The Secret Adventures of Charlotte Bronte

32

I awakened to find myself lying on my bed, fully dressed, my spectacles askew on my face. Pale daylight shone through the white curtains; gulls screeched outside. My head ached, my stomach was queasy, and there was a sour taste in my mouth. My wits stirred sluggishly to life. I sat up with a cry of dismay as I recalled how Kuan had begun to seduce me. Yet I couldn’t recall anything else, for the wine must have rendered me unconscious. Panic clutched my heart. What, in my inebriated condition, had I allowed that madman to do?

I made a hasty inspection of my clothes and person, and found no evidence that Kuan had maltreated me. It seemed that he’d conveyed me to my bed and left me to sleep. I was vastly relieved, but also shamed and horrified that last night I had succumbed to Kuan. Was it only poisoned wine that had undermined my will? With its effects worn off, could I still resist him? Or was I his creature, over whom he would always exert control? I moaned at the thought that here was another day to face. How many more must I pass in Kuan’s company before I could learn who were his intended hostages and what were his plans for them?

When fortune gives us no alternative but to go on, we somehow manage. I rose, washed, and tidied myself. This took a bit of time, as my stomach kept heaving, and dizziness spun the room around me; I frequently had to stop and lie down. Finally I tottered downstairs.

I was surprised to find Kuan, Hitchman, and T’ing-nan in the dining room: This was the first time I would have their company at a meal. Kuan and Hitchman bade me a polite good morning, to which I replied with as much composure as I could. T’ing-nan only glared at me: He was still angry that I had given him up to his father last night. I perceived the echo of a conversation that my arrival had interrupted.

“Please join us, Miss Bronte,” said Kuan.

I sat at the end of the table, opposite him. Ruth served me tea, bread, and eggs. Hitchman was eating the same meal as I, but Kuan and T’ing-nan had bowls of what appeared to be gruel with fish and strange herbs. T’ing-nan held his bowl up to his mouth and shoveled in the food with chopsticks, never once taking his hostile gaze off me.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Kuan asked me in a tone that hinted at the drama we had enacted together.

“Yes, thank you,” I said, although my face burned.

Hitchman regarded us with suspicious curiosity. I lowered my gaze to my plate, but the food turned my stomach. I sipped the strong, bitter coffee, which somewhat restored my health and courage.

“I beg permission to go into town,” I said. I must tell Mr. Slade what Kuan revealed to me last night, and here I presented my excuse: “I wish to go to church. I’ve not been since I left home.”

“You can wait awhile longer,” Hitchman said.

“No,” Kuan overruled him. “Miss Bronte must be allowed to observe her religious rites.”

“Very well,” Hitchman said, though clearly disgruntled.

I wondered whether Kuan thought the spell he’d worked upon me last night had secured me in his power and he’d come to trust me enough to let me go, or whether he wished to assert his superiority over Hitchman. Whatever the reason, I was glad to climb into the carriage. To escape Kuan’s frightening presence, if only temporarily, was a boon. As Nick drove me towards town, a storm commenced. Rain battered the carriage; lightning seared the deluged coastline and sea. Between cracks of thunder I heard hoofbeats following us. I looked out the window and saw what appeared to be a farmer riding a horse. He tipped his hat at me, and I recognized Mr. Slade, who must have been secretly watching Kuan’s house in case I should come out. Relief swam over me.

In Penzance, Nick drove up wet cobblestone streets where townspeople walked sheltered under umbrellas and brick town-houses abounded. He stopped the carriage outside St. Mary’s Church. Its stone walls promised age-old sanctuary to souls in need. I climbed out of the carriage, trying not to look about for Mr. Slade. The rain drenched Nick and me as we hurried past a churchyard filled with tombs and lush with tropical vegetation. Inside the church, Nick stationed himself by the door while I walked up the aisle between the pews. Among these were scattered some dozen worshippers. Lightning illuminated them in flashes. Their soft spoken prayers and the rumbling thunder echoed in the chill, dank space. I anxiously scanned the church from beneath my bonnet. Would Mr. Slade come? How might we talk without Nick’s noticing us?

I heard a soft hiss, glanced to my right, and saw Mr. Slade crouching on the floor inside a pew. He must have watched me stop at the church, where he hurried to enter by some other door and lie hidden in wait for me. My steps faltered, and he gestured for me to sit by him. Conscious of Nick’s gaze on me, I did.

