I thought long and hard over Edward’s parting words that day.

He’d admitted to tricking me with his wicked ways, and in all honesty, I was unsure how to take it. Especially when he admitted to still caring for me even though he’d turned to Blanche in my absence. Any sane person would have called it quits long before now.

For three days after this bizarre display of affection, I was forced to linger in bed. I only granted Bessie and Alice audience, too distraught at the events of the past few days to face more of the same.

Alice would sit on the bed next to me, keeping me entertained with the comings and goings since the attack. I welcomed her chatter as it distracted me from my aches and pains, but I didn’t share her outrage in quite the same way.

It felt strange to say I’d been harmed in that way even though it was exactly what had transpired at the top of those garden stairs. I wasn’t sure of Blanche’s ultimate intentions with that knife—if she’d intended to scare, wound, or kill—but it still ended badly.

Alice told me a rather embellished account of all the pieces of Edward’s dismissal of Blanche I’d missed. Apparently, he’d begun carrying out her luggage himself when she kept hindering the staff from taking them. He’d practically thrown her trunks down the stairs he was so angry. It must have been a sight to behold, and I was sorry to have missed the excitement. Although Blanche and the things she was capable of now frightened me, a small part of me wanted to see the look on her face.

“I don’t even know why he wanted to marry her at all,” Alice declared with a humph.

“Are you forgetting the things you said to me before you knew of Edward and me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, shush,” she said, waving her hand at me. “That was before.”

“Before?”

“Oh, Jane, stop tormenting me! I never thought of it because I never thought it was possible. I can see it clearly in hindsight, and his reaction to your…” She paused with a frown. “Well, his reaction says it all, doesn’t it?”

“His reaction?” I knew what she was getting at, but I didn’t want to hold out hope Edward had finally come around.

“When he came into the gallery with you in his arms, he was such a mess,” she told me. “He looked thoroughly terrified you were gravely hurt. I almost had a heart attack myself! I can see it, Jane, how he feels about you. I never thought I’d see the day!”

“I’ve never been shown such affection,” I said quietly. “I never wanted to cause a scene. Honestly, I feel terrible I’m even in this position.”

“Don’t even think that again,” Alice said intently. “She showed her true colors, Jane. Everyone always knew she was shallow and haughty, but to attack you?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Jealousy is an ugly emotion, and it ran deep in her. She knew she never had Edward, and the fact you did only showed her flaws. It takes a certain kind of darkness to strike as she did. He was right to turn her out.”

“But…”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself. Why would you even think it was your fault their engagement was ended? As I said, she showed her true skin, and I know Rocky would never stoop to marry someone like her. When she was nothing but a shallow, flashy figurehead perhaps, but now? No way. I sincerely doubt his choice would have been different if she’d attacked someone else.”

I glanced away, ashamed at my lack of confidence.

Alice continued her pep talk. “Rocky’s a complicated man, but he will do whatever it takes to protect those he cares for. Perhaps he goes a little overboard, but it comes from a place of love.”

I sighed. “Do you think he keeps me from his secrets for this reason? To protect me?”

“Of course.”

“I wished to help him,” I whispered. “I wanted… I couldn’t allow myself to love him without having it returned fully. All my life, I’ve wanted it and been denied it in the cruelest ways. What is love without trust?”

“You’re right that’s for sure.” Alice smiled softly and adjusted the blanket around my waist. “But what is love without faith?”

I stared at her, shocked. She was absolutely right. In holding so strictly to my morals, had I given up on complete happiness too soon? Was this torment all my doing?

Humanity was a strange and cruel thing. Wherever our kind congregated, there were inevitable disagreements and jealousies, and when one perceived an injustice against their person, nothing could change their mind once they were set on their course for revenge. Stubbornness would see that their intent stayed on task with only their ultimate goal in their sights. Destruction.

Through my stubbornness, that was what I feared Blanche Ingram would exact upon all who lived at Thornfield, including Edward and myself. I feared she would return and finish what she had begun, and by giving her time and distance, the resulting scheme would be greater, its punishment more extreme.

“Don’t fret, Jane,” Alice said. “Things will right themselves in time.”

I really hoped she was right.

A few days after the attack, I discharged myself from the suite and returned to work. My bruises would remain for a while yet, and so would my aches and pains, but I couldn’t remain confined in that bed a moment longer. Movement and assigned tasks held pleasure for me, and being idle had only served to darken my thoughts.

Edward had been absent, keeping his distance and likely scheming behind closed doors. Alice had confirmed he was still at Thornfield but had been elusive, even at mealtimes. She thought he was sulking over me, but I didn’t want to hear about it.

