All Hallows at Eyre Hall: The Breathtaking Sequel to Jane Eyre (The Eyre Hall Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  All Hallows at Eyre Hall

  By Luccia Gray

  Text copyright © 2014 Lucia Garcia Magaldi

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN:978-84-616-8437-3

  Dedication

  For Elsa Margaret, who had started a novel she would have finished if she had survived, and for Elsa Luna, who may inherit her great-aunt and grandmother’s insatiable love of stories.

  Rediscover the world of Jane Eyre...

  Twenty-two years after her marriage to Edward Rochester, Jane is coping with the imminent death of her bedridden husband - and the revelation of his unspeakable secrets.

  Richard Mason has returned, instigating a sequence of events which will expose Rochester’s disloyalty to Jane, his murderous plots, and innumerable other sins. Drawn into a complex conspiracy, everything Jane holds dear is threatened. Who was the man she thought she loved? What is she prepared to do to safeguard her family and preserve her own stability?

  All Hallows at Eyre Hall is the first volume of the Eyre Hall Trilogy. Its multiple narrators explore the evolution of the original characters, and bring to life new and intriguing ones, spinning an original and absorbing narrative.

  Praise for All Hallows at Eyre Hall

  Customer reviews on Amazon and Goodreads

  ‘Exciting, masterfully written, and left me cheering for, and sometimes scowling at, all the characters within, while gleefully enjoying the twists and surprises of the story and character development.’

  ‘I will not forget this novel anytime soon.’

  ‘I found the characters in All Hallows at Eyre Hall richly drawn, and the descriptions that maintain the period of the piece well researched and in perfect continuity to the original book.’

  ‘At times I thought Charlotte Bronte was writing this; that is how fabulous a writer Luccia Gray is.’

  ‘Whether you liked or disliked the original Jane Eyre, you will find this sequel alternately engaging, surprising and impossible to put down.’

  ‘All Hallows at Eyre Hall is graced with postmodern, postcolonial views that remove the naivety that whitewashed even the darkest moments of Brontë’s original.’

  ‘I found I could not put the pages away.’

  ‘Absolutely AMAZING!!! A stellar read. I fell in love with Jane Eyre all over again. A definite red-bleary-eyed, up all night, because I could not put it down, awesome read.’

  ‘I suggest when reading be prepared for plenty of hours of addictive reading….enjoy to the fullest and become enraptured with Jane Eyre again.’

  ‘I feel I’ve been given a new Jane Eyre. She’s more imperfect, but I like the way she’s developed, and I’m looking forward to book two!’

  ‘I’d definitely recommend it, whether you’ve read Jane Eyre or not.’

  ‘Incredible continuation of a timeless classic.’

  Contents

  Dedication

  Rediscover the world of Jane Eyre...

  Praise for All Hallows at Eyre Hall

  Part One: All Is Not Gold

  Chapter I Mr. Mason’s Visit

  Chapter II Adele's Letters

  Chapter III Michael

  Chapter IV Bertha’s Baby

  Chapter V Mr. Rochester

  Chapter VI Daphne’s Tale

  Chapter VII Jenny

  Chapter VIII Annette’s Story

  Part Two. The Germs of Love

  Chapter IX A Letter from the Past

  Chapter X Mrs. Leah

  Chapter XI Michael’s Letter

  Chapter XII A Ghost at Eyre Hall

  Chapter XIII Stillborn

  Chapter XIV All Hallows

  Chapter XV Kidnapped

  Chapter XVI Helen

  Chapter XVII Merriment at the Rochester Arms

  Chapter XVIII All Saints

  Chapter XIX A Red Button

  Part Three Like a Dream

  Chapter XX Annette’s Dream

  Chapter XXI The Last Supper

  Chapter XXII The Reconciliation

  Chapter XXIII Expiation

  Chapter XXIV Deceased

  Chapter XXV Blackmail

  Chapter XXVI The Sin-Eater

  Chapter XXVII Mourning Weeds

  Chapter XXVIII The Funeral

  Chapter XXIX Confessions

  Chapter XXX Lovers’ Parting

  Chapter XXXI Lovers’ Quarrel

  Chapter XXXII Mrs. Rochester’s Proposal

  Chapter XXXIII Michael’s Decision

  Epilogue

  The Eyre Hall Trilogy

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Afterword

  Part One: All Is Not Gold

  “Is it really for love he is going to marry you?” she asked.

