The Secret Adventures of Charlotte Brontë Read Online Free PDF

said. “I am Charlotte Brontë, and that is my sister Anne.”
    Isabel White regarded me with dawning interest. “Your surname is quite unusual. How is it spelled?”
    I told her, adding, “It was originally ‘Brunty,’ but my father modified it when he left Ireland as a young man. He renamed himself for the Duke of Brontë—the title conferred upon Horatio Nelson in recognition of military services. He has been for many years the parson of St. Michael’s Church in Haworth.”
    “Do you and your sister live with him?” Isabel asked, her aquamarine eyes intent on me.
    “Yes. Anne and our sister Emily and our brother Branwell and I all make our home at the parsonage.” I was flattered by Isabel’s attention, as handsome people seldom paid me any. “Do you live in Yorkshire?”
    Isabel’s expression turned opaque, like a window when frost forms upon it. “Once I did, but no more.”
    The terse reply stung me, and I blushed because my innocent question had apparently offended Isabel. I was ready to excuse myself and return to my seat, when Isabel seemed to regret snubbing me and explained, “I have been working as a governess.”
    Though gratified to learn her social position, I was disappointed that she was but a humble governess. Now the lovely Isabel seemed an object of pity. There were advantages in being my plain self: Currer Bell had happily quit her former occupation. “I, too, have been a governess. How does the profession suit you?”
    “I consider it less a matter of suitability than of necessity,” Isabel said. “When circumstances require, a woman must support herself, regardless of her feelings about her position.”
    “I quite agree,” I said. “I’ve always endeavored to earn my own livelihood.”
    “There are but few jobs open to women,” Isabel said. Her manner seemed oddly defensive, and I wondered why she should need to justify herself to a comrade. “I should be thankful that I was given an education that won me pleasant, lucrative employment.”
    “As should I be,” I said, further confused by Isabel’s tone of bitter sarcasm. She might be making a joke about the hard labor that governesses performed for low wages; yet I sensed in her words a hidden meaning. I wondered why such a beauty had not acquired a husband who would have spared her the necessity of employment.
    I myself had received no fewer than two marriage proposals, from eminently suitable clergymen. I had refused both, since I harbored no tender feelings for my suitors, nor they for me. They were merely eager to acquire wives to share their work, and I was unwilling to accept a man I could not love. I have become well convinced that I shall never marry at all—reason tells me so, although stubborn hope persists against all odds.
    “Governessing might not have been so bad if I had any aptitude for disciplining children.” Recalling my time with the Sidgwick family of Lothersdale, I shook my head ruefully. “I hope I never again meet such unmanageable cubs as those of my first employer. The eldest, a girl of seven, threw tantrums whenever I asked her to recite her lessons. Each day was a battle of wills, and I often the loser.”
    A pained, understanding smile curved Isabel’s lips. “Children can be difficult.”
    “At my last post at Upperwood House in Rawdon,” I said, “the little boy passed his water into my workbag.”
    We laughed, and our shared mirth warmed me. “Even worse than the children were the mistresses of the houses,” I said. “They treated me as an inferior, and it was a sore trial to live as their dependent, at their command. It was no use complaining to them about their children’s misbehavior. They scolded me for failing to maintain order and allowed the children to do as they liked. I shudder to think what ill-mannered adults those children have surely become.”
    Isabel nodded; a faraway look unfocused her eyes. “We are indeed products of our early training,” she