Author's Note to the tenth installment
I never know which of my many Brontë stories will push to the front of the line to be posted next. Often I'll come across one and see it's all but ready to go and there we are.
This is my tenth Brontë story installment and I have in mind to self-publish the stories in paperback form this year. The ten already posted and a new one or two...just for fun!
I already have a cover designed.
This tenth Brontë story takes place in the Parsonage's front garden in spring of 1845.
It's a conversation between Charlotte and Emily which my protagonist, Arthur Bell Nicholls overhears. I used this devise in an earlier posted story.
But I figure that Arthur being there for eight years before he declared himself would, or rather could, have had that happen more than once and I can't resist it.
Just as in the earlier story, the conversation between Charlotte and Emily is freewheeling and may seem harsh to an outsider. However the bond between them
is such the clashes do not signify in the least.
The Brontës were used to no holds-barred exchanges between the siblings since childhood in their play acting and among themselves generally. That would naturally carry over into adulthood.
Usually, I try to make the stories enjoyable for even the non-Brontë fan.
However this one is a Belgium deep dive.
We hear of Charlotte's trials there while as a student and teacher. But most importantly, we hear of her current anguish after returning home when her teacher, Constantin Heger, (or as I call him Monsieur here, as she did) refused to carry on an easy correspondence between them.
He stipulated that CB send a letter only every six months and wished them to be about her efforts in a establishing a teaching career.
Heger was handling a powder keg and given the volatile situation, he treated CB fairly. However, she would not agree with me in the least about that.
Also in my following story, we are just a few weeks away from part one of Branwell's collapse due to his being sacked by the Robinsons.
Part two, which was far more serious, happened later when Mr. Robinson died and instead of calling for Branwell to her side as he had dreamed, Widow Robinson sent word Branwell was not to come near her ever again.
That's another story.
But I bring those events up to point out how when it came to loving a hopelessly unsuitable person and just losing all sense about it, Charlotte was there before her brother. Well, she had called him her "twin "and for good reason.
Branwell could wail and keen for all to hear, be publicly drunk and not lose his place in society. CB however, as a woman, had to toe the line of appearances if nothing else. She resents this in the story. But as Emily points out, this privilege has done Branwell no good. Indeed, with no such check, the fever is allowed to fester and finally it overtakes him.
That comes later. Right now he is still gainfully employed and it is Charlotte who is in anguish.
This is before she"finds"(as she maintains) and reads Emily's poems later that same year. The quality of Emily's poetry finally blasted Charlotte out the worst of her pain and depression over the Professor. Then she had a new object and determination: Brontë sister's publishing.
I would like to say a word about how Emily emerged in the stories. I don't think an author of Brontë fiction can dictate how Emily will appear in their writing. She kind let's you know as you go along. Well that's been my experience. I did not expect her to be such a jesting character. But Emily, when in her element and free, is a happy person, ready for a laugh and only wishes that others were as happy too.
Emily sees our shared world and her inner world as two very different places. She has made her choice and is not conflicted about mixing the two as others are. Her inner world sees her more serious side. I'm writing about the Emily who bakes the Parsonage's bread in the upper world where human folly provokes her humor and I have to say I enjoy it.
In the following story, Arthur is coming to the Parsonage to meet with Rev. Brontë and as I said, comes across the two sisters in the front garden.
Arthur was just licensed as Haworth's curate.But 1845 was not his first time in the village in my stories.
History is rather murky about just how Arthur Bell Nicholls came to Haworth in the first place. However, when I learned that the curate before him, James Smith, was a follow Trinity alum, I have James Smith as something of a friend in the stories. And it is Smith who sends for our hero the year before to see if Arthur and Haworth would suit. Arthur knew about Smith's later life, so it's no stretch they knew each other.
At that earlier time, in1844, Arthur, James Smith and Patrick Brontë were in a difficult situation. Smith had a far better offer from Bradford that he greatly wanted to take up. Arthur had to have a post in order to be ordained and Patrick, being blind by this time, very much needed a curate willing to take a good part of the work load.
