Hattie gave Celia a look that was pure resentment before offering a halfhearted curtsey and departing. Charlotte feared the arrival of tea might now be uncertain.

“Hattie lived a very troubled, colourful existence before she came to reside with us,” Celia explained to Branwell as she led them into her sitting room. “I rescued her from a life of violence and immorality, and in the process alienated most of polite society in Bradford. Even so, I do love her very dearly, and though you might not guess it, she loves me too.”

“You are quite extraordinary, Mrs. Prescott,” Branwell said so warmly that Charlotte made a point of taking the seat next to her friend on the sofa as quickly as she was able.

Charlotte had visited this very room before with her sisters, and there was a pang of renewed envy at the sight of it, especially on this December’s day when it was dressed so prettily for Christmas. Lush swaths of holly and ivy tied with bright ribbons garlanded picture frames and windowsills. On the mantel was collected a group of the new, fashionable Christmas cards. This, combined with the rich colours of the room and the fire burning merrily, made Charlotte think it must be very lovely to be the mistress of such a home. It was true she was driven by her passion for words and her very strong desire to make her talent visible to the world, yet this domestic haven—evidence of a simple, loving life lived well—was something Charlotte often dreamt of for herself.

“Now.” Celia planted her palms on her knees. “Tell me all. For I must say I find your visit, as welcome as it is, doubly intriguing for the very fact that you made it on such a day as this.”

“Madam, I completely concur,” Branwell said. “I myself had hoped to stay close to a fire all day today, but my sisters are very persuasive and determined, by which I mean rather terrifying.”

“So tell me,” Celia asked eagerly, her eyes shining, “have you brought another tooth for me to look at? Or a bone that requires identifying?”

“I’m afraid it’s rather more—how shall I put it?—detailed than that,” Charlotte said, lifting the bag Branwell had carried for her onto her lap. “We do not bring you fragments, Celia, but a complete set of human remains. A body was discovered interred within the chimney breast of a home local to us. All that remains is skeletal, and it is very small in stature, so we believe it to be the body of a child. We have come to you in the hope that you might be able to tell us something more about the poor soul. Their age. Perhaps, if it is possible, a suggestion as to how death occurred? The child was buried yesterday but we made extensive illustrations and notes first.”