Transmigrated as Jane’s Ghostly Godmother - Chapter 58

Chapter 58: An Uninvited Guest — A “Perfect” Suitor?

To be fair, Jane was nearly sixteen and already involved in the business world. Most of the tutors hired for her were chosen for their expertise in industry and economics, serving more as commercial advisors than traditional teachers.

Consequently, the newly arrived Miss Temple stood out as a bit of an anomaly compared to the others.

On paper, she was responsible for Jane’s French, drawing, piano, and other social graces. In reality, their most frequent lessons were in literary appreciation. They would open a book, read for a while, and then launch into discussions that seemed casual but were, in fact, profound explorations of various issues.

Jane had had reading instructors before, but their conversations ended at the edges of the book itself. Her reading time with Lin Zhao, on the other hand, often turned into a debate over differing perspectives—less about answering questions and more about unearthing them.

Thus, when Jane finished her first appreciation lesson with Miss Temple, she recaptured the feeling she had as a child, stealing a peek at the books in the breakfast room behind Mrs. Reed’s back—she was utterly captivated by the experience.

Since Miss Temple’s arrival in Funchal, most of the confusion Jane had once harbored found resolution in their conversations. Lin Zhao’s certainty that “she would like Miss Temple” and that “Miss Temple would answer her questions” had both been validated.

Speaking of Lin Zhao, their time alone together had decreased significantly lately.

Firstly, because Jane’s schedule was packed; secondly, because the person attempting to avoid the other had switched to Jane.

It started as a fit of pique, then evolved into “needing time to think.”

The Lin Zhao in the dreams and the one in reality were too different. Jane understood well how experience can shape a person, yet she couldn’t see the true story behind Lin Zhao’s existence.

Conversations with Miss Temple allowed her to look back at reality from those ethereal matters. Yes, reality. She should keep firmly in mind the vast chasm between humans and ghosts. Long-term companionship or sudden separation were both expected outcomes; why did she need to figure everything out?

Miss Jane Eyre should be worrying about more practical problems. For example, how the Giannito Chamber of Commerce could build its reputation, or what public image she, as the heir to Vine Manor, should project.

Through letters with Eleanor, she learned that her friend had already begun planning what she would do with her aunt in the future. This ignited Jane’s competitive spirit; she wanted to help. Once she earned enough money, could she contribute to freeing her best friend from the shackles of Ashford?

The power of money… this thought naturally brought back memories of her days of scarcity. In Lowood and Gateshead, she had felt the sting of having nothing. Yet, looking back, was it really just material lack that had tortured her? No. More piercing than hunger or cold was the loneliness of not being understood by anyone, of being abandoned by the world.

And the one who ended that loneliness was Lin Zhao.

So, could she truly cast aside the connection that had ended all her spiritual suffering, merely for the sake of “reality” and “growth”?

She knew Lin Zhao remained tight-lipped about her past, so there was no solution to be found there. Unable to understand it, she found the mental toll exhausting. As time passed, another effect emerged: every time she saw Lin Zhao’s face, all her internal conflicts vanished, only to return with double the force when she was alone.

This grew so severe that Jane began to lose sleep, frequently dreaming of Lin Zhao. These dreams were different from before; she dreamt repeatedly of parting ways with Lin Zhao and returning to a solitary life, or that Lin Zhao had never appeared at all, and she was caught in a messy emotional entanglement with a blurred man after becoming a governess.

Busy by day and restless by night, Jane finally couldn’t take it anymore. She sought out Lin Zhao, hoping for a temporary physical separation to ease her inner turmoil.

“Lin, you don’t need to follow me constantly as you did before—or at least, not during my reading lessons with Miss Temple. I wish for some private space with her… do you understand?”

“Of course.”

Jane had agonized over this request for a week, preparing many supplementary explanations, but none were needed. Lin Zhao was perfectly cooperative. Not only did she reduce her visits, but she also began frequent, spontaneous business trips. She was so decisive it was as if she had anticipated it, leaving Jane no room for second thoughts.

Fortunately, Miss Temple was there, otherwise Jane would have been fuming with frustration.

During another reading lesson, Jane stared at the page, unable to focus. Miss Temple noticed her distraction. Instead of interrupting immediately, she waited until Jane unconsciously flipped another page before speaking softly: “Is this book troubling you, Jane?”

The question snapped Jane back.

“…How could she leave without a hint of hesitation? Even if I’m the one who asked,” she grumbled in her heart, but catching Miss Temple’s eye, her face flushed and she quickly changed her tune. “It’s nothing. Just that the Chamber of Commerce affairs have been so tedious lately… I’m a bit overwhelmed on my own.”