Arthur coming to Haworth answered all these needs and wants and perhaps the fact Arthur was a High Church,Tractarian and Patrick was a staunch Evangelical was perhaps a bit overlooked.
When proof-reading the following story, my husband asked:
"Who are the Wheelwrights?"
The Wheelwrights were a group of five young English girls who were students at the Pensionnat Heger when Charlotte and Emily were there too. The eldest, Laetitia, liked and befriended CB. Indeed, they stayed friends the rest of Charlotte's life. Charlotte admired how Laetitia would openly look down on the Belgian girls. It made her laugh. And as CB once wrote to Ellen, "I can't help but like someone who likes me."
This explanation is longer than the Wheelwright's appearance! lol.
So that is the setting of my next Brontë story:
" Charlotte and Miss Emily in the Front Garden 1845"
Enjoy!
Anne Lloyd
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Charlotte and Miss Emily in the front garden 1845
Arthur Bell Nicholls
As a I approached the Parsonage's front door, along its side from the back gate,
I eventually could hear voices in the front garden.
They were Charlotte and Miss Emily.
Miss Emily was seated and as it turned out, painting. Miss Brontë was walking about, pacing fitfully. Miss Emily's dog, Keeper was sleeping at her feet, or he would have betrayed me in an instant.
I stopped and stepped back a pace to remain unseen to all.
From where I now stood, I could still overhear them clearly. I should not have listened. I should have shown myself and proceeded to Rev. Brontë's study as I meant to. But it was such a singular scene and conversation, as I ever witnessed before. I was rooted to the ground.
It was like odd dream which I could not intrude upon. I never forgot it as I had much reason to dwell upon their words later. I was not a very tranquil or indifferent observer of the family; from the time I first saw Charlotte on the lane. And so, I had to listen. I grieve to say it would not be the last time.
Miss Emily was speaking.
"What I abhor about each of us going out from the house is when we come back, we are different, sullied almost. Too much of the world comes back, as well. All are changed forever and so the house is changed and never itself again. Thankfully there are the moors, same as ever and my travels, or better, enforced marches, are over," she said with relief.
"I hate coming back at all and in defeat, with banners lowered," Charlotte said.
"It's useless you know, trying elsewhere," said Miss Emily." You may have many a lesson, but one day you'll learn you can only be happy here, Charlotte, as you could
be nowhere else."
"I can't imagine it."
"Because it's not imagined. In time, sister, you'll come around to my view.
I have faith in you." said with a chuckle.
"Nonsense! After my years on the continent, Haworth seems even more rude and rural,” Charlotte answered. "So here I am, Emily, youth gone with nothing accomplished immured in this quicksand. Haworth has me by the neck at last... for all my dreaming."
"And yet, how you complain when away, and long to be back!"
"It's fine for you. " Charlotte said "The village hardly impinges on you. You only want to be left alone to be on the moor, to do your chores, play in your world below and write whatever it is you are writing. I want to be active in this world."
"And waste the precious life God gave you on its pointless banality?" Miss Emily said, wondering. "I ask again, whatever for?"
"The old quarrel, the old quarrel!" Charlotte said."Because I'm here! Because I have talent! Because we all have talents beyond what this world’s rewards or should!
Why should we not claim it?
"It's pride then." Miss Emily was still in a joking mode. "Our family's abiding sin."
“Oh! Call it what you will. And also, Emily, someone besides poor Papa must think about how we are to get on!"
"Anne thinks of it and certainly has made her way." Emily said, seemingly in Miss Anne's defense.
Charlotte nodded. "True."
"Branny is even doing what would be counted, as... well," Miss Emily noted.
"Remarkably," Charlotte said. "Quite the longest time he has." She then began to pull at a leaf from the stunted shrub and pulled off a few before speaking again.
