The Crimes of Charlotte Bronte

by James Tully

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart.’

  Job 17:11

  Just as Madam had done, I found the journey to Ireland both exciting and tiring. Never in my life had I been so far from Haworth, or been on a boat, or seen so many new things. I could not help but remember how I had wished it was me when Mr Nicholls took Madam on the same journey, and now I could not believe that it was really happening to me. Indeed it all passed like a dream – and seems so even now – from which I did not awake until we came at last to the home of Mr Nicholls’ family at Banagher.

  This was something I had been dreading. As it happened, though, everybody was very nice to me – much nicer, Mr Nicholls told me, than they had been to Madam. On the way over, I had asked him what he had told them about me and how he was going to pass me off, but he told me not to worry. They already knew of me from his mention of me over the years, and now he had told them that I was a good friend who was coming with him to help him set up his new home. They had asked no questions, and he had said no more.

  It was a grand house where the family lived, and I was given a bedroom the like of which I had never seen before – or, indeed, since. I was so glad that I had talked Mr Nicholls into taking me over to Keighley before we left, where I had spent some of my sovereigns on buying new clothes and other bits and pieces that he helped me to choose, for I did not feel at all out of place. Indeed, Mr Nicholls told me that I settled in with his family, and they with me, far easier than Madam had done. Seemingly she had also bought new clothes, but she had not asked for any help from him and so she had looked very much out of place there and all the time seemed bent upon making folk believe that she was far grander than she was.

  We stayed at the house for just over 2 months, and during that time Mr Nicholls showed me lots of places and we had many long talks. First of all, we spoke about what he was going to do for a living, and he told me that he had already made up his mind that he was going to leave the Church, which he had never really liked. He said that he had talked it over with his family and friends, and they had all said he could do worse than become, of all things, a farmer!

  That was something that I had not expected, for I had not thought that he would wish to work hard and dirty his hands, but after he told me the ins and outs of it I saw that it did not have to be like that for him; so I said that if that was what he wanted I would be happy to be a farmer’s wife – for I had never known a poor one in spite of all of them always carrying on as if they did not have a penny to bless themselves with.

  Then, little by little over the weeks he told me what he said was the whole story of the deaths in the Brontë family – although I suspect that still I do not know everything – and of the feelings of everyone at the time and the parts they played. Of course, I already knew some of it, and suspected some more, but even so I was taken aback by some of the secrets he seemed to feel free to tell me then – and others that he has dropped since – and to this day I do not really know how I think of him all in all. He has told me, he says, of everything that led up to the deaths, and the way he puts it I feel when he is speaking to me that there was little other that he could have done. Later, though, when we are apart, doubts come to me and sometimes I see him as the ‘black-hearted Irishman’ that Father called him. So I had my doubts about him then, and still do, but I can speak only as I find and he has always been good to me, and I know that he loved me once even if he perhaps does not do so now.

  Anyway, during the time with his family he was out and about, sometimes for whole days, looking at farms, and there seemed to be so many for sale that I wondered why and whether he was doing the right thing. I put that to him, gently, but he told me not to fret – it all depended upon how much money you had behind you to run things and how you went about doing them, and he knew full well what he was about. So he carried on looking, and then the day arrived when he came in, all happy and excited, saying that at last he had found what he wanted, and he was sure I would like it as well. He wasted no time, but the very next morning he took me off to see it and I loved it – Hill House – just as much as he did, and so he shook hands with the farmer and the deal was done.

  As soon as all the paperwork was settled, Mr Nicholls took on 4 men to help him with the farm, and 2 girls to give me a hand with getting the house to rights after the workmen had finished making it sound and painting it as we wished. When I say that he took on the girls, by that I mean he brought some to see me and took them on after I had chosen the ones I liked – which made me feel very grand and much happier than I would have been if he had just taken them on without asking me – and I thought him very caring for doing so.

  Well, Mistress or not, for such was how they addressed me, I was not going to be another Madam. I worked alongside them and as hard as they did, and we cleaned that house from attics to cellars until you could have eaten off the floor. Then Mr Nicholls sent to England for the things that he had kept from the Parsonage to be sent over, and in the meantime we went out buying other things – which was a great joy for me. I must own up to it, I have always liked shopping and spending money – but then I felt even more happy for, to my mind, I was setting up my very first home of my own and I wanted everything to be right.

