Finished.

We got married this morning. Just a quiet ceremony. Which is what I wanted. Mary and John, who are still living with us, were thrilled to hear it. I wrote my cousins about the wonderful news. Mary and Diana sent back glowing congratulations, while St. John said nothing. Poor man. Now he must go to India on his own.

This blog is now retired. I no longer need the outlet. 

Good news and bad news.

Bad news first: Thornfield is no more. Bertha Mason burnt it down. She died in the fire, and Edward almost did too, trying to save her. A beam fell on him as he was getting all the servants out.

Good news: Edward is still with us. Blind and missing a hand, but with us all the same. And I would not care if he had lost both hands, I am so glad to see him alive. It is so good to be with him again. I am going to stay with him for as long as he will let me.

Not getting married! Except this time, I'm excited!

Brief update, I’m traveling again. Almost said yes to St. John, but then I knew I needed to get back to Thornfield. So I’m on my way back right now.

Worried and excited as to what I’ll find. I’ll write again soon!

India?

I face yet another conundrum. My cousin, St. John, who so graciously took me in, has proposed marriage. And wants me to come with him to India as a missionary.

Here’s the thing, I’m all for the mission to India. I could do it, easily. I mean, I lived with my aunt for how many years? And it didn't kill me? I could totally rock India. 

But I don’t love him. Well, I love him as a brother, of course. But not anything more. And it would probably kill me if he forced me into this loveless marriage. So I told him I would go as his sister, which is what I essentially am.

But would he have it? Of course not. It’s St. John. The man is, as his sister so aptly put, “inexorable as death.”

He gave me tonight to reconsider. Tomorrow, this battle of wills continues.

Another update: I am rich! I have (well, had) a rich uncle who remembered me in his will. Who would have thought, me, rich. Whatever shall I do?

Oh, and another shock. The lovely people who took me in? They are my cousins! I am not alone in the world! I have family, people tied to me by blood, who love me almost as much as I love them. I had never thought I could be happy again!

Brief update: I’m not dead. I’m teaching again, in a small, charity school.

The people who took me in are wonderful. I would say I don't think of him. But that would be a lie. 

Mr. Rochester is married. He’s been married for years. Her name is Bertha Mason, and she lives in the attic, attended by Grace Poole, because she is completely mad. She was the one who set his bed on fire, almost killed Mr Mason (who is actually her brother, and the one who burst into our ceremony and announced all this), and tore up my wedding veil.

I’m leaving. Can’t say where. But I’m leaving. I can’t and won’t live like this. This is most likely the end of this blog. Thank you all for reading. My apologies for its unsatisfactory ending.

HELP

Wedding today. Even more jitters! Edward seems even more jittery than me. But not in a good way.

Updates to come!

Nervous.

Wedding tomorrow. Pre-marital jitters!

Answers. Except not really.

An thoroughly unsatisfactory answer from Edward. He told me it was Grace Poole, and that she’s nuts, but he has to keep her here, and he will tell me the reason why a year and a day after we’re married.

A little melodramatic, darling…

The dream.

Last night, I had the most disturbing dream. I was holding a baby that was crying hysterically, and was following Mr. Rochester down a winding road. I don't know why, but it was incredibly unsettling.

Then, the dream morphed. I was in my bed, an a hideous figure stood in my room and tore my wedding veil before turning to me. I was so frightened in the dream that I passed out.

The worst bit was, I thought it was all a dream. Until I got up the next morning and found my wedding veil in shreds!!

I’m anxious for Edward to return home. I don’t understand what happened, and I want to hear what he thinks about it.

I'm not sure how this happened either.

I’m almost not sure what to write. Or how to explain this in a way that seems believable. But, somehow, impossibly, I am engaged to Edward Rochester! I'm so happy, I can hardly write. But we had an interesting chat in the garden, which started off with us discussing his marriage to Miss Ingram, and somehow ended in us declaring our mutual love. I thought he was joking at first, but then he told me that he had never intended to marry Blanche. That she also no longer wanted to marry him (as he had spread rumors that he wasn't actually that wealthy).

I don't even know what's happening. I just know I've never been so happy in my entire life.

As a side note, there was an enormous thunderstorm last night, and the tree in the garden was struck by lightening. It was rather unnerving. 

Family drama

My cousin, John, committed suicide a little while ago. My aunt, in shock, suffered from a stroke, and now apparently wishes to see me.

This sounds heartless. I haven't explained here my relationship with my extended family. I'll make it brief: they were not kind, we did not part well. So I'm rather surprised at my aunt asking for me, but, since she is dying, I asked for permission to go. Mr. Rochester almost didn't give it, but he conceded in the end. I have to admit, a part of me is glad to be leaving, so I don't have to watch the wooing of Blanche Ingram.

http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/shoot%20myself

Why is no one taking this seriously??

And odd thing happened. A Mr. Mason who came to visit us sustained a very serious knife wound. I am almost certain it was Grace Poole. AND NO ONE BUT ME SEEMS TO THINK THIS IS A SERIOUS ISSUE. 

Comparison

This is what Miss Ingram looks like.

And this is what I look like.

I’m putting both these pictures in my room, so that if I ever start to delude myself into entertaining thoughts that I cam Mr. Rochester’s favorite, I can put myself straight.

It is almost completely settled. The wedding. As is my and Adele’s departure from this amazing place. As soon as the two are married, we’re leaving.

I now hate change.

He is returning home! With people. One of them is named Blance Ingram. Blance Ingram most accomplished and lovely of ladies. She is lovely and perfect and rich, and she and Mr. Rochester will probably marry. I don’t hate her. I don’t hate her. I don’t hate her…

Depressed.

And he’s gone. For Europe. For who knows how long. I am enjoying teaching still. But… there is something lacking.

Gushing.

I don’t know how we ever got on without Mr. Rochester here at Thornfield. He is wonderful. And engaging, and intelligent. And wonderful. I found out how he came to have Adele. She’s the daughter (most likely not his) of a French singer he was infatuated with, years ago. The singer died, and so he took Adele. She adores him, and he tolerates her. I think he would like her more if he knew for sure she was actually his daughter. Unfortunately, I have to say that there is no resemblance between them.

Oh, and I saved his life. His bed caught on fire, and I put it out. Yay me!