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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?

“Mrs. Aykroyd, I will go at once, but, Branwell and Misses Brontë, if you want to return to seek further knowledge about this matter, I will aid you. But I pray you do not come tonight. I would not have my good friends witness my pa this eve—it would shame me.”

“Then we shall visit you tomorrow as soon as the sun is up,” Anne said, looking up into Liston’s face with a good deal of warmth. “You have shown great fortitude, sir, and you shall not be abandoned by the Brontës. I swear it.”

Later, as the fire made the dining room cosy, and the shutters closed out the night, the sisters sat together at the table, Anne writing and Emily comparing the drawings she had made with a book on anatomy she had acquired. Charlotte could not seem to settle to any occupation.

“I shall not accompany you to Top Withens tomorrow,” Charlotte said, frowning deeply.

“You shall not?” Anne asked her. “Do you still feel weak, Charlotte, dear? Perhaps you should take to bed now.”

“I do,” Charlotte said, “but I have another plan.”

“Which is, sister?” Emily asked—she was always fascinated by plans, it seemed.

“To take our observations, our drawings and notes to Celia Prescott in Bradford. If anyone might see what we do not, it will be she; I have already written to her to tell her of my arrival.”

It was a good idea, Anne thought, and she could see that Emily did too, even though she might secretly be vexed that she hadn’t thought of it herself.

They had first met Mrs. Prescott, the wife of a Bradford doctor, when they had been searching for any trace of the missing Elizabeth Chester. It had been immediately clear to clever, quick Celia that the sisters had been visiting her under false pretences, and the moment she had been drawn into their cause, she was a willing collaborator. Celia had studied medicine alongside her husband, and she lacked only the formal qualification required to call herself a doctor.

“It is very far to go alone in this weather,” Anne worried.

“I shall take a coach from Keighley,” Charlotte said with a little wrinkle of her nose, “though it is such an odious mode of transport. I already asked John Brown, and he says there will likely be a service tomorrow as the main roads are passable.”

“Excellent,” Emily said. “And tomorrow night we three shall meet again to see what we have discovered.”

“You make us sound like Shakespeare’s witches,” Charlotte said with a small smile that showed she wasn’t entirely displeased with the idea.

“Well,” Anne said, “I am almost certain that hard toil and great trouble lie ahead for all of us before this adventure is completed.”

12

Charlotte