  In the end everything was finished just as we wanted, and the place looked lovely – as I had always thought that the Parsonage could have looked had enough money been spent on it, instead of in dribs and drabs – and there were curtains to the windows. My girls had worked very hard and so I gave them some extra money without telling Mr Nicholls. I had been very surprised when he told me how little they and the men would work for. My wages at the Parsonage had never been very good, but theirs were so miserable that I felt quite shamed each week when I paid them and I wanted them to know that I was pleased with them. What Mr Nicholls did with the men was up to him.

  At first it did not seem possible that all the work at Hill House was finished, and that we were in our own home at last. Mr Nicholls and me had separate bedrooms, which had been his suggestion, and I must say that I did not take to the notion at first. Then, though, he told me that that was how all the best folk went on, and I could have mine painted and made as I wished, and could use it as my own little sitting room as well, and so I agreed for, after I had thought about it, I liked the thought of having somewhere of my very own.

  For those first months we lived as happily together as two people ever could, and Mr Nicholls started saying that if we were to be wed we should start about setting a date. Something now held me back, though, for, little by little, I had begun to have doubts about the whole business.

  At first, it had all been new and exciting, and there had been so much to do that I hardly had a moment to think. Then, once we moved in, I enjoyed being Mistress in my own house – especially when Mr Nicholls was away on business – and learning things about the farm, and keeping chickens and all manner of things. Slowly, though, as happens in most lives, we settled into a way of life – but it seemed to have more bad about it than good for me.

  We always got up very early, and I did not mind that one whit for I had done so all my life, but then Mr Nicholls was out for most of the day and I found myself doing very much the same as I had done at the Parsonage – but amongst strangers. In the main, the only folk I saw during the day were the girls, and sometimes one of the men, and what with me being from England and their Mistress as well they did not seem able to let themselves go with me. I tried to talk to them, and to learn as much as possible about their lives and the places thereabouts, and to be as friendly as I could, but it was no good – I did not understand half that they said, nor them me, and there was always a bar between us.

  I found myself becoming more and more lonely and homesick. I missed my family and Milly Oldfield more than I had ever thought possible, and even started thinking more fondly of Haworth and the folk there. The weather did not help either, but then I never was happy in
the Winter. In truth it was far warmer than Haworth at that time of year, but it seemed to do nothing but rain, so that the yard was like to a quagmire. I could not go out, and there was mud everywhere so that I started to see the newness going from our lovely house far sooner than I had thought.

  Sometimes we went into town in the little horse and trap that Mr Nicholls had bought, but whilst he knew everyone and enjoyed himself nobody spoke to me unless they had to and I stopped going. As for Mr Nicholls’ family, they were always very nice to me and I got on well with his cousins, but they were far above me in station and I never really felt fully at ease when we went there, especially with us not being wed and all – not that I could see things changing much when we were. Some of his cousins had told me of how they had felt about him marrying Madam, and I may have been wrong but I had little doubt that they would not feel much different about me.

  It was going on for Christmas 1862 when I knew for sure that I could stay in Ireland no longer. By then I was homesick beyond recall, and nothing that Mr Nicholls or his family tried to do to cheer me up could make me feel any better.

  Looking back, I think that, in a way, it was probably Mr Nicholls himself who had started me thinking in earnest of going home. In the August he had gone to England on business and had then stayed with his friend Mr Grant at Oxenhope, near Haworth. They had gone into Haworth several times and when he came back he told me that he had seen my Mother, and made me laugh with some of the things that were going on in the village and what folk that I knew were getting up to. That started me thinking of home again, though, and as thoughts began turning towards Christmas I missed being there with my family, and remembered only too well all the good times that I had had shopping and getting presents ready and going to parties and dances and suchlike with my friends. I do not think that I have ever been so miserable and, all in all, I was sorry that I had come, but I did not know how to get out of it, and in the end I had to have a proper talk with Mr Nicholls to see how he would feel if I went back.

  It was not something that I looked forward to, for I must say that he was very loving to me all the while, even when I was out of sorts and not good company, and I could not have wished to have been treated more kindly – although, being the worrier that I am, I often wondered how much of that was real and how much because of what I knew and because I had Miss Anne’s book. Then there was the feeling that he and his family might think secretly that he was marrying beneath him, and I did not want to hurt him in that way. No, I loved him far too much to force him into a marriage that he did not want, and certainly I did not wish him to come to think of me as he had of Madam – and end up as she had done.

