The Crimes of Charlotte Bronte (39 page)

For two whole days I thought on it all the time, and could not sleep for it, but in the end it was Ann who decided me. After I had told her what was bothering me she said I should go back and give it a try. If I did not like the work or anything else I could always leave and I would be no worse off than I was then. On the other hand, if all went well it would be the answer to all my worries.

That did it. I wrote to Dr Ingham at once and it was but 2 days before I had his answer. He told me that he was still in need of a housekeeper, and asked me to be good enough to go and see him as soon as I could. Well, not to make a long story of it, that is what I did and we got on very well together. I had never thought much of him as a doctor, but he was always quite a nice man and I was sure that he would be a good employer.

Within a week I was living there and everything went very smoothly. I wrote and told Mr Nicholls what had happened and he seemed very pleased for me. Not only that, he asked me to go over to see him in the Summer and that made everything perfect.

The year 1863 was quite a good one for me. All went very well at the Manor House and, better still, Mr Nicholls sent me the money to go to Ireland. He met the boat in, and I must say that my heart seemed to give a turn when I saw him there waiting for me, and looking quite as handsome as ever. We hugged and kissed each other without a thought for what the other folk might think, and tears of joy rolled down my cheeks. I would swear that his eyes were not quite dry either.

It was a time that I shall never forget. Hill House had quite settled down after all the work we had done on it, and all the folk there seemed really pleased to see me again.

My old room looked just as I had left it, and Mr Nicholls had seen to it that there were flowers everywhere, but, truth to tell, I did not spend much time in it. During the day we were out and about, and at nights we cuddled up together in Mr Nicholls' big bed just as we had done before.

At the start I was quite shy with him, for it had been a long time since we were last together in that way. Soon, though, we were every bit the same as we had been before I left and we made love as if we had never parted.

It was all too good to last and it seemed that no sooner had I got there than I was packing again to go back to Haworth. I had dreaded leaving, but I knew I could not stay. Mr Nicholls saw me to the boat as before, and I clung to him so tightly when it was time to part as I had a feeling that I would never see him again. We kissed for the last time and I turned to go aboard the boat, but then I burst into a flood of tears and hurried up the gangway without looking back.

By the time we were leaving I had calmed myself and I was able to stand by the rail on deck and wave him goodbye. He waved back, very slowly and, I thought, sadly, and then I watched until we were out of the harbour and I could see him no longer.

Life went on quietly back at the Manor House for the rest of the year and soon it was Christmas and the New Year and my spirits began to lift a little with the thought that Spring would not be
that
long a-coming.

I kept writing to Mr Nicholls, and he to me, but as usual his letters told nothing of his feelings for me and sometimes I wondered whether he was afeared of putting them into words. That did not bother me though for I
knew
how he felt and I looked forward so much to seeing him again in the Summer.

So all was going quite well until one of the worst days I've ever had when I had a letter from him which changed my whole life.

He told me that he would always love me and look after me, but went on to say that, as I knew only too well, it was not in his nature to be without the company of a woman and, as I had made it quite clear that I was not coming back, he was going to wed his cousin Mary Bell – who I had met and got on well with. He hoped I would understand and that I would feel able to go to the wedding – for which he would send me some extra money.

Well
of course
I understood how he felt – I felt the same, for it is not in the nature of a person not to have some loving – but all the same it was a black day for me. I cried on and off for most of it, and at one point I made up my mind to go back to him if he would have me – but then I knew it could not be. One thing I was sure of though, and that was that I would not go to the wedding – for that I could
not
have borne – and in any case it would not have been fair to Mary. In the end I wrote to him saying that I
did
understand how he was placed, and giving him and his wife-to-be my best wishes. Then I said that I hoped that
he
would understand why I did not feel able to go to the wedding and I asked him to make up some excuse for me.

On the day he was to be married I went to Haworth Church and thought about what was happening at that time in Ireland, and what Madam, whose body lay not far from where I sat, was thinking about it all. I went over all that had taken place since I had first known him, and I think it was then that the notion first came to me to write it all down – though I have not done so until now.

After that time nothing was ever the same for me, and I think that it had a lot to do with the illness that befell me at the end of 1864.

To this day I do not know what was up with me, but I was very poorly indeed and not able to do any work at all. Dr Ingham was not much help. He was very kind, and kept dosing me with this and that, but I could see that he did not know what ailed me and I was getting no better. That bothered me greatly because, the illness to one side, I was doing no work – just lying in my bed and being looked after.

In the end I told him that I thought it would be better if I went home to my Mother and my Uncle, so as not to be a burden to him and the other servants, and that perhaps the change might help.

I must say that that seemed to take a load off his mind and certainly he agreed right away. He saw to it that Mother was told and that I was taken to Sexton House in a carriage – wrapped up so warmly that I could barely breathe.

Of course, I was bothered about losing my job were I to be away for too long, but he put my mind at ease by saying that he would get by until I was better.

He kept coming to see me, but I took none of the medicines that he left. Instead I had Mother's broths and cooking, and with her nursing I slowly began to feel better and was able to go back to the Manor House in the February.

I had kept writing to Mr Nicholls all that time – much to Mother's annoyance as, in her mind, he had led me astray and then rid himself of me – and so he knew all that was going on and was very pleased that I had been able to go back to work.

