Storm Child

by Sharon Sant

  ‘I’ll be down in a minute,’ he mumbled.

  The sound of heavy footsteps came from the stairs and a moment later, Ernesto stood at the doorway of the bedroom. Annie shrank back, and then scurried away. Isaac turned just in time to see Ernesto raise the bucket. The next minute, Isaac and his bed were drenched in icy water.

  ‘Get up!’

  Shivering, Isaac ran a hand down his face, gasping for the breath that the cold had stolen from his lungs. Before he’d had time to reply, Ernesto was already heading for the stairs.

  Annie’s anxious face appeared at the doorway. ‘Sorry… I could try to dry it for you. I can’t promise in this weather it’ll be much better though.’

  Isaac gave her a tight smile. ‘Thanks Annie. Don’t feel bad, you did try to wake me.’

  ‘That weren’t no reason to throw water on you,’ Annie whispered, glancing behind her.

  ‘I’d sooner a bucket of water than his boot up my backside.’

  Less than ten minutes later, Isaac was standing in Ernesto’s study, his hair still wet.

  ‘Go and ready the horse. We’re taking the trap today – we have business to attend to.’

  ‘Where we goin’?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘You don’t ask questions.’ Isaac hesitated for a moment. ‘What are you waiting for, boy? I gave you an instruction.’

  Isaac turned on his heel and marched from the room scowling. Polly met him in the hallway.

  ‘What’s eatin’ you?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Don’t look like nothing.’

  ‘Some people should realise that we’re all growing older and one day the dog will bite his master, that’s all.’

  ‘Ah,’ Polly replied shrewdly. ‘Old Ern wants you to go with him on errands today.’

  ‘He only needed to ask instead of soaking my bed.’ Polly bit back a grin. ‘It ain’t funny,’ Isaac huffed. ‘If you think it’s funny, see how funny it is when I take your bed tonight.’

  ‘You’d never do that to me,’ Polly said carelessly. ‘You got time for breakfast?’

  ‘No. His Lordship wants to go now.’

  ‘Didn’t think so.’ Polly produced a plate from behind her back. ‘I got you some bread and butter to eat while you get Chester ready.’

  Isaac couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. ‘Ta, Poll.’

  ‘Don’t get any funny ideas that I like you or anything…’ she paused, biting back a smile of her own. ‘You know how you got them winnings from the tavern… maybe I’ll let you take me out for a pie when you get back from your errands.’

  ‘What about Ernesto?’

  Polly tapped her apron pocket. ‘What he don’t know won’t hurt, will it?’

  Isaac’s smile became even wider as he watched her walk away.

  By the time they were on the road, a weak sun had risen. Ernesto drove the trap, Isaac sitting silently by his side, hugging himself for warmth. Where Ernesto had a thick woollen overcoat and leather gloves to fend off the early frost, the cold was biting through Isaac’s thin clothes, and his damp hair wasn’t helping him feel any better. Steam rose from the back of Chester in soft clouds as he clip-clopped on the deserted Uxmouth road. Isaac wondered whether Ernesto had business with a trader there, or perhaps he was on the way to buy another unfortunate child from the orphanage, but he couldn’t imagine why his guardian would need him in attendance for either of those things. That wasn’t the only reason Isaac was jittery. It was only a few days before that he had been locked in a jail in Uxmouth and his face would still be fresh in the minds of the officers responsible, particularly for the manner of his escape. He wasn’t keen on the idea of being locked up again.

  Ernesto scanned the landscape intently as he drove the cart. After a couple of hours he pulled Chester to a halt and stared at the small white point of a house on the heath, further behind which could be seen the distant rooftops of a village.

  ‘What are you lookin’ at?’ Isaac asked, his voice echoing across the frosted heath and sounding strange in his own ears after their long silence on the deserted road.

  ‘It will shake the cart to bits on this blasted countryside. I’ll have to leave it on the road and walk the rest of the way.’

  ‘Rest of the way where?’ Isaac looked at the house and then back at Ernesto. ‘That place?’

  ‘Stay with the horse.’ Ernesto jumped down from the cart. Without looking back once, he strode across the undergrowth towards the cottage.

