Her voice wavering a little, she began to say the Lord’s Prayer. As her resolve strengthened, her siblings fell in with her, and between them they created a fortress and built it over this child, and she knew somehow, without having to ask, that each of them, with every word they recited, resolved to do right by this lost soul, no matter what it cost them.

Eventually their prayers fell silent, and Anne straightened her shoulders. There was no time for more tears now.

“Liston, do you have something other than that dirty cloth—perhaps a blanket, something kind—in which we can wrap the child?”

Liston pulled the blanket from his shoulders and offered it to Anne, who laid it over the body before beginning to tuck the cover around the bones, creating a kind of swaddling.

“There, there, little one,” she cooed softly as with great tenderness she worked. “You need feel no more fear. We are taking you out of this place, and soon you will be home and in the arms of God, where you will find eternal peace and never-ending love.”

7

Emily

It was Branwell who lifted the bundle in his arms with such care that Emily saw a shadow of the man her brother might have been, perhaps still could be. That man was honourable and decent, protective and kind, a man who would cherish his wife and care for his children.

“What shall we do now?” Branwell asked Anne.

“We will take the child home to Haworth,” Anne told her sisters and brother. “We’ll ask John Brown to open the schoolroom and keep the child there until we are able to talk to Papa, and to your Mr. Nicholls, Charlotte. Then, at the first opportunity, we shall arrange a Christian burial, and we shall cover the cost as best we can so they will not suffer the indignity of a pauper’s grave. Though we will never know the name of this poor innocent, nor the cause or date of their death, at least then we can be sure that they will be commended into God’s grace under our care.”

Emily nodded in agreement, proud to see such clarity and determination in her little sister, for here was a woman with the strength and fortitude to lead the way, while the rest of them strayed from certainty when faced with such tragedy.

“Liston, old man.” Branwell turned to his friend, who had watched them gather the child up without protest. “You are certain to pay a price for allowing us to take away the remains. Your father is not a man to stand interference, and I know, from all you’ve told me, he is inclined to violence.”

“I love my father, but he has done wrong by this child, Branwell,” Liston said. “Perhaps he will raise his fist to me, but I am a man grown. I can stand up to any.”