Transmigrated as Jane’s Ghostly Godmother - Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Undercurrents—Constant Provocations

Jane wasn’t afraid of a public fallout with John Reed, but she didn’t want to drag Eleanor down with her. Over the past six months, Jane had come to understand Eleanor better than anyone—she knew how much the girl, famed for her gentle kindness, truly cared about others’ opinions.

She was immensely grateful for everything Eleanor had done for her. But unlike the easily swayed students, John Reed was a madman, and Jane knew that intimately.

Hoping to de-escalate, Jane tried to get Eleanor to relax. “I’m fine, Lina. Let me—” She started to stand, but Eleanor pressed a hand firmly on her shoulder and gave a slight shake of her head.

“It’s alright, Jane. I want to do this,” Eleanor whispered. She stood up.

The habitual smile was gone from her face, replaced by a cold, sharp fury. “Sir, your behavior is a severe discredit to the education you have received. To publicly slander a lady with such vulgarity in such a formal setting is not only a sign of disrespect toward her, but a humiliation to yourself, your family, and your school!”

The banquet hall fell silent. Many looked at Eleanor in shock, as if seeing her for the first time. John Reed was momentarily choked by this sudden rebuke. He looked at Eleanor, finding her vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place her.

“You… who do you think you are? Interfering in my business?” he blustered, his voice loud but lacking true conviction.

“I am Jane’s friend,” Eleanor said, each word clear and resolute. “I will not allow anyone to insult her like that.”

Before the conflict could escalate further, teachers from both sides stepped in to mediate. Eleanor was softly persuaded back to her seat by a teacher, though her chest was still heaving with indignation.

The warmth brought by Eleanor’s actions completely eclipsed any hatred Jane felt for John Reed. She hadn’t expected Eleanor to go this far for her. Jane reached out, gently covering Eleanor’s clenched hand on the table. “Lina, thank you…”

Eleanor took a deep breath and turned. The flush of anger hadn’t fully faded, but she forced a smile for Jane. “It’s nothing… I just suddenly feel a bit dizzy. Not very well. I think I’ll go back to the dorm to rest.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No,” Eleanor pressed her hand. “Tonight is the welcome banquet; it’s not good for too many people to be missing. Just let Miss Lana know. I can get back by myself.”

“I understand.” Jane watched Eleanor depart, accompanied by a teacher.

“She is a good friend,” Lin Zhao’s voice sounded in Jane’s ear, tinged with emotion. Beatrice had also left the table after her talk with Georgiana, but Lin Zhao had stayed behind to watch over Jane.

“Yes. And I will never let her be hurt because of me,” Jane said, glancing at the still-fuming John Reed in the distance. Her eyes were like still water—no ripples, no fear.

Indeed, it wasn’t just Eleanor; Jane’s growth surprised Lin Zhao too. “Because you don’t plan on lowering yourself to deal with John?” Lin Zhao asked. It was a vague question, but Jane knew she meant her detached attitude.

Jane nodded, then shook her head. “John Reed doesn’t know his place. He makes a scene without realizing how pathetic he looks. If I argued with him in public, it would make me look like him. Let him bark like a mad dog; anyone with eyes can see who the abnormal one is.”

“For now, I will focus on the competition. Wasting time on him isn’t worth the things that actually matter.”

Calm in the face of honor or disgrace. Jane’s development was greater than Lin Zhao had anticipated. Originally, Lin Zhao had only hoped for academic success; now she saw that complex situations were forging a resilient spirit.

“You’re doing great, Jane,” Lin Zhao said, patting Jane’s head. “If you have a plan and need me, just say the word.” She glanced back at John. She wouldn’t interfere with Jane’s choices, but she’d keep a sharp eye out—if he did anything physical, she wouldn’t stand by.

“I will, Lin.” Jane tilted her head slightly, leaning into the phantom palm. “Let’s go talk to Miss Lana.”

They left their seats and found Miss Lana, explaining Eleanor’s early departure. The teacher nodded kindly and told Jane to mind her own health. By then, the meal was ending, and students were filtering toward the main hall for the ball.

“Lina isn’t here,” Jane whispered, catching Lin Zhao’s hand in the crowd. “I don’t even have a partner.”

Her grip was a bit tight. Lin Zhao saw the slight downturn of Jane’s eyes and felt the unspoken ‘I don’t want to go.’ She was still a child, after all; it was impossible to be entirely unaffected by the night’s drama.

Lin Zhao smiled, putting on her “adult” persona. “Then we won’t go. Let’s go outside for some fresh air and then go back to the room.”

Because of the crowd, people bumping into each other was normal. Jane didn’t let go, leading Lin Zhao through the throng. If anyone had looked closely, they might have been spooked by her hand gripping empty air or the way people seemed to be pushed aside by nothing next to her. Fortunately, it was a night of chaotic wonder, and most were too busy with themselves.

