Robert Audley: Amateur Detective

For a few moments in class, we touched on whether readers are to consider Lady Audley the protagonist because it is her name, alone, that shows up in the title. As the book progresses, however, more and more signs point to our lymphatic friend, Robert, being the true protagonist. So, why throw us off with the title? I would think two main reasons, both directly related to the tradition of sensation novels. One, it emphasizes the secret rather than the solving and in turn, the oddity that is a person in a “Lady” position even having secrets or a hidden identity. (The upper class was often assumed to have a better nature than the lower class). The more mysterious and unexpected the premise, the better the sensation novel. And two, it allowed readers to follow the events with an open perspective. Had this book been titled “Robert’s Zany Adventures” or “Robert Audley: Amateur Detective,” reader’s initial focus would have been on Robert instead of the nuances of Lady Audley’s behavior which later help us solve the mystery alongside Robert.

That being said, though the attention should be on Lady Audley, I think readers are meant to root for Robert. Lady Audley certainly does not make herself out to be a sympathetic character. From her reducing the hope of Sir Michael to a mere corpse in the very first chapter to her distasteful treatment of Phoebe to her very character (!) shown to be manipulative and calculated, the Lucy we know, we do not like. So, we are that much more eager to understand the Lucy we do not know, with the help of our amateur detective, of course.

Lucy, Bad or Good?

In my reading of Lady Audley’s Secret, there is this controversial issue over whether I feel that Lucy is good or bad.  This may be easy for a lot of people to decide because of all of the things she is willing to do to keep her secret.  When Lucy abandons her old life, she abandons her son.  Even after faking her death, I cannot see how she is able to just leave her son behind.  To be fair, George did abandon them first.  How is Lucy to know that he will come back?  For all she knows, leaving could have been George’s way to escape his old life.  Keeping this in mind, once Lucy does move on, she remarries Sir Michael.  We learned pretty early on that this marriage has been superficial from its beginning.

Keeping the idea that women were not given much power outside the home in mind, abandoning her old lifestyle could have been Lucy’s way of attaining freedom and power.  Maybe being abandoned in a lifestyle of poverty with a son was too much for Lucy to handle, especially when she was unsure of her husband’s return.  Maybe I’m just making excuses for Lucy, but the stresses of being a poor woman with a child were and still are problems.  Lucy could be viewed as a bad person. She does murder, plot, and abandon.  Playing devil’s advocate, I simply see a woman who chooses herself over society’s expectations.  Even when she leaves her son, at least her son is being taken care of.

Who is the hero?

While I applaud Robert Audley for his ability to see through Lady Audley, I cannot ignore a certain belief of his. The first incident that caught my attention was when Robert notices Lady Audley’s bruised skin around her wrist. Even though she claims that the bruise came from a tightly worn ribbon, Robert tells her that she is telling “childish white lies” (Braddon 123). Robert is like a detective. The truth will come out because of his devotion to George’s disappearance. Readers expect him to be the hero. I admire Robert’s determination to prove that Lady Audley is involved with the disappearance of George Talboys. Her charms do not work on him. He believes that her beauty is only physical. At first, I was sure that Robert was one of my favorite male characters. I liked that he was not like the other men in the novel who are blinded by Lady Audley. However, I soon realized that I should wait to decide how I feel about Robert. There is a scene in the book when Robert remembers “the horrible things that have been done by women, since that day upon which Eve was created to be Adam’s companion…” (Braddon 289). This is only one example out of many. Robert makes plenty more insulting remarks about women throughout the novel.

What is the point of having a character like Robert? I like that he is intelligent, but I dislike that he thinks he is above women. I think that Robert is an important character because he contributes to the suspense that Braddon is trying to create. I think that some would easily label Robert as the protagonist and Lady Audley as the antagonist. But, I think that this is only an easy conclusion to make when one is considering the mystery aspect of the story. I think it is more complicated than this. While all signs point to Lady Audley as being the antagonist, there are some positive qualities that I cannot ignore. She is a brave and determined character. Female readers can count on her to put Robert in his place. He constantly comes across something that he thinks he can use against Lady Audley, but she continues to prove him wrong. She brings out Robert’s anger towards women (something that I enjoy). Also, I have no words to describe her complete power over men. When considering the issue of gender, Lady Audley might be considered a hero.

