“What will you say, Mrs. Seed?” Charlotte asked.

“That Mrs. Poole keeps a great deal of the food and fuel and sells it on for profit. Mr. Markham wrote to the patron once, but nothing came of it, and I know why.

“Mrs. Poole is a blackmailer. She discovers secrets and holds them on account. She knows that the do-gooders who fund this place will not sack her. So I beg of you, misses, sir—if you have the power to remove her from here, then pray do it, and you will have saved more than one life.”

40

Anne

“The day is growing very late,” Charlotte said as the four of them walked on, Crossed Keys Orphanage and all of Halifax some distance behind them now. “I rather wish we hadn’t dallied to question Mrs. Poole, for I never met a more odious and evasive woman.”

Charlotte was entirely accurate in their assessment of Mrs. Poole. For no matter how they questioned her, she turned this way and that, as slippery as an eel. They had thought it best to keep the discoveries they had made from Mr. Markham, Mrs. Seed and the children to themselves, for the sake of those poor souls, but also to prevent Mrs. Poole from understanding the true nature of their investigation and taking flight. Despite that, they had asked her all they could about the orphanage and its practices, and Anne had been sure that every answer Poole had given was a lie.

Anne could hear the worry in Charlotte’s voice, and indeed she shared it. Under usual circumstances the ten miles from Halifax to home was a walk they would have thought nothing of, but now, with the last transport gone and the afternoon dimming by the minute, it seemed as if the road grew longer with every step they took, and Joseph Earnshaw was lost one minute more.

And it was entirely possible that they were on the wrong path altogether. Mrs. Seed had told them that Miss Goddard had taken a position the other side of Stanbury, but with no further detail.

These were homes and families that the sisters knew, and yet they were hard-pressed to think of one that was likely to have employed a companion, for that particular position was normally advertised by lone women of some standing. Anne could not think of one household in that area to fit that description. She could only hope that some inspiration would present itself to them before long; otherwise this long detour they had taken following Miss Goddard would prove to be nothing more than a waste of precious time.

“I fear I may not own the strength to continue for very much longer,” Charlotte said. “Branwell, may I take your arm?”

Branwell let Charlotte lean on him with a sombre smile.