I was in the office alone, fielding inquiries about a second artist retreat, when the mail was delivered. The arrival of the mailman was always an excitement as he usually brought Alice a load of parcels from her online shopping, but today it was only an assortment of letters for Edward and some junk mail.

Sorting through the pile, I divided it up, discarding the flyers, and when I came across a crisp white envelope with my name printed on the front, my heart skipped a dozen beats. I held it close, thankful I’d been there to receive the mail and not Alice, for the type on the front was emblazoned with my real name. Jane Eyre.

I didn’t know why I wanted to keep it a secret, but I cherished the word that claimed me as belonging to an unknown family above all else. I hadn’t told a soul, not Alice or Bessie, not Georgiana, and especially not Edward. It was something that was mine and mine alone, and until I understood what it meant, it would remain a secret.

Leaning back in my chair, I peered out into the gallery and listened, but I was alone.

Who would be writing me a letter as Jane Eyre? It would either be terrible news or the best thing that’d ever happened to me.

Ripping open the envelope, I slipped out the single sheet of paper within and unfolded it, my fingers shaking.

---

Dear Jane Eyre,

---

My name is Jason Briggs, a lawyer at Briggs, Farnham, and Associates law firm in Bloomsbury, London.

We’ve received communication from the estate of Sarah Reed as to your whereabouts and wish to set up a meeting to discuss the estate of your late uncle James Eyre. As you are his only living relative, he has named you the singular recipient of his holdings and finances.

I am more than willing to come and meet you as you live so far from London. Please contact me at your earliest convenience, and I will make the necessary arrangements at once.

---

Sincerely,

Mr. Jason Briggs

---

My late uncle? He’d died?

I clutched the letter against my chest and took a deep breath. From what I’d understood, James Eyre was my only living relative—at least, he was the only one Aunt Sarah had spoken of. James had no children and had wanted to adopt me, and my birth parents had only one child before they died, so it must be true.

If he’d passed, then it meant I was as alone as I’d always been. It was a blow, and I felt my heart twist in disappointment.

Not wasting another minute, I picked up the phone and dialed the number on the letterhead. A female receptionist answered, and when I asked to speak to Mr. Briggs, I was put through immediately as if they’d been expecting my call. It was all a little seamless and made me feel important. It was quite strange to be treated as a VIP.

Mr. Briggs himself had a gruff yet friendly voice and spoke of his relief at finding me very much alive. It seemed he’d been searching for some time, but as I’d been going by Doe, there was no trace of me to be had. We spoke very briefly and made arrangements to meet in the village near Thornfield in two days’ time.

I didn’t care much for the thought of what had been left to me in my uncle’s estate. I merely wished to know more about him. He was gone, but I hoped I could find some of my elusive identity in the clues he’d left behind.

After a lifetime of hoping, the next two days couldn’t go fast enough.

After the phone call, the weather began to storm quite fiercely, but on the morning of the second day—the day I was to meet with the lawyer, Mr. Briggs—things began to clear.

The cloud cover had hung back, allowing some patches of blue to shimmer through the gloom, and the snow had mostly melted away. My life seemed to be full to bursting with omens since I arrived in this untamed countryside, so I took the shards of sunshine and greenery to be a good sign for the meeting to come.

I was still a little too sore to be walking the hour and a half to the village, so I borrowed one of the hotel’s battered cars and wove my way dangerously down the narrow lane, thankful I didn’t meet any other vehicles coming the other way.

When Alice asked after my errand, I fabricated a story about sending some things to my cousin Georgiana and an assortment of odds and ends. She seemed wholly satisfied with this and didn’t fossick for more gossip.

Curiously, Edward had kept his distance since I was forced into involuntary bed rest, and that morning, he’d disappeared from Thornfield, off on some unknown errand of his own. I had no doubt he’d be informed of my wanderings when he returned, but for now, I was free and clear.

The café sat by the train station and next door to the compact Sainsbury’s, so parking was no problem. When I opened the door and stepped in out of the cold, I scanned the little eatery for signs of Mr. Briggs, but I needn’t have worried. Only one customer was present—a middle-aged man of about fifty—and from the look of him, this was the man I’d come to see.

He was sitting side on to the door, and I was able to get a small sense of his looks and temperament before I approached. His hair was clipped short and dusted with a generous helping of gray, and his face was clean-shaven. He wore a dark gray suit with an off-white shirt and what looked to be a red herringbone tie. He was professional and kind looking, so I approached.

“Mr. Briggs?” I asked uncertainly.