Robert the “Young Philosopher”


In chapter 6 of the second volume of Lady Audley’s Secret, the reader hears Robert’s thoughts on various subjects.   He is very contemplative about life, which I think is sprung by his newly made acquaintance with Clara Talboys.  In this chapter, I think Braddon takes some liberties with the narrator by purposely confusing the narrative voice with Robert’s own thoughts.  The narrative voice says things like, “ We are apt to be angry with this cruel hardness in our life,” which sounds like it could be Robert’s thoughts, but it is not in quotations like the rest of his thoughts.   She also utilizes the first person “we” in these interruptions by the narrative voice.  These moments in the text draw the reader in by asking the reader questions and including the reader in the discussion of the narrative.

The style and the topics discussed in this chapter also reveal characteristics of sensation novels.  Sensation fiction reintroduced the questioning of fate and the meaning of life.  In this chapter we see Robert questioning fate.  His mind wonders as he contemplates what his life will be like now that he has met Clara and agreed to include her in his investigation into George Talboys’s disappearance.  He also, I think rather comically, thinks about marriage and how you never know who fate will bring together.  He exclaims, “that the woman on the kerb-stone yonder…may be the woman…who could make me a happy man.”   I found his thoughts on marriage entertaining but also interesting because his views are normally something I think one would think would be women’s thoughts not men’s.  Braddon seems concerned with men’s views on marriage as well as women’s, as at the very beginning of the novel we see Sir Michael’s view that marriage should be for love and then Lady Audley squashes this view, and then Robert’s thoughts here.  Fate is further discussed in the narration of the “human machine.”  The narrator discusses how the “cruel hardness in our life” is that fate or life “knows no stoppage or cessation.”  These contemplative moments in the narration and in Robert are characteristics of sensation fiction, connect the reader to text, and give insight into the characters.

The Problem of Lucy

In Mary Elizabeth Braddon’s Lady Audley’s Secret, Lucy spends much of the novel going to great extents to protect her secret. The reader is prompted to the truth behind Lucy’s façade early on in the investigation. Consequently, the reader must consider – how bad is Lucy? How much should the reader see her as merely an opportunistic gold digger? While it seems that these terms would apply quite well to Lucy, is it really Lucy’s fault? In other words, beyond marriage what other recourse of upward social mobility does Lucy have? Throughout the novel, Lucy is defined by marriage. At the beginning of the work, she is getting married. Furthermore, throughout the novel George is investigating her past and suspects a hidden past and marriage. The most telling example of Lucy’s complete reliance on marriage to the point of almost trusting it as a career occurs in the chapter entitled “My Lady Tells the Truth”. She remembers, “I had learnt that which in some indefinite manner every other schoolgirl learns sooner or later- I learned that my ultimate faith in life depended upon my marriage, and I concluded that if I was indeed prettier than my schoolfellows, I ought to marry better than any of them” (298). So, despite the desperate fury Lady Audley exhibits (256), Lucy was ambitious. This quality certainly would not have been faulted in a man. In fact, it was not faulted in George for his ambition to find Lady Audley’s secret nor was ambition faulted in his gold prospecting in Australia. Ultimately, what other option does Lucy have? Could it not be that she is simply ambitious, and marriage is her only means by which to climb socially?


Secrets are obviously themed throughout the bindings of this novel. However, the concealing of information is not always meant to be so evident in narratives like Lady Audley’s Secret. Despite the apparent trigger word located in the book’s title. Could we as readers pick up on such themes if the title was subtler and more ambiguous? Is there a rhetorical intention for applying such a keyword in the title or does Mary Elizabeth Braddon lack the literary creativity to construct a New-York-Times-best-selling-have-to-pick-it-up-catchy-title? Sorry, I don’t know Braddon personally, so I do not know the answer. But we can make some assumptions or educated guesses, right?

Let’s consider the events that have occurred thus far and determine what types of assumptions we can conclude as pointing to the best definitive answer. So the question, once again, is the following:

“Why does Braddon add the word “secret” to the novel’s title?”

Hint: To answer this question, we must see if there are instants in the pages read thus far that show us scenes of some withholding or concealing of information by the characters in the novel.

My Short Answer: There are many examples of concealing information that many characters keep to themselves. I have listed out the following characters that I found “secretive” in some way or another. Take some time to consider what actions or information these characters have possibly hidden. Maybe we found the same or different ones?

