What he calls ‘wild’ is my soul defiant. What he calls ‘untamed’ is my fight to be free…
A visitor from England, talk of love, money, a new life, and a marriage arranged by men explain, in brief, the forces that brought me here; from sunlit days at Coulibri in Spanish Town to this dark place—Thornfield Hall. Or do I dream? Unsure who I am without my looking glass, I repeat my name: not Bertha, Antoinette! Antoinette! I trust no-one and nothing. Except hate. I can’t stand another night in this Hellish place. He told me I was tall, fine, majestic. He burned with a passion that stirred mine. In bed I wore the red dress he asked for. I was his ‘beauty’. Exotic. Day and night. Love was a snare, the wedding a blur, a trap.The ship bound for England, a cage. Now, I’m the unseen wife on the third floor—‘lunatic, pygmy, demon, thing, hag’ … curses that reach my ear pressed to the boards. What he calls ‘wild’ is my soul defiant. What he calls ‘untamed’ is my fight to be free. I am locked in this room, remembering the promise of a life he made. I break the chairs, bang on doors, stamp on the floor. I scream nightly, lest he forget the young girl he dreamed of and lusted for in Jamaica is thinking of revenge, escape. The governess has gone. I know this pains him. I care not for his loss. I cry for everything I have lost, family…home…who I was. A pain creased his face when I asked: was my dowry worth all this? The candle lights the way, a torch of liberty, when the tapestry is ablaze, the floor on fire, I will climb to the roof.
Anthony Costello
from the anthology No Net Ensnares Me (Calder Valley Poetry, 2024)
