“I told you John Rivers was a perfect rebound.”

I stared at Alice with a degree of exasperation as she fossicked through her overflowing closet.

Since the day I’d lost my temper in the office, I’d forgiven her as much as I could. Our friendship had returned, but along with it came a little apprehension on my behalf. Knowing she knew the reason for Edward’s standoffish behavior didn’t make my life any easier, nor did it help me sleep at night. I now guarded myself carefully around her, though I wished I didn’t have to.

“It’s only dinner,” I replied from my spot on the end of her bed.

“Then why do you need to dress up?” she asked.

I shrugged, though she couldn’t see me from inside the Narnia that was her personal fashion boutique. When she turned and raised her eyebrow in question, I said, “Because it’s nice.”

“I wouldn’t hold it against you if you decided to have a little fling with the man,” Alice went on, oblivious to my discomfort. “I’m sure he’s used to it. Being used for pleasure, I mean.”

“It’s not my intention,” I replied sharply.

Alice emerged from the closet holding a black dress and handed it to me.

“I’ve never had a lot of friends,” I went on. “Rivers seems nice, though his intentions seem a little off-center. He likes to talk about art and ideas, and it’s a refreshing change. Not everything has to be about love, sex, or something in between.”

With this, I held up the dress, declared it satisfactory, and thanked her for her help. I suppose it was a little harsh of me, but I was through taking life on the chin like a good sport.

“I’m sorry, Jane,” Alice said, looking forlorn. “You’ve become so closed off these past weeks, and I was only trying to help. I miss the Jane who first arrived at Thornfield.”

“She was a different beast, I’m afraid,” I replied, beginning to feel terrible about brushing her off. “Thornfield has changed me, and I’m not sure if it’s for the good or bad. Too much has transpired for me to feel much comfort here.”

“I would tell you everything, Jane, but I’m forbidden.”

“Yes, Edward has that effect on people,” I replied. “I cannot pretend my feelings aren’t hurt by being purposely kept from things, even when I suspect it’s for my own good.”

“What will you do?” Alice asked, staring at her feet.

“I’m sure you already know,” I replied. “Once the retreat is over and the guests have departed, I will begin looking for a new situation.”

“You’re leaving?” At this declaration, Alice stared up at me in shock, though I hardly knew why. Surely she’d seen it coming?

“I cannot pretend I belong here any longer,” I replied. “Thornfield has scarred me quite deeply, and I feel I will be much better off leaving the events of this last summer behind me and forging ahead someplace new.”

“I understand why, but I really wish you wouldn’t,” she said. “If I ever had a sister, I hoped it would be you, Jane.”

I couldn’t smile, for her wish was one of my greatest desires, and those things seemed further out of my grasp than ever before. A family, a place to belong, and a name.

Retreating to my room with the dress, I changed hastily, my temper rising at Alice’s throwaway regard for affection and her desire to call me sister. It was akin to Edward’s need to own me however he could. Was it wrong to say no to a passing fancy? Was it wrong to only want the complete love of a man? Was I so abhorrent for wanting the things I craved so desperately?

Dragging my fingers through my hair, I untangled the braid I’d come to wear every day and smoothed out the curls the design had made in my long, brown locks. Studying my reflection in the little mirror, I wondered at the things John Rivers seemed to have spotted in my features that I had not.

I’d always had a shade of doubt about my attractiveness where Edward was concerned, but I’d come to realize he’d ultimately wanted to control me more than he had wanted something pleasing to look at. I spoke back, I challenged, and I didn’t submit without complaint, so it was little wonder a man like him—a man addicted to wealth and power—would see me as more.

But John Rivers… He was an enigma because I couldn’t see what he saw at all. Emerging from my room and weaving my way to the dining room, I decided I would ask if I had enough courage. Lately, I had very little, so I was entirely sure it would remain a mystery unless he chose to impart it on me himself.

The dining room was full of riotous laughter and noise when I stepped through the double doors that joined the space with the main sitting room.

Folding my hands in front of me, I surveyed the room, wondering if I’d made the right decision by coming here to dine with Rivers. I’d never second-guessed myself as much as I did now, and it took no great effort to understand why.

Just as I spotted him, Rivers rose to his feet. He’d claimed a table by the windows in an out-of-the-way little hollow among the excitement, and I was thankful for it.

Making my way toward him, I noticed the table was laid out for two. The centerpiece was adorned with red roses while the other tables had an assortment of peach and cream buds. A pair of tapered candles in silver holders sat on either side, and an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne finished off the ensemble. It was a little too romantic for my tastes, but I was here now and couldn’t escape.

“Jane,” Rivers said, looking me over with a keen eye. “You look stunning.”

Knowing he was laying the compliments on thick for his own gain, I smiled, just thankful someone bothered to give them to me at all in my current state of flux.

