“Tell me, Jane,” urged my husband, Edward Rochester, as we sat in front of the blazing fire. “How did you celebrate the holidays of your youth?”

A chill swept through me. The winter was upon us, and thus far the freezing winds had proved singularly brutal. Ferndean Manor, formerly the Rochester family hunting lodge, was in need of much repair. Our home was often draughty and cold, but the parlor we repaired to in the evenings was cozy enough. My discomfort came from the topic at hand. For days now, Edward had entreated me to help him plan for Christmas. Each time he’d broached the subject I had managed to divert his attentions. Now at last, it seemed I must come face-to-face with memories I’d long avoided. My husband continued, “I would like to replicate a happy Christmas for you. Perhaps one like those you observed at Lowood Academy?”

The room swam before my eyes, and my mouth went dry. Try as I might, no words would come. Only nightmares. Except these particular bad dreams were all too real. All at once, I thought I might faint.

Edward rushed to my side. “Jane? Are you all right? Here. Take a bit of this.” Gently, he lifted his sherry glass to my lips and tipped a trickle of the liquid into my mouth. I sipped it obligingly.

Putting down his drink, Edward’s strong hand gripped mine. His love made me strong. I squeezed my eyes closed and did my best to wish away the morose scenes that filled me with such dread. “Sir, I beg of you. Do not repeat my past. Rather, let us look toward the future.”

“My word. Then the gossip I have heard is all true? During your eight years at Lowood, you were served without a jot of kindness?” He sat on the footstool at my feet so he could stay near to me. His face took on a quizzical expression. “And yet I have friends who made generous donations. They told me as much. Their express wish was to ameliorate the hardships suffered by the Lowood charity cases. In the name of Christian goodness, they hoped to aid and comfort children such as yourself.”

“But we never received anything,” I explained. “None of those gifts made a difference to us girls. Mr. Brocklehurst, the headmaster, practiced a peculiar kind of Christianity. He stated most emphatically that his goal was to starve out the devil in us. I remember one of his many visits in honor of Christmas. I thought he’d planned a treat for us. Maybe extra food or a distribution of warm clothing. However, on that morning, we were instructed to wear naught but our chemises and pinafores. A few of us had shawls, but all were told to leave those behind. We marched for nearly a mile through the cold, our boots breaking the new ice in the lane. With wet feet and freezing hands, we sat on bare wooden pews in an unheated chapel. Mr. Brocklehurst’s wife and daughters were seated on padded chairs that faced us. Their persons were arrayed in velvet and furs. For hours, Mr. Brocklehurst lectured us, holding up his wife and daughters as models of feminine piety. Meanwhile our chilblains burned and itched. Our feet went numb. Our stomachs twisted and cried for food.”

“Then it is settled.” Now Edward’s voice was gruff with anger. “This house will carry on as if the holidays do not exist.”

“No.” I reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “That is not right either. I want our son to enjoy the holidays. Why should he not? And you, Sir. I want you to be happy. How did you celebrate?”

My husband frowned, remembering. “Our cook always prepared a variety of special dishes in advance. We ate a hearty meal on Christmas Eve and then my father read from the Bible. On Christmas morning, my brother and I discovered wrapped packages tied with string. Father distributed sweets and oranges. On Boxing Day, we took our places in the great hall and helped our parents hand out gift boxes to the staff.”

“Then that is what we should do,” I said, thinking we would carry on the grand tradition of the Rochester family.

“No,” said Edward.

“No?” I looked at him, trying to parse his meaning.

“No,” he echoed firmly. “We need not repeat my childhood any more than we need repeat yours. I believe we should do exactly as we are wont to do. We have no one to please but ourselves. Why not prepare a Christmas holiday that’s totally to our liking?”

The idea was both novel and appealing. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, indeed! Where we do not have a tradition, we shall invent one. Where we have no guidance, we shall turn to each other. For ourselves and our son, we shall make this season all we might want it to be.”

And then he kissed me.

~~The End~~

Christmas at Ferndean Manor, A Jane Eyre Chronicles Mystery #3
Genre: Historical
Release: July 2021
Purchase Link

Strange happenings at Ferndean Manor threaten to spoil a Happy Christmas–

Country squire Edward Rochester is determined to give his new bride, Jane Eyre, a Christmas to remember. Jane is equally committed to making this holiday special for Edward. But mysterious footsteps, disappearing food, and odd happenings cause both the Rochesters to worry. Is Ferndean Manor haunted? Can Jane ever escape her past and find joy in the here and now? Will Jane’s new friendship with a tenant farmer cause scandal? Or is this an opportunity for two women—from different social strata–to lean on each other? As Christmas Day grows nearer, the search for answers becomes more desperate—and the need for a Christmas miracle has never been so dire!

About the author
Joanna Campbell Slan is a New York Times Bestselling, USA Today Bestselling, and Amazon Bestselling author as well as a woman prone to frequent bursts of crafting frenzy, leaving her with burns from her hot glue gun and paint on her clothes. And the mess? Let’s not even go there. Currently she writes five fiction series: The Kiki Lowenstein Mystery Series (Agatha Award Finalist, contemporary, St. Louis setting, crafting), the Cara Mia Delgatto Mystery Series (contemporary, Florida setting, DIY and recycling), the Jane Eyre Chronicles (Daphne du Maurier Award Winner, 1830s England, based on Charlotte Brontë’s classic), the Sherlock Holmes Fantasy Thrillers (late 1800s, based on Arthur Conan Doyle’s books), and the Zen Cozy Mystery Series (launch 2021). Visit her at jcslan.

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