I will not be your English Céline Varens.

It’s all well and good to have their feelings out in the open, but Jane’s still in a precarious position.

While arranging my hair, I looked at my face in the glass, and felt it no longer plain: there was hope in its aspect, and life in its colour: and my eyes seemed as if they had beheld the font of fruition, and borrowed beams from the lustrous ripple. I had often been unwilling to look at my master, because I feared he could not be pleased at my look; but I was sure I might lift my face to his now, and not cool his affection by its expression.

Naturally, Jane’s running on a high the next morning, bursting with goodwill to all and sundry. There’s still one thing that bugs her, though: Mrs. Fairfax clearly has the wrong idea about it all, and is thus distressed that Jane is making a grave error.

“Jane, you look blooming, and smiling, and pretty,” said he: “truly pretty this morning. Is this my pale little elf? Is this my mustard-seed? This little sunny-faced girl with the dimpled cheek and rosy lips; the satin-smooth hazel hair, and radiant hazel eyes?” (I had green eyes, reader; but you must excuse the mistake: for him they were new-dyed, I suppose)
“It is Jane Eyre, sir.”
“Soon to be Jane Rochester,” he added; “in four weeks, Janet, not a day more. Do you hear that?”
I did, and I could not quite comprehend it; it made me giddy. The feeling, the announcement sent through me, was something stronger than was consistent with joy – something that smote and stunned: it was, I think, almost fear.

She’s entering a new phase of life, and that can be scary! But she also senses it might all be too good to be true.

“You blushed, and now you are white, Jane: what is that for?”
“Because you gave me a new name – Jane Rochester; and it seems so strange.”
“Yes, Mrs. Rochester,” said he; “young Mrs. Rochester – Fairfax Rochester’s girl-bride.”
“It can never be, sir; it does not sound likely. Human beings never enjoy complete happiness in this world. I was not born for a different destiny to the rest of my species: to imagine such a lot befalling me is a fairy tale – a day-dream.”

Even Mr. Rochester highlights her youth…but as that will not go uncommented on, I’ll save my thoughts on that for later.

“[…] This morning I wrote to my banker in London to send me certain jewels he has in his keeping, – heir-looms for the ladies of Thornfield. In a day or two I hope to pour them into your lap: for every privilege, every attention shall be yours, that I would accord a peer’s daughter, if about to marry her.”
“Oh, sir! – never mind jewels! I don’t like to hear them spoken of. Jewels for Jane Eyre sounds unnatural and strange: I would rather not have them.”
“I will myself put the diamond chain round your neck, and the circlet on your forehead, – which it will become: for nature, at least, has stamped her patent of nobility on this brow, Jane; and I will clasp the bracelets on these fine wrists, and load these fairy-like fingers with rings.”

And this change in tone from Mr. Rochester – his insistence on showering her with expensive gifts – makes Jane intensely uncomfortable.

“I will attire my Jane in satin and lace, and she shall have roses in her hair; and I will cover the head I love best with a priceless veil.”
“And then you won’t know me, sir; and I shall not be your Jane Eyre any longer, but an ape in a harlequin’s jacket, – a jay in borrowed plumes. I would as soon see you, Mr. Rochester, tricked out in stage-trappings, as myself clad in a court-lady’s robe; and I don’t call you handsome, sir, though I love you most dearly: far too dearly to flatter you. Don’t flatter me.”

But he doesn’t seem to hear her protestations, and after a while he turns toward the idea of travelling together, which Jane is a bit more receptive to.

“Shall I travel? – and with you, sir?”
“You shall sojourn at Paris, Rome, and Naples: at Florence, Venice, and Vienna: all the ground I have wandered over shall be re-trodden by you: wherever I stamped my hoof, your sylph’s foot shall step also. Ten years since, I flew through Europe half mad; with disgust, hate, and rage, as my companions; now I shall revisit it healed and cleansed, with a very angel as my comforter.”
I laughed at him as he said this. “I am not an angel,” I asserted; “and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself. Mr. Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of me – for you will not get it, any more than I shall get it of you: which I do not at all anticipate.”
“What do you anticipate of me?”
“For a little while you will perhaps be as you are now, – a very little while; and then you will turn cool; and then you will be capricious; and then you will be stern, and I shall have much ado to please you: but when you get well used to me, you will perhaps like me again – like me, I say, not love me. I suppose your love will effervesce in six months, or less. I have observed in books written by men that period assigned as the farthest to which a husband’s ardour extends. Yet, after all, as a friend and companion, I hope never to become quite distasteful to my dear master.”

