“Then take this.” Clifton reached up, took down his old sword from over the fireplace and offered it to his son. “Even as much as I have loved her, I have always known how dangerous she can be. That day she came to Top Withens, it was to frighten me, to threaten and to test me. To let me know that she would make sure all believed I had killed the child in the chimney, and that if I said owt against her, there would be vengeance. The truth is, if she hadn’t taken Joseph, I would have let her have her way. I would have hung for her.”

“Pa!” Liston shook his head. “I cannot fathom anything you say.”

“Because you are not mad, and you have fought against my brutality to become a good man. Don’t let her destroy you too, my son. Whatever she says to you, remember you know what is true.”

As it was, Liston took the reins and slapped the cart horse into a gallop.

The earth seemed to disintegrate beneath them, falling away as if the world were coming to an end. Snow whirled all around, and somewhere beyond she felt the stars wheeling madly, above and beyond. Emily held on for grim death, turning her face into the cold, until her cheeks and fingers were numb and she could fool herself that she was not afraid anymore.

In the tumult and tumble of the descent, she felt Anne’s fingers reach for her, and they held each other’s hands tightly. Liston drove the cart on through the village, and at last they arrived.

“Charlotte!” both women shouted, scrambling out of the cart. The grand front door to Oakhope Hall stood wide open, and though the house was bright with candles, all was quiet. Grasping Anne’s hand, Emily advanced into the house, followed by Branwell and Liston, holding his father’s sword before him. “Charlotte?”

“Emily.” Anne tugged at her hand. She was pointing towards a bloody handprint that had been pressed against a pillar.

“Charlotte, in God’s name, answer me!” Emily shouted, turning around. Letting go of Anne, she ran to the only room where the door stood ajar and found it empty, shards of broken china scattered across the polished floor.

Returning to the hallway, Emily caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows beyond the sweeping staircase. Furiously she plunged forward and dragged out a young maid by her arm.

“Where is my sister?” Emily demanded, her eyes glittering dangerously.

“She ran out,” the girl said, tears running down her face. “She ran out into the snow, and the mistress has gone to find her. She . . . she means to do her harm.”

Emily let go of the girl, and the four ran out into the night.