The Secret Adventures of Charlotte Bronte tsaocb-1

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “Nothing has happened,” I mumbled, turning away from Mr. Slade. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go back to the children.”

  I felt Mr. Slade-and Captain Innes-watching me as I hurried up the stairs. On an upper terrace I found Vicky, Bertie, and little Alfred rambling about with the Prince Consort and the Duchess of Norfolk. The Queen was absent, to my relief.

  “Ah, there you are, Miss Bronte,” the Duchess said with a welcoming smile. “Come join us.”

  I did, grateful for her friendliness. The rest of that morning, her blithe conversation enlivened the party. The children were fond of her; Bertie behaved with more decorum while in her presence; even the somber Prince Consort cheered up. That afternoon, when the Queen and Prince Consort went driving in a pony cart, the Duchess helped me tend the children. I was glad to have her company, for I noticed Mr. Slade and Captain Innes loitering nearby, and her presence kept them both away from me.

  But I couldn’t stop thinking about the vial of opium hidden in my room. I couldn’t deny that the next day I would have to deliver the children into Kuan’s hands or condemn my own family to a terrible death. As the hours passed, I became certain that I could do neither.

  My apprehension increased during dinner and the musical entertainment afterward. By the time I retired to my chamber, my heart agitated within my ribs like a bird beating its wings against the bars of a cage. I paced the floor while the clock ticked a cadence of doom. At three in the morning, unable to sleep or sit still or bear the waiting any longer, I flung my cloak over my shoulders and raced out of the castle.

  The freezing Highland wind gusted at me, stirring the dark forests. The moon and stars shone icy silver radiance upon the castle’s turrets and the snow-peaked mountains. The vast, dark landscape seemed haunted by ancient Scottish ghosts; wolves howled. I ran through the night, as if by running I could escape from Kuan. While I ran, I wept. I stumbled through woods, over rocks and fallen branches, caring naught that I didn’t know where I was going.

  Suddenly I struck an obstacle that emerged from the shadows. It was neither tree nor stone, but flesh and blood. Strong hands seized me, arresting my flight. I cried out in terror and fought wildly until I heard Mr. Slade exclaim, “Miss Bronte! What are you doing?”

  He released me. I sank to my knees, sobbing while I panted with exertion. I remembered how little Mr. Slade slept at night; he had probably come out of his lodgings for a walk in the fresh air. Some instinctive impulse must have guided me to him.

  “Help me,” I cried. The words I’d held in all day burst from me like water through a dam weakened by its pressure. “Please-you must save them!”

  “Who?” Mr. Slade said, perplexed.

  “Papa. Anne. Emily. Branwell.” Gasps punctuated the names I spoke. “They’re in terrible danger!”

  Mr. Slade crouched before me and peered into my face, trying to make sense of me. “What kind of danger?”

  “They’ve been taken prisoner,” I said.

  “How do you know this?”

  “At the parsonage,” I babbled through my sobs. “He’ll kill them unless I-”

  “Who? What?” Then enlightenment cleared the confusion from Mr. Slade’s eyes. “It’s Kuan, isn’t it? His accomplice has approached you. Kuan has taken your family hostage to force your cooperation in the kidnapping.” Mr. Slade grasped my shoulders. “Who is the accomplice? When and how is the kidnapping to take place?”

  “I can’t tell you.” I rose, pulled free of Mr. Slade, and fled before he could press me for answers.

  “Miss Bronte!” Mr. Slade called. “Wait!”

  I rushed headlong into the forest. Branches leapt out of the darkness and raked my face. I crashed into trees, groped around them. The wind howled past me and the earth sloped steeply downward beneath my feet. I lost my balance and tumbled head over heels down a hill, screaming as rocks battered me all the way to the bottom. Dizzy and sore, I stood up but was too exhausted to run any farther. Mr. Slade barreled down the hill and skidded to a stop near me.

  “Leave me alone,” I cried, raising my hand to forestall more questions.

  His arms locked around me. “I want to help you, and I promise I will, but first you must tell me everything.”

  We were in a clearing in the forest. Trees held the moon in their foliage. I could see Mr. Slade’s eyes intent on me, feel the rhythm of his breathing. My need to confide shattered my will to resist.

