Fic: Jayne Eyre, 2/7
Jul. 21st, 2006 07:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookishwenchFor notes and other apologies to Ms. Bronte, see part 1.
When last we left young Jayne Eyre, he was being whisked away to a new life at Lowood, a cheap and unpleasant boarding school.
“And I still have to wear this dumb dress!”
Yes, but all the other students have to wear the same dress, so at least you won’t stand out. While at Lowood, Jayne realized that his Aunt Reed had told many lies about him, foremost among these being that he had a tendency towards deceit.
“That actually wern't no lie.”
At least you were honest about it not being a lie. Regardless, young Jayne was held up to scorn in front of the whole school by the wicked and self-agrandizing Mister Brocklehurst, a clergyman of unknown religious background. Poor Jayne was made to stand upon a stool for hours whilst all the girls of the school stared at him, a dreadful fate indeed.
“Really, we girls didn’t mind it all that much. We so rarely see a boy that we rather enjoyed ogling him for hours on end. I mean, truly, who would not!”
“So this is an all girl school? I’m startin’ to see very little bad in this situation.”
Pipe down, Jayne dear, for you are yet but ten years of age.
“I’m right precocious, though.”
While at Lowood, Jayne made two especially good friends: Helen Burns and Miss Temple. The first was a girl of surpassing goodness, whose penchant towards self-denial and patient endurance of hardship was deeply moving to the young Jayne.
“Is she hot?”
She’s consumptive.
“So no.”
Not especially.
“What about the other one?”
Miss Temple is a bastion of kindness in the midst of Jayne’s storm of self-doubt and loneliness, a beacon to the students of her school, showing that the world has love to offer beyond the cold and cruel limits of Lowood.
“Yeah, but is she hot?”
Actually, Miss Temple is an angelically radiant being, a cross betwixt a pre-Raphealite rendering of Ophelia and a representation of the north star.
“So… yes?”
Yes, Jayne. Yes, Miss Temple is hot.
“Bout time. What’s with all these plain and scrawny gals in this story? Only one so far to be halfway attractive is my own gall-dern cousin, and who’s sick enough to think of linkin’ up with their own cousin?”
Actually, that would be St. John Rivers, but he won’t arrive for several chapters yet. Jayne spent many a year at Lowood, never once recalled home to his aunt and her children. Holidays were spent in the dormitory of the school, working upon history, grammar, mathmatics, drawing, and, for he was talented in the subject, the French language.
“Not exactly the language I was so well known for, though I did get all A’s in the subject without ever crackin’ a book.”
Sadly, though, Jayne’s dear friend Helen died of consumption, passing with delicate joy from this dreary world to the one beyond, though her grave was unmarked by a stone. Jayne remembered the loss of his sweet little Helen all the days of his life, and the haunting memory of her who remained unforgotten stayed with him in times of trial, granting him strength of character and steadfastness of spirit.
“I’ll never forget old Hermia.”
Helen.
“Whatever. Is that Temple woman still around?”
Indeed she is, though not for much longer.
“Pity’s sake, does everybody die in this thing?”
No. She gets married.
“Well, that’s plum worse! What the hell she want to go and do a fool thing like that for?”
I believe it is called falling in love, Jayne. In any case, Miss Temple married a man nearly good enough for her, and Jayne, deprived of his favorite companion, became weary of Lowood and its inhabitants, wishing to embrace a new form of servitude elsewhere. Thus, Jayne chose to put an advertisement in the paper, publishing his good accomplishements and seeking new connections.
“Single white male seeks woman. If you are into smoking, drinking, and cavorting in haylofts, we are twins, right down to the dress. I am available, no strings, just for fun. Spanking optional, though encouraged. Also good at French, wink wink, nudge nudge. Move fast, cause I’m a fine piece of property and like as not gone afore you even read this.”
That is not the sort of advertisement you sent at all! No, it spoke of your humility and your excellent grades and your experience teaching, as you are now eighteen and have been a tutor for two years due to your remarkable wit, though sadly you have remained quite plain and unattractive for a young lass.
“I ain’t no damn woman! How many times I gotta spell that out?”
Straighten your bonnet, Jayne. It’s gone askew in the wind. At any rate, a response comes to Jayne’s advertisement from a Mrs. Fairfax, requesting him to come forthwith to Thornfield Manor, where he shall become the governess for a young French girl.
“French, huh? How young?”
Seven.
“Forget it.”
Jayne, has it even occurred to you to simply be the child’s governess, collect a paycheck, and lead a decent life?
“I suppose I’ve done worse for a paycheck. Fine. I’m out of Lowood.”
And, colorfully mooning Mr. Brocklehurst and the assembled teachers, our Jayne went forth once more to meet his new fate at the imposing edifice known as Thornfield. Little did he know the strange tale that would be woven for him there.
“It don’t involve nobody with blue hands, do it?”
No, Jayne, no blue hands.
“Any crazy brunette women with a penchant for outlandish violent behavior?”