  Anyway, one night I told him most of how I felt, and then sat back and waited to see what he would say.

  I suppose that, in my secret thoughts, I had really expected that he would be pleased at the idea of getting shut of me, and so I looked at him closely for any signs of pleasure, however much he might try to hide them, but I saw none – in fact very much the contrary. Either he was a better actor than I knew he could be or he showed real feeling, but to this day it pleases me to think that the second was the truth for he seemed really put out and looked at me for a long while with what I felt to be real sadness all over his face.

  In the end he said that he truly did not want me to go, and would be most unhappy if I did. He spoke of how well we got on together, and asked if there was anything – anything at all – that he could do to make my life happier. For example, would I like to go back to Haworth for visits from time to time, or have my sisters or Milly Oldfield over to stay when the weather was better? Little did he know that I had already thought of those things, and some others, but I had come to see that whilst they would help they would not answer my needs in full. I told him that, and we talked on for quite a while, and in the end he came to see that I was in earnest and said that if going back was what I really wanted he felt too much for me to stand in my way – even if he could. He wished, though, that I would think on for a while longer to see if I changed my mind, especially with the coming of the better weather. If I did not, we would have to come to some agreement for the future. I did not know what he meant by that at the time, but I let it pass for there had been enough deep talking for one night.

  Well, I let a month or so go by, and in that time Mr Nicholls did everything he could to make me happier, and I felt so sorry for him when I just had to tell him that I was sure that I wanted to go home. Again he seemed very sad, and I thought that I saw a tear in his eye, but he told me that he would stick to his promise not to try to hold me against my will, and would do all that he could to help me. He said that we should talk about what I was going to do and where I was going to live when I got back, for he thought that things might be hard for me in Haworth on my own, and he did not wish to see me in want, so he would see to it that I was never in need of money. There was a great deal more in that vein, but it is enough to say here that what we settled on pleased us both.

  Mr Nicholls came all the way to the boat with me, and we stayed overnight at an inn. That night we made love for what we both believed, in our deepest thoughts, would be the last time and it was something that I shall never forget. There was such gentleness and passion mixed that next morning I felt drained. When it came time for us to part I hung on to him crying so much that I was like to change my mind, but I knew that things had gone too far for that.

  Almost the next thing I knew I was back in Haworth for Christmas, but it was not the joy that I had expected. Everything was as if I had never left, with all the stares and the nudging, and the gossip and jeering that I knew was going on.

  The last straw came when, after only a few weeks, Mother asked me what I had in mind to do with myself, for she did not know that I had some money of my own and also that Mr Nicholls had seen me right when I left. She kept on and on about me getting a job as soon as possible and trying to live down my past, as she put it, until I felt I would scream every time she opened her mouth. My Uncle was not much better either. He said that there was no chance of me getting my old job back at the Parsonage as the new man, a Mr Wade, had brought his own servants with him – as if that bothered me, for I could never have faced going into that house again.

  Anyway, that was that. Already I was missing Mr Nicholls and, oddly enough, Ireland, and what with that and everything I had come back to I made up my mind to leave Haworth. I wrote to my sister Ann, by then Ann Binns, who was living with her husband Ben in Saltaire, and asked if she could put me up for a while until I had sorted things out. We had always got on well together, so I felt sure they would have me – and they did.

  Well, I was there for quite a time, and Ann and Ben were very good to me, but all along I kept thinking about what I was going to do with myself next because I did not want to outstay my welcome.

  I thought about going into service somewhere away from Haworth and all the tittle-tattle, but somehow I did not fancy being amongst folk I did not know. The whole thing went round and round in my mind, and I began to feel quite bothered about it all, but then it was all settled by a letter from Milly Oldfield.

  She told me that old Dr Ingham’s housekeeper had died and that he was badly in need of somebody to take her place, and said that she had thought of me right away.

  Now I knew the Doctor, and he knew me well enough, and I was sure that he would take me on. Not only that, I knew that his house – which was the old Manor House by Cook Gate – would be much easier to take care of than the Parsonage, but I could not make up my mind whether I wanted to go back to Haworth again. All of my being yearned to be back where I belonged, but I wondered if I could stand all the talk.

  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 we
nt 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.