Jane’s entering this relationship with a much clearer head than Mr. Rochester – he seems to expect her to just fix him, while Jane knows she can’t.

And she promptly asks him to rescind the order for the jewels, which in his present charitable mood, he acquiesces to.

“[You] have not yet asked for anything; you have prayed a gift to be withdrawn: try again.”
“Well, then, sir; have the goodness to gratify my curiosity, which is much piqued on one point.”
He looked disturbed. “What? what?” he said hastily. “Curiosity is a dangerous petition: it is well I have not taken a vow to accord every request-“
“But there can be no danger in complying to this, sir.”
“Utter it, Jane: but I wish that instead of a mere inquiry into perhaps, a secret, it was a wish for half my estate.”
“Now, king Ahasuerus! What do I want with half your estate? […] I would rather have all your confidence. You will not exclude me from your confidence, if you admit me to your heart?”
“You are welcome to all my confidence that is worth having, Jane: but for God’s sake don’t desire a useless burden! Don’t long for poison – don’t turn out a downright Eve on my hands!”
“Why not, sir? You have just been telling me how much you like to be conquered, and how pleasant over-persuasion is to you. Don’t you think I had better take advantage of the confession, and begin and coax, and entreat – even cry and be sulky if necessary – for the sake of a mere essay of my power?”
“I dare you to any such experiment. Encroach, presume, and the game is up.”
“Is it, sir? You soon give in. How stern you look now! Your eyebrows have become as thick as my finger, and your forehead resembles, what, in some very astonishing poetry, I once styled, ‘a blue-piled thunderloft.’ That will be your married look, sir, I suppose?”
“If that will be your married look, I, as a Christian, will soon give up the notion of consorting with a mere sprite or salamander. But what had you to ask, thing? – out with it!”
“There, you are less civil now: and I like rudeness a great deal better than flattery. I had rather be a thing than an angel.”

He’s fine with doting on her – he has more money than he knows what to do with. But it’s clear that he’s still keeping some very important secrets from her…but he’s relieved to hear her ask only about Miss Ingram.

“Well, I feigned courtship of Miss Ingram, because I wished to render you as madly in love with me as I was with you; and I knew jealousy would be the best ally I could call in for the furtherance of that end.”
“Excellent! -now you are small – not one whit bigger than the end of my little finger. It was a burning shame, and a scandalous disgrace to act in that way. Did you think nothing of Miss Ingram’s feelings, sir?”
“Her feelings are concentrated in one – pride; and that needs humbling. Were you jealous, Jane?”
“Never mind, Mr. Rochester: it is in no way interesting to you to know that. Answer me truly once more. Do you think Miss Ingram will not suffer from your dishonest coquetry? Won’t she feel forsaken and deserted?”
“Impossible! – when I told you how she, on the contrary, deserted me: the idea of my insolvency cooled, or rather extinguished, her flame in a moment.”
“You have a curious designing mind, Mr. Rochester. I am afraid your principles on some points are eccentric.”
“My principles were not trained, Jane: they may have grown a little awry from want of attention.”
“Once again, seriously; may I enjoy the great good that has been vouchsafed to me, without fearing that any one else is suffering the bitter pain I myself felt a while ago?”
“That you may, my good little girl: there is not another being in the world has the same pure love for me as yourself – for I lay that pleasant unction to my soul, Jane, a belief in your affection.”

Again, he seems to blame his parents for all his flaws. Note also that he doesn’t deny that ANY other woman loves him, just that no one else loves him as “purely” as Jane, whatever that means.

Anyhow, after that, Jane asks him to explain the situation to Mrs. Fairfax, since she hates to make her so upset, but thought it would be best for Mr. Rochester to tell her himself. And Jane still has to confirm to her that they’re really getting married

She surveyed my whole person: in her eyes I read that they had found no charm powerful enough to solve the enigma.
“It passes me!” she continued: “but no doubt it is true since you say so. How it will answer, I cannot tell: I really don’t know. Equality of position and fortune is often advisable in such cases; and there are twenty years of difference in your ages. He might almost be your father.”
“No, indeed, Mrs. Fairfax!” exclaimed I, nettled: “he is nothing like my father! No one, who saw us together, would suppose it for an instant. Mr. Rochester looks as young, and is as young, as some men at five-and-twenty.”
“Is it really for love he is going to marry you?”
I was so hurt by her coldness and skepticism 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 that there will be something found to be different to what either you or I expect.”
“Why? – am I a monster?” I said: “is it impossible that Mr. Rochester should have a sincere affection for me?”