  • Lucy
  • Hellen
  • Robert
  • George
  • Mrs. Vincent
  • Mr. Dawson

The Evil Stepsister?

In Lady Audley’s Secret the story of Alicia has some marked similarities to the beloved fairy tales that we all know and love. For example, in Cinderella, both of the daughters are the joy of their widower father but are replaced by a stepmother. Braddon’s story seems to play up this trope to torment poor Alicia.

However, this is where the similarities end and the relationship between Lady Audley and Sir Michael is exposed in its bizarre ways. Their relationship, as thought by Sir Michael, is supposed to recall the memories of a father figure (49) and Lady Audley’s childish nature is so ingrained into her personality that one wonders how they even function as a married couple: “It was so natural to Lady Audley to be childish, that no one would have wished to see her otherwise” (297).

So is it really the space of an evil stepmother that Lady Audley is taking in the household, or as a more loved daughter than Alicia? Sir Michael is certainly proud of Lady Audley in the same way that a father would be of a refined daughter and in a way that we do not see him appreciate Alicia. Not only is Lady Audley taking up room in her father’s heart, but she seems to specifically target the space of a daughter. Adding to her childish nature, Lady Audley is scared of thunderstorms and dogs in a highly annoying innocence that allows Sir Michael to comfort her like a father. He also is easily manipulated by her tears, the calculating tool of a small child, not a mature woman.

On 306-7 Alicia muses on how separated she has actually come from her father “My lady’s beaming smiles, my lady’s winning words, my lady’s radiant glances and bewitching graces had done their work of enchantment, and Sir Michael had grown to look on his daughter as a … capricious young person who had behaved with determined unkindness to the wife he loved.”

This encourages a whole new set of questions about what it meant to be a wife in this era. Was this type of marriage merely the result of every woman’s dependency on a male figure, whether they were their father or husband? Was it typical? I think that even today we can see remainings of this feigned innocence. Such demeaning actions, like playing dumb to get a man are still practiced, so what is the appeal? The husband’s duty protect and care for shouldn’t be so perverted that they take on a paternal role.

Stereotyping Women?

I firmly believe that, when writing a story, a writer does not make any final decisions about their story on a whim or fancy; it was done for a certain purpose through clear insight. In this case, considering the female characters Braddon has created along with their thoughts and treatment toward the other sex, she may be addressing the gender divide that was common between men and women at the time. However, are we meant to completely agree with everything that Braddon says in her book?

This divisive nature is noticeable through Robert’s point of view as the story goes on. He claims “to hate women” because of they are nothing more than “bold, brazen, abominable creatures, invented for the annoyance and destruction of their superiors” (229). As much as we may want to disagree with his viewpoint, within the context of the book, Robert is right. For example, Alicia comes off as very strong willed and at times childish, which interferes with any possible future courtships. She’s also dead-set on marrying Robert and refuses to consider anyone else. Such behavior, in the day and age of the book, was more than likely seen as unbecoming of a young woman of her class. Yet, are we meant to feel sorry for her at the same time?

We can also look at Phoebe, Lady Audley’s ex-personal maid. She snoops about and is able to dig up blackmail against her Lady and is made to later use this information to make Lady Audley pay her and her husband hush money for their bar and home. Sure, we are later made to feel sorry for her after her marriage, but her intention on discovering potential blackmail may not be so easily be forgotten nor forgiven.

Lastly, we can look toward Lady Audley and her own circumstances along with how she deals with each issue that comes her way. She uses her husband, Sir Michael, as heavy muscle to deal with any problems she doesn’t want to face head on. Furthermore, she is able to charm him into shamelessly doing whatever she wants with the right words and actions. Again, like Phoebe and Alicia, we may be able to feel sorry for her in the future, but for now, the probability of that happening seems very low.

Even more interesting, above all, is the fact that Braddon herself, using the voice of the narrator, seems to agree with Robert’s stance:

“Ah, Heaven help a strong man’s tender weakness for the woman he loves.                        Heaven pity him when the guilty creature has deceived him and comes with                        her tears and lamentations to through herself at his feet…Pity him, pity him.”                        (298).

So then, what is Braddon trying to accomplish through this negative viewpoint of women? Are we simply meant to take this idea with a grain of salt because of the genre of the work? Or, are we meant to sit down and discuss this division between the sexes?

