The piece began softly, at a measured pace, gentle, and as full of grace as the snow that continued to wrap their home in swaths of white. Soon Tabby would be busying herself lighting the fires, and Papa would be readying himself for church. Her sisters would be up, exchanging homemade trifles and drawings, and this little house would be full of love and the warmth of family.

Emily leant into the music, tilting her cheek towards the gentle rise and fall of the melody as she played. As her fingers travelled over the keys, she let the last of the darkness of the previous few days rise into the air with the music.

Lord Hartley had placed his wife in an asylum the very same night that Anne and Charlotte had vanquished her. It was better than she deserved, but Emily supposed that a man with as much power and influence as Lord Hartley would never have let his wife stand trial. At least now she would ever more be prevented from doing harm, lost in a world of her own insanity. Hartley had come to the parsonage the next morning, having seen off the law with reassurances and, no doubt, sizeable bribes, and he had sworn that he had known nothing about Catherine’s madness. Emily had been moved to believe him, for he listened to the whole dreadful tale sitting by their fireplace, his face as white as marble, his hands trembling despite the heat of the fire.

Lord Hartley promised each of the Brontës that he would not rest until the name and burial place of each stolen child was found. He removed Mrs. Poole from the orphanage and, upon searching her office, found a quantity of material that she kept to blackmail and threaten the good names of local gentry, and letters of agreement selling the boys into short and brutal lives for profit. In some ways, Emily had thought, Mrs. Poole was worse than Catherine, for she was not mad, simply utterly devoid of compassion and driven by greed. No one had been sorry to learn that following a swift and private trial, Mrs. Poole was to spend the remainder of her life in prison. In contrast, they had all been delighted that Lucy Goddard was to take her place. Emily smiled to herself as she played, imagining how much better things would be at the orphanage now, and how happy Mr. Markham would be to see Lucy Goddard and Tom return. And how much further joy there was to be had in knowing that there was a new tutor and matron at Crossed Keys. A kindly if shy woman who was beginning, only now that her sister had passed, to live her life to the fullest: one Rose Sladden.