You know, Jane, it’s not about how the age gap LOOKS, but what it IS. He’s clearly hiding something from you, and even if he acts immature, he’s still twice your age.

But at the same time, I get that Jane feels like these questions about her situation are somehow an attack – and at the same time, SOMEONE has to look out for Jane, so Mrs. Fairfax is right to remind her where she stands.

“[You] are very well; and much improved of late: and Mr. Rochester, I daresay, is fond of you. I have always noticed that you were a sort of pet of his. There are times when, for your sake, I have been a little uneasy at his marked preference, and have wished to put you on your guard: but I did not like to suggest even the possibility of wrong. I knew such an idea would shock, perhaps offend you; and you were so discreet, and so thoroughly modest and sensible, I hoped you might be trusted to protect yourself. Last night I cannot tell you what I suffered when I sought all over the house, and could find you nowhere, nor the master either; and then, at twelve o’clock, saw you come in with him.”
“Well, never mind that now,” I interrupted impatiently: “it is enough that all was right.”
“I hope all will be right in the end,” she said: “but believe me, you cannot be too careful. Try and keep Mr. Rochester as a distance: distrust yourself as well as him. Gentlemen in his station are not accustomed to marry their governesses.”

While this clearly irritates Jane, she also takes it to heart, taking pains to keep Mr. Rochester from getting too close, starting by suggesting that Adèle accompany them on their errand into town.

“Adèle may accompany us, may she not, sir?”
“I told her no, I’ll have no brats! – I’ll have only you.”
“Do let her go, Mr. Rochester, if you please: it would be better.”
“Not it: she will be a restraint.”
He was quite peremptory, both in look and voice. The chill of Mrs. Fairfax’s warnings, and the damp of her doubts, were upon me: something of unsubstantiality and uncertainty had beset my hopes. I half lost the sense of power over him. I was about mechanically to obey him, without further remonstrance; but as he helped me into the carriage he looked at my face.
“What is the matter?” he asked; “all the sunshine is gone. Do you really wish the bairn to go? Will it annoy you of she is left behind?”
“I would rather she went, sir.”

Thus they’re prevented from having a tete-a-tete in the carriage, and Mr. Rochester gets distracted by making up a fairy tale that’s essentially retelling his proposal, in a roundabout explanation for Adèle.

“Mademoiselle is a fairy,” he said, whispering mysteriously. Whereupon I told her not to mind his badinage; and she, on her part, evinced a fund of genuine French skepticism: denominating Mr. Rochester “un vrai menteur [a real liar],” and assuring him that she made no account whatever of his “Contes de fee [fairy tales],” and that “du reste, il n’y avait pas de fees, et quand meme il y en avait [besides, there are no fairies, and even if there were]” she was sure that they would never appear to him, nor give him rings, or offer to live with him in the moon. The hour spent at Millcote was a somewhat harassing one to me. Mr. Rochester obliged me to go to a certain silk warehouse: there I was ordered to choose half a dozen dresses. I hated the business, I begged leave to defer it: no – it should be gone through with now. By dint of entreaties expressed in energetic whispers I reduced the half-dozen to two: these, however, he vowed he would select himself. With anxiety I watched his eye rove over the gay stores: he fixed on a rich silk of the most brilliant amethyst dye, and a superb pink satin. I told him in a new series of whispers, that he might as well buy me a gold gown and a silver bonnet at once: I should certainly never venture to wear his choice. With infinite difficulty, for he was stubborn as a stone, I persuaded him to make an exchange in favour of a sober black satin and pearl-grey silk.

She’s forced to endure a trip to the jewelers after that, but then they finally head home.