  Isaac leapt down from the trap to stretch his legs. Wandering to the front of the cart, he ran a hand down Chester’s velvety nose. ‘He gets stranger every day, don’t he?’ Chester blew a soft breath into the air and nuzzled Isaac’s arm. Isaac laughed. ‘That’s what I thought.’ When he looked up again, he could see that Ernesto was heading for the tiny cottage, just as he had suspected he was. But what could he want from the people who lived in such a humble dwelling? As he turned the puzzle over in his mind, Isaac began to form theories. And they were theories that he wasn’t altogether happy about. He watched as Ernesto knocked at the door, and then was admitted.

  Humming softly to himself, he leaned against Chester’s warm flank and stared up into the sky. Then he let out a long sigh. ‘What shall I do about Poll, eh Chester? I know she likes me, but she ain’t going to want a poor boy like me to marry. I mean, I know I’m too young for marryin’ but one day I won’t be. It’s Poll I want but I got to make her see that we were meant for each other. And once she’s got Ernesto’s fortune, she won’t ever want to give me a second look. She might even make me the stable boy and marry a fancy gent, and then I’d have to watch her every day, all la-de-dah and me doffin’ my cap and never able to kiss her or make her laugh again. That would be a rum do, wouldn’t it? I think I’d die from a broken heart, and that ain’t me bein’ dramatic. I knew that first day Ernesto brought her home we were meant to be, and –‘

  Suddenly, he leapt away from Chester, and his head flicked towards the cottage as a desperate scream rent the air. Without a second thought, Isaac tore across the heath in the direction of the house.

  Charlotte glanced across at her mother in surprise as the knock came at the front door.

  ‘Are we expecting anyone today?’

  Mrs Harding shook her head. The strange appearance and then disappearance of the girl calling herself Celia only the day before had spooked them both more than they cared to admit. Especially when the smith had told them about how she had claimed to know Charlotte and had waited for them to return from church.

  Before either of them had had time to share an opinion on who it might be at their door, the knock came again, louder this time. There seemed to be impatience woven into the very sound of it.

  Charlotte’s mother hesitated for a moment, before going to answer.

  ‘Good day.’ A man stood at the door, perhaps in his late fifties, well-built, thick black hair and dark skin. He tipped his hat and bowed slightly. ‘I’m making enquiries about a lost child.’

  ‘A child?’ Charlotte’s mother glanced back briefly towards Charlotte, who was holding Georgina in her arms. Charlotte, almost unaware of her actions, stepped back into the shadows of the kitchen, as if standing against the wall could somehow make the two of them invisible. The visitor’s gaze was drawn past Charlotte’s mother towards the movement.

  ‘Bless my soul!’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s the babe!’

  ‘You are mistaken, sir,’ Charlotte fired back. ‘This is my sister.’

  ‘Strange…’ the man inched his way into the room, forcing Charlotte’s mother away from the door as he did. ‘She doesn’t look like you.’

  ‘Some siblings do not resemble each other.’

  ‘Hmmm…’ The man moved closer and Charlotte continued to back away until the wall prevented her from going any further. He peered closely at Georgina, whose face contorted into the beginnings of a wail. ‘She has grown a little, but I would not mistake my own daughter.’

  Charlotte’s mo
uth fell open. She stared at the man, and then at her mother. ‘Your daughter?’ Something about this wasn’t right. How she knew she couldn’t say, but some deep instinct told her this man was lying. He wasn’t acting the way a father who had just found his lost daughter would act. And Georgina herself seemed to shrink back in his presence, as though she feared him.

  The man reached to take Georgina from her arms.

  ‘No!’ Charlotte said, pulling her in close.

  ‘She is my child,’ the man growled, his courteous tones now becoming something more menacing. ‘I want her back.

  ‘She is ours!’

  ‘Charlotte…’ her mother began. ‘If this is indeed Georgina’s father, then we have no choice but to reunite them…’

  ‘Mother! How could you?’

  Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I will feel her loss as keenly as you. But we cannot keep a family apart.’

  ‘She is not his! And even if she were, what kind of father would have abandoned her out on the heath in a storm? He has no right to take her!’ Charlotte stamped her foot, anger now replacing the fear that had gripped her only moments before.

