The Crimes of Charlotte Bronte

by James Tully

  Soon it was November, and cold and dark, and I seem to recall an East wind bitter enough to cut you in half. I always hated the Winter, but that one sticks in my mind because Madam told me she would be away for a week or two over Christmas – never mind how her father was – and so I would be in charge of the Parsonage as far as anything that mattered went, and I was of a mind to make the most of it. It would be nice to be rid of her – especially as she had been in a black mood for weeks – but that apart I meant to see more of Mr Nicholls, and I really looked forward to that, and cheering him up, as he had begun to look so down.

  As it turned out, all my hopes came true and Christmas 1850 was one of the nicest that I ever had. With Madam away, and only Mr Brontë and Miss Aykroyd to look after, there was nowhere near as much work to do and so I had more time to make everything ready, myself included.

  One thing in particular that pleased me was that we had our Christmas gifts from Mr Brontë just as before, but with about twice as much in them as we had expected.

  It came about like this. As Christmas was nearing I had said in passing to Mr Nicholls that I hoped we would get our money that year. He had asked me what I meant, and I had told him how we had got nothing for the last 2 years. He was very concerned, and said I should leave it up to him. Then, without saying what he was going to do, he went to see Mr Brontë. Without mention of my name, he told him he had learned that the staff had had nothing the year before and were wondering if they were going to get anything that year.

  Seemingly Mr Brontë was most put out, and said that the deaths of Miss Emily and Miss Anne must have put the matter out of his mind. Mr Nicholls told me that the mention of the deaths seemed to affect the old man greatly, and he was pleased to take up Mr Nicholls’ offer to make up the envelopes, as I had told him had been Miss Emily’s custom. Mr Nicholls then got enough money from Mr Brontë to make sure that we all got about twice as much as usual, but he saw to it that I had even more! He pledged me to secrecy about that though, because he did not want it getting back to the others, but said that I should have more than them anyway because now I was really in charge of everything.

  The extra money was a boon. I was able to buy some things I had wanted for a long while, and I was able to make it up to my family for having had naught the years before. On top of all else though – and what pleased me more than I can say – I was able to buy a present for Mr Nicholls. It was a pocket-book, and it cost a lot, but he still uses it to this very day. He said that I should not have bothered, but it was evident that he was very touched when I gave it to him, although he was very put out that he had bought naught for me. That did not bother me – my present was in seeing him so pleased – however, within the week, he gave me a little brooch of Forget-Me-Nots and I was so happy that I could not stop crying. It made me very sad though that I could not wear it, for everyone would have wanted to know where it came from. I had to hide it away carefully for many years, but now I am rarely seen without it.

  Then, after Christmas, she came home and a long miserable time began.

  I had hoped that she would come back from Miss Nussey’s in better spirits than when she went, but she did not. Indeed she was very down, and snapped at everyone including, as he told me, Mr Nicholls. He said that he had told her off about it, and that she had said she was sorry, but she felt so tired after all the work she had done before December.

  Anyway, what with her being as she was, and me having but rare meetings with Mr Nicholls, and the nasty weather, I was glad when the Spring of 1851 came with the promise of warm and light days ahead.

  I recall that it was about that time that her spirits lifted as well. That came about after a young man who was something to do with her books came to see her. When he had gone she was cock-a-hoop and hardly seemed able to wait to tell folk that he had proposed marriage to her. I thought she was making it up, but Mr Nicholls did not and I could not understand why it seemed to upset him so much. When I said that to him I was taken aback at how he snapped at me and said I did not know the half of it. It was so unlike him to speak to me in such a manner that I must confess that I snapped back. I told him that I was not going to be spoken to like that, and that perhaps he should tell me what I did not know, but he would not and I did not like that.

  Later I tried to cheer him up by telling him that she was making plans to go away again in the May, but that seemed to displease him even more and I wished I had kept my mouth shut. Seemingly she had not told him, but she had to put me on notice because she said that she would be gone for some weeks and there was a lot to be thought about. Even so, I could not understand why he should be so cross-grained, because I thought it such good news. With her away, and the better weather coming, he and I would be able to spend far more time together and I was really looking forward to it. However, he would not come out of his gloom, and that upset me because I did not know what was going on and I felt I should.

  When she did go I hoped he would change, but he did not and I became very out of patience with him, so much so that I picked up with Tom Oliver, a lad from Oxenhope.

  His father was the carter, and sometimes Tom used to do some of the deliveries himself. Although he was a bit younger than me, whenever he came to the Parsonage on his own he used to make a point of staying longer than it took and talking to me. Sometimes, when nobody was about, I would ask him into the kitchen and give him a drink because it was nice to have someone different to talk to and he made me laugh with his tales. He was a good-looking lad, and very quick, and we so took to each other that he started to ask me to go out with him. Well, I had always said ‘No’, although he would have had the use of his father’s cart, because the only one in my mind up till then had been Mr Nicholls. But when he got to being so cross I made up my mind to teach him a lesson, and the next time I was asked out I went.