He rose to his feet, a wide smile on his face, and extended his hand. “Miss Eyre, I presume.”

Shaking his proffered hand, I nodded. “I am one and the same.”

He let me go and gestured for me to take the seat opposite his. I sat gingerly, wincing slightly as I bumped a bruise against the arm of the chair.

He frowned and asked, “Are you well, Miss Eyre?”

“I am,” I replied. “I took a tumble last week, and I am a little bruised, but I’m well.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” He turned to the waitress and ordered a pot of tea for us to share.

“I must say, I’m very eager to hear what you have to say, Mr. Briggs. What can you tell me about my uncle?” I asked as he began pulling out an assortment of folders and papers from his leather satchel.

He smiled. “You’re very keen.”

“I’ve not had the chance to know any of my family on my father’s side,” I said. “I’m very excited to know I had an uncle.”

His expression crumbled slightly. “I’m sorry to say he passed ten years ago,” he explained. “We have been searching for you ever since, but it has been quite difficult.”

My heart sank. Ten years ago? It was the same time as Aunt Sarah’s letter, and it had led me to believe he knew he was dying and sought to right a wrong before he passed.

Where was I then? Ten years ago, I was a student at Lowood, and my friend Helen had been alive. If I’d known of him then, perhaps I could have helped her live. It was all a little too late, and I was reluctant to partake in what had been bequeathed to me.

“All that time ago?” I asked as the waitress returned with the tea.

Mr. Briggs waited until the woman had set out the cups, saucers, and pot, and had departed. Then he took it upon himself to pour us both a dram of the homely liquid before answering.

“He sought you out in the months before he passed but was unable to find your whereabouts,” he explained, offering me a few little packages of sugar, of which I took two. “I was great friends with your uncle, and he asked that I see to finding you and to maintain things until the day I could hand them over to you personally. You’ll find everything in order, right down to the last penny. Time has only made his investments grow. You’ll be quite pleased.”

He rifled through his pile of folders and let out an ‘ah-ha’ when he found the one he was looking for.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Mr. Briggs.” I barely looked at the papers he handed to me before setting them aside. This was all quite a shock, and it was only just beginning to settle in.

“You don’t want to know how much you’re worth?” he asked, watching me closely. “Or what property is yours to reside in? I can walk you through all of it.”

I glanced at the tea, then at him before asking quite robotically, “How much am I worth?”

“Ten million pounds,” he declared. “Along with the deeds to six houses in three different countries, a prosperous textile factory in Leeds, several thousand shares in emerging technologies, and an investment plan which will see you living off the interest for the remainder of your days. Miss Eyre, you are set for life.”

My head began to spin, my heart raced, and my skin started to prickle as shock set in. I was an heiress? One of the wealthy? I felt rather faint and not at all sure this was real. Raising my hand, I pinched myself. Hard. How else was one meant to react to the irrevocable change to one’s circumstances?

This fortune now made me eligible for Edward’s hand. If it were mere finances that hindered our union, now there were no barriers, but it wasn’t money or class lines that drove us apart. If he were going to come back to me, it would be because of pure, untainted love. It would be because of who I was, not the money in my bank account.

“It must be a shock to you,” Mr. Briggs said kindly. “To go from thinking you had no family to having an uncle who gave you his life’s work all in one day.”

“What was he like?” I asked, the question bursting forth from someplace unknown.

“He was a good man. His fortune was self-made. He wasn’t born to it. In fact, the Eyre’s were no one of any concern. No titles granted by the Queen or traceable family lineage. Just a normal family going about their business. After your parents died, it seemed to light a fire under James. That was when he began to make something of himself.”

“Why didn’t he adopt me when I was a baby? Why was I thrust upon the Reeds?”

“He would have, believe me, Miss, but your mother’s family blocked his every attempt. Your parents’ marriage wasn’t a welcome one, and your uncle, John Reed, was determined to see you raised with him and not in squalor as he put it.”

“And then he died,” I muttered.

Mr. Briggs nodded. “Not long after the accident, you just ceased to be.”

I wasn’t surprised since my name and all knowledge of my father’s family had been taken from me. I hardly believed the story could be so cruel until I knew the whole of it. My life had been stripped away over a feud between the rich and the poor. It seemed the cycle would never end.

“I would have wished to know him, had I the chance,” I said. “I grew up thinking I was quite alone, and I only learned of his existence a few months ago. It is a shock, indeed. Truthfully, I do not care about the money, though it is welcome, and I’m sure I can do much good with it. I… I merely wished to know where I came from.”

“We all do,” he said kindly. “It’s the greatest question humanity has ever asked. Where and why?”