Jane Eyre goes up to the counter and orders a venti earl grey tea. It is raining outside. The barista is ugly and cold to her, but she falls in love with him anyway. There is a banging from the back room of the Starbucks, but the barista seems unconcerned. “It won’t affect me bringing you your coffee,” he assures Jane. He is wrong about this.
Wear a gown and bonnet, let your inner romantic soul prevail. Warning: tears and feelings might influence your listening experience. If symptoms persist, consult your local library.
Ispired by my favourite classic literature characters (Jane Eyre, Elizabeth Bennet, Margaret Hale, Catherine Earnshaw, Cosette, Anna Karenina and many more…). Lots of violin and heart-wrenching soundtracks.
“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you - especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land some broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly."
WHY JANE, WHY?? DON'T YOU LIKE IT HERE??
Yes, but you have a bride.
Rochester *PANIC. Oh crap, what does she know? Play it cool. Act natural*:
Jane, I don't know what you're talking about.
Blanche Ingram, the woman you're about to marry!
Rochester *sigh of relief*:
Oh her. She SO does not matter. I know I've given you every reason to THINK I am interested in Miss Ingram, but I love YOU, Jane. Can't you see how all the things I did were to make you jealous, so that you would reveal that you have feelings for me too? I mean that gypsy thing was not at all creepy in any manner, right? Don't you love me too, Jane? Oh, Jane, little bird darling say you'll marry me.
I am no bird.
No of course you're not; that wouldn't work out all, would it? I was being metaphorical, Janet!
Are you making my name into a swear word?
No, JANE, just say you'll marry me.
I don't know if I trust you.
Why ever not? Is it the house? Is it the mysterious fire? Is it Grace Poole or a myriad of other issues, all of which have a very simple explanation but one that I refuse to offer?
“…for I am not her father; but hearing that she was quite destitute, I e’en took the poor thing out of the slime and mud of Paris, and transplanted it here, to grow up clean in the wholesome soil of an English country garden. Mrs. Fairfax found you to train it; but now you know that it is the illegitimate offspring of a French opera-girl, you will perhaps think differently of your post and protégée: you will be coming to me some day with notice that you have found another place — that you beg me to look out for a new governess, &c. — Eh?”
“No: Adèle is not answerable for either her mother’s faults or yours: I have a regard for her; and now that I know she is, in a sense, parentless — forsaken by her mother and disowned by you, sir — I shall cling closer to her than before. How could I possibly prefer the spoilt pet of a wealthy family, who would hate her governess as a nuisance, to a lonely little orphan, who leans towards her as a friend?”