  Tom called for me at our house one evening, and I was ready for him. I had taken a lot of care with my person and I knew that I was looking at my best, and that showed in his eyes when he helped me up next to him. What really pleased me though was that he had brought me a little posy tied with ribbon, and I could not but help giving him a peck on the cheek for it. That made him red, but we both laughed and it was then that I noticed Mr Nicholls glowering at me.

  Mother and one of my sisters had come to the front door to see me off, and he must have wondered what all the hullabaloo was about because he had come down and was standing behind them. They could not see his face, but I could and it was as black as our grate. That pleased me even more than the posy, and I thought ‘Serves you right’ as we set off in high spirits with me waving all the while until we had rounded the corner.

  We did not go far that night, either in miles or in other ways, but as time went by we went to places that I had never seen, and sometimes we would stop at inns where I would wait outside whilst he brought the drinks. I began to allow him to become more and more familiar with me but, mind you, I never allowed him the liberties that I allowed Mr Nicholls, although the little that I did allow seemed to please the lad quite enough.

  Of course, in a place like Haworth, it was but a matter of time before she got to hear that I was ‘walking out’ as she put it, and for some reason it seemed to please her greatly. She always wanted to know where I had been or where I was going, and she took to lending me little things of hers or her sisters to wear. Then when Miss Nussey came to stay at the Parsonage in the Summer she must have told her because she would sometimes pull my leg about my beau.

  All in all, that was not a good time for poor Mr Nicholls. I was not seeing him, and Miss Nussey – who for some reason he seemed to dislike very much – was there. It did not surprise me at all, therefore, that later he went off to Ireland for a while, but it mazed Madam.

  He had not told her, or me come to that, that he had arranged the holiday with Mr Brontë a couple of months before – about the time I had started seeing Tom Oliver – and I did not find that out until later. He had said naught to anyone in Hawo
rth, and so we all felt at that time that he was going because he was out of sorts with us all.

  Long after, he told me that the main reason why he went off was to give Miss Charlotte a taste of her own medicine. If she thought it was right and proper that she could just clear off at a moment’s notice whenever she thought fit, leaving him to watch out for her father, he thought he would let her see if she liked it when the shoe was on the other foot. To use his own words, as far as I can recall them, ‘She thought she had me fast, and I wanted to show her that she had not.’ He did say, though, that if I had not been so flighty at the time he would probably have stayed and taken it out on her in other ways – because he had ill afforded the cost of the journey – but I told him that that was his own fault. In the light of other things, though, I think that the real truth of the matter was that he needed a little quiet to think in because, although I did not know it at the time, his way of life was not to his taste but he did not know how to change it.

  He was away for 6 whole weeks, and she was out of sorts with everybody for most of that time. She kept making nasty remarks about him, and I wondered what had gone amiss between them. Once, in quite an innocent fashion, I asked her when he was coming back and she snapped at me that she did not know and hoped he never would, but that it was none of my business anyway.

  From time to time, however, she seemed more at ease, and she went back to offering to lend me little things to wear when I was going out. Somehow, though, I was able to put her off without her taking offence. I had long since made up my mind that I would take nothing more from that little Madam, what with her blowing hot and cold to me in accord with her moods. Also I had not liked her telling Miss Nussey my business, and I had the feeling that they were laughing at me behind my back.

  Then Mr Nicholls came back, and it was as if a great load had been lifted from her mind. He, though, seemed as displeased as he had been when he left and hardly spoke two words to me in the first few days he was home. That made me think that he was still out with me about the lad, although when I had the chance to ask him what was wrong he said that it was naught to do with me. Even so, I thought that I had taught him lesson enough and I made up my mind to finish with Tom Oliver.

  I did not like doing it to him as we had had some good times, but I felt it just had to be – Mr Nicholls apart. Tom had been becoming very earnest, and had begun to talk of us being wed some time. That was not to my liking at all though. I had no wish to end up as a carter’s wife stuck in a place like Oxenhope – or even Haworth, come to that – my mind was set upon better things.

  Tom did not take it very well at all – in point of fact he turned quite nasty once he found that he could not get me to change my mind. He said that I had taken him for a fool, and that I would make him a laughing-stock with his family and mates. Seemingly he had been putting it about that we were going to wed, and now he felt that I had let him down. When I told him that I had never thought of such a thing he became very angry and said that I had just led him on for his money.

  That did it. We were not far from our house so I was off the cart and in the door in a trice. I suppose that it was true that I had used him simply to get back at Mr Nicholls, but I had never wanted him to spend the money on me that he had always been bent on doing – in any case, he had had good value for it.

  Later I found out that he had told some of his mates what we used to get up to from time to time, and had made up even more, and I was more angry than I have ever been in my life. The next time he came to the Parsonage on business I smacked his face hard, and did not care who saw me. I have not spoken to him again to this day. In time he married a lass from Thornton, and then took over from his father when he died. As I understand it, they have had 6 children out of which 4 died, and his poor wife now looks old before her time, and is living the kind of life that I had been in dread of – so I have never cried over that spilled milk!

