*-These characters are the sole property of Miss Bronte. Only John Rochester is my creation.
*-Thank you to Sarah (MrsBates93) for again Beta Reading.
The theater is nearly full as the ushers announce that the play is about to begin. We are making our way to the family box, when I see him.
Edward Fairfax Rochester, master of Thornfield Hall. The man I should be married to.
He is being led by his wife, the former governess of his bastard ward. She is of no consequence. Her fortune is small, her beauty and connections are wanting.
Mama warned me that I should claim him while I had the opportunity. I scoffed at my mother’s advice; I told her then I had plenty of time and plenty of men to choose from. I should have known better.
When news spread throughout the county that Thornfield had burnt down to nearly nothing and Mr. Rochester was not single, I counted my blessings. He was too old for me, far from handsome and blind. I remembered my dislike of Thornfield, how dark and dreary it was.
After six months, the local newspapers announced that Edward Rochester had married again, to his governess. The former Miss Jane Eyre had become an heiress worth £5000 through a long lost uncle. Within two years Thornfield was being rebuilt and an heir was born.
“Mr. and Mrs. Edward Rochester of Thornfield Hall in Derbyshire announce the birth of a son. John Edward Eyre Rochester was born a fortnight ago, mother and child are both well”.
Our traitorous neighbors decided to visit Thornfield. They reported that Mrs. Rochester was amiable and cheerful while young Master Rochester was the highlight of the party.
“I told you to take him while you had the chance. Now he is married with an heir and you are upon your thirtieth birthday without a husband in sight” Mama once again berated me.
“Enough, Mama,” I said but she continued on almost as if she hadn’t heard me. I ignored her.
As we made our way toward them, I put on my politest smile.
“Mrs. Rochester, Mr. Rochester”.
“Right this way, ma’am” the usher opened the door to the Rochester’s private box.
As they walked in, I could see that Mrs. Rochester was again with child.
I could have been her. Thornfield and her children could have been mine. But I am not her and while she has everything I would ever want, I will never be her.