"It's not just for Papa's sake, though it feels that way when I see him near helpless as he is, but it's also ... I need occupation, Emily. I want to succeed."
"Doing what?"
"That's the rub. I hardly know myself. I suppose the school scheme." said with little spirit.
"Suppose! You dragged me to Belgium on as thin a reed as that? You were very sure when we went."
"You had to come if I was to go," said strongly.
"Ha! Indeed, Charlotte, as your prisoner."
"And I was your slave! You bullied me dreadfully. I made friends when you did not return."
"You must mean the Wheelwrights! " said with a laugh." You cannot mean the Belgian girls! You complained about them so! There is the thanks I receive for my endurance in a strange land! Your closer alliance with ...the Wheelwrights!"
"They are kind to me and I endlessly thanked you then, didn't I? I knew the cost to you.
I was grateful you kept taking nourishment, unlike at Roe Head. Clever."
Miss Emily laughed outright.
"Hunger strikes worked admirably to keep Tabby at the Parsonage and it worked again at Roe Head to set me free. Refuse to eat and get your way. But Belgium was too far off for that stratagem."
"I must attempt a school, Emily. I told Monsieur I would. He expects it. Then I can write to him about it."
"That explains much! Monsieur expects you to teach. Monsieur means you to give up your own writing and teach as your only occupation. Yet none of us have the least aptitude for it, save Anne, who would enjoy it, poor darling, could she but find herself with eager pupils instead of blockheads."
"Oh, admit Belgium was worth the grand music you heard there at least, Emily! I know you loved it. "
"The music was divine. But the land was so flat and dull, Charlotte! Flat as slate slabs! No hills or dales. Even you could not drag me back a second time."
"I did not try. Papa needed you here."
"Yes, and you wanted to return alone. But I was staying here in any and all cases. Since girlhood I've never been so happy since my return. The house was almost as free as the moor. The world does not intrude so much, when oneself is the housekeeper," said Miss Emily with satisfaction." Or should I say, gatekeeper?"
"Were you happy being here alone, Emily?" Charlotte said with wonder.
"With Papa, Tabby, even Martha, each one too busy with their own pursuits to inquire too closely about mine and so utterly free? Yes! I was. I've adored it. It's made for quite a comfortable world as far I can see. I only wish others could be as happy."
"But how?" said Charlotte. "I can barely endure it whilst you are with me. The one companion I would choose above all others."
"I had the moor, my chores, my piano, Papa at tea and oh!,” Miss Emily breathed deeply. "Absolute liberty. It's only because I love you, sister, I didn't bar the door when you returned!"
"You repeatedly urged me enough to do so," said Charlotte. "You even charged Ellen with the task.”
"For your own good! Not mine! "Miss Emily laughed. "You were wasting away there. Start a school if you want, Charlotte and if you can. I will keep it for you. But no teaching for me. That is finished."
"I was fearful you would say that."
"You mean you knew I would."
Charlotte sighed, "The plan was always the school would be someplace else. But now Papa cannot be left and who would bring their darlings to Haworth? One cannot even vouchsafe their continued health. One look at this house in a graveyard, who would not order the gig to turn around?"
"I cannot say I'm sad about it" Miss Emily said. "And I'll not hear the grave stones derided. They are my loyal palace guard."
That seemed to close the subject.
"You did make a friend there."
"Where?" Miss Emily asked.
"In Belgium. Little Louise de Bassompierre."
"Oh, little Louise! Well, I needed a pet as there was no dog." said dryly in jest.
They both laughed.
"Another mark against the Pensionnat Heger. "Miss Emily said. "Even Law Hill was not bereft of a cur! And little Louise was the only who one could see the person beyond my mode of dress to the being God made....unlike your precious Wheelwrights! "
After a time, Charlotte said more.
"I gave a copy of some of my books to Monsieur."
"Gave them to Monsieur?" said Miss Emily incredulously. "to read?"
This seemed a great breech.
"Of course and ....to keep," said quietly.