Um… I shall remain mute upon that subject for now.
Onward to Chapter 3
When last we left young Jayne Eyre, he was being whisked away to a new life at Lowood, a cheap and unpleasant boarding school.
“And I still have to wear this dumb dress!”
Yes, but all the other students have to wear the same dress, so at least you won’t stand out. While at Lowood, Jayne realized that his Aunt Reed had told many lies about him, foremost among these being that he had a tendency towards deceit.
“That actually wern't no lie.”
At least you were honest about it not being a lie. Regardless, young Jayne was held up to scorn in front of the whole school by the wicked and self-agrandizing Mister Brocklehurst, a clergyman of unknown religious background. Poor Jayne was made to stand upon a stool for hours whilst all the girls of the school stared at him, a dreadful fate indeed.
“Really, we girls didn’t mind it all that much. We so rarely see a boy that we rather enjoyed ogling him for hours on end. I mean, truly, who would not!”
“So this is an all girl school? I’m startin’ to see very little bad in this situation.”
Pipe down, Jayne dear, for you are yet but ten years of age.
“I’m right precocious, though.”
While at Lowood, Jayne made two especially good friends: Helen Burns and Miss Temple. The first was a girl of surpassing goodness, whose penchant towards self-denial and patient endurance of hardship was deeply moving to the young Jayne.
“Is she hot?”
She’s consumptive.
“So no.”
Not especially.
“What about the other one?”
Miss Temple is a bastion of kindness in the midst of Jayne’s storm of self-doubt and loneliness, a beacon to the students of her school, showing that the world has love to offer beyond the cold and cruel limits of Lowood.
“Yeah, but is she hot?”
Actually, Miss Temple is an angelically radiant being, a cross betwixt a pre-Raphealite rendering of Ophelia and a representation of the north star.
“So… yes?”
Yes, Jayne. Yes, Miss Temple is hot.
“Bout time. What’s with all these plain and scrawny gals in this story? Only one so far to be halfway attractive is my own gall-dern cousin, and who’s sick enough to think of linkin’ up with their own cousin?”
Actually, that would be St. John Rivers, but he won’t arrive for several chapters yet. Jayne spent many a year at Lowood, never once recalled home to his aunt and her children. Holidays were spent in the dormitory of the school, working upon history, grammar, mathmatics, drawing, and, for he was talented in the subject, the French language.
“Not exactly the language I was so well known for, though I did get all A’s in the subject without ever crackin’ a book.”
Sadly, though, Jayne’s dear friend Helen died of consumption, passing with delicate joy from this dreary world to the one beyond, though her grave was unmarked by a stone. Jayne remembered the loss of his sweet little Helen all the days of his life, and the haunting memory of her who remained unforgotten stayed with him in times of trial, granting him strength of character and steadfastness of spirit.
“I’ll never forget old Hermia.”
Helen.
“Whatever. Is that Temple woman still around?”
Indeed she is, though not for much longer.
“Pity’s sake, does everybody die in this thing?”
No. She gets married.
“Well, that’s plum worse! What the hell she want to go and do a fool thing like that for?”
I believe it is called falling in love, Jayne. In any case, Miss Temple married a man nearly good enough for her, and Jayne, deprived of his favorite companion, became weary of Lowood and its inhabitants, wishing to embrace a new form of servitude elsewhere. Thus, Jayne chose to put an advertisement in the paper, publishing his good accomplishements and seeking new connections.
“Single white male seeks woman. If you are into smoking, drinking, and cavorting in haylofts, we are twins, right down to the dress. I am available, no strings, just for fun. Spanking optional, though encouraged. Also good at French, wink wink, nudge nudge. Move fast, cause I’m a fine piece of property and like as not gone afore you even read this.”
That is not the sort of advertisement you sent at all! No, it spoke of your humility and your excellent grades and your experience teaching, as you are now eighteen and have been a tutor for two years due to your remarkable wit, though sadly you have remained quite plain and unattractive for a young lass.
“I ain’t no damn woman! How many times I gotta spell that out?”
Straighten your bonnet, Jayne. It’s gone askew in the wind. At any rate, a response comes to Jayne’s advertisement from a Mrs. Fairfax, requesting him to come forthwith to Thornfield Manor, where he shall become the governess for a young French girl.
“French, huh? How young?”
Seven.
“Forget it.”
Jayne, has it even occurred to you to simply be the child’s governess, collect a paycheck, and lead a decent life?
“I suppose I’ve done worse for a paycheck. Fine. I’m out of Lowood.”
And, colorfully mooning Mr. Brocklehurst and the assembled teachers, our Jayne went forth once more to meet his new fate at the imposing edifice known as Thornfield. Little did he know the strange tale that would be woven for him there.
“It don’t involve nobody with blue hands, do it?”
No, Jayne, no blue hands.
“Any crazy brunette women with a penchant for outlandish violent behavior?”
Um… I shall remain mute upon that subject for now.
Onward to Chapter 3
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Date: 2006-07-26 08:48 pm (UTC)