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Chapters (63)
  1. Cover
  2. BRONTË SISTERS MYSTERIES
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. Haworth Parsonage, April 1852
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. "Music on Christmas Morning"
  60. Author’s Note
  61. Acknowledgements
  62. About the Author
  63. What’s next onyour reading list?

Emily would have argued, but Anne prevented her by a single shake of her head, for there was no more time for talking. Outside, the cart from the Bull was waiting for them. Papa had on his greatcoat and hat, John Brown held the reins, and Mr. Nicholls and Branwell were set to accompany them.

“That Charlotte would turn away from the conclusion to our detection is . . . It just makes no sense,” Emily said. “She will not be present when we find Joseph, Anne—and you let her stay behind.”

“It is her right to protect her mind and heart as best she can,” Anne said as the cart began to roll away. “I know that you have faith that all will be well, Emily, but steel yourself, for we may be too late. When we find Joseph—if we find him—he may no longer be alive.”

45

Charlotte

As the carriage pulled away, Charlotte drew within herself, doing her very best to prevent her mind from asking the same frantic questions over and over again, the answers to which she could stand neither to know nor not know. The truth was, though she would own it only to herself, that Charlotte had been relieved when the invitation had arrived from Lady Hartley.

When she had first heard of the discovery of the Top Withens bones, it had not been the human soul that had once occupied them that was uppermost in her thoughts; it was her own desperate need to find a place of refuge and space in her mind that was not occupied by the name Constantin Héger. For a short while after the Chester Grange matter, the need she felt for him that previously seemed to have endured without end seemed to ebb a little, and there had passed whole hours—even days—when her entire self didn’t burn for him. And then as the night drew in, and winter took hold, her love had leapt into flame once again, and all that anguish that she had hoped was dead and withered away was born again in a new spring of longing.

That first snowbound walk to Top Withens had been so much more for herself than for that poor lost child—until she had seen the bones laid out, and how a life had been stolen. In that moment, though she felt the shadows gathering around them all, all else had faded far away in favour of this single-minded pursuit, even Monsieur Héger.