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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?

It was when she turned back that she saw the figure standing between her and the parsonage. Keeper had seen it first; he stood perfectly still, growling softly, his ears flat against his large head. At first Emily thought it was a shadow, a trick of the fleetingly present moonlight, but though it remained motionless, the figure didn’t vanish—it stood its ground in the gloom. From the shape of the skirt and bonnet, Emily could tell it was a woman, which only intrigued her further. What other woman was there in the world likely to be found in a graveyard at gone midnight on a winter’s night?

“Charlotte?” Emily called out, her voice ringing like a bell in the crisp air. “Anne? Did you see fit to follow me?”

The figure did not move, nor did she reply, and in that moment, Emily had cause to remember her claim earlier in the evening that she was not afraid of anything. It was not precisely fear that she felt pricking at the back of her neck, raising the fine hairs on her forearms, but rather some kind of primal prescience that there was danger afoot. It was as close to fear as she had ever felt.

Taking the branch of yew in her grasp rather as though it were a broadsword, Emily moved a little closer to the figure, taking care not to step on the gravestones themselves. Keeper stayed exactly where he was, loyal protector indeed.

“Hello?” Emily called out again, dismayed by how thin and light the greeting sounded. “Are you alone? Or in need of assistance? Madam?”

It was hard to make out almost any detail in the dense night, but Emily thought that perhaps the woman was wearing mourning, for she seemed to be sheathed in a full-length veil. It was possible, though unlikely, that she had come to the graveyard at night to grieve alone, although if that were the case, Emily could not think who she might have been.

“I am sorry if I have disturbed you,” Emily went on, taking one slow, deliberate step after the next, holding her lamp high. A little further and the figure would fall within her circle of illumination. “Please, do let me know if I may assist you.”