Free The Mist on Bronte Moor by Aviva Orr Page A

only have one condition,”
    “What’s that?”
    He caressed my cheek. “I draw you without your hat.”
    I jerked my head back as if someone had lit a flame under it. “No,” I snapped.

Chapter 10
    Will the day be bright or cloudy?
Sweetly has its dawn begun;
But the heaven may shake with thunder
Ere the setting of the sun.
    —E. J. Brontë
    W e should go.” I pushed past Branwell. “The others are probably looking for us.”
    Without waiting for his reply, I stalked away. I’d only taken a few steps when I almost crashed into Emily.
    “Here you are,” she said. “I was afraid you’d started without us.”
    “No, we were just—”
    “I’ve decided Heather will be my next subject.” Branwell came up behind me.
    “I’m going to draw her tomorrow while you have your lessons.”
    “Branwell’s going to be a true artist.” Emily said. “I’m sure you won’t be disappointed with the result.”
    I noted the way she said “going to be” as opposed to is and stifled a smile.
    “What’s that?” She glanced at the paper bag lying on the ground next to the boulder.
    “Oh, I almost forgot.” Branwell scooted back, scooped up the bag, and tossed it to Emily.
    She caught it with both hands and pressed the package to her nose. “Licorice! Thanks, Branni. I’ll take it to Charlotte. She’s busy packing the tea.”
    “You two go on,” Branwell said. “I’ll be round in a minute.”
    I followed Emily back to the house, half disappointed and half relieved to be away from Branwell. My emotions had been toyed with enough for one day.
    “Poor Grasper tramped on a pile of thorns when Tabby let him out to do his business this morning,” Emily said. “He came limping into the kitchen and Tabby had to call me to remove them. Blessed creature. He was an angel when I took them out, and there were at least six embedded in his paw.” She shook her head. “He shan’t be walking with us today.”
    “I hope he’ll be all right,” I said. I knew how much Emily loved her dog.
    “He’ll be fine in a few days. I convinced Tabby to let him sleep beside the kitchen fire. She wasn’t happy about it, but she relented.” Emily smiled. “She’s not as stern as she pretends to be.”
    In the kitchen, Charlotte and Anne wrapped bread and apples in cloth for our picnic on the moors.
    Emily tossed the package of licorice to Charlotte. “Branni bought some licorice.”
    “Did he?” Charlotte’s eyes brightened as she stuffed it into the basket.
    I watched her work. Her face glowed. Branwell’s gift had made her happy. She adored him. They all did. What would they say if I told them about the laudanum? Maybe they’d think it was nothing to worry about, like Branwell had said. But somehow I doubted that.
     
    Branwell waited for us outside the front door—his hands in his pockets and a huge grin on his face. My heart leapt when I saw him, but I squelched the feeling. I was determined not to let him get to me. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust anyone after Simon. If my best friend could scrap me after one kiss, then what could I expect from a virtual stranger when he realized my hair was falling out?
    Branwell led the way on our walk, taking us past the graves and deep into the moors. There, he raced ahead, sprinting across the hills and leaping over rocks and shrubs as though he’d been locked in a box all day.
    “Branni, slow down!” Charlotte yelled. “What’s gotten in to you today?”
    “See the colors, Charlotte,” he called back. “See how glorious the day is.”
    I frowned. What colors? The winter landscape was shrouded in a light mist under a gray sky.
    That didn’t matter to Branwell. He kept up his mad pace, shouting about colors and pointing at plants and birds that no one else could see. It was impossible to keep up with him, so we let him go ahead. We walked about two miles on our own before arriving at a small waterfall and stream. Branwell was already there; we found him lying on the