The World Within (23 page)

After another two days in bed Emily still feels weak, but she’s impatient to get up now — she’s had enough of being confined to the bedroom and is desperate for some fresh air. Dr. Andrew comes and declares that all danger is past and the patient can now resume her normal life, though she mustn’t overdo things to begin with.

Everyone, apart from Emily, cheers up. That, at least, is one relief — she no longer has to worry about the effect of her illness on Papa. She is glad to be back among them all again and especially glad to see Grasper, who licks her face furiously, wagging his tail as if he’ll never stop.

But the shadow of her fear still hangs over her.

As soon as she gets the chance she consults
Modern Domestic Medicine
again. By now she’s found what she’s supposed to have had: erysipelas. Reading about it, she can see how similar it is to rabies, at least at first. Perhaps Dr. Andrew was right after all. A small glimmer of hope flares up inside her.

But then she turns to the page about hydrophobia and, reading it properly, sees what she missed the first time she read it — the incubation period can be months, sometimes as long as a year.

Emily closes the book. She still can’t be sure. Perhaps she did have erysipelas, but that doesn’t mean she won’t get rabies. She will have to go on with her silence about the dog bite and wait to see if any other symptoms develop. It will be ages until she knows that she’s truly safe.

Gradually Emily resumes the pattern of her normal life. Now that her arm is healed and she feels better, it becomes harder to remember that she still needs to be watchful. When she’s absorbed in playing the piano or reading a book, she can forget her fears entirely.

Since it’s easier now to pretend that everything is all right, when she feels strong enough, with some embarrassment, she asks Anne to walk with her again. She’s eager to go to Ponden Hall again for some new books — while she’s been convalescing, she’s read and reread the last ones she borrowed. More than anything, though, she’s longing to plunge back into Gondal again. But how will Anne feel about it, after Emily went off by herself?

Anne, bless her, gladly agrees to resume their outings again, which gives Emily pause for thought. Why can’t she be more like Anne and forgive Charlotte? But it’s no good — she hasn’t Anne’s sweet nature. Anyway, what Charlotte did was different — she didn’t need to confide in Ellen, whereas Emily simply had to be alone.

Anyway, recent events have only confirmed Emily’s feelings about her sisters — Anne has been so sensitive and kind to her, whereas Charlotte has been unhelpful, persisting in questioning her and then letting the cat out of the bag.

It’s a relief to be back with Anne again and soon they are immersed in developing more adventures for the people of Gondal.

Emily creates a new character, a young man who, warned by a specter that he is destined to die early, keeps the knowledge to himself. He will die, she decides, but writing about him is strangely cathartic — when she’s finished she really does feel a sense of relief, as if something has been resolved. When she reads this to Anne, her sister is enthusiastic, declaring that the episode is very moving.

No one mentions the erysipelas now, though one night when Charlotte catches her examining her scar — Emily’s back in the pallet bed now — she says, “
Why
didn’t you tell us?”

It’s a question everyone’s been asking and Emily replies as she always does. “I’ve told you before — I didn’t want to worry you.”

Charlotte looks anguished. “But to have suffered that alone! You could have told
me
.”

Emily shrugs. “I wanted to keep it to myself.
I
can keep secrets.”

Charlotte flushes, showing that the bolt has hit home. And then she says, “Have you any idea how you caught erysipelas? Papa said you can get it from pigs. But you hadn’t been near any pigs, had you?”

Emily puts on a deliberately vague expression. “Do you know, I really can’t remember.”

Not long after Emily’s up and about, the news comes that Charlotte’s drawings have been accepted for the summer exhibition, which is due to take place in three weeks’ time. Everyone except Emily professes to be delighted about it, though Emily’s not sure that Branwell is as pleased as he pretends.

The day of the trip to the exhibition turns out to be one of those fine August days when the sky is an unbelievable blue. Instead of spending the day shut in a stuffy building, among crowds of strangers, Emily would much rather stay behind with Aunt and Tabby and take the opportunity for a long walk, but she reluctantly agrees to go. Despite her estrangement from Charlotte, she can’t quite bring herself to spoil her sister’s pleasure. Once she would have had no hesitation in taking revenge, but now it seems mean and petty.

Anne is keen to go, though she expresses her enthusiasm more quietly than Papa and Branwell. As for Charlotte — she’s almost too elated to speak, especially when she finds that her drawings are hanging in the same room as a painting by Turner.

Emily is pleased to see another example of Turner’s work — this one is of Venice and she has never seen such light in a painting, such a piercing blue — but she can’t understand her sister’s excitement. Charlotte’s drawings have been hung in a dim corner, too high up to be properly seen. And they are the only people taking any notice of them.

“Well done, my dear.” Papa squeezes Charlotte’s shoulder. “A fine achievement.”

Charlotte glows pink with pleasure.

Papa suggests that they move on to look at some of the other exhibits. He’s particularly interested in seeing William Robinson’s portraits. Emily’s not very impressed by these — the people look so wooden and lifeless — and she’s soon bored, especially as Branwell insists on lecturing them about the various techniques the painter has employed.

As they stroll on, Emily’s head starts to ache — the heat, surely, she hastens to tell herself, rather than a symptom to be dreaded — but then Anne tugs at her arm. “Look!”

Emily looks. And the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

She’s never seen anything like it: a huge sculptured head, over six feet tall. She can’t stop gazing at that face. There’s such proud scorn in the eyes, in those lips curled in a sneer, and yet the expression is one of deepest despair.

It’s beautiful … and chilling.

“Who is it?” she whispers to Branwell, who is standing beside her, equally transfixed.

“It’s Satan. By Joseph Leyland.” Branwell turns to Papa. “Do you know anything about him, Papa?”

“Leyland? Ah, he’s a local fellow, like Robinson.” Papa studies the sculpture. “A fine piece of work, to be sure. It puts me in mind of
Paradise Lost
. Do you remember? When Satan addresses the sun. We must look it up when we get home.”

When the others move on, Emily can’t tear herself away — she stands there, absorbing every detail of the face. She keeps coming back to the eyes, drawn by their inhuman power; it’s as if Satan is gazing deep into her soul and knows everything there is to know about her.

On the way home, Branwell and Charlotte are debating the merits of the various paintings they have seen when Papa, who has been sunk in thought, suddenly says, “Branwell, I have it in mind to ask William Robinson if he will tutor you. What do you say to that?”

Branwell stops dead in the road. All the color drains from his face and then his cheeks flush pink. “Papa!” is all he can manage to say, but his eyes are bright with excitement.

Emily looks sideways at Charlotte. Her sister is biting her lip, but otherwise she’s giving no sign of what she must be feeling.

“I’ll need to speak to your aunt first, of course,” says Papa.

Emily knows what that means. It will presumably cost a great deal to engage the services of such a famous man as Mr. Robinson. It can’t be done unless Aunt will help.

In the event, Aunt is in full support of the idea, especially after Papa tells her more about Mr. Robinson. When she hears that he’s been a celebrated artist in London, she urges Papa to approach him.

In no time at all Papa has arranged an appointment and taken Branwell to meet the painter at his studio in Leeds. When they return with the news that Mr. Robinson has agreed to take Branwell on as a pupil, Aunt’s normally dour face lights up.