Free Always Emily by Michaela MacColl Page A

cunning,” he assured her. “An inexperienced young lady like yourself is easily fooled.”
    Charlotte choked back an angry retort. Before she could recover her voice, he spoke again. “My family’s affairs have intruded on your journey long enough.”
    Rachel spoke before Mr. Heaton could stop her. “Robert, this lady only wanted to help me.”
    â€œHush,” he said, making the gentle word sound more like a threat than a reassurance.
    Charlotte glanced back to the driver. He was puffing his pipe, uninterested and uninvolved. He would be of no help whatsoever. She didn’t trust this Mr. Heaton, but what could she do?
    â€œIt is still several miles to Haworth, and Ponden Hall is two miles beyond town,” Charlotte said. “Perhaps I can assist you with transportation?”
    â€œThat’s not necessary,” Heaton said. “I’ll make sure she’s safely home.”
    â€œAll the way to Ponden Hall?” Charlotte pressed.
    He paused. Finally he said, “She’s not staying at Ponden Hall. Thank you, Miss Brontë. I apologize for any inconvenience.” He bowed slightly and not very gently propelled Rachel toward his horse. With no apparent effort, he lifted her into the saddle and led the gelding down the path without any further word of farewell.
    Seeing Charlotte was ready to leave, the driver knocked the ash out of his pipe and held the door open so she could enter the small carriage. “Did she seem mad to you?” Charlotte asked.
    â€œStark raving mad,” he said.
    â€œTo me she seemed frightened rather than insane.”
    â€œMiss, you’re fancying things.” He made sure she was settled. “A powerful imagination leads to nothing but trouble.” He shut the door and the carriage lurched forward.
    â€œI did wrong to let him take her,” Charlotte muttered to herself, her eyes fixed on the backs of the strange pair moving along the track.

I have a place to repair to, which will be a
secure sanctuary from hateful reminiscences,
from unwelcome intrusion—even from
falsehood and slander
.

    I f Charlotte could have prolonged her homecoming, she would have. She had hidden in the shadows within the carriage the entire last quarter hour to avoid being seen. But eventually the gig pulled up in front of the gray stone parsonage, the last house in town before the moors.
    Charlotte usually welcomed the sight of her home. Its symmetry was reassuring, with its center door flanked by two windows on each side and five windows above. Even the narrow front garden, facing the graveyard, was pleasantly familiar. Rising from the end of the churchyard, the church towered over all as though it was sheltering the family home within its shadow.
    Charlotte spied Emily coming through the front gate. Her dress hung about her thin frame, and with a sigh Charlotte noticed that she wore only one petticoat at most. Her sister seemed even taller than usual, although that might be from the weight she had lost. Emily’s fair hair was loose about her face and there was a bright color in her cheeks. She looked—Charlotte struggled to find the word—happy.
    â€œEmily!” Charlotte cried, jumping out of the carriage to embrace her. Her reservations forgotten, suddenly Charlotte was glad to see her sister, especially looking so well.
    â€œCharlotte!” Emily stood with her arms at her side, dismay in her eyes. No sooner had Aunt B. left than Charlotte arrived unexpectedly to ruin Emily’s fun. “What are you doing home?”
    â€œMiss Wooler thought I needed a little rest,” Charlotte equivocated.
    â€œIn the middle of the term? What about your classes?” Emily asked.
    â€œAre you accusing me of neglecting my duties?” Charlotte shot back.
    â€œOf course not. Charlotte, what’s wrong with you?” A thought came into Emily’s mind and made her go pale. “Are you ill? Have you been