Franklin Library Jane Eyre Novels & Stories

Olivia dropped Jane Eyre in front of him. “I told you I don't like reading,” Tristan declined, shoving the book back to her.

POV: Juliana Capulet The leather-bound copy of Jane Eyre felt like contraband in Juliana's hands as she curled deeper into the window seat of her tower bedroom. Outside, the manicured gardens of the Capulet compound stretched toward the Pacific coastline, beautiful and pristine as a postcard. Inside, the walls of her gilded cage pressed closer every day. "I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will." Charlotte Brontë's words burned across the page like a challenge.

Opening the doors of the library she met Janeka and Freya, they glanced at her. “Where did you get that book from?” Freya asked, her gaze meeting the unfamiliar book she was holding in her hands. The book had a thick black leather cover with a golden seal on its top. Earnestine tightened her grip on it when she noticed footsteps approaching. She turned and met Sabrina walking in. “The car is good as new.” She told them, but soon she noticed the awkward look on their faces, walking closer to Janeka, Sabrina glared at Earnestine urging her to speak up.

Certainly, he was not the type to endure a long day of studies like I did. “Can I retire now? I can feel the comfort of my bed calling to me,” I muttered with a yawn as I averted my gaze to Phyllis. She remained seated across me, watching keenly to make sure I never missed any word in the book. I guess that was how unoccupied she was. The witch nodded and reached for the book, her eyes squinting the moment they met with the sepia yellow pages. She gestured for me to stand but before I could obey, the Library door opened and a balmy-looking Lady walked in. She was a servant, I could tell, judging from the pattern of her dress, as well as the gentle, elegant gathering of her ebony hair.

The Psychopathology of Everyday Life" by Sigmund Freud." Jane flashed a smile. She was a middle-aged woman, petite, with a round face and the prettiest smile you could ever think of. She often wore a love-shaped glass and rested it on the bridge of her nose when she wanted to stare at you. She wasn't the only Librarian here. They were about 5 I had seen. But Jane had to be the best. She wasn't grumpy and didn't hate school children. She did her job with excitement and I believed she loved being a librarian.

, Jane snapped, her face contorted in fury. Ivy smiled and nudged her, “What are you so shy about? Which woman doesn’t have… needs? You’re the Young Mistress of the Harringtons now. It’s too risky even if you want to pick up a few boys to warm your bed. Just wait a little longer… till he’s gone”. Unable to tolerate the embarrassment any further, Jane covered her ears to block out her friend’s teasing. After class ended, Jane prepared to leave for the library, the materials there helped a lot with her studies and could maybe even teach her how to help Ethan’s legs recover.

As I walked up to the counter, a grim-faced librarian gave me a dubious look. I said, maintaining a calm tone, "I'm searching for documents pertaining to the Harrington family." She knitted her brow. "Access to such archives is restricted. Are you cleared? After a moment of hesitation, I took Williams' business card out of my purse. I introduced myself as Mrs. Franklin in the hopes that my name would be significant enough to get me a job. Although there was still scepticism in her eyes, her demeanour softened a little. She said, "Wait here," and vanished via a side door.

For a moment, I savored the quiet escape from the whirlwind outside. "Hmm," I began, swirling the glass in my hands. "Let's see... I belt out questionable tunes in the shower, prefer quiet nights with a book to these," I gestured around, "and this Friday night attire is definitely out of character." "Books?" His tone was genuinely curious, not the feigned interest I’d come to expect from most. "Any favorites?" "Jane Eyre," I replied without hesitation. "There’s something timeless about a woman's quest for love and autonomy."

Not because I thought she deserved it by any stretch of the imagination, but because I could tell that she wasn’t telling me something. And if there was one thing I knew for certain about Lilith, it was that she always wanted to look beautiful. Perhaps a hot bath and combing the knots out of her hair would loosen her tongue. When I made my way back to the main house, I found Jane sitting by herself in the parlor, swinging her legs in the large armchair by the window. She had a picture book open on her lap, but she wasn’t reading it. Rather, she was looking wistfully outside with a faraway expression on her face.

She asked Pearl. Pearl started to say Bukowski but Rhys had ruined that for her. She thought about it and she remembered as a young girl the novel that truly changed her life. "Jane Eyre." She said. "The Brontës. It was Mr. Rochester that truly ruined me. A man and his ghosts. And a woman strong enough to love him despite them." She said. Erik looked at her. It took everything he had to stop himself from telling her right there and then she owned his heart.