Then, and only then, happy again by Maçao Filho

Fanfic style story based on the character Rochester from the novel Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte


Unmistakably, it was her and of that I was sure in the very moment my eyes met hers. No other woman in the world could ever resemble all her features quite so perfectly. No disguise could ever reproduce faithfully enough those features that I knew so well and that were so dear to me, like freedom to a man long imprisoned when he is, at last, set free. I would finally hold my Jane in the very arms of mine and everything would be like it was supposed to be. Just a few steps separated me from happiness itself.
Or so I naively thought right before the merciless reality took it all away from me. It had happened again. Another dream like all the others. Just another cruel joke the sleep had played on me. None of it was real. Jane Eyre’s whereabouts remained painfully unknown. And even if she had indeed returned to put all my misery to an end, my eyes would not have been able to meet hers, neither would have been my arms to hold her the way I so badly long to do – for I am now not only blind but a cripple.
Once so proud and independent Mr. Edward Fairfax Rochester. Now just a man doomed to live surrounded by nothing but never-ending darkness, with no one by my side but two servants, whose feelings of pity for me only make the burden heavier for my broken soul to bare it. A downfall that could be easily seen as a punishment sent from God Himself or, at least, as an undoubtful sign that if He does not want to condemn me for my faults, He does not wish to make things any better for me either.
Though quite aware of all the sins I have committed, I cannot help the feeling that if someone is to blame for everything that happened to me, my brother and father sure deserve each a fair share of it. For there is no denying that all of my ruin started because of their greed and that jinxed wedding. They were the ones that sentenced me.
If only I had never married Bertha Mason, then everything could have had turned out so much differently than it did. But what’s the point in thinking such foolishness? Since there’s no changing what has already happened, I probably should be more worried about my present, instead of looking back at all the things that went so wrong. Too bad that my current circumstances seem to be just as hopeless as my past.
Upset for being once again trapped in the chain reaction caused by those dreams, I reached for my watch on the nightstand next to my bed. It was something I did out of habit, just because it somehow gave me some sense of normality. I had promised to myself I would stop doing it for it was by all means useless after all. But I just didn’t have the strength to give it up just yet. I would not let that be taken away from me too.
Unwillingly aware that the watch could not tell my blind eyes how far in the dead of night all that was taking place, I tried in vain to make sense of it on my own. What troubled me was the fact that Ferndean is rather too quiet a place in any time of the day, indifferently to the passage of the hours and the sun. So there was nothing in the overwhelming silence that could help me situate myself the way I wanted to. I only assumed the sun had not yet risen because that my injured eyes could still vaguely tell.
Pilot did not seem to be anywhere near the bed since I could not hear him breathing, but that was not of much help either. My loyal dog no longer puts a lot of effort into being around me the way he did before. In spite of all his affection for me, it is clear that the poor animal feels unease in my presence after the accident – a behavior that is probably due to the fact that my bad temper has only gotten worse ever since.
Something similar can be said about old John and his wife, Mary. Both are always trying their best to be useful, efficient and kind, which is exactly what upsets me the most: having to be taken care of by a couple of servants, like some old invalid man on his deathbed. They usually help me keep some track of time, especially by bringing me the candles I ask for when I sense that the sun has set. That, though, pretty much sums up all that I accept from them: following my orders. They know I rather be left alone with my thoughts instead of dealing with the constant attendance of servants.
What they cannot understand and neither can anyone else is that all of this is far more than I can handle. I cannot stand the feeling of being held captive inside of my own mind but at the same time I do not see a way out of this prison. Sometimes I fear that I might be turning crazy like her, the woman I once called my wife. I wonder if this is some kind of repayment for keeping her in the attic of Thornfield like a prisoner.
But then again, wasn’t she a threat to herself and everyone else? Or is that what I like to tell myself to justify all that happened and all that I have done? I also thought I was doing the right thing when I tried to lead Jane to marry me and the ultimate result was losing the only woman that I truly love and that loved me in return. Taking such things into consideration leaves me wondering more and more often if God is not indeed trying to teach me some lessons about all my former mistakes and their reasons.
Sadly, though, my faith is yet far too little and fragile. I do not have enough of it to keep me safe from all the feelings, memories and thoughts that haunt me untiringly. I have been nothing but a ghost, a faded shadow of my former self, ever since the fire and the absence of my beloved took away everything that used to give my existence a meaning. I just keep on living a life just like that: waiting alone in the darkness, eager for some light that will set me free, while knowing that no sun rising in the horizon shall bring me back my angel, for it seems now that she will only return to me in dreams.
Human and still in love as I am, I did that night what I did in all the ones before, I rested my head against the pillow and closed my eyes, waiting for the miracle of being able to see her and hold her again in my sleep, for only then I could feel happy again.