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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?

Anne nodded, determined. “We shall not.”

Hand in hand, the two sisters went on.

51

Anne

They crouched down behind a low wall that bordered the entrance to the chamber. Another Oakhope folly, it had been built in the style of an ancient temple, hexagonal in shape with pillars at every corner, and a mosaic floor and walls depicting creatures and gods from a fusion of Greek, Roman and even Egyptian mythology. Images of snakes seemed to slither in the flickering light; twin wolves raised their heads to howl at an invisible moon. And yet the chamber seemed to be empty. Wherever Lady Hartley had gone, it was beyond this strange ceremonial room.

“We must go on,” Charlotte whispered, but Anne shook her head.

“No, wait. See there on the altar—fruit, bread and, I’d guess, mead. We saw an identical offering at the stones at Top Withens. Whatever she means to do, it will be here. Wait, and let her bring him to us.”

Anne glanced at her sister, who gazed at the darkened passageway across the room. She could feel her sister’s urge to charge, and yet Charlotte stilled herself. She heeded Anne and waited. It was only two minutes more before Anne was proved right.

Lady Hartley returned, the blood trickling down her face making her an even more fearful sight. With her was Joseph Earnshaw.

“Am I to go home now, miss?” Joseph asked as he wandered, untethered, into the middle of the room, turning slowly as he gazed around.

“In a little while, Joseph,” Lady Hartley said. “First you will eat with me—eat and drink—and then I will take you home.”

Joseph took the cup she passed him, and looked into it.

“I’m not thirsty, miss, nor hungry,” he said, and Anne could hear the tremble in his voice. Joseph always was a quick one—no man’s fool even at eleven years old. He knew that Lady Hartley meant to render him senseless or worse.

“Eat and drink,” his captor urged him. “I can’t let you go if you don’t, Joseph. All that will happen is that you will fall asleep, and when you wake, you won’t remember your stay with me, and we will both be safe.”

“I see,” Joseph said, his voice so small that Anne had to strain to hear it. “But you said you were bringing Miss Charlotte to take care of me.”

“And I have,” Lady Hartley said, glancing towards where the sisters were hiding. “Would you like her to be with you now?”

“Very much,” Joseph said, tears in his voice. “I would very much like to see her.”

Before Anne could move, Charlotte stood up.

“Here I am, Joseph,” she said.