Little Miss Rochester

Introduction/Prologue

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Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë is a classic novel which will never cease to amaze many. I am one of the many. Jane Eyre inspired me in many different ways, I ended up researching the Brontë sisters, learning about their history, gaining the confidence to pursue my writing dream and became a member of the Brontë Parsonage Museum. It was through this organisation that I attended a webinar (oh, the days when events were in person...) on Feminism within Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre alongside all of the work from the three sisters, which encapsulated the #IAmNoBird slogan. This webinar was incredible, inspiring, funny, everything I wanted to be a part of. Most of all, however, it inspired me to continue with an idea I had a while ago, but add a feminist, Jane Eyre theme to it.

This is a work of fiction. This is in no way associated with the Brontë sister's work and all ideas are my own.

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My name is Olivia Rochester. My father; Arthur Rochester; is the grandson of my hero. Of course, as everyone knows from my great-grandmother's memoirs, Mr Rochester had a daughter of his own, Adelè, by some French mistress. However, my great-grandmother and him did have another child together once he got better. Conventionally, their son was named after Mr Rochester. Edward Jr. - My grandfather. I loved my grandfather, he was a good man.

My grandfather had two children of his own with his wife, Audrey, one girl and one boy. Elizabeth, their daughter, my aunt, was an incredible lady in her heyday. Intelligent, pretty and witty. Aunt Lizzie is the only one who believes in me.

Sadly, my father, turned out much like his grandfather. Charming, charismatic, clever, but utterly, utterly brutish. It is no wonder my mother fell in love with him; he can talk his way out of anything, even if what he says makes no logical sense. He just smiles his characteristic grin and voila, problem solved. His ways are outdated, his logic skewed, his female ideals completely off. He wanted myself and my two sisters; Matilda and Sophia; to become housewives, bakery assistants (not a bakery owner, just an assistant) or to be seamstress'. It is the twenty first century and those were the three walks of life in which our father approved. The only three. It's safe to say none of us adhered to these ludicrous ideals. My older sister, Matilda, is a charity worker and philanthropist, whilst my younger sister, Sophia, works in graphic design - which we convinced father, was extremely close to being a seamstress in these modern times. I on the other hand, was a teacher. Fine job. However I aspired to be on the stage. Quite the disappointment apparently.

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