Isabella's Heiress (32 page)

Emma felt the creeping frustration start to work up from her stomach “I still don't understand what it is I'm
supposed to do. Everybody seems to look at me as if I'm some kind of messiah when all I am is me! I'm nothing special and yet everybody thinks I am. God, I can't even complete a simple task.”

Rodolfo's face straightened at this. “It doesn't go well?”

“Not really, I know I can't say too much but I'm not having much luck.”

“Hmm…that is to be expected. Your sister probably has deeply conflicting feelings about that letter. Remember it is from her dead sister and it is going to her dying father. A man you did not speak to for many years before you died.”

Emma looked at him for a second, taken aback. “How do you know about the letter?”

Rodolfo smiled at her, “I am not a guide and few people, up to a little while back at any rate, knew of my existence, so I could go about without anybody looking for me. It was whilst I was out one day that I heard you and Father Eamon talking about what it was that you had to do.”

Emma's eyes widened, “You were spying on me?”

Rodolfo looked offended, “I never spy! I merely hunt for something until I find what I am looking for.

“I have been here for almost as long as the plane has existed, Emma. All that time I have looked for Isabella's heiress. When I heard that Father Eamon was in the realm, I knew that something was amiss. He is not a man that the Council would lightly send on any task let alone something as menial as guiding an initiate. I followed the two of you from the first day that you were here…”

“So you were spying.”

“I had my reasons for following you, Emma. Please do not think too badly of me. I would hope that my actions since you have known me would bear out my character.”

Emma thought back to the night she had come so close
to getting caught by the Gentle Man only to have Rodolfo shield her and then to see his actions in saving Sister Ignacia from the Soul Gorger. She couldn't help but be completely creeped out by the prospect of Rodolfo watching her when she had had her guard down but it wasn't as if he had been watching her showering and he'd had honourable motives, she reasoned.

“I understand, I guess.”

“Then you understand that this fools errand in to the heart of the enemy will come to no good.”

The frustration started to get the better of Emma, as they seemed to be back at square one, “I don't care what anybody says. I don't care who or what I'm supposed to be! I'm going after Taryn one way or the other.”

Rodolfo looked at her and started to tremble. “Petulant child! Do you not realise what you risk? What hangs in the balance with your every whim? Your friend would be far better served by you completing your task than throwing everything away on a forlorn hope!”

“Better served how? By me leaving her there to be tortured and abused? That isn't about to happen.” Emma paused before she lost control. After a few deep breathes, she looked Rodolfo in the eye, “Tell me, what would Isabella have done in this situation?”

The question caught Rodolfo off-guard and for a second he seemed lost for words. His eyes glazed over, before coming back to the present, then he let out a low sigh as he wiped his arm across his face.

“She would have followed her heart regardless of my council.”

“Then why would you expect anything else of me?”

Rodolfo sighed, “Times are different, Emma. The stakes have never been higher and your actions would risk your capture.”

“And yet I'm going to go regardless.”

Rodolfo motioned towards a chair in the corner of the room, “Then sit down, there are things you must know, before you take any further action.”

“Such as?”

“Please, Emma, sit down.”

Emma brushed the dust from the shelf in the bay window and sat on it, careful not to catch any splinters.

Rodolfo shook his head, “Not there. We are some hours from darkness but their servants are many and they will be looking for you.”

Emma looked nervously out of the window before shifting herself on to the floor.

Rodolfo took a final look out of the window before he carried on, “Tell me, what do you know about Taryn's final destination?”

Emma thought through her visit to Newgate Gaol with Father Eamon that misty morning and drew her arms around her knees as the memories of the dark granite building came flooding back. “I've seen it, Father Eamon took me there. He was trying to get me to focus on my trial.”

“Hmmph and had about as much luck as me.”

“Sorry?”

“Never mind, I was thinking out loud. What you saw was just the outer façade. It goes far, far deeper than you can possibly imagine. It has levels that lead to places that no man should visit.”

Emma saw the glazed look return for just a moment but it was gone as soon as it arrived. She shuddered as an image of Taryn in this place took hold in her head.

“You see now the size of your task?”

Emma said nothing in response, her eyes fixing on a spot on the wall ahead of her.

“Halls a mile high, with roofs supported by colonnades' that disappear into the darkness above, Stairs and statues that dwarf any human. Everything is designed to intimidate and breed fear, and believe me when I say that this is just the beginning.

“They have devised ways of extracting human misery like nothing you have ever seen and pray you never see them.” Rodolfo's voice started to crack as he spoke but after a brief pause, he continued. “This is a place where hope is banished and maudlin fear welcomed with open arms. If you do make it as far as the lower halls, you will have to contend with the black monks. The Cado Angelus use them as their vessels of pain. There is no method for delivering that pain that they do not know, no technique is overlooked and they take great pride in their work.”

Not for the first time doubt crept in to Emma's head. She hated herself for thinking it but she was starting to wonder if it was a risk worth taking. Samantha's face came to mind as she thought about the fact that her trial was not yet completed and she started to mull over her options. She knew that she had to get Sam to deliver the letter but what more could she do? How long had she got anyway? Not long, her father never left his bed these days and that could not be a good sign. Emma felt a tearful choke catch in her throat as she thought about his imminent demise. The fact that part of the mystery of death had now been lifted from her should have been some comfort but the knowledge of the devastation that this would leave with her mother and one surviving sister wiped that out instantly.

And then there was Taryn. Her future was certain wasn't it? She was condemned to a miserable existence from here on in, but why? And according to whom? The more Emma thought about it, the more unfair it seemed.
Taryn had done nothing to hurt anybody in her life, if anything she was the one who had been hurt, first by Emma and then by Michael. It wasn't fair.

The more Emma thought about it, the more her original conviction returned.