"Whatever for?" was Miss Emily's cry of alarm.
"To show him I how could write when free to express myself as I would." Charlotte said.
"You would cast those pearls before swine?"
"Emily! How dare you? He is not! That is much too far!"
"I mean the swine of unprepared thought, not him personally." Miss Emily said.
"But how could even he appreciate them truly?"
"He's a very great man!" Charlotte said stoutly.
"Oh? What did the great man say about them, Charlotte?"
"He... thanked me for them." said meekly.
"And was that all?" Miss Emily probed.
I could just see the barest nod.
"Not a word about them? Neither nay nor aye?" Miss Emily asked further.
"No."
"Oh, I would never sanction such uncaring eyes falling on my work!"
Miss Emily came out fully from the abstracted air, I would later know so well
and she continued to storm.
" Or any eyes at all, for that matter. It is well you did not give him anything we wrote together." Then Miss Emily laughed at such a notion.
But Charlotte was silent.
"You didn't, did you?" came a sharp demand.
"Oh no, no, Emily."
"You would be sorry if you had, Charlotte."
"Emily, you were unreasonable towards him, casting cold water on his methods
from the start!"
"He asked my opinion of them. I answered, how is that unreasonable?" said archly.
"You know my meaning!" Charlotte said.
"He wanted us to copy others!" Miss Emily answered with heat. "I have had enough of that from childhood! And his every effort was aimed to make us teachers! Us! The most ill-fitted beings for the vocation imaginable!"
"That was why we were there." Charlotte said.
"Supposedly! But Monsieur wanted us to teach only, not even write on our own! And there you were a slavish devotee at his alter. He has become your new hero. Given over the Duke, have you?"
Charlotte blazed-up.
"Of course, I revere Monsieur! He is a teacher of genius! He is my Master!"
"Your Master? Ha! Him?"
"Yes! He took rude clay and refined it! Monsieur insisted I do my upmost. He commanded and dared me to be the best I could be and better. To apply discipline to inspiration. On and on, Monsieur raised the mark of my writing as no one else could!" said with spirit.
"And yet This Master of yours told you not to write, but to teach, teach, teach," said Miss Emily. "Madness!"
There was shock. "How do you know that for certain?"
"Because of all your efforts since returning have been to establish the school here of all places, which was, as you say, never was the plan heretofore. It was always to be away from Haworth," Miss Emily answered.
"How can it be? We cannot leave Papa now and you wouldn't want to leave in any case."
"Indeed, and so the whole school scheme should be at an end. But it isn't. Why? Because of Monsieur."
There was no answer. Finally Miss Emily had mercy and at least momentarily changed the topic.
"Besides there's no need for a school since we have received Aunt's legacy and we have our stocks," she said complacently.
"Do you think that will answer for all time?" Charlotte scoffed.
"I think it answers for today and that makes for a very tolerable world. Even so, how can we have a school here, Charlotte? As you said yourself, one look and the Mamas would call to their coachmen to turn back!"
"You just said you love it so you wouldn't leave, Emily!"
"For the very reasons the Mamas would flee!" said Miss Emily. "Grim, livid, a remote mill town and a Parsonage hard by a graveyard and blasted by the east wind on its way to the moor! On and on and I love it. It is my home, my nest. Would it be for the pupils?”
"You think I don't know all that?"
"You conduct yourself as if you do not. Charlotte! What could be more obvious? If Monsieur sanctioned you to write, you would be writing! You would hardly disobey such a paragon or your own, true inclination," said Miss Emily. "You would be writing. But Monsieur told you to give up your authorship, to dedicate yourself to teaching and by heaven you have given it your considerable all. You have tried. None can say you haven't. But The Miss Brontë's Establishment has gone to shivers and I, for one, am glad."
"What am I to do?"
It was a cry from the heart and even then it wrenched my own.