  “Captain Innes is the accomplice,” I said in a small, forlorn voice. “The kidnapping is set for tomorrow night. Captain Innes has instructed me to drug the children with laudanum. Then we shall deliver them to Kuan. He’ll free my family afterward.” I felt relief at unburdening myself, but a terrible dread because I had disobeyed Kuan. “Unless I do as he wishes, he’ll kill them.”

  “Good God,” Mr. Slade said. He clasped me to him; I wept unabashedly against his shoulder. “I should have known Kuan would do something like this. I should have known he would try to use your family against you. This is my fault.”

  “No,” I said. “The fault is mine. I didn’t tell you everything that went on between Kuan and me in Cornwall. If I had, then perhaps we both would have foreseen what he would do and prevented it.” At the thought of my family captive, frightened, and helpless, a fresh spate of sobs erupted from me. “I can’t let them die. But I can’t hurt those children!”

  “You won’t,” Mr. Slade assured me.

  “But what is to be done?”

  “I’ll send agents to Haworth at once to rescue your family. In the meantime…” He related a plan that seemed a good means of thwarting the kidnapping and capturing Kuan. “Can you do what is required of you?”

  “Yes,” I said fervently. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

  I wept tears of joy that there was some hope for our success and for my family’s salvation. I felt immense gratitude towards Mr. Slade, who had released me from terror and despair. But in the wake of those strong, departing emotions, other emotions rushed in. I became suddenly conscious of Mr. Slade holding me, the warmth from his chest against my cheek, his hard, muscular arms, his trousers touching my skirts, of the fact that we were far from anyone else. Suddenly there surged through me the torrent of desire that I had tried to suppress for so long. My breath caught. I heard Mr. Slade’s catch at the same moment. His arms tightened around me. Slowly I raised my face. Mr. Slade was gazing at me, his features lit by the moon yet dark with serious thoughts. He inhaled a deep breath, like a man preparing to dive into the ocean, then bent his head towards me.

  Our lips met, his warm and firm upon mine, in the kiss that I had longed for all my life. My eyes closed as powerful sensations of pleasure and mortal fear spread through my entire self. I was falling through darkness. Images flashed through my mind-the curate William Weightman, Monsieur Heger. My feelings for them had been nothing compared to this hunger for Mr. Slade. My lips involuntarily parted. His tongue entered and found mine. Oh, the shocking, wet, intimate, thrilling contact! It seemed that our souls and thoughts fused. I saw the visage of a beautiful woman-his deceased wife. I felt in him the desire unsatisfied during seven years of mourning.

  We kissed again and again, each kiss deeper and more fevered. Mr. Slade moved his hands up from my waist; he clasped my bosom. I allowed it, even though I knew I shouldn’t. So intoxicating were my sensations that they shattered all vestiges of self-control, all thoughts of propriety. Mr. Slade drew me to the ground-or I drew him; I know not which. We lay together on the soft bed of fallen leaves. The trees vaulted like a cathedral ceiling above us. The moonlight shone down on us, white and pure. As Mr. Slade kissed and caressed me, the heavy layers of my clothing seemed to vanish, and I felt each caress as though upon my bare skin. Need overcame inhibition. I dared to touch Mr. Slade in a place where I’d thought I would never touch a man. Through his trousers I felt, for the first time in my life, masculine arousal. A profound awe moved me. My desire quickened to an unbearable frenzy. I clutched at Mr. Slade, pullin
g him atop me.

  “Please,” I cried.

  Mr. Slade hesitated, gasping. On his face I saw lust reined in by apprehension: He knew the risk that an illicit carnal union posed for a woman, and although I was beyond caring about it, he was cautious on my behalf. Not one garment of mine or his did he remove or disarrange. He did not ravish me as I would gladly have allowed. Instead he lowered himself onto me, and we moved together. My body arched against his. As the rhythm of our movements accelerated, my pleasure rose towards heights I had never imagined possible. A terrifying, wonderful alchemy turned everything in me to molten fire. The most incredible rapture I had ever experienced pulsed through me. I exclaimed in joy and amazement. This was the ecstasy hinted at but never actually described in love stories I’d read. This was what I had unknowingly yearned for during lonely nights spent indulging in secret fantasies.

