“The mistress loves Christmas,” Bess said. “She loves to sing carols while we cook, and we light extra candles all around the house to keep out the dark. I got something to tell you, madam—don’t you think I don’t know what you are up to.”

“Now, then, Bess!” Molly did her best to distract the old lady, but she was not to be deterred.

Bess’s beady black eyes sought out Emily’s from under her frilled bonnet, and she nodded, beckoning Emily closer to her, then closer still. It was only when Emily’s ear was but a few inches from Bess’s toothless mouth that the old lady gripped Emily’s shoulder hard and whispered another string of strange words before pushing her away.

“Bess!” Molly cried. “I am sorry, miss. She gets powerful angry sometimes over nothing at all.”

“She means no harm,” Emily said.

Taking in the words, she sat back and regarded Bess for a long time. Not for a moment did Bess stop stirring.

“What’s the importance of those words, Bess?” Emily asked. “They make no sense.”

“You know”—Bess looked at her darkly—“and just you remember that I know too.”

Emily shuddered as if someone had just walked over her grave. Wherever Bess thought she was in that moment, her eyes had been as cold and hard as steel. As she looked at Emily, she had been seeing someone she truly abhorred, but who?

There were a few moments of silence during which Molly put new loaves in the oven, only looking up to watch Liston as he joined his father at the table.

“They say the mistress is grievous poorly,” Bess said a few minutes later, her countenance altered once again. “They say she won’t see out the summer.” And she stirred and stirred and stirred.

16

Anne

“You must remember very clearly the year your wife died,” Anne said as Liston joined Clifton and her at the table. Clifton had seen fit to change into what Anne suspected was his best suit of clothes, and though it was a little worn and faded, he looked good in it, like a man not to be trifled with. Liston looked worried and sad, and Anne felt for him so, doing his best to be decent and respectable while his father ranted and railed at the world, as if none of his misfortune was his responsibility. It was a position she was somewhat familiar with from her dealings with her own brother, after all. Anne looked up to see Emily come to the table, frowning deeply.

“Were there many people working at Top Withens that summer, Mr. Bradshaw?” Anne asked Clifton.

Bradshaw shook his head, folding his heavy arms over the considerable bulge of his belly. At least his rage had ebbed away, and he seemed more sober than not.