BLANCHE INGRAM

God! How I detest you, Blanche Ingram
(whose dulcet tones ring out
in perfect harmony with his deft piano playing),
for your coquettish smile that draws
and holds his attention upon you alone.
Please excuse my curiosity, but have you not
enough suitors to amuse you already:
those lawyers, landed gentry and military men
who daily grovel, smitten, at your feet?
You are my undoing, Blanche Ingram.

Oh God!
I want so desperately to hate you,
yet I cannot, being a devout Christian,
summon that sentiment.
Hark how you sing -
and how he gazes adoringly into those eyes:
those beautiful eyes that have seen the World,
that have conquered three continents
and that now enchant my only love.
These emotions choke me day and night.
They stick in my throat and conjure
images in this poor, wretched mind
of a future blighted by dull, grey monotony:
a future without him, tinged green
with unbearable envy - another sin,
condemning me surely to hell's fire
at some point in my miserable future.

Oh, Blanche Ingram,
how could I ever hope to compare with you?
You - with your glossy, flaxen hair
and translucent complexion;
with that flawless form, draped
in delicate silks fresh from the Indies?
For I am plain and own
but two unbecoming cotton dresses, one grey, one black.
I am Jane Eyre, a governess:
am of that genus that you and your kind so abhor
and delight in mocking. I heard you just now
belittling me before your fellow guests,
who found your scathing words so amusing
that they laughed and laughed -
in spite of my extreme discomfort - at my expense.

You have crushed my self-worth, Blanche Ingram.
Yet you are a woman - like me.
In the eyes of God we are equals:
mere class does not hold sway in His Heaven.
There, I will be valued as much as you.
But, sadly, I am not in Heaven.
I am here, in the drawing room of Thornfield Hall,
where I sit sewing in the shadows
of a corner observing you and he
flirting and singing, whilst
I silently die inside of love unrequited.
I dare not speak my mind.
I blush with shame at my thoughts -
yet long with all my heart to act them out:
to rush up to that piano and sit between you,
then kiss his lips...in front of this entire assembly.
Oh, I am going insane.
I feel compelled to run out into the hall -
as if to hide these immoral thoughts
from God Himself.

Oh, Blanche Ingram, I know I should;
but how can I ever forgive you?
Your transgression against me is too great.
Not only have you robbed me
of my only hope of future happiness,
but your very presence has condemned me
to eternal damnation -
for, at this moment
I would willingly renounce my very Soul
to be in your shoes today...