AN: So, I wanted to do a retelling of Corpse Bride. An AU, if you will, in which Emily never died.PS: If you are wondering about my Harry Potter fics, please understand where I am coming from when I say that I'm not very fond of them at the moment. I started writing them when I was 16 and I feel as though I have grown more as a writer and a person. And, as much as I love HP, I really have to be in the right mood to write about it. Perhaps, one day I will update them, but for now, please enjoy this story, which will be much longer than my other Corpse Bride stories.
Chapter 1
In Which Death Chose Another Victim
Emily Merrimack was an exceptionaly gifted young woman. She could play piano, dance, and sing. No one could compare.
She was also breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that she was known for miles around. She was slender and graceful. Her long hair, as dark as night, fell down her back and hung in ringlets about her face. Her eyes were as blue and bright as forget-me-nots and were framed by long lashes. A hint of a smile was always present upon her full, pink lips.
Partnered with her beauty, was the sharpness of her mind. Being born into such wealth ensured her with an excellent education. Art and music being her stronger subjects.
She was her father's pride and joy, and her mother's departing gift to the world. Most notably, she was the object of desire amongst all the eligible bachelors for miles.
Yes, Emily was a most fortunate woman, and would be for the rest of her life... Or, so she thought.
Everything changed for Emily the year she turned 19.
It was late autumn when news of a wealthy necomer came to town. Word had it that he was quite attractive and remarkably charming. Important qualities any young lady looked for in a potential suitor.
Naturally, this mysterious stranger was quick to hear of Miss Merrimack's beauty and the wealth of her family. It wasn't long until he called upon the Merrimacks.
He introduced himself as Lord Henry Hurst. Shamelessly, he used his what skills he had with the spoken-word to worm his way into the hearts of Mr. Merrimack and his lovely daughter. Though Emily possessed a gifted mind, intellectual individuals are not necessarily imune to naivety. Therefore, she fell for the said-lord's charms. Mr. Merrimack, on the other hand, was not.
Within an hour of meeting Lord Henry Hurst, Mr. Merrimack deduced three things about the man: one, if Hurst really, was a lord, which Mr. Merrimack found to be unlikely, the man wasn't careful with his money; two, if the later was correct, then that meant that Hurst was in debt and in need of money, hence his fascination with Emily; three, because of Hurst's lack of funds and newfound "infatuation" with Emily, that meant he was desperate, and heaven knows what lengths a desperate man would go to. Desperate men where dangerous, and that was not the sort of life Mr. Merrimack wanted for his daughter.
When Lord Henry Hurst left the Merrimack estate, Mr. Merrimack turned to his daughter and warned her of the destruction that lies in the wake of greedy men such as Hurst. Oh, but Emily did not listen.
The pair of them began to meet in secret, and poor Emily grew ever more susceptible to Hurst's charms. Within two weeks time, she fancied herself in love with the man, and he seemed to have returned the feeling. He said so, at least.
Marriage became a regular topic of discussion amongst them. Henry insisted on eloping, but Emily wasn't as fond of the idea.
Every since she was a child, she had dreamed of having a church wedding. One where her father would be present. One where she could wear the wedding dress her mother had left her. Because, her heart ached for such a wedding, she requested that Hurst ask her father's permission as a last ditch effort. If still her father refused, then she would follow through with an elopement.
To the surprise of, well, no one, Mr. Merrimack refused Lord Henry when asked for Emily's hand. This moved Emily to tears.
"I love him, Father," she sobbed. "Why do you deny me my happiness?"
"Happiness?" spat Mr. Merrimack. "Trust me, my dear, you shall never know happiness if you marry that horse's ass. It is because I value your happiness above all else that I have denied Hurst."
But, in that moment, Emily could not understand her father's words. A plan was then made for an elopement.
When her father was fast asleep, and the staff had ventured back to there homes, Emily would grab what she could, like the family jewels and a satchel of gold, and meet Henry by the old oak tree by the graveyard at a quarter to three. Then, she could get on with her life with the man she loved.
When autumn was in the midst of turning to winter, the night finally came. Emily had made a show of retiring early for the night, and waited till all the house was still. When the grandfather clock in the parlor struck one, Emily quietly opened the chest that sat at the foot of her bed and removed her mother's wedding dress. Once she had slipped it on, she took note of how wonderfully it fit her, as if it were a glove. As quietly as she could, she ventured out of her room and tiptoed through the house until she reached her father's study. There, she opened the vault that contained the family jewels and what money wasn't kept at the bank. She shoved what she could into the satchel that Henry had given her. By the time the clock rang two, she was out the door.