  I was so hurt by her coldness and scepticism that the tears rose to my eyes.

  “I am sorry to grieve you,” pursued the widow; “but you are so young, and so little acquainted with men, I wished to put you on your guard. It is an old saying that ‘all is not gold that glitters;’ and in this case, I do fear there will be something found to be different to what either you or I expect.”

  Jane Eyre, Chapter 24.

  Chapter I Mr. Mason’s Visit

  Sunday 29th October, 1865.

  The carriage swayed its way up the birch-lined driveway towards Eyre Hall, tunnelling through the ghostly morning mist. The muggy air reeked of wilting foliage and soggy earth as the carriage halted abruptly, and the coachman closed and barred the heavy yard gates. The vehicle rocked as he leapt on, spurring the horses back into movement. Seconds later, I stepped out unsteadily onto crunchy gravel, adjusted my cloak and hat, and looked up to the rebuilt mansion for the first time.

  Twenty-three years had passed since my last visit to another house in this same spot, when I was bitten by a raging lioness fighting to preserve her offspring and her reason. My bones shivered. My sister had been wronged, my niece had been wronged, and my mission was to settle the injustice before the funeral. The sharp smell of burning coal seeped into my frosty chest, and I thanked God there were fireplaces in this gloomy, damp climate, in which I could not envisage my ancestors ever having lived.

  The top floor and tower were still wrapped in a vaporous cloud, but the ground floor casements, which seemed to rise up from the ground, symmetrically sliced into squares, stood out like prison bars. I could sense the witch was there watching me. I fancied her slight shadow floating over the curtains, and imagined curious fingers pulling back the heavy dark fabric in an effort to catch a glimpse of my arrival. I had received no answer to my message requesting an encounter, but I prayed she would be curious enough to converse with me.

  ***

  He had arrived. I would have gasped and convulsed had I not challenged myself hours earlier, when I received his note, to firmly control any hint of emotion. I would not give him the pleasure of guessing how his visit had driven me to yet another sleepless night inhabited by unearthly beings.

  Michael, my valet, announced my visitor. I was unimpressed. The person who stood before me was barely a shadow of the fine-looking man I had met twenty-three years earlier at Thornfield Hall. His visage repelled me. The nose had become more aquiline, pointing directly at his extended chin, and his face had lost its ovalness and melted into a shapeless mass of puffy fat. His furred olive-green cloak hung loosely over his drooping shoulders, while a sardonic smile dressed his gaunt lips. His eyes, blanker and darker, had merged to the expressionless colour of his dull iris. He bowed stiff
ly, while a smooth, swollen hand made a sharp rising movement to remove the hat, which he thrust towards my robust, fine-looking valet who towered over him. It took all my self-control not to smirk at the strands of lank white hair he uncovered, as I endeavoured with every visible muscle in my body to hide any emotions from the devil’s messenger who stood before me.

  I was grateful for the embroidered French cuffs, which hid my fists as my nails clawed into my palms, while I reluctantly remembered the last time I had seen him. He had ruined my life, destroyed my wedding day, and driven me away from my beloved Edward and from my dear Thornfield Hall.

  I extended my hand limply, took a deep breath, and braced for what was to come, anticipating uneasily that once again my life would change irreversibly after his undesired visit. He bowed, brushed his lips over my embroidered mitts, and then took a step backwards, reinforcing his position as adversary. There was no doubt in my mind that he meant to trouble me with ghoulish memories. I turned to my vigilant valet and asked him to leave before addressing my displeasing visitor.

