The Crimes of Charlotte Bronte (10 page)

However, many were genuinely grieved by his death. Emily wrote a moving poem about him which she called ‘The Wanderer from the Fold', and in later years his friends were at pains to correct the erroneous portrait which had been painted of him by Mrs Gaskell. Leyland and George Searle Phillips testified to his lively conversation, his wit, his poetry, and his thoughtful discourse. Phillips also contradicted Mrs Gaskell point blank: ‘But, even when pretty deep in his cups, he had not the slightest appearance of the sot Mrs Gaskell says he was.' It was a description which she probably obtained from Nicholls.

I think we should allow another friend to have the final word on Branwell, for I feel it to be the truest. Grundy wrote that Branwell ‘was no domestic demon; he was just a man moving in a mist who lost his way.'

‘My punishment is greater than I can bear.'

Genesis 4:13

M
iss Emily, then, was the only sister who went to Master Branwell's funeral. Being the woman she was, she would have done so anyway, but I know now that by then her feelings were so mixed up that she could never have stayed away.

She already felt guilty about stealing his idea for her book, but now she was burdened by something far more terrible, for she had found out that her lover had murdered her brother. (How I know of this, I shall tell later.)

Mr Nicholls has since told me that it was not his intent that she should know anything about what he had in mind, for he knew that nobody could be trusted with that kind of secret. He had therefore gone about his plan with care and very quietly.

After much thought, he had decided that the only way to kill Master Branwell was by means of poison, but knowing that to buy it in Haworth was out of the question he went to Halifax to do so, and did it under another name and dressed as quietly as possible. In order to account for his absence, he had given it out that he was going to visit his friend, Mr Grant, who was the curate in the next parish, but he was undone by one of those strange chances that no one can foresee.

It so happened that Master Branwell was drinking in Halifax that day and he, of all people, saw Mr Nicholls coming out of the apothecary. He was forced to return to the Parsonage sooner than he had reckoned, because he had run out of cash and credit, but even so he was well drunk and had to be helped upstairs by Miss Emily. She asked him where he had been to get in such a state, and he told her Halifax – but then went on to say, with a laugh, that he had seen her sweetheart coming from the apothecary's shop there, and that he was not wearing his normal clergyman's garb.

Of course, Miss Emily did not believe him, thinking that what he had said was just part of his drunken ramblings, but a little doubt must have stayed in her mind because I remember that much later she asked me if I had seen Mr Nicholls about on the day before and how he was dressed. I had not, because I would have been busy about the Parsonage, but I thought that her questions were so strange that, in a roundabout way, I quizzed Mother that evening and she told me that he had gone out in clothes that we had all seen hanging in his wardrobe, but had seen him wear but a few times before.

I told that to Miss Emily, but she did not seem very interested and said that her questions to me had been only in passing. However, I know now that she had been both puzzled and worried. Her first thought had been that Mr Nicholls was ailing and, not wishing to worry her, had gone to an apothecary outside the village for some medicine. It would seem that she did not mention the matter to him straightaway. She merely asked him how he had got on with Mr Grant, and he told her that he had spent a pleasant day with him. He said nothing more, but his answer, and the manner of it, lulled any worries which she had.

It would seem, therefore, that it was only when Master Branwell died so quickly and unexpectedly, and within but a few days of Mr Nicholls' day out, that her mind went to another possibility and she began to think with dread of what he might have done. It was a notion that so took hold of her mind that she was not able to rest until she had found the truth, and it was then that, I realize now, I was once again caught up in the matter – albeit without knowing.

On the evening of the day of Master Branwell's death, Miss Emily took me to one side as I was washing the dishes. She was far from her usual self, and spoke in such a low voice that I wondered what was amiss, but she simply took an envelope from her pocket and said that she had an urgent message from her father for Mr Nicholls, and would I run home and hand it to him without delay.

I was somewhat puzzled by that, because I had carried messages from Mr Brontë to Mr Nicholls several times before, and to Father, but he had always handed them to me himself. Also, the name of the person that the letter was to had always been written on the envelope whereas there was no name on this one, and indeed it did not look or feel like one of Mr Brontë's which were bigger and stiffer. Still it was none of my business, and I remember thinking that Mr Brontë may have been so upset by his son's death that he had had Miss Emily write his message for him.

I hurried down the lane to our house, went to Mr Nicholls' room and handed the letter to him. He did not open the envelope in front of me, but within minutes I heard the back door close and he went out. I thought that he was going to the Parsonage to see Mr Brontë, but then, as I was taking the chance of a quick word with Mother in the kitchen, I saw him making his way to the moors and it came to me that he was off to meet Miss Emily.

Of course, I have been able to put these happenings together in proper fashion only since I learned the full truth, but even then I thought it all rather odd.

I know now that it was at that meeting that Miss Emily taxed Mr Nicholls about her fears that he had murdered her brother. He has told me that what she said shook him to his core, but that he was able to manage a laugh and tell her not to be so silly. It was only when she told him that he had been seen leaving the apothecary's at Halifax – without saying who had seen him – that he was forced, little by little, into telling the truth. Only later did she tell him that it was Master Branwell himself who had pointed the finger at him.

Mr Nicholls has told me that, at first, he had wanted to lie and say that he had been to the apothecary for some sort of potion for himself, and he thinks that he might have got away with that. However, he was thrown into such a state of mind by her unexpected questions that all he could think of at the time was that if she went to the authorities with her fears he would soon be identified by the man who had served him. Then, if Master Branwell's body was dug up and the same poison found as he had bought, he would be sure to be hanged.

