Page 2 (1/2)
The Beastliest Day was upon them
TWO
The Beastliest Day
There was every possibility of taking a walk that day But not the walk they wished to take However fine the air outside, however brilliant the sun, however inviting the winding paths through the moors, the air and the sun and the paths weren’t theirs to explore The only path they’d be allowed out of the garden and through the village would end in a lonely, dark town called Keighley and an even lonelier, darker carriage drawn by a lonely, dark horse The carriage hters’ School in Cowan Bridge, the loneliest, darkest place of all
The Beastliest Day had come
When Emily heard anyone say the word School, she always flinched, as though it were the name of a horrible beast with black fur and vicious sickly eyes that she and her sister had just barely escaped As far as Emily was concerned, that’s just what it was School always had a capital letter, just like all theand the Empire It was cold in the belly of the School-Beast Cold and dahs and the sounds of whippings hung in the air like lanterns The only lesson was: Shut your irl And School didn’t like to let you leave its belly once it had you Charlotte hadn’t always been the oldest She’d been stuck in the middle with Emily until only last year Then, Maria, as so tall, and Lizzie, as so clever, got so cold and so da to keep them warm Every time Emily looked out theof the roos she saw The raven, the sparrok, and the owl in the great yew tree Mah School had already devoured two of thehters should be educated So that they could go into service, he said, so that they could becoovernesses, and produce an income of their own Besides, he assured them, the place was much reformed since they left it
Eo back to that wicked, dale instant Of course, Papa would not dream of such a place for his only son The parson instructed Branwell hiot cake at teatiood of the world as far as Emily could see it Aunt Elizabeth insisted Little Anne was too young just yet, but in another year or two her ti, but so So hair and hating her, because Anne was allowed to be eight and still at ho fro Tabitha’s puddings Annie was eight already, but Ee when she was six She’d braved the journey all alone, sitting in a gray carriage that bruised her as it clattered down a road that was barely a road She’d disappeared into a gray classroohtened of the Head of her heart in her eyeballs Maria and Lizzie had gone together, then Charlotte They’d all had each other to cling to, like hens in a yard Of course Charlotte hated School and wanted revenge upon it, but Emily felt certain her sister hadn’t quite the blackened terror of the place crunching on her heart the way she did It wasn’t the sa She’d outlast the moors out of sheer stubbornness
Eht of that dank, pale place, with only the rain co like their lungsher to sleep
The Beastliest Day laughed in the face of January and dawned as brilliant and bright as June The blue Yorkshireshone so crisp it seehtest touch Great scoops of vanilla sunshine reat, y hills into a checkerboard of yellow and purple grasses Little flocks of straggler sparrows pecked hopefully for worardens, sleepy rabbits washed their whiskers in dry, cozy barns, and Charlotte and Emily sat alone in the room at the top of the stairs and cried
Tabitha, to her credit, got a whole boiled egg, a wedge of bread, and a dab of her good pluh no one feltShe and Aunt Elizabeth led them in one last ind of household duties On any other day, this would have been a pitched battle Howls of injustice and declarations of the rights of children on one side, and on the other, proels A double story tonight after supper if Charlotte would clear up the remains of breakfast No sweets at all this week if Branwell didn’t take the scraps out to the chickens and bring in the eggs If only Anne would sort the ht and have the whole evening to read as she liked And certainly E as she was told for once!
But none of that happened Not on t
he Beastliest Day Charlotte set one last kettle to boil as though she loved nothing so well in all the world E bread to rise Anne sweetly stirred the batter for a luncheon cake her sisters wouldn’t even get to nibble Branwell got the laundry water boiling without complaint He even offered to cut potatoes for the mutton stew so Tabitha could rest her feet But the old maidservant did not have it in her to rest sobubbled (Aunt Elizabeth often said that bubbling was the main activity of a proper household between ood loves and extra-thick woolen stockings
All that remained was the room at the top of the stairs
It needed constant , that perfect little ashed country And Charlotte ot it Even if Emily, Anne, and Branwell had been born slovenly creatures with a stocking behind each ear, which they had not, really, Charlotte’s heart was a clean, snug, and well-ordered place With the iron jaw of a great Adrim battle at sea, she strove to match the world to her heart Besides, she was the oldest It was down to her to make the rules—at least this one last tiaze, they put order to their upstairs universe They straightened and swept and tidied and scrubbed off the ink stains on the floor They stacked the newer editions of their beloved stolen ood-bye to the raven, the sparrok, and the owl, and the birds seemed to nod soberly, as if they quite understood Emily propped the threadbare dolls up where the two of them could see out into the churchyard and keep Mama, Maria, and Lizzie company At last, they laid the wooden soldiers away neatly in their fine latched box
“Taketake Crashey with you,” urged Branwell, slipping his favorite of the brave lads into Charlotte’s suitcase Charlotte felt her brother’s forehead to see if he had caught soe fever that made him want to share He waved her off “I don’t expect I shall like playing Wellington and Bonaparte with only Anne to lish side, anyway”