Read The Mist on Bronte Moor for Free Online

your aunt in the village tomorrow. Until then, you may stay here with us.”
    I practically bolted out of my chair. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. I mean, thank you for the invitation, but my aunt will be worried. I need to get back today or she’ll ring my parents in London. They’ll go absolutely bonkers!”
    I stopped, suddenly aware that everyone’s eyes were fixed on me. I forced a smile.
    “If someone will walk back with me, I’d really appreciate it. The house can’t be far from where Emily found me. I’m not sure of the exact address though, because I only arrived last night, but I know what the house looks like—sort of.”
    I paused, trying to conjure up a picture of the house in my mind, but it was no use. First the rain and then the fog had prevented me from getting a good look at the place.
    “I know the name of the town where she lives,” I said, snapping my fingers. “It’s called. . .” Bugger! What had Mum said? I frowned. It was useless; my mind was blank.
    Mr. Brontë leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. After a moment, he said, “There is a storm brewing. It’s going to be a big one. I am afraid there is little we can do until tomorrow.”
    I glanced out the curtainless window. Angry clouds hovered in the darkening sky. As if on cue, a long, piercing shriek sounded outside and the window rattled violently. I flinched.
    “The wind,” Emily said. “You’ll get used to it.”
    “I don’t think you understand,” I said. “I really must get home.”
    If I don’t, my parents will get in their car and haul me back to London tomorrow .
    Mr. Brontë clasped his hands together and gave me a sympathetic smile. “I cannot keep you here against your will. But I cannot offer you any assistance in finding your aunt tonight. I can only offer you shelter from the storm.”
    In a panic, I scanned the room for a mobile phone or mini-laptop. A quick text or email to Mum would solve a load of problems. But all I found was a burnt-out candle in a glass holder. My heart sank. I’d been right about the electricity and modern conveniences; they didn’t have any.
    Thunder rumbled outside. Then lightning struck. My mind raced. Maybe Maggie would ring the police and they’d check the houses in the neighborhood. Surely they’d come to the parsonage. In films, people always took refuge in the church or with the vicar. I blew out my breath. Mum and Dad were definitely going to kill me.
    “Go with Emily and she will give you a clean dress to wear,” Mr. Brontë said kindly. You can sleep with Tabby tonight if you choose to remain with us.”
    With Tabby? I glanced at Emily.
    “But Papa,” Emily said quickly. “Couldn’t she sleep with me and Charlotte?”
    “What? And let a strange boy in your bed?” Branwell said.
    “She’s not a boy!” Emily’s face reddened with anger.
    Branwell bit his lip in a half-hearted attempt to stifle his laughter. I could tell he wanted to bait Emily rather than insult me. Still, I disliked him for it.
    Emily’s temper flared. “Someone ought to have whipped you a long time ago,” she said.
    I cringed. I’d only just arrived and already I’d caused a row. But I had to admit, I liked the way my new friend defended me.
    Branwell laughed out loud but said nothing more to anger his sister.
    Mr. Brontë didn’t interfere in the argument. He merely leaned toward Emily and asked, “Where will your guest sleep if not with Tabby?”
    “She can have my bed, and I’ll sleep with Charlotte.”
    Now it was Charlotte’s turn to protest. “No, Emily. We couldn’t possibly fit comfortably.”
    “We did this past July when Ellen Nussey came to visit,” Emily snapped.
    “And I suffered from backache for a month because of it,” Charlotte retorted. “Besides, Ellen is my dearest friend from Roe Head. I’m used to sharing close quarters with her.” She blushed. “This is different.”
    Heat spread across my cheeks. Charlotte really had a knack for