  Georgina began to cry, clinging to Charlotte tighter than before.

  ‘Now you’ve made her cry, girl,’ the man said. Despite his words, there was a certain glee for Georgina’s distress in his eyes.

  ‘You will have to prove that you are her father.’

  ‘And how do you expect me to do that?’

  ‘You must have papers.’

  He stood back and appraised Charlotte for a moment. Then he smiled. ‘Of course…’ his hand went to a jacket pocket as if to look for something. But an instant later he flew at Charlotte and wrenched Georgina from her arms. Charlotte screamed as he shoved her against the wall. Before he had chance to make his escape, Charlotte’s mother lunged for him and grabbed Georgina back.

  ‘Run, Mother! Go find the smith!’

  Charlotte’s mother hesitated, clearly torn between protecting her own daughter and the baby who had become a daughter to her. But the decision was taken from her hands. At the same instant as the man leapt for her again, a boy, not much older than Charlotte, burst into the room.

  ‘Ernesto! What’re you doing?’ he yelled.

  ‘Get back to the cart!’ Ernesto snarled.

  ‘I ain’t goin back there to let you do this.’

  ‘She’s my child, I bought her fair and square.’

  ‘You ain’t takin’ her!’ Isaac drew himself to his full height and stared at Ernesto who simply let out a mocking laugh.

  ‘And you’re going to stop me?’

  ‘If I have to.’

  Charlotte looked at her mother as the confrontation between the two newcomers seemed to reach a standoff. ‘Run,’ she mouthed.

  Charlotte’s mother shook her head, stroking Georgina’s hair as she cried.

  ‘Go!’ Charlotte pleaded, louder now. Ernesto turned to her, his eyes blazing.

  ‘Hand over the baby and nobody gets hurt.’

  ‘Apart from you,’ Isaac said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me. I ain’t takin’ no more from you, and I ain’t lettin’ you take that baby from a nice home where she’ll be cared for. It’s too late for me, Ern, I’m already a criminal. I ain’t lettin’ you do that to Annie’s sister.’

  ‘Who said anything about keeping her?’ Ernesto hissed. ‘You think I would raise another ungrateful brat to grow up and start answering me back? I have far greater plans for her.’

  ‘I don’t care. Enough is enough.’

  Charlotte’s mother began to back slowly towards the door as their argument raged. Charlotte inched her way around the wall, trying to reach her. Ernesto spun around as he caught the movement.

  ‘Running away are we? I’ll take what I came for and be on my way.’

  In the instant he reached for Georgina, Isaac leapt on him. Ernesto Black might have been past his prime, but he was still a bear of a man. He shook Isaac off easily and with one swipe knocked him across the room. Charlotte let out a scream as Isaac fell backwards against the stone fireplace and then was still. Ernesto wrenched Georgina from the arms of Charlotte’s mother, shoving her out of the way, and then strode from the door out onto the heath. Charlotte hesitated for a moment, torn whether to help her mother or chase Georgina.

  ‘Go,’ Mrs Harding said, waving her away as she hurried over to Isaac. Charlotte raced after Ernesto, but he broke into a run, and Charlotte’s small frame weighed down by her huge dress was no match for his long strides. Before she had even covered half the distance, he had bundled Georgina onto the cart and they were racing away.

  Eighteen:

  Charlotte’s knees buckled and she dropped to the ground as she watched the cart go, Georgina’s plaintive cries carried across the heath on the wind. For many moments, she could do nothing but stare through her tears, her numb mind refusing to process the events of the previous half hour. A man came and Georgina had gone. It was over as quickly as that?

  A hand on her shoulder shocked her back to her surroundings.

  ‘Charlotte, get up from the wet ground, you’ll catch your death.’

  Slowly, Charlotte stood. Her mother’s face reflected the pain that Charlotte knew must be in her own eyes.

  ‘Georgina’s gone,’ Charlotte said weakly.

  ‘Yes. But I need your help right now.’ Charlotte looked at her blankly. ‘The boy,’ her mother said. ‘I think the boy is dying.’

