The World Within Read Online Free Page A

on?
    But there’s no time to ask because the doctor’s here now — Emily can hear his voice in the hall and Aunt greeting him.
    Branwell comes in, leaving the door slightly ajar. He goes to say something, but Charlotte says, “Hush,” and puts her finger to her lips. They all listen hard.
    “… complaining of a severe pain in his chest and he’s somewhat feverish.” Aunt’s voice, slightly tighter than usual, but as crisp as ever. “I don’t like to bother you, but I’m worried about him.”
    “You do right to send for me, ma’am. Shall we go up?”
    The voices recede.
    “Chest pain! And fever,” says Branwell, tugging at his hair as he always does when he’s agitated. “That could mean —”
    “It could mean anything,” says Charlotte hastily. “But Dr. Andrew will make Papa well again. That’s why Aunt sent for him.”
    Emily blurts out, “He didn’t cure Mama. Or Maria. Or Elizabeth. Papa sent for him then too.” She bites the inside of her lip, aware of Anne’s eyes flitting between them all, her hand flying to her mouth. Why did she say that?
    Charlotte’s face crumples, just for a second, and then she gathers herself. “We’d better do something quiet now. Branwell, will you read to us from Blackwood’s Magazine ? I don’t think we finished that article Papa recommended, the one about the abolition of slavery, did we?”

    That night, before she gets into bed, Emily rummages in the bottom of a drawer until she finds what she’s looking for — the wooden lion Papa gave her for her sixth birthday. It’s battered and scratched and it’s lost its tail, but its splendid curly mane is intact and when she sets it on the chest of drawers its red painted mouth still roars in a fierce challenge.
    Papa knew that this would please her far more than a doll or a pretty ornament. But then Emily’s always felt that there was a special connection between them. He doesn’t mind that she’s a tomboy, outspoken at times and preferring to think things through for herself. And when Aunt complains to him that Emily’s been climbing trees or fighting Branwell or challenging something he’s said, he seems rather proud of her, if anything.
    Charlotte’s lying on her side, resting her head in her hand, her face solemn, watching without saying anything. In fact, she’s barely said a word since the afternoon. Giving the lion a final pat, Emily climbs into bed and pulls the bedclothes up to her chin, creeping close to her sister. She’s wanted to talk to her all day, but now that they’ve got the chance, Charlotte rolls over, presenting her back to Emily.
    “Charlotte?”
    No response.
    “Charles? Won’t you talk to me?”
    Charlotte turns back, her voice full of fury. “You mustn’t say those things. About Mama. And the others.” There are tears in her eyes.
    “I didn’t mean to say it. You know what I’m like,” Emily cries. “But it’s true.”
    Charlotte blinks as if Emily has slapped her. After a moment she says, “It’s not right. Think of Anne.”
    “She’s not a baby anymore.”
    “Maybe not. But still, you know she’s easily upset, you shouldn’t risk alarming her by speaking of those things. It could bring on an asthma attack.”
    “But if Papa dies —”
    Charlotte sits up, glaring at her. “He won’t.”
    “But if he does … how will we bear it?”
    Charlotte is quiet a moment, thinking. Then she says carefully, “If anything happened to Papa, we’d still have Aunt.”
    “Aunt?” What’s Charlotte’s talking about? Having Aunt won’t help if they lose Papa.
    “To look after us, I mean. Though I’m not sure that she’d want us. Or could afford to keep us.”
    Emily stares at her sister. She has never thought about what it would mean practically, if Papa died. She swallows hard and then says in a small voice, “We’d have to leave the parsonage, wouldn’t we?” A shudder goes through her at the thought.
    “Yes,” Charlotte says tersely. “And Papa has no