As we re-entered the carriage, and I sat back feverish and fagged, I remembered what in the hurry of events, dark and bright, I had wholly forgotten – the letter of my uncle, John Eyre, to Mrs. Reed: his intention to adopt me and make me his legatee. “It would, indeed, be a relief,” I thought, “if I had ever so small an independency; I never can bear being dressed like a doll by Mr. Rochester, or sitting like a second Danae with the golden shower falling daily round me. I will write to Madeira the moment I get home, and tell my uncle John I am going to be married, and to whom: if I had but a prospect of one day bringing Mr. Rochester an accession of a fortune, I could better endure to be kept by him now.” And somewhat relived by this idea (which I failed not to execute that day), I ventured once more to meet my master’s and lover’s eye; which most pertinaciously sought mine, though I averted both face and gaze. he smiled: and I thought his smile was as a sultan might, in a blissful and fond moment, bestow on a slave his gold and gems had enriched: I crushed his hand, which was hunting mine, vigorously, and thrust it back to him red with the passionate pressure-
“You need not look in that way,” I said: “if you do I’ll wear nothing but my old Lowood frocks to the end of the chapter. I’ll be married in this lilac gingham – you may make a dressing-gown for yourself our of the pearl-grey silk, and an infinite series of waistcoats out of the black satin.”
He chuckled; he rubbed his hands: “Oh it is rich to see and hear her!” he exclaimed. “Is she original? Is she piquant? I would not exchange this one little English girl for the grand Turk’s whole seraglio; gazelle-eyes, houri forms, and all!”
The Eastern allusion bit me again: “I’ll not stand you an inch in the stead of a seraglio,” I said; “so don’t consider me an equivalent for one; if you have a fancy for anything in that line, away with you, sir, to the bazaars of Stamboul without delay; and lay out in extensive slave-purchases some of that spare cash you seem at a loss to spend satisfactorily here.”
“And what will you do, Janet, while I am bargaining for so many tons of flesh and such an assortment of black eyes?”
“I’ll be preparing myself to go out as a missionary to preach liberty to them that are enslaved – your harem inmates among the rest. I’ll get admitted there, and I’ll stir up mutiny; and you, three-tailed bashaw as you are, sir, shall in a trice find yourself fettered amongst our hands: nor will I, for one, consent to cut your bonds till you have signed a charter, the most liberal that despot ever yet conferred.”

She rightly points out that he’s objectifying her, and is also annoyed that he won’t listen to her.

“I only want an easy mind, sir; not crushed by crowded obligations. Do you remember what you said of Céline Varens? – of the diamonds, the cashmeres you gave her? I will not be your English Céline Varens. I shall continue act as Adèle’s governess; by that I shall earn my board and lodging, and thirty pounds a year besides. I’ll furnish my own wardrobe out of that money, and you shall give me nothing but-“
“Well, but what?”
“Your regard: and if I give mine in return, that debt will be quit.”

She subsequently lays out her boundaries, telling him that she wants to keep the same routine, and that he may only summon her after dinner.

That evening, she comes up with something to distract him, having him sing for her – but of course he turns that into a romantic gesture.

He rose and came towards me, and I saw his face all kindled, and full falcon-eye flashing, and tenderness and passion in every lineament. I quailed momentarily – then I rallied. Soft scene, daring demonstration, I would not have; and I stood in peril of both: a weapon of defence must be prepared – I whetted my tongue: as he reached me, I asked with asperity, “whom he was going to marry now?”
“That was a strange question to be put by his darling Jane.”
“Indeed! I considered it a natural and necessary one: he had talked of his future wife dying with him. What did he mean by such a pagan idea? I had no intention of dying with him – he might depend on that.”

Hence, she proceeds to tease and irritate him, making it clear that she won’t go much further until he actually puts a ring on it.

From less to more, I worked him up to considerable irritation; then, after he had retired in dudgeon, quite to the other end of the room, I got up, and saying, “I wish you good-night, sir,” in my natural and wonted respectful manner, I slipped out by the side door and got away.
The system thus entered on, I pursued during the whole season of probation; and with the best success. He was kept, to be sure, rather cross and crusty: but on the whole I could see he was excellently entertained; and that a lamb-like submission and turtle-dove sensibility, while fostering his despotism more, would have pleased his judgment, satisfied his common-sense, and even suited his taste, less.
In other people’s presence I was, as formerly, deferential and quiet; any other line of conduct being uncalled for: it was only in the evening conferences I thus thwarted and afflicted him. He continued to send for me punctually the moment the clock struck seven; though when I appeared before him now, he had no such honeyed terms as “love” and “darling” on his lips: the best words at my service were “provoking puppet,” “malicious elf,” “sprite,” “changeling,” etc. For caresses, too, I now got grimaces; for a pressure of the hand, a pinch on the arm; for a kiss on the cheek, a severe tweak to the ear. It was all right: at present I decidedly preferred these fierce favours to anything more tender. Mrs. Fairfax, I saw, approved me: her anxiety on my account vanished; therefore I was certain I did well.

But she’s so consumed by thinking of him as a prospective husband, she once again forgets his faults…

Yet after all my task was not an easy one; often I would rather have pleased than teased him. My future husband was becoming my whole world; and more than the world: almost my hope of heaven. He stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not, in those days, see God for his creature: of whom I had made an idol.

Until next time…