  It took a moment for Charlotte to realise who she meant. Then it all came back to her – the boy who tried to prevent Georgina’s kidnap must still be in their house. Kidnap: the more Charlotte thought about it, the more convinced she was that a kidnap was what she had witnessed that day, not a loving father coming to claim his child.

  ‘There’s no time for us to feel sorry for ourselves,’ Mrs Harding said, fear and urgency very real even beneath the calm of her voice. ‘We can mourn Georgina’s loss later. You need to run to fetch Dr Weston, right now.’

  Though all she wanted to do was collapse in a heap and cry, Charlotte nodded. Without another word, she ran for the road to the village.

  The winter sun was low in the sky by the time Ernesto arrived back at the gates of the tumbledown mansion he called home. The child had finally fallen asleep, tired out from crying and screaming. He lifted her from the cart but she didn’t stir, despite his rough handling.

  ‘Polly!’ he shouted as he stood at the front steps.

  She immediately appeared at the door. ‘You got her!’ she cried, flying down the steps to him.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied grimly, ‘and the little terror nearly drove me mad with all her wailing on the road home. If the Brethren hadn’t wanted her I’d have dropped her into the nearest river to shut the noise up.’

  ‘You should have got Isaac to do tricks for her. It would have bored her to sleep.’ Polly glanced behind Ernesto. ‘Where is he?’

  Ernesto paused before answering. ‘Take Chester to the stables.’

  ‘That’s Isaac’s job.’

  ‘Know your place and do as I ask.’

  Polly took Chester’s reins. ‘Is he on another errand?’

  Ernesto started to walk up the steps to the front door. ‘Isaac has shown his loyalty lies elsewhere. We won’t be seeing him again.’

  Polly watched him go inside with the still sleeping baby. ‘Come on, Chester,’ she said absently, leading the horse around to the courtyard where his stable was. Her mind was a jumble of emotions. She had achieved the task Ernesto had asked of her, and she ought to be pleased. But Isaac’s absence and Ernesto’s reaction to her questions made her feel strange. She suddenly recognised the emotion. It was fear. She was afraid for him. What had happened on the road between him and Ernesto? Where was he? And another thing bothered her. Ernesto had mentioned the Brethren. She had heard rumours, amongst the street kids, about people called the Brethren. For some reason, Polly hadn’t imagined that handing Georgina over to
such people figured in Ernesto’s plans. But now it all made sense. And it was another reason to feel afraid.

  Polly undid the cart and led Chester into his stable. She busied herself brushing him down and feeding him, all the while the terrible feeling of foreboding building inside her. Her thoughts were interrupted by a scream followed by Ernesto shouting. Hurrying out of the stable, Polly was just in time to see their guardian dragging a distraught Annie by the wrist towards the cellar door. Annie pulled and scratched at Ernesto, but he held her fast. The door was opened and he flung her in, locking it smartly as she pounded and screeched inside. Smoothing his hair and breathing heavily, he glanced at Polly.

  ‘She’s gone stark mad.’

  ‘I’ll let her out when she’s calm,’ Polly replied.

  ‘You’ll let her out when I say so.’

  ‘I take it she’s seen you got the baby?’ Ernesto nodded slightly. ‘She’ll be none too happy about it considerin’ the trouble she went to hiding her.’

  ‘It’s my child to do with as I see fit. I bought her fair and square.’ He glared at Polly and lowered his voice to a menacing growl. ‘I bought you all fair and square, and don’t you forget it.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Polly pouted.

  ‘It seems all the others have.’

  ‘I ain’t the others.’

  ‘See it stays that way. And when you’re finished with the horse, there’s work to be done indoors. I haven’t had a decent meal all day.’

  ‘Where’s the baby?’

  ‘I’m keeping a close eye on her after last time. She’s locked up.’

  ‘Where?’

  Ernesto narrowed his eyes. ‘What do you need to know for?’

  ‘So’s I can feed ‘er.’

  ‘If there’s any food to go in, I’ll take it.’

  ‘You don’t trust your ol’ reliable Poll?’

  ‘Right now I don’t trust anyone.’

  ‘But I helped you…’

  ‘What do you want, a medal for it?’

  ‘A bit of gratitude would be nice,’ Polly grumbled.