“Would you like to sit?” he asked, gesturing to the chair opposite.

Glancing at the empty place, then at the full to bursting dining room, I hesitated. It was only an innocent dinner with a guest and not at all in the least romantic despite the layout. It was a chance to converse with an artist, something I’d longed for in the dreary winter months. I was as free as I could be as a single woman in rural England, and perhaps I’d learn something new about the world. What was the harm?

I offered him another small smile, pulled out the chair, and sat.

I glanced at the table arrangement and raised an eyebrow. “I see you went to some effort.”

“Perhaps it was a little mischievous of me, but I thought it would be nice in light of recent events.”

My skin bristled at his comment, and I reached for the champagne. It looked as if I would need some liquid courage to loosen my tongue if Rivers was going to keep putting his foot in it.

“Allow me,” he said, taking the bottle from my hand. Pouring two glasses, he handed me one.

“Please, don’t be so bold to think you know anything of me and the things I have been subjected to,” I said briskly. “It is a fool who believes the entire truth of a person is held within the confines of gossip.”

Rivers paused, his eyes looking me over with an air of surprise. “Well said, Jane. I will endeavor to rise above the idle chattering of waitresses. Accept my apologies.”

“I can hardly tell if you are being sincere or sarcastic,” I retorted.

“Such fire!” he exclaimed, raising his glass. “I can see I was right about the iceberg. I must admit, my arrogance gets the better of me at times, Jane. A personal fault, but one I own up to in hopes of bettering myself.”

“I’m glad to see it,” I said, my ire beginning to dampen. “There aren’t many people who would own up to it much less declare it with such vigor.”

He smiled, his lips curling in a pleasing manner. “Let me buy you dinner. Pick anything you like.” He handed me a menu, and I hid a smile. “What’s that I see? A smile?”

“You don’t need to buy me a single thing, sir.”

“Why not?” Rivers seemed to understand that the mood was light, and he played up to my tone.

I lowered the menu. “I am fortunate enough to work here, and the food is included.”

“Then I am bested!” he declared with a wicked grin.

When the waiter appeared, I greeted him by name and placed our order with precision, ignoring the knowing smile he was flashing. Did everyone think I was on a date with this man? It was madness!

As we waited for our food to arrive and then as we ate, I allowed Rivers to talk about his upbringing and family, regaling me with the condensed version of his life story to date. If there was one thing he loved to do other than appreciating the female form, it was to talk endlessly about himself. We made a fine pair, and his unashamed arrogance made up for my unwillingness to talk at all.

“Have you always wanted to be an artist?” I asked when he was done telling me about his fine studio in Shoreditch, London.

“Yes, since I was a little boy, though my parents wanted better things for me.”

“What’s better than painting?” I asked incredulously.

“Law, medicine, finance. All well-paying professions, which come with respect, though I like your reaction to their oppression, Jane.”

I didn’t understand his rebellion at his parents’ wish that he have a better life. I never knew mine, and I was sure I’d want my mother and father to wish grand things for me if they were alive. It didn’t seem like such a disagreeable thing to me.

“Though, I’ve worked hard to hone my skill, and I can now command a grand price for my work,” he went on, his voice full of pride.

“Then you ought to be congratulated.”

Rivers shrugged. “Success is a strange beast, Jane, much like men and power. Once you have a taste, one tends to want more, and when the pinnacle of one’s profession is reached, what then?”

“Contentment?”

“One would think just that, but I am led to believe life is about the chase and the journey, not the obtainment. Once you obtain the thing you desire most, the journey is over.”

“And so is life?”

Rivers regarded me for a moment as he thought over my insight and said, “It’s quite a poignant thing to ponder.”

I didn’t like the sound of his hypothesis and glanced down at the plate in front of me that held the remnants of my dinner. If what Rivers had said was true, then perhaps Edward and I were always going to be doomed, no matter what either of us said or did. Would he have eventually tired of me if I’d agreed to be his mistress? Would I have had the same misgivings if I’d gotten what I’d desired? It was all a little depressing dwelling upon what ifs.

When I finally returned to my room after a long evening talking about art and color, I’d decided John Rivers was a nice enough man. Even though his faults were quite literally on display, he could acknowledge his wrongdoings and attempt to make up for them. It was a refreshing change, and I found it easy to talk to him about all manner of things.

It was pleasurable to discuss ideas and outlooks for a change and not be forced to talk in riddles and conjectures.

There was nothing complicated or hidden about John Rivers, and it was what I liked most about him. Perhaps I would take him up on his offer and visit his studio in London. I had nowhere else to go after I left Thornfield, and the city would be the most likely place to find an abundance of work.

It seemed like a fine idea, and for the first time in a year, my plain, little life had a direction.