Ext. A midsummer dawn. Thornfield the grounds

BLANCHE

Why, what a little puppet.

LADY INGRAM

(mutton dressed as lamb)

Is this your ward, Mr Rochester?

ROCHESTER

Yes.

LOUISA ESHTON

(English rose; nineteen)

What a love of a child.

Adele blissfully disappears into a moving sea of dresses.

Only one guest is still looking in Jane's direction;

Blanche. Her lip curls in distaste.

Jane backs into a nearby window seat; always her place of

refuge. She closes her eyes. A great Atlantic wave hits the

sash window behind her, drenching it with foam and brine.

When she opens her eyes, Rochester is in her line of

vision, standing out in a crowd of unmanly men. He senses

her gaze; glances at her. Jane looks down, pulling her work

on to her lap; a beaded purse. She does not lift her eyes

from the beads, fully feeling the humiliation of her class -

and of her love. Blanche sidles up to Rochester.

BLANCHE

I thought you weren't fond of

children?