Femme Fatale – Victorian Style

The Femme Fatale (meaning “fatal woman” in French) is a female archetype who hypnotizes and enchants people, particularly men, with her alluring charm and undeniable beauty. One of my favorite examples of the femme fatale is Ava Gardner in the famous film noir The Killers (1946). Lady Audley (aka Lucy Graham aka Helen Talboys) is a text-book illustration of this classic character that continues to be depicted in literature, film and television today. I would argue that Braddon uses her femme fatale to do more than create a mystery thriller – she makes some astounding remarks on gender roles in Victorian society.

Lady Audley appears to be the “perfect” antagonist, almost as if she waltzed right out of the step-mother role in a Disney fairy tale. She is, on the exterior, sweet, fair, innocent, gifted in all of the right ways and as fragile as a porcelain doll (all of the trademarks of an ideal Victorian woman, I might add), but inside her hollow, breakable doll parts is a manipulative, active, and stereotypically masculine woman. On the surface, Lady Audley acts as Robert Audley’s nemesis – a cold-hearted, cruel woman acting out of greed and vanity. But beneath that delicate surface is a conscious woman fighting against the inequalities of patriarchy and a sexist society suppressing her. Don’t get me wrong – Lady Audley is responsible for unspeakable acts and I’m not justifying her malice throughout the novel, but I am analyzing it further than “she’s a gold digger who didn’t get her way.” Is she reacting to a male dominated society and acting out of desperation to achieve what she wants? Is Braddon using her as a way to create depth and realism in female characters – meaning, to give women more than the dutiful wife/mother roles in literature? Is she a statement on how Victorian gender roles stifle women to the point of madness? I haven’t quite discerned what the answers to these questions are (and I’m not sure I ever will), but they are interesting to pose and proof that Braddon is definitely probing her readers in the realm of gender.


Let’s get to the bottom of this!

There is a tie between Robert Audley and Miss Tonks for my favorite character mainly because I feel like these characters are the only ones taking full measure to act on their suspicions—even though one is clearly out of jealously and spite—to uncover Lady Audley’s secret. First of all, both sufficiently recognized that there was something definitely shady about her, and both were clear in their desire to uncover the truth. Although sensible and caring Clara is making her way up to the top of my list and I’m anticipating a takeover once we learn more about her.

Robert Audley clearly has the more important role in the story as he is our main detective in solving this case, and I appreciate how he finally found something exciting enough to get him off his bum and do something in the world. Even though he was introduced to the reader as a rather purposeless and wandering yet learned individual, his clear loyalty to George Talboys remains his fuel in his search.

I love how he (is this terrible of me or what) absolutely cuts to the chase with Lady Audley in chapter 11 of volume II when he doesn’t waver in his condemning words to her.

‘No, Lady Audley,’ answered Robert, with a cold sternness that was so strange to him as to transform him into another creature—a pitiless embodiment of justice, a cruel instrument of retribution…’I have told you that womanly prevarication will not help you; I tell you now that defiance will not serve you. I have dealt fairly with you, and have given you fair warning. I gave you indirect notice of your danger two months ago.’

Unlike the other female characters who stew in their petty hatred or suspicion of her, Robert speaks to her with clean and clear frankness.

Miss Tonks, though her moment in the story was incredibly short, also maintained a clear position on the Helen Talboys/Lucy Graham/Lady Audley situation and I just loved how eager she was to also get to the bottom of her suspicion and incriminate L. Audley. Robert was able to perceive Miss Tonks’ clear envious grudge against L. Audley, but seeing the circumstances that allowed L. Audley to serve in the school without a proper background check and rather unjustly win everyone’s affections kind of makes me dislike her as well.

(The male equivalent of) Damsel in Distress

“I am not a romantic man, Bob… I never read a line of poetry in my life that was any more to me than so many words and so much jingle; but a feeling has come over me since my wife’s death, that I am like a man standing upon a long low shore, with hideous cliffs frowning down upon him from behind, and the rising tide crawling slowly but surely about his feet. It seems to grow nearer and nearer every day, the black, pitiless tide; not rushing upon me with a great noise and a mighty impetus, but crawling, creeping, stealing, gliding towards me, ready to close in above my head when I am least prepared for the end.”


George says he “is not a romantic man” and has “never read a line of poetry in [his] life that was any more to [him] than so many words”. In other words, George acknowledges himself as never having experienced emotion on such as deep level as he does now over the loss of his wife.

