Reborn as 8yo Regency Girl, OP All the Way

Chapter 7 The School·Enrollment

Whispers rippled through the group of girls as Elara followed Mrs. Simpson across the playground, their curious glances lingering on her neat gown and the way she carried herself with quiet poise.

“Look at her—she’s dressed like the gentlemen who come to donate!” one girl murmured.

“Surely not a donor,” another replied. “I saw the coachman carrying trunks inside. She must be a new student.”

“But her clothes are so respectable! Why would someone like her come to Lowood?”

“Who knows? It’s none of our business, anyway.”

“Where’s Jane? Has anyone seen her?”

“I think Miss Temple sent for her after class.”

Elara’s eyes wandered over the school buildings, a faint sense of familiarity stirring within her. The layout reminded her of the rural primary school she’d attended in her past life—though that school’s red brick walls had been whitewashed with lime. She’d left that village for the city with her parents a few years later, never to return.

“What do you think of the place, Elara?” Reverend Bailey asked, noticing her quiet observation.

“I like it very much, sir,” she replied with a soft smile. The reverend let out a quiet breath of relief—he’d worried the starkness of the charitable school might disappoint her.

Mrs. Simpson led them to a neat office, where a young woman in her mid-twenties sat at a desk,** papers alongside a girl roughly Elara’s age. “Miss Temple, Reverend Bailey and Miss Harrington have arrived,” Mrs. Simpson announced.

Miss Temple stood at once, her posture elegant and welcoming. “Reverend Bailey, what a pleasure to have you here. Did you have a pleasant journey?” she asked, her voice warm and refined.

After exchanging polite pleasantries, they turned to the matter at hand. “Sir Arthur Harrington—Lord Harrington—sent Elara here on the recommendation of a friend,” Reverend Bailey said, emphasizing her father’s title gently. It was a quiet reminder that Elara was a lady of status, deserving of proper respect.

Miss Temple’s gaze turned to Elara, her eyes kind but assessing. “Miss Harrington, all our teachers are recommended by men of great virtue and learning. I am certain you will gain valuable knowledge here.”

“Please, call me Elara,” she replied with a poised smile, neither shy nor arrogant. “I hope we shall get along well in the years to come.”

Miss Temple’s expression softened—she’d feared a spoiled or haughty young lady, but Elara seemed genuine and easy to approach. She turned to the girl beside her. “This is my pupil, Jane Eyre. You may call her Jane. She will show you around the school and help you settle in.”

Elara’s breath caught slightly at the name. Jane Eyre. It was impossible to mistake—one of the most famous heroines in the literature of her past life. She fought to keep her surprise from showing, but Miss Temple noticed the faint flicker in her eyes.

“Is something amiss?” she asked.

Elara quickly composed herself. “Nothing at all, Miss Temple. I have a dear friend back in Longbourn named Jane—Miss Bennet. The name took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“Ah, the Bennet family’s little Jane,” Reverend Bailey confirmed. “A most charming and respectful young lady.”

With that explanation, Miss Temple nodded approvingly and urged Jane to show Elara around. As they stepped into the hallway, Elara studied the other girl quietly. Jane was small for her age, with a pale complexion and plain features—but her eyes were bright and sharp, filled with a quiet intelligence that drew Elara in.

“Have you been at Lowood long, Jane?” Elara asked, feigning casual curiosity.

“Three years now,” Jane replied softly. “I came from Gateshead Hall.”

“Do you have family there?” Elara pressed, her heart racing slightly. Could this really be the Jane Eyre she’d read about?

Jane’s lips tightened for a moment before she spoke. “My parents passed away when I was very young. I lived with my uncle and aunt until my uncle’s death—then Aunt Reed sent me here.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Elara said, genuine regret in her voice. She shouldn’t have pried into such a painful subject.

Jane shook her head, a faint, sad smile touching her lips. “It’s quite all right.”

She led Elara through the school: the bright, orderly classrooms, the dormitories with their neat rows of beds, and the small chapel where the girls attended morning prayers. Elara listened attentively to Jane’s explanations, her mind spinning with a revelation she could barely comprehend.

She wasn’t just in 19th-century England—she’d stepped into a book. A world built around the story of Jane Eyre.

Was this world real? Or merely a figment of the novel’s pages? And what role did she play in it—merely a background character, a passing stranger in Jane’s story? She’d read Jane Eyre in her past life, but the details had faded over time—only the broad strokes remained. She felt a sudden surge of uncertainty, but she forced herself to stay calm, to keep up the pretense of a curious new student.

Jane, for her part, seemed pleased by Elara’s friendly demeanor. Most of the young ladies she’d encountered in the past had been haughty or dismissive of her humble background, but Elara treated her with genuine kindness.

That evening, Jane led Elara to the dining hall. The meal was simple—thick vegetable soup and crusty bread, far plainer than the food at the Harrington manor—but edible enough. After dinner, Miss Temple assigned Elara to share a dormitory with Jane and two other girls, Mary and Diana Rivers.

Reverend Bailey planned to stay for three days, to ensure Elara settled in before returning to Longbourn. He would take her first letter home with him—a small comfort for her parents.

Elara lay awake in her narrow bed that night, replaying her conversation with Jane. Everything matched—the orphaned childhood, Gateshead Hall, the arrival at Lowood. This was truly Jane Eyre, the heroine of the novel. The realization left her feeling both disoriented and strangely determined. Whatever her role in this world, she would not be a mere bystander. She would carve out her own path, just as Jane intended to do.

Exhaustion from the long journey soon overcame her, though, and she drifted into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Elara woke at the sound of the school bell, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She dressed quickly and neatly, surprising Jane, who had offered to help her. “You’re very independent,” Jane said, a note of admiration in her voice.

After washing up, the girls went to the chapel for morning prayers. Elara joined in the hymns and the thanksgiving to God, but in her heart, she gave thanks for her own resilience—for surviving the journey, for finding a place to learn, for another day to fight for her independence.

Breakfast was a repeat of the night before—porridge and bread—but Elara ate heartily. Jane then led her to the classroom, where Miss Temple gave her a brief examination. To the teacher’s surprise, Elara already knew how to read, write, and do basic arithmetic. There was no need for her to join the beginner’s class—she would sit beside Jane in the intermediate group.

Studies came easily to Elara. Drawing, piano, and needlework were familiar to her, thanks to her mother’s lessons. Miss Temple even commented on her skill, assuming she’d had a governess at home. When Elara explained she’d taught herself most things from her father’s books, Miss Temple praised her quick wit and dedication.

Only French proved challenging—she had no prior experience with the language. But she applied herself diligently, determined to master it.

After two days, Reverend Bailey was satisfied that Elara had adjusted well to Lowood. He prepared to depart, carrying her letter to the Harringtons—a detailed account of her journey, the school, and her new friend Jane. As he said his goodbyes, Elara felt a twinge of homesickness, but it was overshadowed by excitement for the future.

She was in a book. But this time, she would write her own story.