“She did.” Mrs. Seed nodded, her gaze slipping over Charlotte’s shoulder to where Anne was walking slowly about as though searching something out, while Branwell was sprawled in a chair near the oven. “Not that I care one jot for her opinions. I have despised her with all my being since the day I stepped into this hateful place. Even so, it makes no odds—I don’t know anything about what happened back then, except for what I know, and that’s what everyone knows.”

“If you would be so kind as to tell us what you know so that we may corroborate it with other accounts?” Charlotte smiled.

Anne paced, pausing every now and then to stare very hard at nothing in particular; and Branwell, well, he was lost to thoughts that Charlotte could not fathom, though she was certain Mrs. Robinson would be at the bottom of them.

Mrs. Seed sighed. “The boys had been sent out for the summer, up to a farm Scarsdale way. I weren’t needed, so I went to my brother’s for a visit, and I should have stayed there. When they came back, there were some gone. Some died, as children are wont to do. And one ran away, which weren’t no surprise, because he was a right little”—Mrs. Seed sighed again—“article. I reckon he got a taste for fresh air and sunlight, and that’s all there is to it. I don’t suppose he came to a good end, but there’s no mystery there, and if anyone has been left any money, it won’t have been him.”

“Except that’s not all there is to it, Mrs. Seed,” Charlotte said as Anne stopped in front of the locked pantry door. The key was still in the lock.

“What do you mean, that’s not all there is to it?” Mrs. Seed asked, still looking at Anne.

“A child’s remains were recently found at Top Withens Hall, where John was last seen,” Charlotte said, watching as Mrs. Seed’s eyes widened, her ruddy face reddening even further. “There seems little doubt now that it is his bones found hidden there, just as there is little doubt that whoever took him that night has also taken another boy from our village. We believe John Rafferty was murdered, Mrs. Seed, so you would do well to tell us of anything else you might know now. Before charges are laid.”

Mrs. Seed sat down in a chair with a great thump, and now it was Charlotte standing over her.

“I swear I thought he’d run,” she said, her eyes darting this way and that. “Poole singled him out, seemed to take delight in inflicting her cruelty on him. When I heard he’d gone, I thought he’d bolted for sure—didn’t want to come back to that. And that is all I know. Though . . .”

Mrs. Seed wouldn’t meet Charlotte’s gaze.