Isabella's Heiress (18 page)

Emma left the shattered remnants of the building she had spent the night in and headed back to the sanctuary. She walked through deserted streets, oblivious to everything around her, until she reached the sanctuary gates. They opened and she walked through into the garden. The few people that were there looked up and stared at the dishevelled character that shuffled past them.

The door to the sanctuary was open and Emma walked in. She saw Father Eamon with his back to her in conversation with Sister Ignacia. Sister Ignacia looked up and the shadows on her face disappeared. She came rushing over, her eyes filled with concern.

“Emma! Oh gracias a dios! Where have you been? We've been worried sick.”

Emma ignored her and headed towards Father Eamon. He was walking towards her, the relief on his face palpable. Emma would have taken this as genuine concern for her well being but now she couldn't be sure what Father Eamon's motives were and it hurt that he may have betrayed her.

All the way back to the sanctuary, she had played this scene through her head. How would she approach him? Give him a chance to explain everything? He had earnt that right, hadn't he? But now, as she stood there, her emotions started to bubble over. She struggled to keep them in check, her breathing laboured and her arms shaking.

“Emma, what happened last night?” Father Eamon's words were measured but for once his emotions were starting to show through. The strain of the last few hours showed in his voice and his hair was unusually dishevelled.

Emma sat down and looked straight ahead. She was aware of people looking at her. Other initiates shot her sidelong glances or just stared at her outright but she didn't care, she just sat there oblivious to everything going
on around her.

Father Eamon sat next to her but as he reached out, she drew away from his arm.

“Emma, where did you stay last night?”

“Who's Rodolfo?” The question just came out and it seemed to throw Father Eamon for a second.

“Why do you ask?”

“I met someone last night. An old man who said his name was Rodolfo. He saved me from a Gentle Man after I forgot the time. I spent the night with him.”

Emma looked up to see Father Eamon leaning back. Her question had not been what he expected and he was searching for a response.

“There was a man, a long time ago, before my time, called Rodolfo. He was the personal tutor to Isabella Calabria. He taught her from a child and was at the battle of Dresden when she disappeared. He disappeared himself not long after the death of her father. Nothing has been heard of him since.”

“Well the man who I spoke to last night seemed to know an awful lot about all of that.”

“He may have done but that is not to say he is Rodolfo. Remember what I said before to you, not everything is as it seems.”

Emma allowed herself an ironic smile as he said this. “No, I understand but he did say something else that was interesting.”

“What was that?”

“He said that you had been sent to confirm whether I was this Isabella or not. He said that your main concern was this and not whether I should survive. He also said that I should ask you about the final part of the prophesy.”

Father Eamon closed his eyes and breathed out hard.

“Emma, whoever this man is, he has woven a web of
half-truths. It is true to say that I have more than one duty when it comes to you but do not think for a second that your salvation is not my first concern.”

“What about the final part of the prophesy?”

Father Eamon paused before responding. “Isabella had a younger sister, Alicia. She was killed in a riding accident when Isabella cut across her by a river. Alicia fell and was dragged away by the current. She was found some way downstream. Her dress stopped her from escaping and she drowned. Isabella never forgave herself. The last part of the prophesy states that someone will come who will feel her pain.”

Emma didn't know what to say, she could feel the anger and resentment building up in her all over again and this time she wasn't in the mood to suppress it.

“Are you telling me I'm still being punished for what happened to Lisa?” Emma's voice rose as she gave vent to her feelings. “What makes you think I want any part of this Isabella rubbish even if it was true? In fact I'll save you a job. I'm not Isabella, I never was Isabella and I never will be! You lied to me, you said you were here to help me and now I find out that all you want is some sort of Joan of Arc for god only knows what!”

Tears streamed down Emma's face and she got up and stormed towards the stairway door.

Father Eamon called after her but she ignored him and headed to her room, blinking away the tears as she went.

Emma sat on the stairwell, looking out at the strips of light moving through their gentle arcs. From here she could see the flames dancing over the docks in the East End, reaching for a sky, which swallowed them into its blackness. She felt a strange dislocation from what she could see. The glass banished any sound from outside until all she was left with was a picture of destruction. She
was still shaking after her argument with Father Eamon. Why did this have to happen to her? Wasn't it punishment enough to be here? All this stuff about being someone else wasn't fair.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a scraping noise as the door below her opened. Taryn stood there looking up at where Emma sat. She looked hesitant, unsure as to how to proceed.

“Hi.”

Emma ignored her, concentrating instead on the scene outside.

“Emma, I'm sorry about how I've been. It's just that things have been difficult recently. You understand don't you?”

Emma brought her knees up to her chest. “You think it's just difficult for you? Try having everyone looking at you like you're someone else.”

“I know, it's all people talk about but they don't know you like I do.”

“It's a pity you didn't think about that before you stormed off.”

“Yeah, I know, I'm sorry about that.” There was regret in Taryn's voice and as Emma looked up, she turned her gaze down, embarrassed by her actions. “Everybody's talking about your argument.”

“Yeah, well maybe know they've got something else to talk about, they'll give up on all the other crap.”

“You're you, Emma. You're Emma Elliott, nobody else.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

“You know what I mean, Em. It doesn't matter what anybody else thinks, it's what you think that matters. You're the one that has to get through this no one else.”

“You noticed did you?”

“Look, Em, I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry for
the way I've been, I really am. It's just that…well…these things always seem to come so easily to you, just like when we were younger.”

Emma's eyes widened. “You think this is easy? You think I just click my fingers and it all falls into place?”

“No, it's just that…oh you know what I mean.”

“No, I really don't. Why don't you enlighten me?”

Taryn paused. She looked up at Emma and for a second looked like she was going to bite back but instead she bit her lip.

