Jane: A Retelling

Chapter 8

I can't help but wonder what, if I'd known how things would turn out, I would have done differently.

I expect the answer would be nothing—but I deeply wished that weren't true.

Even so, as evening fell that first night of Mr. Thorneton's arrival, I stayed in my room, safely locked away. I'd never known a worry so intangible.

In my life before, my worries were many but basic: would I have enough to eat, would I have a place to sleep, could I finish school, was it safe to close my eyes.

Survival.

But, survival took on a different meaning in Tower House once Mr. Thorneton arrived.

That evening, as night fell, streaming in shadows across the manicured lawn, the house lulled into an odd sense of quiet in comparison to the excitement of our new occupant joining us in such a violent fashion.

Like the smart girl I was, I stayed in my room sitting in the window seat looking out over the lake. Even with the new distraction to focus on, I watched the little house. It was both my constant and my obsession. Each evening, I ended my day gazing down the sea of green and wondering if my imagination would awake again to flashing little pixie lights and highland heroes.

After another evening of reading some of my favorite classic stories but no fairy heroes out in the woods, I crawled into bed, hoping things would return to their customary pace.

But, the next morning I awoke with a feeling akin to anticipation. I wondered if this is what a normal kid felt like on Christmas or her birthday.

This, dear reader, is where I need you to understand that I didn't think of Mr. Thorneton as my gift.

No. That would be not only silly, but stupid. One like that was closer to a lion at rest than a man. You may think, drinking from the watering hole he presided over, that he was there to protect you. To watch out for your safety. But I knew better. I'd learned that men like that didn't exist. That even the safely tamed ones you let in like a housecat needed to be treated with care.

Even a lion seemed too real—too regal. This man wasn't the handsome king. He was something more powerful. More base and authentic.

And certainly, if he were a gift, he was not mine.

But his being here—that was the gift. The novelty of it. The excitement of a new person who changed the routine. Someone who appeared in every way to invite speculation, danger, and interest.

I expected our days to become like a movie, with excitement around every corner.

And so, you can imagine my disappointment when nothing changed.

Well, nothing that impacted myself or Adelia.

Our days wore on, the only difference was we were removed from the comfortable big room downstairs since it was attached to Mr. Thorneton's office by glass French doors.

Each day a collection of cars arrived in the morning. The slick looking men who came in them were escorted to Mr. Thorneton's office by his assistant, Micha. The men met behind closed doors for most of the day, sometimes longer. They took their meals in the formal dining room off the great room, coming and going like ghosts.

Adelia had made it a point to be at the banister each morning to watch them as they strode through the wide front door just early enough to be morning, a little running commentary in her hushed voice.

It was the most subdued I'd seen her. She seemed to instinctively know what I was only guessing. That these were powerful men and that Mr. Thorneton was someone they respected, making him both more dangerous and more powerful than I would have even guessed upon meeting him.