wavered in her hands, Mrs. Reed frowned, making her more nervous. The vicar kindly tried to divert attention from Eliza, and his gaze landed on me.

“How is Jane Eyre coming along?” His smile fell when he really looked at me. If he meant to instigate some pleasant chit-chat, he’d picked the wrong subject. “Not another Georgiana, I see. Not destined for great beauty.”

“Another Georgiana?” John Reed snickered and looked at me sideways. “Don’t hold your breath, vicar.”

John Reed was seventeen and heir to Gateshead, though his sister Georgiana was his superior in age and character. Under the Edicts, Decrees, and Laws of New Judah, a female can inherit only in the absence of a male.

Georgiana was also my superior in character. By now I would have murdered John Reed, if not for the inheritance then to rid the world of a meritless pest.

He was tall and thick for his age, with limp hair the color of dirt in August, ruddy skin, and persistent acne. He gorged himself at every meal, resulting in flabby cheeks, a general repulsive softness, and a belly which spilled over his belt. At the moment, the crumbly evidence of raspberry teacake covered that belly.

“Are you enjoying your sabbatical, John?” I said.

His face darkened, as I’d intended. I felt a small victory in delivering the sting. It was a sensitive subject. He ought to be away at school, but he’d had trouble finding one to accept him.

“Oh, Jane Eyre. Why did you remind me?” Mrs. Reed rubbed the furrow between her eyes. “California, Mr. Fleming. I don’t think I can bear it!”

In accordance with his late father’s final instructions, John had applied to Princeton in the heathen old country. Unfortunately he’d never taken the trouble to study, relying instead on the legacy position he was sure awaited him. Princeton declined Mrs. Reed’s little prince, as did Harvard, Columbia, Brigham Young and several lesser lights. Only one approved university accepted the darling. Pepperdine in the dreaded west.

The vicar said, “I assure you, Mrs. Reed, Pepperdine is an oasis of righteousness. John will receive a good moral education there.”

And not a moment before time, I thought. I caught Mr. Fleming’s eye, and I knew he thought the same.

Mr. Fleming added, “If John is to take Mr. Reed’s place on the council of elders one day, he must graduate from a listed university. Pepperdine is, after all, on the list.”

I turned my face to the window, but John saw my smile in the reflection and scowled at me again. I wished he’d already gone. He’d begged a year off, a sabbatical from study, which his mother agreed to—owing to his delicate health, of course. Everyone could see he was headed for ruin. Everyone but Mrs. Reed.

“The mirrors crack when Jane Eyre walks by.” He returned to the subject of my looks. If he’d been closer, I’m sure he would have kicked me out of habit. “No one can compare her to Georgiana.”