  “What brings you here, Mr. Mason?” I asked coolly.

  ***

  I took a few seconds to reply, taken aback by her unprecedented assertiveness and waiting for the defiant-looking servant to leave.

  “I heard you finally became Mrs. Rochester.” I examined her carefully. She was still as slight and elflike as the last time I had seen her, a trembling debutante underneath her pathetic white veil.

  “Indeed. After your sister’s unfortunate death, Mr. Rochester and I married, as we both wished.”

  She hadn’t fooled me then, and she wasn’t going to fool me now. I knew that her innocent, demure expression hid a determined and ambitious viper. “Not so unfortunate for you…”

  “Have you come here to insult me, Mr. Mason? Because if that is the case, it will not be tolerated and I must ask you to leave at once.”

  Be careful, Richard, I reminded myself. She had employed over twenty years to enhance her wicked skills. “Pardon me, madam. It was not my wish. I merely pointed out that by her death she opened many doors… for both of you.”

  I saw her left eyebrow rise slightly, and she blinked a shade quicker before replying.

  “Have I wronged you in any way, Mr. Mason?”

  Her complexion was pale and flawless, and although her look was stiff and almost expressionless, her smooth face was pleasing to look upon. “Indeed you have not, madam.”

  “Did I not respect your sister’s existence and abandon Thornfield as soon as I learned of her presence?”

  “That is so, madam.”

  Her thin brown lips pursed as she tightened her jaw. Did she really believe she was innocent? Did she not see it was all her fault? She had killed my sister as surely as if she had thrown her off the buttery that tragic night. Bertha had been accused of setting the house on fire, but no one had seen her do it. They also accused her of committing suicide, therefore, her interment was without ceremony, and even so, I was not allowed to attend. It was all obviously a scheme set up by her husband to be rid of her. Edward would have done anything to be a free man and recover this enticing little sorceress.

  “Can you or anyone reproach anything in my behaviour?”

  I smirked as she insisted on her innocence and watched her scuttle away like a scared mouse. It was easy to imagine how they had both planned their revenge. He had rid himself of my poor, wretched sister, and she had returned to a free man.

  I had decided that her curiosity by far outweighed her hatred of me, or she wouldn’t have agreed to see me. Or perhaps it was fear? In any case, I decided to play further.

  “Indeed, Mrs. Rochester, you have done nothing reproachable.”

  “Explain yourself, Mr. Mason. I have many matters to attend this morning.”

  I had been informed by Edward’s agent that she had been attending to legal and financial matters in provision of her husband’s foreseeable death. Did she really think she was going to get away with it? Did she think that she, a plain and penniless governess, would inherit all his wealth and property, while he shunned and murdered my sister, who had been a beautiful heiress?

  “Of course, madam. It is Mr. Rochester with whom I have matters to resolve.”

  “Mr. Mason, you must be aware that Mr. Rochester is unwell.”

  “It pains me to hear such news.”

  “Allow me to doubt your sincerity on this matter.”

  “Please, madam, accept my sympathy for your personal pain and your son’s.”

  She shot a piercing look, moved her lips as if to speak, hesitated, then seemed to change her mind before finally speaking. “Your sympathy is accepted, because it would be unchristian to reject it.”

  I envisioned the proud and uncouth Saxon who lay on his deathbed. I never understood what my sister or any of his women ever saw in his stocky figure or irksome character. I would no longer have to deal with him, thank God. She would be my new business associate, although she was not yet aware of our inevitable partnership.

  “I am honoured, madam, that it should be accepted.”

  “Will you now tell me what is your business, Mr. Mason?”

  Did her lips curl slightly? Was she so easy to entice? Or was I being enticed? Her face did seem most pleasant, especially when the vexation ceased. I insisted more mildly on this occasion. “I have some urgent business with Mr. Rochester.”

