It happened just yesterday. Was it at the same time as we travelled back in the carriage from York? Was she travelling too, looking out at the changing countryside and then, what horror! To be killed. How would she have suffered? There are few details in the letter, so I torment myself with visions of her being hurled and trodden under the horses’ feet and dying slowly in agony with no one to help her. Or thrown and landing on her head and the life being struck from her instantly, her skirts all asunder and her bonnet muddied. Or a simple fall, and she stood back up and brushed herself down but then later collapsed as something inside her had been broken, much like Mr Fraser. Damn Miss Lister for sharing with me her anatomy lessons!

What did she think of as she fell, as she lay dying? Was she afraid? Did she cry out, scream, see ghosts of those gone before, see God Himself reach down for her, or angels to escort her away?

I am ten years ago again. Standing at the side of my mother’s bed as her eyes roll back and her body stills. She had suffered the loss of my father, then her own body’s ailments. She had told me to be strong, carry on. Carry on to what?

I console myself that this time I have a friend. A friend who will hold me, comfort me, ask me how I feel, take me under her wing. I send her a poorly written note, asking her to come as soon as she can. I hope she will forgive me for leaving so quickly this morning. I should have stayed at Shibden, then I would never have seen the letter, or she may have been with me when I received it. She would be holding me right now. The tears fall, they will not stop, grief upon grief…

Then suddenly I realise it is from him and I throw down the letter in disgust. It is his signature, his writing, he has touched this! I run from the room, from the news, from the letter.

I am cursed.

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Winter, 1833: A confession and a bout
of melancholy

Miss Lister

Falling from a carriage. What an awful way to die. Quick, hopefully. But awful.

It seems Miss Walker may well be as cursed as she imagined. Perhaps I am safer without her in my life; I may live longer.

Lo and behold, all our plans are stopped in their tracks again. She is reverted to grief.