Laura Rowland - The Secret Adventures of Charlotte Bronte

Its masts had fallen; its damaged wheels ground an uneven course. Flames erupted and smoke plumed from within it. Kuan stood alone on a platform in the bow, his face monstrous with rage, hatred, and madness. He shook his fist and ranted words inaudible over the navy’s continuing barrage. Just when I thought his ship would ram ours in a last, futile effort to destroy us, the navy ships launched a concerted onslaught of cannon fire. Great booms resounded to the heavens. Missiles shattered Kuan’s ship. Kuan struggled to keep his balance on his platform. His gaze met mine, and I felt his wrath leap across the narrow distance between us as his crippled vessel slowed and teetered. His lips formed my name; his voice in my head damned me. I saw and heard, as though in a vision we shared, the wartorn city of Canton and the screams of his wife and children as they died victims of a murder that he would never avenge. Mr. Slade held me tight while my sympathy for Kuan and my abhorrence of his evils fought one last battle within me.

Kuan raised his fists in a gesture of defiance, then dove into the ocean. His ship exploded in a pyre of flames and began to sink. Triumphant cheers arose from navy troops. Mr. Slade and I rushed to the railing and peered overboard. Kuan had vanished.

I turned to Mr. Slade, who gazed intently into my eyes. “My dearest Charlotte,” he said in such a low voice that I could barely hear him above the noise of the troops rushing and shouting around us. His hand cupped my face. I felt its warmth, its trembling. The ardor in his expression rendered me breathless.

“I’ve always believed that some thoughts are better left unspoken,” Mr. Slade said. “But this experience has made me realize that by remaining silent, one risks losing the opportunity to say what one needs most to say. If you had died, God forbid-” He shook his head, as though too horrified by the thought to complete it. “Here is what I need to say, and consequences be damned: Please allow me to tell you how deeply I am in love with you.”

His voice dropped to a whisper that reverberated through me more powerfully than cannon fire. I felt a sweet, soaring bliss that I had never known. For the first time in my life, my love was returned by its object. For this I would gladly relive every terror I had experienced.

Mr. Slade frowned at me. “Have you nothing to say?” A look that verged on disappointment stole into his eyes. “I thought-I hoped-that you shared my feelings. Was I wrong?”

“You were not,” I whispered, alight inside with a fire brighter than the flames that still leapt and blazed on the water. “I do.”

He smiled; he bent his head to mine. As our lips met, I closed my eyes while the bliss soared higher and sweeter inside me. Here, in Mr. Slade’s kiss, was the tenderness that our urgent coupling in the forest had lacked. Here was the moment I had awaited all my life and wished I could savor forever.

My story should have ended there. it would have allowed you, Reader, to believe that I lived happily ever after, like a princess in a fairy tale. But reality intrudes on the best occasions in life, which are as fleeting as the worst.

That kiss was the last private moment I was to spend with Mr. Slade for quite some time. We were interrupted by a navy officer, who informed me that the children required my care. I hurried to Vicky and Bertie, took off their wet clothes, wrapped them in blankets, fed them hot broth, and tucked them in bed. They fell asleep while I dried my own waterlogged self and the navy searched for Kuan and survivors from his ship. Hitchman was taken prisoner. Nick, the crew, and T’ing-nan’s body had gone down with the wreck. No trace of Kuan was ever found.

I was summoned by Lord Unwin, who’d been aboard the navy ship all along, hiding during the battle. He commanded me to give him a full account of the kidnapping. Afraid that I would be blamed for it, I hastened to explain how the Duchess had threatened me at gunpoint. Lord Unwin replied that soon after the Queen had discovered the children missing, he had suspected that Kuan must have another accomplice besides Captain Innes. He’d searched Balmoral Castle and found a pistol and an empty laudanum vial in the Duchess’s room. When he confronted her, she admitted her deed and named the royal guards who had helped her. She also confessed that Kuan had kidnapped her beloved niece to force her to participate in his scheme. I took that to mean that Mr. Slade had suspected, searched, confronted, and obtained the confession. But in any case, I was exonerated; the Duchess and her confederates were to hang.

It was Lord Unwin who explained to me how the children and I had been located: Mr. Slade had received a telegram from Papa, which said that Kuan had taken us aboard a ship anchored off Aberdeen. How Papa had known this was, at that time, a mystery. The Foreign Office had then joined forces with the navy to find the ship. Lord Unwin swore me to secrecy in regards to the kidnapping and all related events. It was in the best interest of the kingdom that as few persons as possible should know how vulnerable the Crown was, he said, lest Kuan’s example inspire other such attacks. He ordered me to swear my family to secrecy as well. And until the time of this writing, as I relate these details in this document that shall perhaps go unread, I have kept my vow.

I watched over the children while the ship steamed back to port. Mr. Slade was recuperating from his wound, then occupied with business, and I didn’t see him for some time. At sunrise we reached Aberdeen, where the Queen and Prince Consort joyously greeted Vicky and Bertie and took them away. Me they ignored. Lord Unwin hurried after the royal procession, I assumed to take credit for the rescue and to curry favor. Mr. Slade, reinstated to his post, accompanied Lord Unwin. I was given over to the care of a kindly Scottish officer, whose wife lent me clean, dry clothes, fed me, and gave me a room in which to sleep that night. Longing to see my family, I traveled home by train on the morrow, and reached Haworth the day after that.

The village that I had once wished to escape now seemed like Paradise. Never had the September sun shone brighter from a bluer sky; never had the moors seemed more magnificent nor the parsonage more inviting. Anne, Emily, and Papa welcomed me with glad exclamations and tears. The company of my kin brought me much more joy than the brilliant society I’d hoped to find when I’d gone to London. We eagerly shared the tales of our experiences.

“But how were you able to tell Mr. Slade where to find me?” I asked. “And how did you happen to send the news by telegraph?”

“It was Branwell’s doing,” Emily said with grudging admiration.

When she explained, I could hardly believe that Branwell had outwitted the men who had imprisoned them in the cellar, obtained the vital information, and thought up the means to convey it. That my wretched brother had ultimately brought about Kuan’s downfall was amazing indeed. “Where is Branwell?” I said, eager to thank him.

My father’s and sisters’ expressions grew somber. Papa said, “We don’t know.”

Anne sighed. “Unfortunately, he has resumed his old ways.”

Six days after my return, Branwell fainted while walking to the Black Bull Inn. The next day he was unable to get up from his bed, and his condition rapidly declined. We sent for Dr. Wheelright, who examined Branwell and declared that he was close to death. What a profound shock! Branwell’s health had worsened so gradually that none of us had noticed; he’d been threatening to die for so long that we had failed to take him seriously. Not until now did I learn he was suffering from consumption, the same disease that had taken Maria and Elizabeth.