"My dear sister, if you were to once again, write stories and poems as you always have, and as you are meant to do, then you would less feel the awful need to write to him! Which is folly! Has Monsieur not made it clear he does not wish it? He doesn't even allow you letter writing!"
"It is Madame! It is her doing! It is she who does not wish it!" cried Charlotte.
"Monsieur's silence! Surely, we saw that in the classroom. " Miss Emily said.
"I remember it very well. The more one complained, or fussed, or, Heaven forbid, cross Monsieur, the more silent Monsieur grew. Until he was silent all together. When one was done, then came the shouting back."
"I am not given even that. I would welcome it!"
"Can you blame him for this silence?" Miss Emily asked.
"Yes!"
"Why?"
Charlotte was furious. "He said he was my true friend! And he knows my gifts. Yet, always I was told to be calm, to curb myself, to change! To socialize with my intellectual inferiors and teach, teach, always teach as you say!"
"These are things I complained of from the first." said Miss Emily.
"I would obey willingly, if I had one word!"
"And you say I am too much in my world? Well, my dear, at least I do not attempt to make this upper world obey my commands as you do!" Miss Emily said. "Such hubris!"
"It must be grand to be so removed." Charlotte said with a sneer.
"It is."
There was silence and I thought to make my presence known, but Miss Charlotte spoke up again.
"How do you know Monsieur has stopped writing?" Charlotte asked her sister.
"What could be plainer? You snatch the mail from Tabby or Martha if they chance to greet the mailman before you. Then how you grieve! The actress, Rachel, could do no better."
"How dare you mock my sorrow!" Charlotte seethed. "I will no longer speak to you of Monsieur! You are unworthy of it!" She then immediately broke this vow. Her face twisted and she sobbed.
"I must keep a line open to him, Emily! I must have his friendship! It is life or death for me. Without it, I will sink back to Haworth completely. Forever. That may be enough for you, but not for me! Do you think I could be content here after a close juncture with such a mind as his? I have been to the mountain top, only to be cast out. Daily I feel the diminishment of all my intellectual gains through rust alone!"
"Child, if he has closed the door, what is to be done? What can you do?"
"He must hear me!"
"Must? He must? Have you ever known Monsieur to bow to another?" Miss Emily asked. "Darling, you're no different from Branny, save only in violence. When he is distressed, we and the village round hear all too clearly."
"He is my twin still! I stuff my mouth with my fist when he shakes the house with his ravings." Charlotte said. "For I could answer him howl for howl."
I felt a profound chill.
"And better him at it, I dare say. But a woman cannot wallow as he has and remain
at liberty."
"At times I envy him that!"
"Do you truly? Has such license ever done him any good? It seems to just lead him
on into even more error."
"I should hope I at least world try to control myself!"
"Well, we were trained to by Aunt, no less, and Papa too ...and we do as best we can, though not always successfully." said Miss Emily." If we had to leave the Parsonage,
I could put up a fuss you'd all remember.
But Branwell has been indulged since a babe. He has no experience of prolonged self-discipline. It's foreign to his ken. When a mere child, I told Papa to whip him when he erred. Now it's far too late to do any good."
"Papa was... is... too soft!"
"I own it. But the cake is baked and Branny is well passed his majority. Thankfully, he is doing well right now at Thorp Green, with Anne's help, I'm sure. Hopefully, it will last. But Papa, indeed, we, never asked Branwell to earn our approbation. We just supplied it and when he faltered, supplied more. It was an error, the danger of which I hope is finally past."
Whatever grief or lamentation Mr. Branwell indulged in before was nothing to the coming time. In a few weeks from this day, Mr. Branwell would be sacked and for the last time.
The Parsonage was posed upon a terrible precipice and none of us knew it.
But back to the garden....
"Brany was a genius when we were young Emily, our leader and star!" Charlotte said.
"Yes, but then Branwell grew up and tried to mix our under world with the upper world
and I tell you, Charlotte, it cannot be done."
"I know it." But she did not seem convinced.