He proceeds to explain the feeling, “I am like a man standing upon a long low shore, with hideous cliffs frowning down upon him from behind, and the tide crawling slowly but surely about his feet.” Perhaps the cliffs frowning down upon him from behind symbolize the moments he neglected to have and take advantage of when his life was behind. Opportunities that now taunt him. Or perhaps they symbolize people in his life, such as his father and law, who he imagines places blame on George for leaving. Whichever the literal symbolization, this analogy shows George’s sense of guilt, a huge contributing factor to the intense gloom he is currently overtaken with.

He then elaborates on the “tide” analogy, saying, “It seems to grow nearer and nearer every day, that black, pitiless tide; not rushing upon me with a great noise and a mighty impetus, but crawling, creeping, stealing, gliding towards me, ready to close in above my head when I am least prepared for the end.” This part of his explanation indicates another huge contributing factor to George’s depressive state: fear. Whether George fears the intensity of the emotional distress that slowly continues to consume him or the recollections of all that he has lost or missed with his wife as a result of his past action that he continues to gain is questionable. I’d assume it’s a mixture of both: truly a recipe for mental darkness and a state of emotional desperation.

Simply Thoughts

There were were a couple of things that stood out to me in Lady Audley’s Secret.  The first is pretty simple.  It can be inferred from the title that Lady Audley has some big secret that she is hiding from everyone.  When she finds out that Sir Audley is interested in her, her reaction is so weird.  Her tone changes, and it seems like she gets a little angry as she grabs the ring around her neck.  I guessed that her secret was that she has or had a husband that she still loves, and I figured that was her big secret, even though she denies this to Sir Audley.  Then, we find out that she keeps a piece of blonde hair and a small wrapped up baby shoe hidden and kept with her belongings.  This kind of confused me because I thought I already knew her secret, but here we are finding out through Phoebe that Lady Audley has or had a baby.  Lady Audley has two secrets.

A second thing that caught my attention Braddon’s use of the gothic.  There is the huge mansion with all of it’s hidden passages.  Lady Audley’s beauty is a characteristic that caught me off guard.  I understand that she is pretty, but for little boys to be running home to just to tell their mother how beautiful she is comes across as weird.  In discussion of gothic in another class, it was stated that when things are taken to an extreme, such as the lady’s beauty, then it leads to the grotesque.  I can’t help but wonder if the author plans to reveal something extremely grotesque about Lady Audley’s character.  Apparently, her past is something that she is really interested on leaving behind as she decides that she will marry Sir Audley.  I also feel like Braddon could possibly be hinting at something with Lady Audley weird laugh that catches Sir Audley by surprise during his proposal.  It brought to mind a witch’s laugh.  So is Lady Audley’s extreme beauty just a mask for her pure evil?

Fun with Bertha and Jane

The comparison between Bertha and Jane is an interesting one. The two characters seem to be the representation of the same light and determination, but one does not have the ability to control it.

The two women both seem to have an innate fire that is within them. For Jane this fire is the same one that she knows will be snuffed if she marries St. John. For Bertha, this fire actually has a physical manifestation: First she burns the bed of Rochester and then she lights up Thornfield. This fire is destructive to Rochester, physically representing the turmoil that she has brought into his life. Jane has the control to channel her spirit into a much more productive motion, achieving her independence. It is this spirit that allows her to work and that saves her from accepting Rochester’s proposal of bigamy.

Jane and Bertha also can be contrasted by the amount of control that each woman has. While Jane is portrayed as experiencing essential human feelings and emotions (she falls in live, has dreams, gets a job, finds a family), Bertha is increasingly compared to a wild animal. She bites Mason like a dog, screams in the night, and is seen crawling on all fours. This de-humanization of Bertha strives to make her a horrific creature, not a mere mad woman.

These two characters have such a stark contrast because they both end up inhabiting the same space — a marriage to Rochester. By showing the reader how uncontrollable and dangerous Bertha is, they can see, even more, the appeal of a simple Jane for Rochester.

Rochester and Jane–A Complete Transformation?

