Jane’s departure left Elara adrift. The days at Lowood felt dull and empty without her dearest friend—no one to share quiet evenings with, no one to confide in, no one to laugh with over Maria’s latest baking mishap.
She threw herself into her work, grading papers late into the night, teaching Maria extra lace-making lessons, and even volunteering to help the school’s headmistress with administrative tasks. But the loneliness lingered, a quiet ache in her chest.
Then, nearly a month later, a letter arrived from Jane. Elara’s fingers trembled as she tore open the envelope, her heart racing with relief.
Jane wrote of her student—a seven-year-old French girl named Adele Varens, lively and affectionate, with a penchant for singing and drawing. She’d enclosed a tiny sketch Adele had made of