“I'm still going. Are you going to help?”

Rodolfo groaned, “Yes, I will, if only to speed your passage but there is one final thing that you must know. Time passes at a different rate inside the gaol. The woman you knew is not the woman you will see in there.”

Emma's eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”

“What I mean, is that in this plane, she has been gone for a month or so but in that place, time will have passed far, far quicker.”

“How much quicker?”

Rodolfo paused for a second, “What to you will have been weeks will for Taryn have been years.”

Emma slumped against the wall. “Years, how many years?”

“It is hard to tell but you are looking at decades. Even if you find her, she may not remember you.”

“Oh, Taryn.” Emma started to cry but she fought to regain her composure. “How do I get in there?”

“There is an entrance that is left unguarded. They do not know it exists. It is a drainage tunnel that runs from the Fleet to the halls below the main building. Their one weakness is their arrogance. They feel that it is impossible to break out or for that matter to break in, so they overlook the seemingly unimportant.”

Emma smiled as she looked out of the window at the now misty street outside. She had suspected as much from her recent travels. There were still a few hours to go until the sun set but it seemed to be darker all the time now.

Rodolfo walked up to her side. “The night is nearly
upon us and we do not want to get caught out in the open. If you are insistent on following this foolhardy course, then we should leave now.”

Faced with this sudden choice, Emma felt a sudden jolt of indecision, but after a couple of seconds she took a deep breath and stood up. “We should go now then.”

Rodolfo's eyes rolled as he stood up and followed Emma towards the door. “Careful, child, do not be in such a hurry. It may not be night yet but there are still dangers for the unwary. If people see the two of us walking together, word will get back to Newgate before we have crossed the street. Leave now and meet me at the junction of Ludgate Hill and Old Bailey, do you know where that is?”

Emma turned and nodded, hoping that Rodolfo wouldn't be able to see through her. She would have known where Ludgate Hill was in her own London but here, in this city of narrow lanes and miasma clouds, she wasn't sure she could find her way round the corner much less through half a mile of twisted back streets.

“Good, I will leave shortly, now go.”

Emma left the building and, pulling her jacket around her, hurried across King William Street and into the entrance to Cannon Street. A coach and horses hurtled out of the mist, narrowly missing her as it turned up Gracechurch Street.

For the first time, Emma felt grateful to be cloaked by the mist. She could live with the slippery cobbles just as long as she could travel without being spotted. Emma knew that Rodolfo was right that they should not travel together but she could have done with his reassurance right then. Instead she distracted herself by trying to form some kind of plan for when she finally entered the gaol. After a while she gave up, knowing that whatever she came
up with would more than likely be completely irrelevant against whatever she found down there.

Every now and again, the heat from a gas lit street lamp would cause the fog to rise and Emma would get glimpses of top hats and wide skirts as people would pass by. Some would look in her direction and for one heart skipping moment, Emma would think that a scream or shout would cut through the unnatural stillness but there was nothing, the mist saw to that.

Now though, there was a new problem. Whilst the mist hid Emma from anybody that might be nearby, it also hid London from Emma. Try as she might, she could not get her bearings. She new she was still on Cannon Street but where? Every time her foot slipped on a kerb, or the tell-tale clip-clop of a horse drawn carriage came from her left, Emma would follow it down a short way to see where it went but the kerbs went off at right angles down to the Thames and she realised soon enough that the sounds of the horses hooves were distorted by the buildings so they could have been coming from anywhere. Eventually, the pavement turned left and Emma breathed a sigh of relief as she realised that she was at the junction with Queen Victoria Street. Straining her ears to make sure she wasn't about to be run over, Emma half ran, half walked across the empty road and carried on down towards Ludgate Hill, but it wasn't long before Emma realised that she had made a mistake as the mist thickened and her world was invaded by new noises. The sound of water lapping against wood told her that she was too near the wharfs. She had taken a wrong turn and, looking around, Emma knew she had no hope of finding her way back.

A rising sense of panic overtook her and she started to look for any turn off that might take her back up the way
she had come, but which way was back? Come to that which way was left or right? With a sinking feeling, Emma realised that she was hopelessly lost and to top it, there was something else. People. Without realising it, Emma had managed to walk into a side street that was lined with shabby looking dwellings that opened straight out onto the street. Broken windows were framed by rotten wood and, around her, barrels lay on their sides, their spoilt contents spewed across the ground. Emma tried to cover her nose with her jacket as the sounds of men and women groaning and vomiting started to fill her ears. Then another smell hit her, it was of excrement and waste from the south bank tanneries, combined with tar and damp hemp from the dock warehouses. The Thames had to be nearby.

“Rotten innit dahlin'”

The words were spoken by a toothless woman with nothing but a few rags and a rough woollen shawl for clothing. She had come out of the mist to Emma's left and Emma recoiled at the sight of her.

“I knows who you are, Emma. You'll fetch a pretty penny, wontcha. There's people who wants you bad, int there?” The woman reached out with an emaciated and scab covered arm in an attempt to grab Emma.

“Get the fuck away from me!”

Emma stepped back, slipping on the damp cobblestones as she did so. If she thought that her words would scare the woman off, she was disappointed. It had the opposite effect. Not only did the woman advance on her with even more vigour but around her, Emma could hear stirrings from the buildings as people woke up to who was in their midst. Slowly, the mist started to give way to the shadows and silhouettes of more and more people dragging themselves towards Emma in a ramshackle advance. Emma ran
back up the street but the mist stopped her from following a straight line and she ended up tripping over a barrel in her haste to get out. Her right shoulder took the brunt of the impact as she hit the ground and Emma let out a yelp of pain that gave her position away to everybody following her. Voices carried on the foul air as fights started among the crowd as to who could get to her first.