I lay awake, restless and dry-eyed, for a long time that night, unable to make my brain to stop whirring. I shouldn't be thinking about Ciarán as anything but a friend. A friend should be enough. It was pathetic how attached I'd become in such a short space of time. Unwanted half-hopes dangled just on the edge of consciousness though. I forced those thoughts away. The familiar itch of the cold spot niggled at me instead. It had something to do with Helen. One of those imprints Mrs Cranford had mentioned. My eyes grew heavy finally, just as I remembered the book again. I kept forgetting it. Why was…
I am turned flipped over and over, battered in a tunnel of noise and pain. Screaming. Silence. Hanging. World the wrong way up. Blood runs…
…blood runs over my hands. I stare at it in shock. How very red it is. How hot. I watch Kate as she discards the pathetic, black- feathered bundle in a heap at our feet. Her hands clasp mine, the linen cuffs of her sleeves stained crimson and sticking to us both. She holds a fascination for me like the weasel does for the rabbit.
"You are not afraid of a little blood are you, Helen?" She gives me a close-lipped smile.
"Miss, you didn't ought to have done that. When your father misses the hen…" I try not to look at the blood spattering my apron.
"Oh pish!" She tosses her hair. The sun glints copper on her chestnut curls.
"But playing at witchery! I'm sure you should not." The devil will take me. The devil will take us both…
"We're bound now, Helen. With blood." She tightens her slippery fingers on mine.
Dark drops fall to the ground from our linked hands. Drip-pat. Drip-pat. I wish Mr Weston had never taken me in. Kate will surely go to hell and just as surely will she drag me in her wake.
"Bound?" I gulp back a sob.
"Yes, Helen. You shall never leave me now without my say so." Her dark eyes gleam.
She means to frighten me. I know she takes delight in my uneasiness. Why do I play her games? Likely she will forget all of this. I will be the one to fret over our souls. My hands shake, sprinkling more blood. Drip…pat…drip…pat…
…no…Emily…I'm Emily Lynette…
Not so red now. So dark it looks almost black…drip…
…No…NO…Let me GO! I'm Emily…
Kate laughs, merry and provoking. Even now, when I fear her most, I can't help wanting her to like me. Wanting to be as pretty as she.
"You wicked little beasts!" John's roar startles even Kate.
I snatch my hands away but it is too late. He has seen. They are slick with blood. I start crying with fright. Kate casts a scornful glance at me before looking up at John, as pert as you please. I have never admired her more. Neither of us try to run away. We both know better. John may be past forty but he is much faster than a twelve-year-old girl and her fourteen-year-old maid. I wonder how much the switching will hurt this time.
It hurts very much, as John has us raise our skirts so that they will not cushion the blows. I cry and beg for forgiveness. Kate accepts the beating in grim silence. I never once heard her apologise for anything. She will take this as proof that she should be more careful in not getting caught, not that she had done anything wicked. Mortification of the flesh has no effect on Kate. When he has whipped us raw, John set us to read long passages of Leviticus as penance.
I watch him striding away down the hallway, holding the black hen by its cut and broken neck. It bounces back and forth to his rolling gait. If we have that bird for dinner tomorrow I shall be sick.
"Here, Helen, listen!" Kate's voice is full of excitement.
"Hush! He's not gone yet!" I cast a fearful glance after John.
"Oh, don't be such a coward! He won't tell Papa. He never does. Listen to this, "the way of all life is the blood…" It is in the passage John set us! Is it not sweet?" She laughed as if she hadn't just had a switching with a birch at all.
I gaze at Kate in disbelief. Ordinarily the fact that she had found something to interest her in the bible would cause general outcry. That she had read any of the bible at all for that matter. But here we sit with sticky, blood spattered hands and skirts, our behinds and legs so sore we cannot kneel properly as instructed. We are denied food and water and warned that our immortal souls will be claimed by the devil if we should chance to die that night. Yet here was my young mistress and all she could do was laugh. I wondered for a moment if she was quite sane.
"Do you not think that you've caused us enough trouble? Laughing at the Word. Miss, I think you might be mad. I really do! Give me no more of your bloody sports. I won't play 'em."
"I suppose the homily from John wasn't enough for you? You had to add one of your own. What a vast, dull creature you are Helen! Such a little creep-mouse. Well, I'll not be cowed!" She narrows her beautiful eyes in spite, "And you will play, for I've bound our souls now. If I go to hell so will you, no matter what you do. So be as pious as you like. It's all one to me!"
I shiver with dread. I have a hardy fear of hell and its fires. There will be no entreating her now though, I can see. I will have to wait and nurse my fears in silence. At least until she un-bends and forgets her threats. An hour passes in dreary, grey minutes. Kate speaks not one word to me. I try to keep my attention on the bible but it is hard when anxiety and pain keep distracting me. I think I may have fallen asleep with my eyes open because Kate's next words jolt me, sending me lurching to my feet.
"Who is that strange boy?"
I join her at the window. A dark, raggedy shape slips between the stunted young apple trees. He is a little older than us I think. Filthy and wild looking. And something else. Something that fills me with wordless fear.
"A gypsy lad?" I offer.
"Not him. He’s more than that. I'd stake my soul on it!"
"Miss, please don't talk that way! About souls and such."
"Oh, just go back to your bible and be quiet Helen, if that's all you can say." Kate gives me a look of deep disgust.
"There's no point looking, for we're not to know such a ragamuffin anyway!" I snap back, nettled.
I expect a slap at the very least for my outburst but it does not come.
"I shall know him," Kate breathes. "I shall know him very well."
I haven't the faintest notion of what she means but I can see those fathomless black eyes, peering up at us from a dark face. Eyes that go on and on like the darkest pit. I shiver. Ada would say a ghost walked on my grave. I think it is something much more harmful than that.
…emily…I'm Emily…Emlynn…
Kate presses a hand against the window…
…LET ME GO…
I bolted upright in bed, heart thudding in my chest. I held out my shaking hands; clean, no blood. A dream…No. A memory. Helen's memory. That wasn't meant to happen. Not joining with Helen while I slept…I shivered. Maybe Mrs Cranford was right. Maybe I had no choice. What if I became Helen until there was nothing left of me?
I looked towards the open window. Pale hands reaching, reaching…I knew, now, she couldn't get inside. The cold girl couldn’t get into my room. Not unless I invited her. I was crushed under the wave of nausea and revulsion. It’s not Kate, so who is it? Her plaintive wailing stabbed into my ears just as I stuffed a pillow around my head. I didn't have the strength to get up and close the window in the dark. My bedside lamp still had the half- melted remains of the exploded bulb stuck in it.
I couldn't stand it. Couldn't bear to hear her anymore. Just like earlier, on the moor, something unfolded within me, swifter this time, smoother. Like a muscle that grew stronger with use. GO! I pushed out. Go and haunt someone else, and leave me alone!
The hands were swept into the night. The window slammed shut. I fell back on my bed.
As the weight of exhaustion crashed down on me, I thought I could smell rosemary or was it violets? Everything went black.
I Belong to the Earth (Unveiled Book 1) Page 28