  Of course, it soon got round our gossipy village that Tom and me were not going out together any more, but even so I made a point of telling Mr Nicholls myself. He put on a show of not being bothered either way, but I could tell that really he was pleased and it was not long before we were contriving the odd meeting, but not as often as I wanted.

  Autumn went, and yet again there was the prospect of a long, cold, dark Winter. I hated the very thought of it, and was really down. I should have counted my blessings though, because in October and November everyone in the Parsonage and our house was taken with illness. If it was not one thing it was another, and as fast as I got over something I fell for something else, and it seemed that we were all taking it in turn to be bedridden.

  In between my spells of being laid up I had, of course, to work, and it was more miserable than ever. The Parsonage was ice cold, and there was more work, what with people being in bed and all the fetching and carrying for them. I felt very weak and down, and could manage hardly a civil word to anyone. Then, of all things, I did not have my monthly showing and I was worried and felt worse than ever.

  The only thing that went any way to giving me some cheer was that she was taken worse than any of us. Of course, she had a doctor in to see her – the rest of us just had to get on with it – but he did not really seem to know what was up with her. Her being laid up really seemed to cheer Mr Nicholls though. He was having a rough time like the rest of us – with a terrible cold and cough in particular – but he never took to his bed, and he was not out of sorts in his mind with it as we all were, and he went out of his way to try to cheer me.

  It was only very much later that I came to think that, somehow, he may have had something to do with her illness, which was quite unlike anything else that was going around – especially as she was very ill again after Christmas when most folk were better again.

  Christmas had been a very quiet time, with most folk content just to be indoors with no work, either in bed in the warm or huddled around the fire. Of course, I had to work, but not for as long as on other days, and I did manage to meet Mr Nicholls once after Evensong.

  Thankfully, all my troubles had cleared up and so I was feeling much better and looking quite my old self. Certainly Mr Nicholls seemed to think so, for he was very ardent and made me feel quite wanted.

  So the New Year of 1852 came, but one person who was not pleased to see it was her for, as I have said, she was laid very low again. I did not suspect then what was up with her, and the doctor did not seem to know any more than me. Apart from all else, her mouth was in a state such as I have never seen before or since, and it made me feel quite off just to look at it. She could eat nothing at all, and broth and suchlike had to be taken from a feeding cup. We had to do everything for her, and her bedclothes sometimes had to be changed twice in one day. I hated it; what with her mouth, and the smell and the washing I felt sick at times and like to faint.

  In the end, thank goodness, she came to something of her usual self – at the end of January, I think it was – and then, to our great joy, she managed to get over to Miss Nussey’s for a couple of weeks. She was quite recovered when she came back, and very much her old self, and that made me think even more about what might be happening to her in the Parsonage. Straightaway she went back to her writing – and to Mr Nicholls – and that did not please me, but I just had to put up with it and try to make the best of things.

  Slowly, very slowly it seemed that year, Spring was at last upon us, and after such an awful Winter I could at last begin to think about warm days and sunshine – and evenings with Mr Nicholls. Well the warm days and sunshine came, but I saw Mr Nicholls only on and off, and then it was but for very short times. You may imagine then how cheered I was when, in May, she told me that she would shortly be going to the seaside. Once again I wished that I was going, but still it was good news because she would be away and Mr Nicholls and me would be free of her for a while. I could not wait for her to be off.

  It was a blissful time for me whilst she was away. There was little work at the Parsonage, weather th
at I loved, and no her. Mind you, I was quite put out, and just could not understand it, when Mr Nicholls suddenly went away for a few days during that time. He warned Mother that he was going, but he did not tell me and when I asked him where he was off to all he would say was that he was going to see a friend of his who was also in the Church. Knowing him as well as I did by then, I thought I sensed something in his manner that told me that he was hiding something – but that may just have been imagining on my part.

  Anyway he was only gone for 3 days and then, a week or so later, she came back and settled down to her writing again. She seemed very happy, and was very talkative with me, but it was not long before her mood changed.

  For a start, Mr Brontë was taken with some kind of fit that left him with one arm very bad, and hanging by his side, and he could talk only out of the side of his mouth. He could not eat properly for a while either, and we had to make beef tea for him in a feeding cup until he got back to a little of his old self. She had to do all the feeding, with a tiny spoon, and she would get very cross about the time it took when she thought she ought to have been writing. Once she asked me to do it, but I did not feel it was my place to do something like that and said so. She was not very pleased, but she had, perforce, to take what I said – that I was there only to see to the housework, and was not a nurse.

  Then there was some kind of row between her and Miss Nussey. I never got right to the bottom of it; all I know is that Mr Nicholls has told me that she was spreading tales about her and him, and so he took steps to put an end to their friendship.

  I think, though, that the main thing was that Miss Charlotte was very down about how she was placed with her life. After all, and never mind about all that she had had to say about the men who wanted to wed her, nobody had and she was fast becoming an old maid, and I do not think that the prospect was very pleasing to her. Mr Nicholls has told me that she acted very odd to him at the time. One minute she was all around him, but the next he could scarce get a word out of her.