"One must choose. You have chosen, though the application of that choice,
at times is still quite wobbly."
"Sister!" Charlotte said.
"Anne has chosen, but obliges me by still playing in our world and I have chosen, so long ago," Miss Emily said fervently.
"Branwell, however, has here-to-fore refused to. I hope for the best, but it is not like him to leave the burning clime altogether. He usually drags it into this world and we see what it leads to. There's nothing to be done now but hope the current status is maintained, and he writes what he will"
.
"I pray so," Charlotte said. "That he maintains himself and writes."
After a moment, Charlotte spoke quietly," Emily, I want success and I also want a woman's life. Emily... out here."
"Insipid!" Miss Emily muttered. "Like milk...vapid!"
"Perhaps. Who can say?" But she seemed to not agree.
"A woman's life ... so you have said before. Then why did you not accept the
Rev. Henry Nussey years ago?" Miss Emily said with humor. It seemed an old joke.
Charlotte scoffed, "I said a woman's life Emily. Not painful drudgery ... in all spheres."
Both sisters laughed heartily this time.
Then Miss Emily said
"And what of Mr. Bryce or Price? He asked you.”
"The little Irish curate? The one I saw for only one day?" Charlotte said.
"Was there another?" It was meant humorously. "So you had two chances."
"Humph... in the first place " said Charlotte "I knew one of those suitors only too well and the other one, not at all. Rev. Bryce! A mad Irishman he seemed to me, but I can no longer laugh, as I did at his one day courtship, after I learned of his death, poor man.
Stunted and uncomely as I am, every fiber of my body rebels at the supposition of womanhood unrealized, hopelessly abjured." Charlotte muttered.
"That's not what you tell others," Miss Emily answered. "You tell others you have quite
resolved your fate of spinsterhood."
"I said my body rebels, not my mind. That sees only too clearly the thousand impediments to realization of such hopes." Charlotte said.
"Not a thousand, Charlotte, surely."
"Might as well be. Just one would do. Poor, ugly, stuck in Haworth where we are but
the only educated family."
"Your wish could never be with the King of your heart, Charlotte ...," Miss Emily said.
Charlotte received this like a blow.
"I've never looked for it there!" She growled. Charlotte was greatly nettled on the instant. "Just friendship, just a few lines!" In her distress she was heedlessly tearing at leaves again.
"Charlotte, stop! The wind takes enough of those!"
Charlotte did. But she was still distraught, even quivering.
"Sister," Miss Emily said, "there's only one thing holding you fast and if you wish to be in this world so much that thing must and will be given up. Him." She was making an observation, not scolding.
"Then I would have nothing! I tell you I cannot.... I will not!"
"You said you were my slave in Brussels, but you are a slave still, to him, to Monsieur!"
There was a great silence and I chanced a bolder glance towards them. A charge of power seems to go between the two as they glared. After a time, Charlotte's defiant look yielded and she muttered angrily.
"I should not have told you!"
"Ha! You didn't. I knew long before it tumbled out of you. Very likely, I knew before you yourself did, years ago," Miss Emily said.
"Well, how did you know? I was most discreet."
Miss Emily once again laughed.
"Well I was!" Charlotte insisted.
"Charlotte, when you behaved as if our little Belgium professor was Vulcan at his anvil, I knew. And the more you complained of Monsieur's black moods and outbursts, the more certain I was. But it was worse when you began to endlessly extol him and frankly think only of him and become animated only when speaking of him. .... How could I not know? Was that not why you did not insist I return?"
"I knew you wouldn't, whatever I said." Charlotte seemed somewhat mollified.
"Sister," Miss Emily said, "what our family deems as friendship is seen as much more out here, haven't we all learned that by now? And what we deem love! ... well, it can't be conceived. Charlotte, we speak a different language than the inhabitants in this upper world. Haven't we received burnt fingers enough to know most individuals do not have an inner world where wild, heroic deeds and notions can live to the full? They act everything out and live here in this hopelessly cramped little world... and only here. Incredible."