  I clung to Mr. Slade. His breaths came faster as he thrust himself harder and more insistently at me. Suddenly he flung back his head; he uttered a groan. I felt him shudder with the pleasure of his release. Then a sigh eased the tension from him. My own ecstasy yielded to quiet bliss. We lay side by side, embracing. It seemed that we floated together in some private universe high above the world.

  “Forgive me,” Mr. Slade said, his voice filled with guilt and regret. “I should not have let this happen.”

  I kissed away his apology. “There’s nothing to forgive,” I said, for I was as much to blame as he, and I had no regrets. At that moment, my love for him justified all sins.

  Slade caressed my hair. “I must confess that I’ve been wanting you ever since that day on the moors.”

  Delighted I was to learn that my feelings had not been unrequited. Although the forest was cold, I wished we could stay there forever. But a lightening of the sky presaged dawn. We disengaged, rose, and walked, hand in hand, until we reached the edge of the forest and Balmoral Castle was in sight.

  “I’ll see you soon. Don’t worry,” Mr. Slade said, “all will be well.”

  We kissed one last time, then he headed back towards his lodgings, while I hurried into the castle. I was giddy with excitement and happiness. It was not until later that I began to think clearly on what had happened between Mr. Slade and me. It was not until morning that our plans foundered terribly.

  37

  Too often our plans fail not because they lack merit or because we mishandle their execution. Sometimes they go awry due to the folly of another person whose motives run counter to ours. Alas, I experienced this hard lesson at the worst possible time.

  Two mornings after Captain Innes approached me with Kuan’s orders, a solemn gathering took place in the Balmoral Castle drawing room. The Queen and Prince Consort sat on a chintz-covered sofa. Mr. Slade and I, and Foreign Office agents armed with rifles, stood against walls hung with faded floral wallpaper. Beyond the open French doors, the children played in the sunny garden. Lord Unwin posed dramatically in the center of the room.

  “Your Majesty, Your Highness,” he said in his most pompous manner, “I am pleased to announce that I have discovered the identity of Mr. Kuan’s accomplice.”

  Last night Mr. Slade had informed Lord Unwin about Captain Innes. Thereafter, Lord Unwin had insisted upon taking full charge and breaking the news to the Queen. Now she and her husband leaned forward in surprise.

  “Well?” she said. “Who is it?”

  “It is Captain Innes,” Lord Unwin said.

  Mr. Slade looked unhappy, although not because Lord Unwin was taking credit for the discovery. He didn’t trust Lord Unwin to handle the matters that remained. I was so worried about my family that I could barely stand still. Knowing that Mr. Slade’s men were on the way to their rescue gave me little comfort, for Haworth was far from Scotland.

  “Surely Captain Innes cannot be the accomplice to the kidnapping!” the Queen cried in disbelief.

  “He has been in my wife’s service since she took the throne,” said the Prince Consort. “He has always been devoted to her.”

  Other worries further disturbed me. Even while such momentous events were taking place, I could not cease thinking about what had transpired between Mr. Slade and me last night. By yielding myself to Mr. Slade, by compromising my chastity, I had pledged him my heart all the more, but what did our lovemaking mean to him?

  “Captain Innes has betrayed Your Majesty’s trust.” Lord Unwin smiled: He enjoyed the attention he was finally getting. “He revealed himself to Miss Bronte last night.”

  Lord Unwin described the events I had related to Mr. Slade and displayed the opium vial the captain had given me. The Queen shook her head, incredulous. The Prince Consort said to me, “Is that an accurate account?”

  I could tell that he didn’t trust Lord Unwin either. “It is, Your Highness.”

  The Queen clutched her bosom. “That I trusted him when he had evil designs against us! This is a shocking revelation.” Crimson anger suffused her face; her luminous eyes shot sparks. She spoke in a voice resonant with dire portent: “Where is Captain Innes?”

  “He’s under arrest in his lodgings,” said Lord Unwin. “My men are guarding him.” He had refused to allow Mr. Slade to speak to Captain Innes; he had interrogated the prisoner himself. Puffed up with conceit and heroism, he said, “The old scoundrel can’t hurt the children now.”

