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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?

“John was not missing. He was living with his mother in the guise of her lodger all this time. It seems that he decided he could wait no longer to be with her, and as weak and little as he was, he was cunning. He ran away from Top Withens to go to her. Knowing his mother would be worried about how they would cope, he attempted to alleviate the situation with some ill-judged theft. He was caught in Keighley and taken before a judge and sentenced to ten years. But he escaped. Mrs. Rafferty’s lodger is her son, though he leads a respectable life under another name now, and he is soon to be married. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Zerubabbel thought for a moment.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I believe that it is. Any happy ending or second chance in this world is wonderful indeed.”

—

After Emily had bade good night to Mr. Barraclough, she began her walk home through the graveyard, only to stop dead in her tracks, for but a few feet away was a figure she had seen before—the woman dressed from head to toe in black.

“Who is it?” Emily called out, holding on to Keeper’s collar as he emitted a low growl. For one moment more, the figure stood there, perfectly still, and then a cloud passed over the moon and she was gone.

Catching her breath, Emily ran to the spot where she thought the figure had been standing, and, brushing the snow away from the headstone, she read a woman’s name. The grave belonged to Mary Bradshaw.

53

Anne

Anne met Charlotte at the top of the stairs, and together they went down to find Emily playing. Flanking her on either side, Anne began to sing, her sweet, high voice rising to fill the room, and Charlotte joined her in singing the harmony.

In due time Branwell too appeared, and at his side their papa, followed by Tabby and Martha. Emily’s music flowed from one song into another, and now they sang “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” filling the whole of the parsonage with song.

Anne looked upon the faces of those she loved with all her heart, and felt a deep and precious kind of peace that, despite the cruelty and madness of this world, she would never forget. For in that room stood her family, her faith and her love. And no matter what might come next in this life, she knew that none of them would ever fail her.

—

“I have been thinking of a novel,” Emily announced a little later in the dining room, after they had dressed for church, “a novel of such barbarity and infamy that the world will tremble at its pages, a novel that shows what evil and depravity men—and women—are capable of.”