Laura Rowland - The Secret Adventures of Charlotte Bronte

How grateful I was that it fell upon Ellen to read aloud, and that I had but to copy! I blushed to think of pretty, demure Isabel White so forthrightly giving voice to these most intimate revelations, but I guiltily admit that I also burned with secret curiosity to hear more. Although she had turned a violent shade of crimson, Ellen steadfastly read on. I swooned at the warmth of Him. Everywhere His hands touched me, flames leapt under my skin; I shuddered and moaned. He knew secrets of my body which I did not know myself. Willingly did I pleasure Him; eagerly did I open myself to Him. And when He entered me, there was no pain as in times past-only ecstasy. But how could I commit such a sin as enjoying a man outside the bonds of holy matrimony? Should feminine virtue have not restrained me? Alas, I cared nothing for God, nor propriety, nor anything except Him. When He said, “What would you do for me?” I answered with all my heart: “Whatever you wish.” He was my master, the source of all the meaning in my life. I was His devoted slave. He introduced me to prominent men who hailed from all over the kingdom and the Continent. I entertained them at balls, taverns, gambling dens, and in bedchambers. The purpose of this was never explained to me, yet I deduced that my actions allowed my master to gain advantage over these men. Every one of them was damaged in some way by his association with me, while my master reaped the fruits of my labor. To what miserable depths did He sink me! But I could not afford to care. The first time He ordered me to bed a man, I said I could not, for I wanted only Him. His countenance darkened, but His voice was quiet as He said, “You shall obey me.” And my resolve crumbled because I saw that if I opposed His will, He would destroy me as He had destroyed other persons who defied Him. I obeyed, for the privilege of being with Him and keeping alive. I trained myself to feel nothing towards the men I helped Him ruin. When I was presented to Lord John Russell, it mattered not that he was England’s Prime Minister; I viewed him as but more prey for my master. But even a slave may reach the limit of her obedience; even a fallen woman retains a shred of morality. The time finally came when my love for my master was tested. He sent me to work as governess in the house of Joseph Lock, a Birmingham gun merchant. Mr. Lock was honest, kind, and a devout Christian. His wife was a fair, generous mistress to me, and their boys were affectionate and well behaved. They showed me the joy of an ordinary life. My heart began to ache for what I could never have, even as I sought to engage the affections of Mr. Lock. At first he resisted, ignoring my flirtatious gazes, avoiding me. Hating myself for the harm I would do him and his family, I went into his office, where he was working alone. He took me there on the floor, so great was the need I had aroused in him. Afterward, he wept, begging God to forgive his adultery. Months passed, and our secret liaisons continued. His spirits declined, and his unsuspecting wife fretted over him, and how I pitied them both! He was clay in my hands, as was I in my master’s. Then one night he told me what our affair had cost him, and what my master had gained by it. Mr. Lock knew only part of the story, but I deduced the rest from talk I’d overheard at my master’s house. Shocked I was, for I had never suspected the breadth of His ambition; yet here was proof that He aspired to the power of kings. My discovery was the beginning of my disenchantment. I began to understand that I must free myself of Him, or consign my soul to eternal damnation. Still, I loved Him, and could not find the strength to break away-until He gave me His next command. [Here some lines were scratched out.] I was stunned by the audacity of His scheme. However, I did not doubt that He could succeed, for if He could compromise the Prime Minister, there seemed nothing He could not manage. The evil of it horrified me. How could I deliver helpless innocents into His grasp? How could I allow myself to be used as an instrument to shake the foundations of the world and bring disaster upon the kingdom? I cannot, in spite of my fear of Him. To leave Him will cause me great agony, but leave I must, though my defiance will unleash the deadly force of His fury upon me. I write this on the eve before deserting my post at Mr. Lock’s house. As soon as I pay a last visit to my mother, I will journey to London, then out of the country. I must tell no one where I am going. In truth, I myself do not know my ultimate destination. I only know that I must travel far and fast. I can already feel His mind sensing my traitorous thoughts. He is always watching me, and as soon as I am gone from Birmingham, He will send His minions after me, for He cannot allow me to live, knowing what I know. May God protect me and forgive my sins.

“I’ve never heard such an extraordinary, disturbing tale in my life!” Ellen exclaimed when she’d finished reading.

“Nor have I.” Indeed, I felt shaken and ill, as though I had absorbed the malignancy in Isabel’s words as I transcribed them. What miserable degradation had she undergone; with what obscene depravity had she behaved! I was disgusted by Isabel, even as I pitied her. Setting aside my pen and notebook, I said, “How glad I am that I didn’t tell Mrs. White about the hidden passages in the book.”

“Who can be this man that forced Isabel to do those things?” Ellen asked.

I now confronted my suspicion that had turned to mortal certainty as Isabel’s tale unfolded: Her unnamed master could be none other than the man I knew as Gilbert White. How well the description fit him! He must have discovered that Isabel had escaped his domination; he must have feared she would ruin his plans by refusing to obey him. He must also have guessed that Isabel had written their history, and he wished to destroy it to prevent exposure of his misdeeds. Had he not impersonated her brother to procure assistance from me, the last person to speak with her? Had he not also searched her mother’s house? This seemed ample, damning proof that Gilbert White had killed his slave and pursued me solely to obtain her last testament.

I had other evidence which was less tangible yet more compelling: I had personally experienced the force of Mr. White’s allure. Hence, I understood how he could have gained such power over Isabel that she would do his bidding, however evil. That I had let this man into my life, and desired him as Isabel had! What awful sins might he have seduced me into committing?

“My dear, what’s wrong?” Ellen asked anxiously. “Your face has gone so pale!”

I was overcome by disgust at my own gullibility and my terror of Mr. White. I grew lightheaded and collapsed on the bed, my heart palpitating; yet I could not tell Ellen why. I had said nothing to her of Gilbert White, for fear that she would tease me as she did whenever a potential suitor entered my life, and I did not want her to know how I’d been duped. Nor did I think it wise to share with her my suspicions about this dangerous man.

“Isabel’s story gave me a bad spell,” I said. “Whatever shall I do with the book?”

“Give it to the police,” Ellen suggested. “If the mysterious master killed Isabel-and if he really is going to bring disaster upon the kingdom-then the police need to know.”

“But the London police think Isabel was the victim of a random attack,” I said. “I doubt that a fantastic account scribbled in an old book could convince anyone to believe otherwise. Besides, nowhere does Isabel name her master.”

All I could add was his assumed name and his description. I knew not where Mr. White was to be found. Of one thing was I certain: He would eventually find me.

“Then what will you do?” Ellen asked.

I knew I must do something, for the book had shown my situation to be much more serious than I had fathomed. That Isabel’s master had subjugated the prime minister signified that her murder and my own troubles were but superficial manifestations of a far-reaching conspiracy, and that the impending disaster must be of vast proportions.