The Secret Adventures of Charlotte Brontë Read Online Free PDF Page B

murmured.
    Shyness barred me from asking what she meant by this cryptic comment. She baffled and fascinated me increasingly. “I often found the masters of the houses preferable to the mistresses,” I said in an effort to keep the talk flowing. “Their presence caused the children to behave better. They made no demands on me; indeed, they made my lot easier.”
    “If that is the case, then you have been fortunate, Miss Brontë.” Isabel gave me a queer smile in which self-pity blended with condescension.
    Not knowing how to respond to this, I said, “Where are you currently employed?”
    Isabel hesitated. “At the home of Mr. Joseph Lock. He is a gun maker in Birmingham.”
    “Is Mr. Lock a kind master?” I inquired politely.
    “He is a good man,” Isabel said, gazing out the window, “but kindness played little role in our association.” A frown shadowed her profile as she mused in silence for a moment. Then she said in an almost inaudible voice, “I was brought up to believe that we should do unto others as we would have others do unto us, but I—I have broken that rule, as well as many others. Is it futile to hope that I may escape punishment?”
    This sounded to me like a confession, but of what sins? I guessed that Isabel’s troubles involved Mr. Lock, and I pondered what might happen between a man and a beautiful woman living in his house. I blushed again, ashamed of entertaining thoughts about subjects that were none of my business; yet my curiosity persisted.
    “Are you going to Birmingham, then?” I asked, because that city lay on our route.
    “No!” A shudder accompanied Isabel’s violent negative. Then she turned to me and said, “I am on leave from my post and traveling to London.” The frosty look had returned to her eyes. “Where do you and your sister go, Miss Brontë?” she said, abruptly steering the conversation away from herself.
    “We are also traveling to London.” I fervently hoped Isabel wouldn’t ask why.
    Isabel only asked, “And how long do you stay?”
    “A few days,” I said, glad that I need not fabricate a lie to conceal my private purpose.
    “Will you be taking up employment soon?” Again, Isabel studied me with close scrutiny, as if genuinely curious.
    Since I couldn’t discuss my current occupation as a writer, lest I give away my identity as Currer Bell, I said, “At present, I’m between positions and living at home.”
    Isabel nodded, and I had the disconcerting sense that she was making note of this information for later reference. After a while, Anne awakened, and I introduced her to Isabel, and the three of us made trifling conversation. Whenever the train stopped at a station, Isabel cowered in her seat, seeming to avoid the window for fear that someone would see her. Anne and I left the carriage several times, but not she. Still, I doubted that Isabel could pass the whole night without leaving the train, and when we reached Nottingham just before midnight, she accepted my invitation to go into the station.
    The platform was dimly lit by gas lamps; a few passengers and station officials awaited the train. Exiting the coach, Anne and I left our satchels inside, but Isabel lugged her carpetbag with her. This was large, bulky, and patterned with red roses. I wondered what was in the bag, and why Isabel would not let it out of her sight. Did it contain something valuable, perhaps stolen? Was it the law that she feared so?
    As the three of us walked towards the privies, I watched Isabel dart wary glances at the other passengers. Her fright was contagious. I found myself peering across the dark train yard in search of pursuers, and seeing malevolence in the faces of the railway guards. Isabel stuck close by Anne and me as we entered the station’s refreshment room. I bought tea to drink with the bread and cold meat we’d brought from home. I returned to Anne and found Isabel gone.
    “She just turned and fled without a word,” Anne said in bewilderment.