She shuddered with distaste.
"Certainly, Madame did not see it as friendship." said Charlotte with bitterness.
"Oh, Sister!"
"Well?!"
"Charlotte if you were Madame and she the Mademoiselle, you'd charge at her with a knife! I frankly admired her upper world control."
Charlotte laughed mirthlessly.
"You say that, Emily, but if Madame had said one sharp word to me, you would have
flown at her yourself."
"Well of course." This was too obvious for further comment.
"Drawing swords would have been more honest." Charlotte said stoutly.
"And admit you signify? Why should she? She is no fool, far from it."
"It was not self-control! She is all ice. She is made of pitiless ice!" said with vehemence.
"One can hardly call Madame indifferent, Charlotte," Miss Emily said. "But has it occurred to you Monsieur approves of that cool manner in a woman? Isn't that what he admires? Hasn't he asked you repeatedly to adopt the same mode? Your Vulcan enjoys clashes in the classroom alone and if he can make one cry. I can vouch for that, having witnessed it enough."
After a sulk.
"You are mocking me with sense, in return for all my years of lecturing." Charlotte said.
"Perhaps. I hope not. But Charlotte, is any of this surprising? You write to Monsieur, you tell him that he has command of you, he is your Master and that you will utterly submit to any requirement. Then you never cease to defy his every stipulation."
Charlotte flared up again.
"How do you know any of that? Have you been to my desk and read my letters!"
A cold stare was the answer at first, then Miss Emily spoke quietly.
"Sister! You forget yourself!" And how it was said could put a fear in one.
Charlotte was contrite. "I am sorry."
After a few moments Miss Emily continued.
"Night after night, Charlotte, we made up our plays. I know the plots you favor."
Her sister looked stricken.
That was not kind, Emily."
"I dare say."
"I shall not speak of him again," Charlotte promised.
"You said that before." said Miss Emily waiting.
Charlotte spoke in gulps. "Painful as it was there, it's infinitely worse now! Here I am, back in Haworth and I am shut away from the finest mind I've ever known or can ever hope to know. Think if you were shut away forever from the moor and your people? Think on your own life of exile when away from home! If you could, you would have written such letters to the moors as I write to him."
"I did. All the time I was away from them. I was writing."
"Yes! But my case is much worse, Emily! So much worse! You could one day return to what you loved and be joyously welcomed! My every cry and entreaty is met by an iron silence. Day after day, nothing comes... and there is no help, only this sick hope, this frenzied anticipation that drives me on and on ..." There was a sob. "Every post is an agony and the next day it all begins again."
Miss Emily signed. "Charlotte, as I have said, you are a not writing your stories in deference to Monsieur's edict. But, sister if you would write out this anguish on paper, in a story or poem, as you ought to do, the drive to write him would abate."
"Never!"
"Charlotte! You refuse to write, to enter Angria again, yet refuse to leave it altogether. You have made a new under world, Sister, with Monsieur as your Duke!"
"I cannot write as before! Monsieur disapproves of it. Teaching must be my sphere," Charlotte said doggedly. "If the school is not to be, I will find employment elsewhere!"
"So, you may write to him of it? Must your life be so ordered so that you may write to Monsieur?" Miss Emily said with some heat at last.
Charlotte was speechless.
"I know such folly will not endure forever, regardless of what you say." Miss Emily went on "So you will not write, as we have always done, because Monsieur disapproves. Then you are condemned to relentlessly drag the burning clime into this upper world.
As I told you, Charlotte, it is an error to try to mingle the two worlds together as you insist on doing. People here are not our rogues or heroes under our command and even all your considerable vehemence, and Heaven knows it is great, will not make it so. It will not. You need to write Charlotte. Our ways cannot be lived out here."
Charlotte remained silent.
"I myself do what this sphere requires." Miss Emily went on, "and no more. I do not insist it alters its Nature."