Only after he had told her all did he realize that he had been in no danger, because then it was evident that Miss Emily's passion for him would not have allowed her to betray him. He was quite right in thinking that for I now know that Miss Emily told Miss Anne as much, and that she, poor woman, was being torn asunder by her feelings, and that she would never be able to live at ease with the fact that the man she loved had killed her brother.

People have always said that Miss Emily caught a chill at Master Branwell's funeral, but I do not recall any such thing. All I know is that she became very, very quiet after it and only pecked at her food, like an ailing sparrow. They also say that she never left the Parsonage again until her own death some 3 months later, but that also is wrong, as anyone who knew Miss Emily well will tell you.

As I remember it, she did have a bit of a cough, but nothing that troubled her overmuch, and I know for sure that she carried on meeting Mr Nicholls for at least a month after Master Branwell died because he has told me so and he has no reason to lie at this distance of time. He said that she seemed to need to talk to him because she was finding it very hard to live with what she knew, especially as she was not sleeping well because of her cough, and her darkest thoughts came in the small hours.

For his part, though, Mr Nicholls has never shown any sense of regret to me. He says that, as far as he was concerned, what was done was done. Nothing could have brought Master Branwell back, and it was good riddance to bad rubbish. He found it impossible to understand how Miss Emily was feeling, and often he had little patience with her.

When he was like that, it dismayed Miss Emily beyond belief. It was a side of him that she had not seen before, and it was then that she came to believe that he was tiring of her and was carrying on with her just to keep her quiet. If that was so, it is little wonder, I feel, that she drew more and more into herself. Not only that, but she began to act so oddly that Miss Charlotte became concerned about her, even taking the trouble to remark upon it to me – of all people. I think that, knowing that Miss Emily often talked to me, she was hoping that I knew something, but even if I had I would not have told
her
.

As it happens, I now know that Miss Emily
had
felt the need to tell someone of what ailed her. That someone was Miss Anne, who wrote down everything, which, as I shall explain, I have read myself.

I do not think that Miss Anne would have been as shocked by what she learned as most folk would imagine. In fact, I doubt very much whether she would have been shocked at all. She, more than anybody, knew what Master Branwell had been up to at the Robinsons, and that is almost certainly why she felt she had to leave her post there with so little warning. His conduct had dismayed and horrified her, and she felt no pity for him whatsoever. Since then she had been sickened by the way he was going on, so why then should she have been put out when she discovered that someone had helped him to the early death that he was heading for anyway? I think that her main feeling was more likely to have been one of amazement – amazement that it was Mr Nicholls who had done the deed, and amazement that her quiet sister was carrying on with him.

As for Miss Emily herself, Miss Anne tells us that she seemed to feel better after their first talk, but then she became far worse for, as well as her old worries, she was then bothered because she had told all to Miss Anne, and time after time she begged her to say naught to anyone.

There is a saying that it never rains but that it pours, and often I have thought that Miss Emily must have had that feeling if what Miss Anne wrote next is true.

As I have said, by then Miss Emily and Mr Nicholls had been lovers in the fullest manner for the best part of a 12-month, and so it was almost certain that, sooner or later, the time would come when she would have reason to think that she might be with child. That time came now, and it drove Miss Emily to the point of madness.

She seems to have kept her fears to herself for as long as possible, but the time came when she just had to tell Mr Nicholls, and he was shocked to the core. He has made it clear to me that by that time he was already tired of Miss Emily and her worries, and he had never had any notion of being tied to her. Now he felt that she was a threat to him and his future, and although he had some choices none of them was very pleasing to him.

He could, of course, have accepted things and wed her, but that prospect filled him with horror because, tired of her as he already was, he could not face the notion of being married to her – and with a child to boot. Even putting his feelings to one side, his pay was quite small in his eyes, and he knew of others who were finding it hard beyond belief to support a wife and family on such a pittance.

According to Miss Anne, Miss Emily was very much cast down by the short shrift that he gave her. It seems that there was no tenderness or thought for her, and certainly no sympathy for the plight that she found herself in. In fact he seems to have blamed her alone for their problem. He steadfastly refused to marry her, and even went as far as to say that she should go and see one of the women who were known to do away with unwanted babies.

That seems to have shocked Miss Emily more than anything else, and I can quite see why that should have been. She loved all living creatures, and her whole upbringing and nature would never have allowed her to take part in what to her mind would have been murder and what was, in any event, an unlawful act. She refused, and begged Mr Nicholls to change his mind, but he would not be moved. It was only then, so she told Miss Anne, that she came to the full knowledge of how little she now meant to him, if indeed he had
ever
felt anything for her, but her plight was desperate and she could not afford to take ‘No' for an answer.

She told Miss Anne that it was only after days of pleading had proved in vain that she was driven to take a leaf out of Master Branwell's book, and she told Mr Nicholls that she would tell of his hand in her brother's death if he did not make an honest woman of her.

It is not so long since that I asked Mr Nicholls how he felt when she told him that, and, apart from his words, I could tell from how he spoke that even after all this time he still feels how shaken he was. As he said, he felt that he was going back to the blackmailing nightmare from which only Master Branwell's death had set him free – and worse. Suddenly he felt totally lost and with no way to turn.

He tried his hardest to reason with her, and I have little doubt that he used all his old charm – which I know more than a little about – but it was no good. In her way, when her mind was firmly made up about something, Miss Emily stood her ground with a steady will, and he was able to do nothing against it although it filled him with rage. Seeing that he was doing no good, he decided to change his manner. He made a show of weakening, and begged for time to think, and that seemed to soften her towards him, for she agreed.

It was not time to think that he wanted though, it was time to plan, because, in his heart, he already knew what he had to do. Just as Master Branwell's death had ended one vexation, so Miss Emily's would rid him of the danger that
she
now posed.