There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. The cold November wind had brought so much rain that outdoor exercise was out of the question.
My cousins, Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed, were clustered around their mama in the sitting room. For the moment they were neither quarreling nor crying.
Mrs. Reed looked perfectly happy as she reclined on a sofa by the fireside with her darlings around her. She had excluded me from the group.
"I hate to keep you at a distance, Jane," she said. "But until I hear from the nurse or learn from my own observations that you are honestly trying to acquire a better disposition, I must exclude you from privileges intended only for happy children."
"What does the nurse say I've done?" I asked.
"Jane, I don't like children who ask questions. Be seated somewhere and remain silent until you can speak pleasantly."
A small room adjoined the sitting room. I slipped in there and soon picked out a book from the bookcase.
Climbing onto the window seat, I drew the curtain closed around me.
I feared nothing except interruption, and that came too soon when the door opened.
"Boo!" cried John. Then he paused because the room seemed empty.
"Eliza! Georgiana!" he called to his sisters. "Jane isn't here. Tell Mama she has run out into the rain."
John never would have found me, but Eliza looked into the room and said at once, "She's in the window seat, John."
I came out immediately because I trembled at the idea of John dragging me out.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Say, 'What do you want, Master Reed?'" he replied. "I want you to come here."
Seating himself in an armchair, he motioned for me to stand before him. John was a 14-year-old schoolboy while I was only 10.
He bullied me constantly, but his mother never noticed, and the servants didn't like to offend him by taking my side.
I approached John, and he spent three minutes sticking out his tongue at me. All at once he hit me so hard that I staggered back.
"That's for your impudence in answering Mama a while ago," he said. "And for sneaking behind the curtain."
Accustomed to his abuse, I had no intention of replying. My main concern was how to endure the blow that would surely follow.
"What were you doing behind the curtain?" John asked.
"Reading."
"Show me the book."
I returned to the window seat and fetched it for him.
"You have no business taking our books. Mama says your father left you no money," said John.
"You ought to be out begging, not living here with gentlemen's children like us, eating our food and wearing clothes at our mother's expense.
I'll teach you not to rummage through my bookshelves. Go stand by the door, away from the mirror and windows."
I puzzled over those last directions until I saw him ready to hurl the book at me.
I darted aside, but it was too late. The book hit me, and I fell against the door, cutting my head.
"Wicked and cruel boy!" I shouted. "You are like a murderer, a slave driver—"
"What did you say?" he cried. "I'll tell Mama, but first—"
John ran headlong at me, grasping my hair and shoulder.
I don't remember what I did to him, but he bellowed, and Mrs. Reed came running, followed by two servants.
"How could you fly at Master John like that?" said Bessie, the nurse.
"Did anybody ever see such a picture of passion?" said Miss Abbot, who was Mrs. Reed's personal maid.
"Take her away to the red room and lock her in!" ordered Mrs. Reed.
I resisted all the way upstairs, something new for me.
"For shame!" cried Miss Abbot. "What shocking conduct, Miss Jane, to strike a young gentleman, your young master."
"How is he my master?" I asked, still struggling against them as we reached the red room. "Am I a servant?"
"No, you are less than a servant because you do nothing for your keep," said Miss Abbot.
"Sit down and think over your wickedness."
"You ought to be aware, miss, that you are under obligation to Mrs. Reed," said Bessie.
"If she were to turn you out from Gateshead Hall, you'd have to go to the poorhouse."
I had nothing to say.
"If you don't repent," said Miss Abbot, "something bad might be permitted to come down the chimney and fetch you away."
Then they went out, shutting the door and locking it behind them.
The red room was a spare bedroom, very seldom used despite its large size.
Mr. Reed had died in this room nine years ago, and since then few people had crossed its threshold.
I sat on a low ottoman near the fireplace. Why could I never please anyone? Eliza, who was headstrong and selfish, was respected.
Georgiana, who had a spoiled temperament, was always indulged. My head still ached and bled from the blow I'd received from John.
Why did no one punish him? I knew if I were a happy, handsome, romping child, everyone would treat me better.
It was past four o'clock, and daylight began to fade from the red room.
Rain beat on the windows and wind howled in the trees. I started to think of Mr. Reed, my mother's brother.
He had taken me in when I was an infant without parents. In his last moments, he'd made Mrs. Reed promise to rear me as one of her own children.
I never doubted that my uncle would have treated me kindly if he'd lived.
Then I began to recall stories I'd heard about dead men, troubled by the violation of their last wishes.
Suddenly a light gleamed on the wall. I shrieked and rushed to the door, desperately pounding on it. Bessie and Miss Abbot came running.
"Why are you screaming?" asked Bessie, opening the door.
"Let me out!" I cried. "I think I saw a ghost!"
"I know the girl's naughty tricks," Miss Abbot said in disgust.
"What's all this?" demanded Mrs. Reed, walking into the room. "I said Jane was to stay here alone."
"But she screamed so loud," pleaded Bessie, holding my hand.
"I despise trickery," said Mrs. Reed. "You will stay here an extra hour."
"Oh, Aunt, have pity, let me—"
"Silence!" commanded Mrs. Reed. Ignoring my wild sobs, she abruptly locked me in again.
I heard her walking away, and then, dear reader, I soon lost consciousness.
