Always Emily by Michaela MacColl

Author:Michaela MacColl
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Chronicle Books LLC
Published: 2014-04-07T05:00:00+00:00

I lost consciousness: for the second time

in my life—only the second time—

I became insensible from terror.

The sound of footsteps and voices faded away. The Masons did not know Charlotte had overheard their most secret rites and rituals. For the moment she was safe. She pushed against the lid of the box. It wouldn’t budge. She shoved again. The darkness and the silence pressed on her, squeezing her breath from her body. Charlotte began panting, the noise of her breathing filling the small space. You’re behaving like a trapped animal, she told herself. Stay calm. Keep your wits about you.

But fear, raw and bleak as a February storm, threatened to overwhelm her. What would her family think when she didn’t come home? They might never know what became of her. Would Branwell finally realize what a wonderful sister he had lost? Emily would finally be sorry she had been so hateful. Tabby would weep whenever she peeled her potatoes, remembering Miss Charlotte and her funny bossy ways. Father . . . he would mourn his little Charlotte.

A scream erupted from her and reverberated off the walls of the chest. She pounded the lid with her fists, kicked with her boots. Pressing her body from one side to the other, she tried to rock the chest, but it was too heavy.

“Help me!” she shouted. “Branwell! John Brown! Anyone! Please help me!”

It was no use. The silence grew more oppressive. The heat was unbearable. If her body was ever found, her father would not even need to spend money on a coffin—they could use the chest. It would sit on the altar in their church, and then John Brown would open the family plot and shove Charlotte inside. At least she would be reunited with Maria and Elizabeth. With a forlorn whimper, Charlotte thought for the first time Emily would envy her sister.

How ironic was it that she had often callously placed her Angrian heroines in situations exactly similar to this one? But those women had heroes to rescue them. Charlotte had no one. She would die shrouded in velvet. Alone. She would never know true love. Never marry. Never have children of her own. Never write a great novel. Her future snuffed out like a candle.

Was it her imagination or was the air getting thicker and closer? Her head swam and each breath rasped her throat. Charlotte felt herself slipping . . . slipping . . . slipping into oblivion.

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