Laura Rowland - The Secret Adventures of Charlotte Bronte

I thought that if it ceased, Kuan would be satisfied enough to give up his desire for revenge against Britain. I hoped that if I helped him thus, he would release me. I would not have spoken so boldly to the Queen had I not considered it my only chance to save both my family and hers.

She drew back from me, repulsed by my vehemence. Her cheeks flushed scarlet. “Miss Bronte, you have gone too far,” she said with great indignation. “Your outburst hardly deserves the courtesy of an answer. But answer I will, if only to correct your deplorable misconceptions and rebuke your flagrant disrespect. In the first place, no one is forcing opium on anyone. Should there be people who do not want it, they may refuse to buy it. In the second place, the Crown would never have waged war against China had China not mistreated British merchants, destroyed valuable opium stores that belonged to them, and insulted British honor. Britain has rightfully exacted compensation for these offenses and protected British commerce in the Far East. The issues of warfare and international trade are far more complex than a humble governess untutored in the arts of statesmanship could ever grasp.”

Her words dashed my hopes. In my sad humiliation I realized that from the Queen’s perspective, the greatest good would necessarily always lie in what best served Britain. The Queen had no reason to take the part of distant foreigners over that of her own country.

“Furthermore, Miss Bronte,” the Queen said, “your presumption at questioning your Queen’s judgment about what is best for Britain borders on treason.” She waved an imperious hand at me. “Go. Vex me no more.”

I slunk away like a whipped animal. All around me was bright; all within me, black with misery. As I stumbled down a flight of stone stairs cut into the terraces, someone called my name. It was Mr. Slade. He was the last person I wanted to see. In my haste to elude him, I tripped on the rough stairs; he caught up with me and steadied me.

“Are you all right?” he said.

“Yes.”

“No, you’re as pale as death. You’re trembling. Something has happened. What is it?”

How I longed to blurt it out! Such a temptation I felt to share the burden of my knowledge with Mr. Slade in the hope that he could help me! But even as my tongue quivered on the brink of confession, I glimpsed a figure below us, on the terrace nearest the wide, sparkling river. It was Captain Innes. He waved cheerily at us and winked at me. My heart sank at his reminder that my family would die if I breathed a word of what he’d said to me last night. I looked at Mr. Slade, and although he stood close enough for me to touch, he seemed as remote as the other side of the world.

“Nothing has happened,” I mumbled, turning away from Mr. Slade. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go back to the children.”

I felt Mr. Slade-and Captain Innes-watching me as I hurried up the stairs. On an upper terrace I found Vicky, Bertie, and little Alfred rambling about with the Prince Consort and the Duchess of Norfolk. The Queen was absent, to my relief.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Bronte,” the Duchess said with a welcoming smile. “Come join us.”

I did, grateful for her friendliness. The rest of that morning, her blithe conversation enlivened the party. The children were fond of her; Bertie behaved with more decorum while in her presence; even the somber Prince Consort cheered up. That afternoon, when the Queen and Prince Consort went driving in a pony cart, the Duchess helped me tend the children. I was glad to have her company, for I noticed Mr. Slade and Captain Innes loitering nearby, and her presence kept them both away from me.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the vial of opium hidden in my room. I couldn’t deny that the next day I would have to deliver the children into Kuan’s hands or condemn my own family to a terrible death. As the hours passed, I became certain that I could do neither.

My apprehension increased during dinner and the musical entertainment afterward. By the time I retired to my chamber, my heart agitated within my ribs like a bird beating its wings against the bars of a cage. I paced the floor while the clock ticked a cadence of doom. At three in the morning, unable to sleep or sit still or bear the waiting any longer, I flung my cloak over my shoulders and raced out of the castle.

The freezing Highland wind gusted at me, stirring the dark forests. The moon and stars shone icy silver radiance upon the castle’s turrets and the snow-peaked mountains. The vast, dark landscape seemed haunted by ancient Scottish ghosts; wolves howled. I ran through the night, as if by running I could escape from Kuan. While I ran, I wept. I stumbled through woods, over rocks and fallen branches, caring naught that I didn’t know where I was going.

Suddenly I struck an obstacle that emerged from the shadows. It was neither tree nor stone, but flesh and blood. Strong hands seized me, arresting my flight. I cried out in terror and fought wildly until I heard Mr. Slade exclaim, “Miss Bronte! What are you doing?”

He released me. I sank to my knees, sobbing while I panted with exertion. I remembered how little Mr. Slade slept at night; he had probably come out of his lodgings for a walk in the fresh air. Some instinctive impulse must have guided me to him.

“Help me,” I cried. The words I’d held in all day burst from me like water through a dam weakened by its pressure. “Please-you must save them!”

“Who?” Mr. Slade said, perplexed.

“Papa. Anne. Emily. Branwell.” Gasps punctuated the names I spoke. “They’re in terrible danger!”

Mr. Slade crouched before me and peered into my face, trying to make sense of me. “What kind of danger?”

“They’ve been taken prisoner,” I said.

“How do you know this?”

“At the parsonage,” I babbled through my sobs. “He’ll kill them unless I-”

“Who? What?” Then enlightenment cleared the confusion from Mr. Slade’s eyes. “It’s Kuan, isn’t it? His accomplice has approached you. Kuan has taken your family hostage to force your cooperation in the kidnapping.” Mr. Slade grasped my shoulders. “Who is the accomplice? When and how is the kidnapping to take place?”

“I can’t tell you.” I rose, pulled free of Mr. Slade, and fled before he could press me for answers.

“Miss Bronte!” Mr. Slade called. “Wait!”

I rushed headlong into the forest. Branches leapt out of the darkness and raked my face. I crashed into trees, groped around them. The wind howled past me and the earth sloped steeply downward beneath my feet. I lost my balance and tumbled head over heels down a hill, screaming as rocks battered me all the way to the bottom. Dizzy and sore, I stood up but was too exhausted to run any farther. Mr. Slade barreled down the hill and skidded to a stop near me.

“Leave me alone,” I cried, raising my hand to forestall more questions.

His arms locked around me. “I want to help you, and I promise I will, but first you must tell me everything.”

We were in a clearing in the forest. Trees held the moon in their foliage. I could see Mr. Slade’s eyes intent on me, feel the rhythm of his breathing. My need to confide shattered my will to resist.

“Captain Innes is the accomplice,” I said in a small, forlorn voice. “The kidnapping is set for tomorrow night. Captain Innes has instructed me to drug the children with laudanum. Then we shall deliver them to Kuan. He’ll free my family afterward.” I felt relief at unburdening myself, but a terrible dread because I had disobeyed Kuan. “Unless I do as he wishes, he’ll kill them.”

“Good God,” Mr. Slade said. He clasped me to him; I wept unabashedly against his shoulder. “I should have known Kuan would do something like this. I should have known he would try to use your family against you. This is my fault.”