Just two days ago, Lin Zhao—or rather, Mr. Lintner—had gone abroad on business again, taking a ship back to London.

Miss Temple’s gaze swept over Jane’s hand, which was gripping the book tightly, and she quietly closed her volume.

“I see. Then let us end today’s lesson here. Jane, you should rest. There is a ball tonight; I wouldn’t want you to attend out of mere obligation while exhausted.” She pushed a teacup toward Jane and smiled.

“Yes… Miss Temple.”

Jane let out a breath of relief, but at the mention of the ball, her chest tightened again.

Six months had passed since they picked up Miss Temple from the docks. In January and February, the fleets sailing from the West to the East were on their return voyage. With more tourists stopping at Funchal, balls of all sizes were popping up across the island.

As the heir to one of the largest estates on the island, Jane could hardly escape these events. To be honest, she loathed such occasions. Although she mostly followed her adoptive father to the business sections, she still had to dress up “appropriately.” Standing among merchants in such attire, the looks directed at her were varied and suggestive.

In the drawing-room, reserved clothing and a serious atmosphere allowed people to briefly set aside prejudice. But in the ballroom, when glasses were turned toward her, someone always added: “I wonder what kind of gentleman will be lucky enough to marry Miss Eyre.”

Even though she always returned such remarks with a stern glare, the next time, someone would inevitably offer the same “banter.”

Ultimately, it was just as she had felt years ago—balls, where “men watch women and women laugh in alienation”—what was the point of their existence?

Despite her anger, she had to attend. She represented Vine Manor publicly and could not be rude. Her mood was foul, so upon entering and greeting a few people with her father, she immediately retreated to a corner.

“A cold season, isn’t it? Though Funchal is warm, perfect for a ball.”

“Isn’t it? Judging by the ladies’ enthusiasm, the heavy winter layers must have stifled them.”

“Ha! Speaking of which, if you go further south, there are even more passionate banquets. By the way, have you heard of that Mr. Rochester? I hear he’s traveling around; perhaps if you wander enough, you’ll run into him and can curry some favor…”

Amidst the noise, those words caught her ear. Jane gripped her glass tighter and moved further from the crowd.

Usually, Lin Zhao would accompany her to these events, making them less torturous. Now, she just wanted to go home. She shouldn’t have canceled her reading lesson for this. She frowned in annoyance, staring at the swaying liquid in her glass.

“Good evening, Mademoiselle,” a polite voice sounded at her side. “Forgive the intrusion, but might I have the honor of a dance?”

Jane looked up. Standing before her was a gentleman in his mid-twenties. He was tall, handsome, with dark hair combed meticulously and brown eyes filled with a smile. His appearance was undoubtedly striking.

He was young and proper, but one look reminded her of someone with a similar style: Julian Harrison. Thanks to him, Jane couldn’t even form a positive opinion of the stranger’s looks before a wave of instinctive resistance rose within her.

“My apologies, sir,” her voice was cold to the point of ruthlessness. “I am unwell tonight; I’m afraid I must decline your kindness.”

The man seemed unfazed by the expected rejection. His smile didn’t fade; instead, he said, “That is a pity. However, if you don’t mind, perhaps we could converse for a moment? Standing here is surely better than dealing with those tedious toasts, don’t you think?”

“Ah, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alistair Davis. I presume you are Miss Eyre, the heir to Mr. John Eyre?” As he spoke, he gestured toward the distance. Jane followed his gaze and saw her adoptive father raising a glass with another merchant she didn’t recognize, smiling and nodding in their direction.

Jane understood immediately. She returned her father’s smile with a stiff one of her own, but when her eyes returned to the gentleman before her, her brow furrowed deeper.

What was her father thinking? Did he feel the need to interfere in her marriage as soon as she turned sixteen?

Jane watched him warily. Sensing her resistance, he bowed slightly and took a half-step back in a display of perfect manners.

“Please don’t misunderstand, Miss Eyre. My father is an old acquaintance of Mr. Eyre; he insisted I pay my respects to you. I am new to Funchal and know very few people. If my abruptness has offended you, I sincerely apologize.”

He was so polite that Jane could find no reason to lash out. She was forced to engage in hollow pleasantries.

Time became a long, agonizing drag. By the time her father came to signal they could leave, Jane coldly watched the man bid her farewell, unable to even remember what they had talked about.

The carriage ride home was silent. Jane stared at the night scenery rushing past until they were almost at the estate. She turned her head, breaking the silence with a question that demanded an answer:

“Father, regarding that Mr. Davis, I require an explanation.”