Earlier when I led class discussion over the passage when Rochester tells his version of Jane and him falling in love, I criticized Rochester for seeming very vain and selfish in his love.  I hoped that Bronte was presenting him this way to further contrast his character at the end of the novel, in other words to show how much he has changed.   I think Rochester does undergo a transformation as does Jane, but I’m not sure it is as drastic as I would like for it to be, nor is it for the best reasons.  Let me explain myself.  Essentially by the end of the novel Rochester and Jane’s positions have reversed.  Jane is the independent one and Rochester is the dependent.  The only reason Rochester comes to the dependent role is because he has lost his eyesight.  It comes from no intellectual realization of how he was wrong in the way he acted and treated Jane before.  He is not ok with being dependent upon others until it is Jane he is dependent upon, so he didn’t necessarily completely c hanged his character around.  However I will give Rochester some credit as he does ask Jane if he suits her rather than just assuming he does because she is suitable for him (493). However previous to this he had just interrogated Jane because he believed he had reason to be jealous of her affection for another man.

Jane’s transformation comes from her becoming an independent woman through inheriting money.   I think the transformation also comes from her finding her family and learning what it is like to have relatives who truly love her.  However, Jane accredits her change to being an independent woman (481).  Jane finds confidence, security, and purpose for herself through the inheritance and is able to then go and be with Rochester.  I would have liked for her transformation to be less about money and more of a spiritual or emotional transformation, but maybe this was the only option for Bronte.  In saying that I mean maybe this is the only story that would be believable for her readers.  Also I think it is possible that this was the only area of Jane’s life she needed to find independence in as she was already an independent thinker.  Overall, I like how Jane and Rochester are able to fulfill each other’s needs at the end of the novel and I like their role reversal, but I am just a little wary of how these reversals come about.


Similarities between Jane and Bertha: Rochester, Isolation, & Emotions (anger and the desire for freedom)

Rochester can be labeled as “the controller.” Rochester commands Jane to have a conversation with him.  He tells her to “speak.” When Rochester brings upper-class guests over to the house, Jane is forced to join the group. After their engagement, Rochester wants to shower Jane with jewels and finer things. Rochester is attempting to mold Jane into the kind of person he desires her to be. His need for control is not only seen through his interaction with Jane, but also through his treatment of Bertha. Considered to have a mental illness, Bertha is locked away by Rochester. Both Jane and Bertha experience Rochester’s control.

Jane and Bertha are isolated from others (or at least feels isolated). At Mrs. Reed’s house, Jane is the mistreated stepdaughter. During Mr. Lloyd’s visit, Jane contemplates if she should go live with her relatives. At Lowood, Jane does not have many friends. When Miss Temple leaves Lowood, Jane feels as though she no longer belongs there. Jane ends up going to Thornfield. Jane starts to feel as though she has a place at Thornfield after her engagement to Rochester. However, this ends when she finds out about Rochester’s marriage to Bertha. Again, Jane leaves a place she thought could be home. Once upon a time, Bertha had a life outside of the attic. However, after Rochester concluded that she was insane, she was locked away. Bertha is alone, with the exception of Grace Poole. Both Jane and Bertha experience separation from others.

Jane’s feelings are seen through Bertha. Since she was a child, Jane desired freedom. From the terrible treatment of her family and friends of her family, Jane was always considered as an inferior. Jane was locked away in Mrs. Reed’s home. She was hopeful when she found out she was going to Lowood. However, she did not fit in very well at Lowood either. Jane was just someone who did not belong, no matter where she went. Jane’s feelings are depicted through Bertha’s actions. Like Jane, Bertha also desired freedom. When Bertha escapes from the attic, she sets the house on fire. One can conclude that Bertha does this because she is angry. She is upset with Rochester for locking her up. She also probably hates the house because it is the place she was forced to stay.

Jane’s feelings are also seen through Bertha the night before her wedding. Jane sees someone at her closet. She sees the person taking the expensive veil and tearing it in two. The tearing of the veil shows Jane’s uncertainty about her marriage and the life she would have with Rochester. Earlier, Jane wishes she had money so that she would be more comfortable about marrying Rochester. In the end, after Jane inherits money (and Bertha jumps off the roof), Jane is able to have her “happily ever after.”

It is interesting that Jane and Bertha are so similar because of the way the story ends. I do not think Bertha would have described her marriage to Rochester as something blissful the way Jane does at the end of the novel.

FUN FACT: Janetha means motivated, courageous, and determined. Janetha is a person who seeks freedom and desires to go places (travel).