Later in the year, though, Mother became ill and no matter what Dr Ingham or anybody else did for her she seemed to get no better. I was very worried about her, because there was not really anybody in the house who could nurse her all the time, and in the end I just had to ask the Doctor if he would let me go home and look after her.

Once again he was very good. He said that he too was very worried about her, and that he thought she should have someone by her.

Well, sad to tell, nothing that I or anyone else could do was enough to save her and she died in 1866. Of course, her death upset me greatly, especially as I kept thinking that perhaps she had caught what ailed her from me, but I must say that Mr Nicholls was very kind. He sent me the money to go over to Banagher and I stayed with him and his wife in Hill House.

I had thought that it would be a very uneasy stay – with what had passed between Mr Nicholls and me, and with Mary no doubt having her own thoughts about it – but we all got on very comfortably together and it was to be the first of many such visits.

I kept on at the Manor House, but all the while I was plagued by illness – which Mr Nicholls put down to Haworth being so cold and damp. Although I was barely 40 I felt worn out at times and nowhere near my usual self, and in the end I just had to give up working.

As always, Mr Nicholls was kindness itself at that time. He made sure that I had enough money, and had me over to Ireland whenever I felt like going. Once he even wrote asking me to go to live at Hill House, not as a servant but as my home, but I did not feel that I could do that. Instead I stayed in turn with members of my family – mostly my sisters.

The time came, though, when I felt that I could not carry on putting on others and that I really needed somewhere to live of my own. I said as much to Mr Nicholls and he was quick to agree. He said that I should find a place to rent that I liked and he would see to everything else.

Well, I looked and looked around Haworth and in the end I set my heart on this little cottage in Stubbing Lane and I moved in here in 1877. I do not think that Mr Nicholls thought much of my choice, nor was he very happy about me living alone, but it suited
me
and I have been very happy here. One thing I know made him laugh – on a whimsy I named it ‘Bell Cottage' and the name makes me smile many a time. Many of the villagers cannot fathom the name. I am often asked about it, but I just smile. For those who
have
worked it out it just adds to their notion that I am no better than I should be anyway, and they know what
they
can do and all!

There is little left to tell. Mr Nicholls still writes to me, and I to him, and he makes sure that I have enough money to live comfortably, with no need to work. Not only that, every year he invites me over to Ireland and sends me the money when I decide to go. I enjoy my visits, although I do not go every year. Mary and me get on very well, and now me and her are like sisters. I still love Mr Nicholls in my own quiet way, but we are both content with the way things have turned out, and it pleases me to see how he has got on. He has bought another farm since I left and seems to be on the way to becoming rich, not only from them but from what he tells me has come his way from the writings of the Brontës and other bits and pieces. I do not begrudge him that for one moment for, as I have said, he looks after me well enough.

For my part, I quite enjoy my little life, and I even have a gentleman friend in Keighley who I see from time to time, though I shall never feel for him as I do for Mr Nicholls. Sometimes he talks about us getting wed, but I have made it plain that I shall never do so. Mr Nicholls has spoiled me for other men, and in any case I am too set in my ways now to live with somebody else.

Still, enough of all that, which has naught to do with what I set out upon. I have told the
real
story of how the Brontës lived and died, and in doing so I have eased the burden which has lain upon my mind these many years – although I shall never be proud of the part that I played, and I often pray for forgiveness.

As I have said to Mr Coutts, I do not want to harm Mr Nicholls in any way, shape or form, and so I do not want what I have set down to be made known until we are both dead and have gone to make our peace with God, if such be possible. Then Mr Coutts can make such use of it as pleases him or those who come after him.

[Signed] Martha Brown

I swear on my Oath that what I have set down here is the whole truth, and I give full Authority to Mr James Coutts, of Messrs Coutts and Heppelthwaite, Solicitors, of Palmer's Buildings, Conduit Street, Keighley, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, and his Heirs, being members of the said Firm, to use both what I have written and that said to have been written by Miss Anne Brontë in any way that he or they may see fit, but only after my Death and that of Mr Arthur Bell Nicholls, of Hill House, Banagher, King's County, Ireland.

Signed this Eighth day of January in the year of our Lord One Thousand Eight Hundred and Seventy-eight.

Martha Brown

Signed by Martha Brown, in our presence who in her presence, and we in the presence of each other (all being present at the same time) have hereto subscribed our names as Witnesses.

 

[
] Nicholls' arrival with yet another English woman must have caused quite a stir in Ireland, and though Nicholls was nothing if not plausible, and had a good tale ready, there would have been many who wondered why he had brought a ‘housekeeper' all the way from England. One thing that pleased him greatly, however, was that, at long last, he had been able to give up the cloth, which was something he had wanted to do for years. Now that he had enough money to go into business that is exactly what he did. As Martha has told us, he bought a farm and moved into Hill House with her. There, once the dust had settled, he was able to give his full attention to the problem which he thought she might pose.

I suppose that, initially, he must have given thought to murdering her also, but if he did he would soon have realized that it just would not have been a feasible plan. Killing off a healthy servant girl was an entirely different kettle of fish from disposing of sickly Brontës, and anyway he still felt a strong affection for her. Little by little, therefore, he was forced to the conclusion that whatever happened would need to be by mutual consent. A happy Martha would be a safe Martha – but he could not decide what, precisely, should be done.