They stepped out a side door. The hallway was empty; the noise was locked behind them. Only the quiet moonlight remained. Jane loved the night at Whirlwood. Her eyes regained their spark as she led Lin Zhao toward the garden to see the stars.

But after only a few steps, a door creaked open behind them.

“Ah…” Lin Zhao reacted quickly, letting go of Jane’s hand. She turned and sighed in frustration. Jane turned a second later, her eyes turning cold the moment they met the newcomer’s.

The girl approaching had a thin face, pale features, and a pair of smoky quartz eyes that Jane knew all too well.

It was Eliza Reed.

“Jane,” she began, her tone a manufactured gentleness. “Long time no see. You look much better since coming here—your skin has some color. You’re much more ‘pleasant’ than you were at Gateshead.”

Jane watched her silently. The moonlight traced Eliza’s stern, emotionless features. Her eyes glinted with calculation, a sharp contrast to the fake pleasantries of her mouth.

“Eliza,” Jane said flatly, piercing the disguise. “We were never friends at Gateshead; there’s no need to pretend now. If you’ve come to apologize for your brother, don’t bother. If you’re here to continue his performance, save your breath.”

The smile on Eliza’s face froze, then curled into a sneer. “How rude. I knew you wouldn’t learn better. That wicked heart of yours is just hiding under this ‘proper’ act, waiting for the day to crawl back out.”

Jane remained unmoved. She remembered vividly how many times Eliza had helped John find her to torment her, simply because Eliza viewed Jane’s existence as a “waste.” Even today, Eliza hadn’t forgotten to point her out to John. If not for her, John Reed—whose wits were never sharp—might not have realized Jane was here until the competition started.

“That girl you’re always with—Eleanor Harrison? I hear her family is prominent. You certainly know how to climb,” Eliza continued, her voice like a viper’s hiss.

“You aren’t John,” Jane said, unprovoked. “If you truly offend Eleanor, I doubt Mrs. Reed will be so keen to clean up your mess.”

“It seems you’ve finally found your place,” Jane’s use of ‘Mrs. Reed’ made Eliza’s eyebrows shoot up. Her tone shifted back to that polished, fake warmth. “It costs a lot to study here. I hope you remember to be grateful and one day repay Gateshead for every penny.”

Jane couldn’t tell if Eliza was here to provoke her or ask for money. Both were absurd. She stopped responding and simply stared.

Lin Zhao, listening in, was equally baffled. Talking to a ten-year-old about ‘repayment’? It’s not even time for John to start gambling away the family fortune yet. But this reminded her of something important happening in the next six months—Jane’s uncle, the merchant, would come looking for his niece. She needed to see if she could do anything about that.

In the dead silence, Eliza grew unnerved by Jane’s stare. She tried to heighten the drama: “W-Wait and see! When the competition comes, your coarse soul will be exposed for everyone to see!”

“I truly don’t know how deep your arrogance goes. You should save that line for your pathetic brother,” Jane said. She ignored Eliza, walking straight past her toward the dorm.

Lin Zhao followed, wondering how to explain the news she was gathering. They returned to the dormitory floor in silence.

The long corridor was empty and eerily quiet. But as Jane reached her door, she heard muffled voices from inside. The voices were low, but she could distinguish Eleanor and Beatrice. Their tones were heated.

What’s happening? Wasn’t Eleanor feeling unwell? Jane, overcome with worry, pushed the door open.

The argument ceased instantly. The room was lit only by a dim oil lamp. Eleanor was sitting on her bed, back to the door, her shoulders trembling slightly. Beatrice stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, her face cold in the shadows. The atmosphere was frozen.

Jane walked to Eleanor’s bedside. “Lina, are you okay? Are you still… feeling unwell?”

Eleanor didn’t turn around. She only offered a thick-voiced “Mm.”

“Perhaps she really was affected by someone’s ‘bad luck’.”

Beatrice’s cold voice rang out, dripping with mockery. Having been provoked over and over today, Jane’s patience snapped. Even the most tolerant person would be angry, let alone Jane.

She turned to face the roommate who, after all this time, was still full of prejudice. “Beatrice, what are you implying now?”

“I’m just telling the truth.” Beatrice met her gaze, her beautiful features hardening into a cruel expression. “Some people, as Georgie says, are born under a dark star. They only bring trouble to those around them.”

“Georgie?” Jane let out a sarcastic laugh. “So you’re just another mindless follower of hers? How much of her nonsense are you going to believe?”

“What she says is much more interesting than I imagined.” Beatrice took a step forward. She was taller than Jane, and she used the height to glare down at her. Her voice dropped to a low, pressing whisper. “Jane Eyre, I’ve been curious for a long time. You talk to yourself every single day. Who exactly are you talking to?”