  “He is not receiving any visitors at the moment.”

  “Yet, I must speak to him.”

  “That will not be possible. In any case, I cannot imagine what business you should have with my husband.”

  She had been suitably lured and was eager to discover the reason for my visit. “I would not wish to bother you with certain unpleasant matters, madam.”

  “I am afraid you will have to deal with me from now on, Mr. Mason, so proceed.”

  I wondered how much she had already discovered about her husband’s finances and offences. He was a dark horse, if ever there was one.

  “Please sit down, Mr. Mason.”

  She pointed to two high-backed Regency chairs on either side of a red teak table. Dark. In spite of the rebuilding and modern furnishings, the house was as gloomy and distasteful as the last time I had seen it while my sister still lived. It was so different to my bright colonial mansion, where one could drink iced lemonade in the mornings and dark rum in the evenings, on the verandah, inhaling the ocean breeze.

  In spite of the unfortunate and occasional insurrection of the local slaves, now called workers, who were usually pleasing and compliant, it was far more beautiful than this dreary land would ever be. For a moment I imagined pale, petite Jane in a colourful colonial dress revealing ample cleavage, her hair free and carelessly caressing her bare shoulders, smiling and twirling while carrying a parasol to keep the sun out of her flushed face. She would make a splendid widow. I wondered how soon she would remarry after the sick beast’s death.

  “Thank you, madam.”

  “Please continue.”

  “The matter is pertaining to his first wife, my sister Bertha Antoinette née Mason and died Rochester.”

  “The lady died twenty-three years ago, sir. There can be no further matter to discuss.”

  “Oh, but there is, madam, and a very serious one indeed.”

  “I trust it is not a financial matter, Mr. Mason. My husband and I have nothing more to discuss with the Mason family in this respect.”

  “I’m afraid you do, madam.”

  “You tire me with your games. Explain yourself once and for all or abandon my house.”

  Perhaps I should speak. I wondered how she would react. Would she faint? Or have a hysterical fit, as most women would due to the inferior size of their brains? Might she call the constable and have me arrested? Or call her stalwart servant to throw me out of the house?

  “Mr. Mason, whatever agreement you may have had with my husband will have to be authorized by me henceforth.”

  “Mr. Rochester has broken
an agreement we had. There is the matter of a certain sum of money that has not been received in the last few months.”

  “Indeed? I have been supervising Mr. Rochester’s finances, and I do not recall your name on any of the transactions.”

  “I have been informed that you have cancelled a transfer to Spanish Town, Jamaica.”

  “That is so, to the Convent of Saint Mary. We are Church of England, sir. I cannot imagine why my husband should continue sending money to a Roman Catholic convent in Jamaica.”

  “Did you not ask your husband about the matter?”

  “Indeed I did.”

  “Did he not tell you that you were to continue making the payments after his death?”

  “He did not. He told me it was an old matter dating from his youth, and I needn’t carry his burden any further.”

  “Is that so? I cannot understand why he should act in such a dishonourable manner.”

  She surprised me by suddenly jumping up from her chair and rushing to the door. I got up immediately, wondering what she was going to do next. She spun around and spat out the words.

  “How dare you speak to me of honour? My husband is the most honourable man I have ever met.”

  “Your loyalty is touching, madam. You have been wronged, as my sister was before you. Mr. Rochester is not, has never been, an honest man.”

  “I beg you, order you, not to speak of my husband disrespectfully in his own house.”

  Her voice had gradually risen during our last exchange. I smiled in the security right then that my news would destroy any illusion of happiness or ounce of tranquillity she might have had in her years with Rochester.

  “I doubt you will be of the same opinion when I tell you the reason for my visit. I do not wish to distress you, madam, but what I have to say may trouble you.”

  “Why do you always bring me such bad news?”

  “I humbly ask your forgiveness before I convey the tidings I must bring you.”

  I revelled in her tortured frown and submissive sigh as she returned to her seat.