Transmigrated as Jane’s Ghostly Godmother - Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Their Inner Demons—The Quarrel Before the Confession

Beatrice’s suspicion had not appeared out of thin air.

Her hostility toward Jane had initially stemmed from Georgiana’s biased accounts, but as time passed and her view failed to shift, she had her own reasons. Unlike Eleanor, she didn’t possess a soft heart for “poor children”; from the start, she simply wanted to keep her distance.

But as a roommate, a classmate, and the object of Eleanor’s constant concern, Jane was an inescapable factor. Beatrice had tried tactics to make Jane back down or pull Eleanor away, but they had all failed. After that strange week of Jane’s isolation, the bond between Jane and Eleanor had only deepened, rendering Beatrice’s plans obsolete.

So, she had stopped active sabotage and settled into the role of an observer. From that detached vantage point, she noticed things. Occasionally, she saw Jane talking to herself in the garden. When she was a light sleeper, she heard whispers from Jane’s bed.

Who exactly is Jane Eyre talking to?

During the competition prep, Jane was so studiously engaged that Beatrice began to doubt herself, wondering if her prejudice was creating hallucinations. But today, during the banquet, Georgiana had revealed that Jane’s arrival at Whirlwood wasn’t merely due to Reed family “charity.”

“Betty, you have no idea—Mama fell terribly ill because of Jane. She kept insisting that everything happening at Gateshead was because Papa’s ghost had returned.”

“If it weren’t for that, why would Mama spend so much money to send that ungrateful brat here? This was supposed to be my place!”

Georgiana’s beautiful blue eyes narrowed as she spoke, glistening with apparent sincerity. Compared to her, the usually expressionless Jane seemed far less credible.

“You wouldn’t have danced with me anyway; your eyes were glued to the older boys,” Beatrice joked back, but her mind was racing. She looked over at Jane and Eleanor’s seats, catching a rare glimpse of Jane smiling.

When Jane smiled, her face looked a bit crinkled—perhaps because she did it so rarely that it felt unnatural. But occasionally, she forgot herself and looked truly happy, usually when talking to Eleanor.

But right now, Eleanor was not at the table.

Jane was holding her fork, but on closer inspection, it was clear she was giggling at empty air. Beatrice went cold. She looked back at Georgiana and decided to test Jane’s earlier claims.

“Jane spoke about your family. She said that except for your brother, no one liked her—that she was frequently beaten. Is that true?”

Georgiana’s gaze was drifting toward the senior tables again. Distracted, she let her guard slip. “She’s still obsessing over that? Honestly, she lived off us for ten years for free. What does it matter if she was scolded or hit a few times for doing wrong?”

“If you ask me, she probably liked being hit by Jack. No one else paid her any attention.”

Beatrice realized with a shock that not only were the rumors of Jane’s oddness true, but Jane’s claims of abuse were likely true as well.

“But you said before that Jane used your father’s will to force herself into conversations and threw tantrums to get attention?”

“Ah… no, I mean… I misspoke. She is annoying, that’s why everyone…” Georgiana tried to backtrack, but her brother John’s loud ranting nearby interrupted her.

They watched as Eleanor stood up to rebuke him.

“That’s my friend. I’m going to see what’s happening. Georgie, you… well, I’m sure you don’t lack for dance partners.” Beatrice stood up, ending the conversation.

Back at the table, Eleanor sat down, her chest tight with lingering anger.

As she had told Jane, she wanted to do this—to publicly shame John Reed. Whenever she saw his bloated, arrogant face, she was transported back to the day they first met.

Eleanor was six years old. Guests had arrived from Gateshead: a stout lady and her son. Eleanor was told to take the young guest to the garden. She hadn’t refused; she thought hosting would be fun. She took John to see her pet bird. His eyes lit up, and he asked to open the cage to pet it.

Eleanor agreed.

And then she watched a life be crushed between five fleshy fingers. John Reed let go, showing her a palm stained with blood, looking smug. “I like playing like this at home. Isn’t it fun?”

Eleanor had been unable to make a sound, her heart racing with terror. She couldn’t remember how the day ended, only that when she finally cried, John Reed told the adults with a straight face: “She let me do it. If she didn’t want to, she could have refused to open the cage.”

It had been a canary with bright golden feathers—her sixth birthday present. After that, she never kept a living pet again. She craved friends whose lives couldn’t be so easily snatched away. She would not let John Reed coax open another cage.

“Lina, thank you…” Jane’s hand on hers was warm, but Eleanor felt sick to her stomach. She managed a smile, but she needed to be alone.

In the dormitory, the argument between Eleanor and Beatrice reached a breaking point.

“Lina, what is a friend to you?” Beatrice asked. They had been friends since meeting at Whirlwood, but they had never had a heart-to-heart. Beatrice needed transparency; she needed to see a friend’s heart through their actions.

“Someone who respects me… Betty, what’s wrong?” Eleanor was too tired to smile.

“Is it respect if they keep secrets?” Beatrice countered. “Have you never seen Jane talking to thin air? Georgie says she’s surrounded by… ‘unclean things’.”

“Stop it—” Eleanor snapped, her eyes closed. She didn’t deny it. She had seen it too, and Jane had told her that “Girl and the Ghost” story. She didn’t want to believe it, but she couldn’t ignore the evidence.

“It seems she isn’t even honest with you,” Beatrice concluded. “Why go to such lengths for her?”

“And why do you target her for everything—”

The door opened. Jane walked in, her face full of confusion. The two girls went silent. Seeing Jane care for Eleanor only made Beatrice more frustrated. She demanded an answer: “Who are you talking to every day?”

Jane turned pale. She suspected Georgiana had brought up the “haunting” at Gateshead. From the perspective of “unclean things,” her conscience was clear—Lin Zhao wasn’t evil. But she couldn’t simply reveal her existence.

She looked at Eleanor, and the lie died in her throat. Eleanor had just defended her against John. How could she lie now?

“You talked about working together as a team,” Beatrice sneered. “How can we work with you when you’re hiding so many secrets?”

Lin Zhao, watching from the sidelines, knew she had to act. Jane was too stunned to handle this.

“Jane, follow my lead,” Lin Zhao whispered.

Over the last six months, Lin Zhao had practiced her “ghostly” abilities. She could now control her transparency. She held her breath, became invisible, and phased through the closed door. Then, drawing a breath to become solid again, she hammered on the wood from the outside.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The girls jumped. “I saw Miss Miller entering the dorm earlier,” Jane said quickly, picking up the cue.

“Ah… Miss Miller hates fighting. That must be her warning,” Eleanor said, latching onto the explanation.

“Why didn’t she say anything?” Beatrice asked suspiciously.

Lin Zhao stomped her feet loudly on the floorboards, simulating retreating footsteps.

“It seems she’s too busy tonight to deduct points,” Jane improvised.

“True, a lot happened tonight…” Eleanor sighed, exhausted. “Let’s just drop this and sleep, please?”

As Eleanor went to wash up, Jane’s eyes met Beatrice’s.

“I am watching you, and I will keep watching,” Beatrice stated. “Until you explain this, you are not to be alone with Eleanor. Otherwise, I’ll drop out of the team, and your six months of preparation will be for nothing.”

Jane sat on her bed, drained. Lin Zhao phased back into the room and crouched before her. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t do more.”

Jane shook her head silently. Everything—the Reeds, the suspicions, the lack of trust—made her feel like she was back at Gateshead. She had worked so hard, yet the blows kept coming.

In the dark, as the steady breathing of her roommates filled the room, Jane reached out and grasped Lin Zhao’s hand.