“All the years I had to follow you through school, the dumb blonde hanging on to the coattails of the school star. Do you know what that did to me? Have you any idea?”

Emma didn't know what to say. All the years they had spent at school together had been hell for her and had been made worse by watching Taryn glide along with swan-like grace. Now to hear her say that she had felt the exact same thing albeit for different reasons threw her. Even so, she wasn't about to let Taryn off the hook that easily.

“Don't ask me to feel sorry for you. You weren't short of admirers back then were you? I doubt you did a nights worth of homework in five years.”

“That's not fair, Emma. I tried but we can't all be geniuses.”

“Genius? Is that what you think I am? You think I was just born knowing all that crap they taught us, is that it? I studied hard, whilst you were out partying and for all of that I still end up in this shit hole!”

Emma kicked out at the wall, leaving a mark in the lime render.

“If I'd known I was going to end up dead at twenty seven, I would have partied my life away as well!”

Taryn's hands turned white at the knuckles. “I'm sorry if you didn't have my looks or my legs but that's not my
fault is it! You had everything else though didn't you? Everything went right the first time didn't it? Straight A's right from the start, nothing was too much for our Emma. You had the respect of everyone there, teachers and students. You think I didn't hear everybody laughing behind my back at school!”

Emma was about to respond when a forlorn toll filled the air. St Pauls was back and was calling time on another soul. Emma felt the pit of her stomach fall away. Outside the sky darkened and shadows started to draw in around the two women. Taryn walked up the stairs and stood next to her old friend. Together they stepped towards the window and looked out.

There was an unnatural darkness closing in on the square. The peels of the bells cut through the air and with each ring Emma felt a shiver run down her spine.

“Eedithh, wee have waited so long for this moment. Welcome to our family, Eedith.”

Gentle Men were gathering outside of the gate and were looking restless. Emma felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. There were six of them, all drifting outside in the square as it glowed a deep red, the plants and trees in the centre now nothing more than burnt stems and blackened stumps.

The door below them opened and Father Eamon appeared.

“Emma, Taryn, step away from the window. This is something you do not need to see.”

Emma felt a slight pang of guilt for the things she had said earlier and stepped back as behind Father Eamon a commotion was building. Sobs and whimpers mixed with a rumble of feet. Father Eamon stepped to one side as a torrent of people flooded through the door, knocking Emma and Taryn against the wall as the stampede
headed upstairs. Emma used this confusion to rush down past Father Eamon with Taryn following. Father Eamon turned to race after her but couldn't stop her before she entered the main hall.

“What's going on, why are the people running away?”

“Do you remember the woman you met on the stairs on your first morning here?”

Emma thought back, it seemed a long time ago now but she knew who he meant.

“Well her time here has come to an end.”

“And that's it, is it, you just let her go?” The desperation rose in Emma as she thought of the elderly lady who had hurried passed her on the stairs.

Father Eamon sighed. “Come with me, both of you, I want you to see what happens when you fail your task.”

He led them back into the main hall and walked over to a darkened corner where they could watch the unfolding events without being observed.

Emma could hear the whimpers of initiates who were still sitting on the benches, too scared to move whilst on the other side of the hall an elderly woman sat pleading to a guide who for his part tried to comfort her even though there was no comfort to be given.

The door at the far end swung open and two men came through. They were dressed in breeches, waistcoats and cravats and as they walked towards the old woman, dust jumped off their clothes with every step.

The woman tried to climb the benches behind her in an effort to escape but fear had got the better of her and her legs gave way, leaving her prone and clinging to the wooden boards below.

“Resurrectionists. God curse those grave robbers.” Father Eamon's face was hidden behind a dark mask of contempt.

“Who?” Emma saw Father Eamon's look and shivered. For the first time, the side of him that people had spoken of showed itself. His normal reserved empathy was replaced by a black, pitiless aura.

Father Eamon responded without looking at Emma. “Resurrectionists. They stole bodies from consecrated ground to sell to medical schools.”

Emma grimaced, “You mean Burke and Hare?”

“No, they were in Edinburgh. These two are called James May and John Bishop. These two weren't just content with grave robbing. It would appear they realised that they could make more money if the corpses were a little fresher.”

Emma wrinkled her nose as she caught on to what Father Eamon meant.

They had reached Edith now and were tugging at her legs. Edith made a last desperate lunge for the guide at her side; he grabbed her arm and made a half-hearted attempt to stop her from being dragged away.

“Father McAvoy, Leave her be! You know the balance must be kept!” Father Eamon's voice was strained and his breathing laboured. Emma watched she he struggled to keep himself under control.

The guide reluctantly let his grip loosen and the woman's whimper's rose up to a scream as she was unceremoniously pulled along the dusty floor, leaving drag marks as she went. The main door opened and the temperature rose as the roar of the superheated wind found a new route in.

Edith was begging and crying in the same breath but her words were drowned out by her choking sobs. Emma felt tears rolling down her cheeks as she watched this elderly lady dragged out to her waiting tormentors. She didn't know what had caused her to be here but looking
at her now, pathetically trying to grab hold of anything that might stave off the inevitable, she didn't care. Nothing about this seemed fair and she wanted to beg Father Eamon to step in but she already knew that he couldn't do anything.

Emma wiped away her tears, knowing that Taryn would be doing the same thing behind her. The two men were halfway out the door now and the elderly lady had given up resisting, all her energy spent. After a few seconds, they disappeared in to the garden and Emma turned and ran up the stairs. Half way up, she stopped and looked out onto the scene below her. The gates of the sanctuary had opened and the Gentle Men were waiting by them. Bishop and May delivered their cargo without saying a word and turned to head back.