"I can no longer live in the underworld as you do!" Charlotte cried.
"Then I pity you Sister, truly."
“You disappear into it more all the time! You are leaving me, Emily... us !"
"It is you who left me. You flew back to Belgium and when you at last returned to us, even though you and I had always shared a chamber, you went into Aunt's room without a word."
"It was empty!"
"That was not the reason, Charlotte. You could not resist a state bedroom." old
said with a chuckle.
"And why should I?" Charlotte said. "It’s my place as eldest."
"I wish you joy in it," said simply.
"It was empty for months after Aunt's death. Why did you not occupy it yourself? "
"Leave my own lair to live in Aunt's domain?" Miss Emily scoffed. "Does that sound even likely to you?"
“It would then be yours!” Charlotte said.
"I do not crave the distinction." Miss Emily said easily.
"You snatched up her keys fast enough," Charlotte answered "They were still warm from Aunt's hand!"
"It was the obvious course and how else would you be free to go back? Who would see to Papa?"
Charlotte was silent. There seemed justice in that.
"Charlotte, you always urge me to return to Angria. But I will never leave Gondal for your bustling world."
"Return to Angria! No! I know that is impossible. I want you to engage more in this world, Emily!"
"What is the difference? Your world of Angria or this one? Neither, Charlotte, are mine."
I must have made a noise. They finally realized they were not alone. They turned to look. I automatically tipped my hat.
Miss Emily started up to her feet and Keeper with her.
One muttered, "The new curate."
The diminutive Miss Charlotte was glaring at me over her spectacles for this intrusion. The Haworth folk say the mills and then the railroads have driven away the little people from the hills and groves. But at least one little person remained in Haworth, Miss Charlotte Brontë.
It is also said woman was made from one of Adam's rib. Looking at Charlotte, one could well believe it.
Though Charlotte was as small as a child, when she turned towards me, I could see again she was not formed as a child, no indeed. I might have been staring at that womanly little body as I stood there like a frightened hare.
At that time, I would be at pains to say what allured me so especially. But something besides her shape and countenance caused me to stare. Something within me came to attention when I first saw Charlotte Brontë on the lane. It was more marked when she looked my way. It has abided with me ever after.
Keeper took some steps my way, with a faint growl; but then stopped, for he knew me.
The year before, I had arrived at the Parsonage with James Smith, then Haworth curate. We were meeting with Rev. Brontë to see if I suit to take over Smith's post. I knew Smith from Trinity. He had written to me with the offer to take his place in Haworth, for he had a far better offer in Bradford.
I desperately needed a post in order to gain my ordination and Rev. Brontë keenly needed a young curate to take the work load off a blind Parson. We three duly decided I would suit.
However, before that meeting, there was Keeper on guard at the back gate. He had made sport with Smith whenever he came to the Parsonage, and Smith, who was no coward, got in the bad habit of quaking during the ordeal.
I came to the front and ordered the cur down with enough violence that, perhaps to his own surprise, Keeper obeyed.
Keeper and I had an understanding since and now, he simply sat down waiting upon events or Miss Emily’s command.
I made a bow to the sisters, which became an awkward hash. A laugh was heard in their midst. My pride bristled and so my career as a sullen figure of fun was born. At least at the Parsonage. Elsewhere I socialized freely and with pleasure during the early years of my curacy.
Being socially inept themselves, the two eldest Brontë girls were unforgiving of it in others, particularly curates.
Without a word and staring ahead, Miss Emily picked up her paint box and strode swiftly along the path on the other side of the house next to the graveyard. She was followed closely by Keeper and they disappeared.
Charlotte was still too furious to address me, but stood there, glaring my way in seeming disbelief.
"Your servant." I said and didn't know what else to say. Her anger was arresting.
Finally, she spoke coldly. "If you are seeking my father, Mr. Nicholls, he is in his study."
"I thank you." I bowed again and fairly ran to the door.
The End
Anne Lloyd © 2026