  “But his master is still at liberty somewhere.” The Prince Consort gestured outside, where Bertie, Vicky, and little Alfred were playing a noisy game of tag with the ladies-in-waiting. “Is he not still dangerous?”

  “What do you propose to do about him?” the Queen demanded.

  “I’ve devised a scheme to capture Mr. Kuan,” Lord Unwin said, then presented Mr. Slade’s idea: “Captain Innes and Miss Bronte will pretend to carry out the kidnapping. They’ll take bundles wrapped in blankets, which resemble sleeping children, out of the castle. They’ll go to the rendezvous place from which Kuan’s other henchmen are supposed to take Miss Bronte and the children to him. My agents will follow. They’ll arrest the henchmen, then force them to reveal the location of the next rendezvous place and the identity of the other henchmen stationed there. They’ll work their way up Kuan’s chain of command until they find him.”

  “That sounds a reasonable plan,” the Queen said.

  I prayed that all would go as planned, and that Kuan would be caught and my family rescued before he found out that I’d sabotaged him and he could retaliate.

  “Will Captain Innes cooperate with you?” the Prince Consort said.

  “Oh, indeed he will,” Lord Unwin said. “But let us allow him to tell you himself.” Turning to Mr. Slade, he said, “Go fetch Captain Innes.”

  He clearly relished this chance to order Mr. Slade about in front of everyone. Mr. Slade’s expression was stoic, but I could tell he disliked the idea of parading Captain Innes before the Queen like a trophy from a hunt. I myself didn’t want to see the man again.

  “Yes, my lord,” Mr. Slade said, and departed.

  Soon he returned with two soldiers escorting Captain Innes. I was shocked at the change in Innes. He shambled into the drawing room like a lame old man. His hair was disheveled, his shirt blood-stained, his face bruised: Lord Unwin’s men had apparently rough-handled him during the interrogation. His eyes were wild, crazed.

  “Ah. Greetings, Captain Innes,” Lord Unwin said, his manner filled with contempt. “Face up to the sovereign you swore to serve and then betrayed.”

  As the Queen and Prince Consort stared at him, Captain Innes shrank from them. “No,” he muttered. “Please. I can’t!” But the soldiers pushed him onto his knees before the Queen.

  She beheld him with as much hurt as hatred. “I trusted you, and you deceived me. How could you?”

  Captain Innes broke into loud, shuddering sobs. “I had no choice! Please forgive me, Your Majesty.” He proffered his clasped, trembling hands to her. I could almost pity him. “Please let me make up for what I’ve done!”

  The Queen’s gloweri
ng silence refused his entreaty. Lord Unwin said, “You certainly shall make up for your betrayal of your Queen. Tonight you will help us capture Mr. Kuan.”

  “No!” Terror shone in Captain Innes’s streaming eyes. “I told you I won’t. I can’t!”

  I felt a shock that I saw mirrored on Mr. Slade’s face. Lord Unwin had given us to understand that he had persuaded Captain Innes to cooperate. Now we realized that he had not.

  “Don’t be obstreperous, man,” Lord Unwin snapped. Perhaps he had hoped that bringing Captain Innes before the Queen would break his resistance. “It’s the least you can do to restore your honor before you’re executed.”

  “I beg you to have mercy!” Captain Innes cried, lurching to his feet. “If I betray Kuan, he’ll punish my family. Kuan is invincible. You’ll never get him, no matter what. Do as you wish to me, but please spare my wife and children!”

  I saw that the captain feared Kuan more than he did the law; he cared more for his kin than repentance. Although I could hardly blame him, dismay filled me. What would we do if he refused to cooperate? I thought he’d been promised that his family would be protected; that had been part of Mr. Slade’s plan. Lord Unwin had obviously neglected to execute that part, whether out of arrogance or sheer stupidity.

  Consternation registered on Lord Unwin’s face. I saw his fear that he would disgrace himself in front of the Queen. “You will help us whether you like it or not.”

  “No!” Captain Innes cried.

  Panic-stricken, he bolted. Mr. Slade and the agents lunged to grab him, but he was quicker than I would have imagined a man his age, in his condition, could be. He hurtled across the drawing room past the Queen and Prince Consort, who uttered sounds of alarm.