“Why, yes, of course, sir,” Emily said archly. “Where do you suppose slugs retreat to when the weather is harsh but indoors? It’s a well-known problem in Haworth, sir, house slugs—they are a blight.”

Wisely Mr. Nicholls decided not to pursue the matter further, instead placing his hand on Papa’s shoulder.

“May I guide you, sir?” he asked, and Charlotte noted the deference in his tone and bearing with gratitude. Emily disliked Mr. Nicholls with a great vigour, but at least he was a gentle man and decent—and always unfailingly kind to Papa, who could be cantankerous and difficult, especially now, when he felt so weakened. Charlotte helped her father find Mr. Nicholls’s arm, meeting the younger man’s eye as he took her father’s hand. If Emily would allow him just a little grace, she would see that Arthur was not such a very dreary man after all.

“What are you up to?” Branwell asked his sisters as soon as Papa had departed the house. “Why is Tabby fortifying the house against an army of slugs?”

“We discovered this”—Emily handed her sketch to Branwell—“etched into the back of the fireplace where the child was interred—it must have been made at the same time. Do you recognise any of it or know of one who might?”

“I can only think of two experts in such matters, and one of them has quite recently surrounded our home in salt. The other is Robert Heaton.”

“Robert! An expert in paganism?” Emily exclaimed. “I’ve always found him to be so very mild.”

“Well, not an expert, perhaps, but the library at Ponden is the greatest for many miles, and as you know, Emily, there seems to be a book for everything within it.”

“That is true! The answer is always to be found in a book,” Emily said. “I shall go at once to Ponden. Why, Branwell, you are occasionally useful after all.”

Branwell bowed his head before resting it on the table. “Then I shall endeavour to stay alive a little longer,” he said, “just to serve my sisters.”

“Then we shall all go to Ponden,” Anne said. “And visit the Riordans on the way.”

“Why on earth should we?” Charlotte asked her sister. “It is not an effective use of our time, Anne. Progress will be much quicker if we separate—we have learnt this before. Emily can go to Ponden, and you and I can visit the Riordans and see if we can find any Annie Fieldings around and about, which, though laborious, seems unavoidable.”

“Charlotte is right,” Emily confirmed. “And besides, the Ponden library is very much less enjoyable with other people in it. I will make faster progress by myself.”

“Perhaps you are correct,” Anne said. “You make a good case for reason and logic, but I am making a case of intuition and instinct—my intuition and instinct, to be exact.”