“Today’s task was most certainly not one Lady Hartley would approve of,” Mr. Nicholls said, doing his best to be stern and, Emily was certain, husbandly. “One might question the wisdom of taking your sisters on such an endeavour, Branwell.”

Before Emily was able to bite back, Branwell answered, “Sir, I regret to inform you that my sisters took me, and indeed they carried out the whole dreadful business with a great deal more robustness and fortitude than I or perhaps any man could have done.” Branwell’s smile was wry. “As for myself, today’s exertions have illustrated quite clearly that I am not the young man I used to be, for each limb is as heavy as stone.”

“Today you were marvellous,” Emily said, only because she believed it to be true. “You led the way as you always used to, with all of us following behind. And after all was said and done, you guided us safely home, Mr. Liston and his trusty friend Piper the pony included. You are a remarkable fellow, Branwell, when you allow yourself to be.”

For a moment Branwell held Emily’s gaze, a silent message of affection passing between them. It was impossible not to note the pallor of his cheek or the blue shadows beneath his eyes, the hollows around his bones that grew increasingly deep over the weeks. She thought of the skull of the child she had seen today, and suddenly it was as if she could see her own brother’s skull grinning across the table, stripped of all that remained of him.

“My dearest Branwell, please,” she said with an urgency and emotion that took all seated around the table by surprise, “won’t you be our captain again, brother dear? Won’t you release the hurt and ignominy of the past year from your heart and return to us, for though you are very foolish and almost always wrong, we need you so very much. And if you are ours once again, then we shall keep you safe from harm. I swear it.”

There was a long moment of silence as the four took one another’s hands, remembering one another as they had been long ago when the summers were endless and there was never a care in the world.

“Emily is quite correct: it is time, my son, to return to your life.” Patrick broke the moment, his tone kind but stern. “You have suffered pain, but the pain you have suffered is of your own making. You may have peace, happiness and your own home, but not without accepting your responsibilities. It is your duty, my son, to realise the promise that has always been yours, the potential that your family has sacrificed so much to support. To waste your gifts is a terrible sin. Look at your sisters, see the seemly and orderly way they live their lives and take inspiration from them.”