“Act as if I’m not here,” Mr. Slade whispered. “Pretend you’re praying.”

I bowed my head over my clasped hands. My mind teemed with memories of the previous night, while my heart beat fast with emotions I had no time to sort out. “Kuan has told me some part of his plan for revenge,” I whispered. “He means to take hostages and force the British out of China.” I regretted that my news was so vague. “But I don’t know who the hostages are or how Kuan means to take them.”

There was a brief silence from Mr. Slade, during which I sensed his shock. He said, “I do know. Yesterday I received a letter from the prime minister. He says he was accosted by one of Kuan’s henchmen in London. The man ordered him to use his authority to persuade the Queen that her children need a new governess, and to recommend Charlotte Bronte for the post.”

Amazement and horror overwhelmed me as Mr. Slade’s news and mine combined like pieces of a puzzle fitting together to complete a terrifying picture. “The royal children are the hostages Kuan intends to take! I am to help him kidnap them!” I fought to lower my voice and maintain the pretext of prayer.

“So this is how he means to strike at the British Empire.” Revelation inflected Mr. Slade’s voice. “Not by military force, but by ransoming its most precious treasure-the royal bloodline. If he succeeds, he will usher in a new, horrific era of warfare. No longer will enemies need huge armies to cripple us-just the wherewithal to kidnap, extort, and terrify. It could begin the downfall of not just Britain, but the civilized world.”

We sat speechless in awe and dread of such a future, until I voiced the question that Kuan had evaded answering: “Why has Kuan chosen me, of all people?”

“I can only speculate that you have the traits he needs in an accomplice. He surely knows other people who are capable of kidnapping the children but none responsible enough-as you are-to ensure their well-being until he’s done with them.” Slade added, “Yours must be the role for which he intended Isabel White. No wonder she balked and ran away from him. The kidnapping must have been the last straw for her.”

“It’s the last for me as well!” I exclaimed, distraught and frantic. “I cannot do it any more than Isabel could!”

Now I understood why Kuan had questioned me about my feelings towards children: He had wanted to ascertain that I was capable of harming them if need be-and he had misinterpreted my lack of enthusiam to mean that indeed I was. Though I bore them not much affection, I could never conspire to make the six royal children “the innocents who shall suffer as recompense for the suffering of innocents.”

“I know you don’t want to,” Mr. Slade said, “but forestalling it won’t be that simple.”

My terror increased a hundredfold. “Kuan will kill me if I resist. What am I going to do?”

Mr. Slade pondered while our time together swiftly fled. I saw, with a sinking heart, that there was no safe way to end my ordeal. Now I heard Nick’s footsteps coming towards me. Fearful and desperate, I beseeched Mr. Slade again, “What shall I do?”

“Prepare to resume your old occupation as a governess.”

Nick drove me back to the house. There I spent the day alone, for T’ing-nan refused to come out of his room for lessons, and I didn’t see Kuan or Hitchman. The house seemed deserted, except for Ruth, who served my meals. That night after dinner I became so drowsy that I must have been drugged again. I slept so soundly that I was aware of nothing until morning, when I again awakened feeling groggy and ill. I rose and dressed, then heard a knock at my door. I opened it to find Hitchman outside. He was wearing his coat, carrying his hat.

“Pack your bags, Miss Bronte,” he said. “We’re leaving.”

I was alarmed by the realization that Kuan’s plans were being set so abruptly in motion. “Where are we going?”

“To London,” Hitchman said.

“Why?” I said. But I already knew. Fear and anxiety rushed upon me.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Hitchman said.

“What about Mr. Kuan?” I said, trying to stall the inevitable. “Are he and T’ing-nan coming with us?”

“They’ve already gone.” Hitchman’s cruel smile mocked my dismay. “They left last night.”

I comprehended that I had indeed been drugged last night, so that I wouldn’t hear their departure. I felt an awful despair. Kuan had vanished again, probably through the house’s cellars and the smugglers’ caves, then by boat out to sea. While I was still under the power of his henchman, I faced the threat of death unless I cooperated with his scheme.

“Make haste, Miss Bronte,” said Hitchman. “The train leaves in an hour.”