John Eyre looked out the window, his tone vague as he avoided her eyes.

“That was Mr. Davis. His father is an important partner of ours in Lisbon. It’s good for young people to get to know each other. I didn’t mean anything else by it.”

Having received a non-committal guarantee, Jane had nothing left to say. She turned away, but the frustration in her chest only grew.

She had thought the ball was a brief interlude, but the next morning, she saw Mr. Davis in the parlor again. He was chatting amiably with her father. Upon seeing Jane, he immediately rose to greet her with a proper smile, as if the abrupt dance-seeker of the night before had never existed.

His conversation revolved strictly around business: from new customs policies at the Port of Lisbon to whether his family’s fleet could transport Vine Manor’s wine to Northern Europe. Jane was forced to suppress her impatience and respond to every question with professional caution as a representative of the Giannito Chamber of Commerce.

This wasn’t an isolated incident. Over the next week, Mr. Davis appeared at the manor frequently for various irreproachable reasons. Sometimes it was to discuss partnership details with John Eyre; other times it was under the pretext of learning about Madeira’s local brewing techniques. Once, he even brought a detailed shipping cost analysis report—clear, logical, and insightful.

After several conversations, Jane had to admit he was entirely different from the likes of Julian, whom she despised. He was intelligent, hardworking, and had a sharp business sense. He was a respectable rival or partner.

However, it was this very “perfection” that irritated her more. Whenever the business talk ended, he would naturally shift the topic to personal matters—praising her insights, asking about her favorite books, or casually mentioning the theater season in London. He was polite and kept a perfect distance, leaving her no excuse to coldly rebuff him.

Jane felt like she was walking a tightrope. She had to remain vigilant, discerning which of his words came from the shrewdness of a merchant and which hid the probes of a suitor. She loathed this feeling, loathed the socially sanctioned “benevolent hunting” he represented, where marriage was the ultimate goal. But he was an important business partner; she could not be rude.

Men are often hard to read beneath the surface. She maintained the deepest wariness toward the intentions wrapped in such manners and talent. This week-long tug-of-war was more draining than any business negotiation.

Looking back on the week, Jane felt a pang of regret. Had she known this would happen, she wouldn’t have said those things to Lin Zhao. If a “man” were following her every second, surely even the refined Mr. Davis wouldn’t be able to maintain his mask of politeness—he’d be too busy making a fuss about her upbringing.

And she would certainly have had Lin Zhao teach him a lesson.

“Jane, you look exhausted. Has the business been troubling you lately?” Noticing Jane was distracted again, Miss Temple spoke up with concern.

Jane pulled herself away from her thoughts. Looking into Miss Temple’s gentle eyes, she hesitated for a moment before finally revealing a sliver of her frustration.

“It’s not entirely the business itself… Miss Temple, when a person’s kindness and friendliness likely hide a specific motive, how should one respond? Especially when a direct refusal is not an option.”

A flicker of understanding appeared in Miss Temple’s eyes. She didn’t press for the person’s identity but followed Jane’s lead into deeper waters.

“It is indeed exhausting. Because you must not only respond to the surface words but also stay on guard against unstated intentions. This feeling of being unable to trust fully consumes a great deal of energy.”

Her words accurately described Jane’s feelings, allowing her tense nerves to relax slightly.

“Yes,” Jane whispered. “I don’t understand. Can anyone truly interact without barriers—or even develop a close relationship, such as a marriage—in a connection that has such a clear ‘motive’ from the start?”

She finally voiced the word that had been circling her mind.

Miss Temple listened quietly, her gaze soft, seemingly hearing everything left unsaid. “So, what troubles you is not just the gentleman’s ‘motive,’ but this mode of interaction where ‘motive’ is the starting point toward ‘engagement,’ correct?”

Jane’s heart felt a soft jolt. She fell silent.

Was it really Mr. Davis she loathed? Or was it this logic of courtship and marriage, so common to the world, yet so incomprehensible to her? If it were someone else… someone she trusted completely and unreservedly…

That figure far away in London surfaced clearly in her mind. With Lin Zhao, she had never felt this need to be “on guard.” Everything between them was so natural.

But the foundation of that lack of guard was a secret shared only by them—the root of all her recent troubles. Ghost and human, fantasy and reality, companionship and separation.

This sudden comparison left her even more confused.

Miss Temple saw the subtle shift in her expression. She didn’t press further but posed a more fundamental question, one large enough to contain all of Jane’s confusion.

“Then, Jane, perhaps we can set aside the talk of engagement for now,” she said gently. “In your view, what is love, exactly?”