The journey to the meeting spot was a cold one. Emily cursed herself for not bringing a coat to shield her from the chill and the fog.
She was half way to the graveyard, and still scolding herself, when she heard the snap of twig. This caused her to stop in her tracks and scan her surroundings.
"Who's there?" she called into the night. "Whoever you are, be warned, if you harm me, you will have my fiancé to deal with."
A dark chuckle sounded in the woods, and a figure emerged from the shadows. He was dressed head to toe in black, and a scarf covered the lower half of his face.
"Now, now, missy," he spoke in a Cockney accent. "I won't hurt ya as long as ya comply."
"What do you want?" Emily cried. Highwaymen were not people to be trifled with, and with her luck, she was bound to run into one.
Another dark chuckle escaped the highwayman's lips. "Whatcha got in the bag, pretty?"
Emily removed rhe satchel from her shoulder and held it out to him, not wanting to make things more complicated than they were. "Just take it. I don't want any trouble."
"Smart girl," the man replied, taking the satchel from her. "Since ya didn't give me no grief, I'll let ya go. Run along home, now."
"You should be the one running," Emily challenged. "My fiancé will be along any moment, and he'll beat you to a bloody pulp."
The highway man laughed once more. "Fiancé, huh? I tell ya what, any man well-respected man, wouldn't let no fiancée o' his be wondering 'round in the dark by herself."
Emily scoffed. "And men such as you know what well-respected men are like?"
"Touché, but from the sounds of it, missy, he ain't no well-respected man. If ya asks me, he's only after yer money." The highwayman gave one final chuckle. "But what do I know? Thanks for the treasures, poppet."
Emily went to say something else, but the man was gone. It was as if he had evaporated into fog and shadow before her very eyes.
She then mulled over the highwayman's words...He ani't no well-respected man... He's only after yer money.
Then she recalled her father's words: It is because I value your happiness above all else that I have denied Hurst.
Emily sighed. Perhaps it were true that Henry did not really love her and was only after her wealth.
Her father was a good judge of character. He must have good reason for disliking Henry.
With a heavy heart, Emily turned on her hill made her way back home. Her heart was definitely not broken, but it was surely cracked.
When she reached the edge of town, the peculiar sent of smoke drew Emily from her thoughts. Odd, she thought to herself. As she trudged on further the sound of shouting filled her ears. Venturing further into the town, she saw the orange glow of a fire. It soon registered that a house was on fire, and not just any house, but hers."
She then broke into a run. She pushed passed the crowd of people that stood outside her home until she was at the front of the line.
An army of policemen were doing there best to keep the crowd at bay and away from the roaring blaze. Meanwhile, a group of men were tossing buckets of water in attempt to put the fire out.
It wasn' until the sun began to rise that the fire was out. Emily's hair and wedding gown were covered in cinders and her lovely face was tear stained. The house itself was burnt beyond repair.
A few policemen ventured in to see if there was anything salvageable and to locate Mr. Merrimack, or rather, what was left of him.
Poor Mr. Merrimack died due to inhaling so much smoke, and his body was burned almost to the point of being unrecognizable. Unfortunately, Emily was forced to identify the body anyway.
As far as salvageable items, only two such things remained. One was a edge-burnt photographer of Mr. and Mrs. Merrimack on their wedding day. The other was the safe that was in Mr. Merrimack's study.
Unfortunately, the contents of the safe appeared to have been stolen.
At first glance, it appeared that Emily was to be blamed. Perhaps she had stolen her father's fortune in order to provide for herself and her secret fiancé. For good measurement, she set the house on fire as another way to get back at her father, and then scampered off to elope with her lover. Once she had handed over her fortune, she had a change of heart, hence why she had returned to the crime scene.
Because of this suspicion, the police questioned her. When she relayed to them her story about her plan to meet Hurst and how the highwayman had stopped her on her way there, and how she realized how silly she was being, running off with a man she barely knew; all evidence pointed to Lord Henry Hurst. Conveniently, it appeared the man had skipped town just in the nick of time. There was also not enough evidence to prove that Emily was guilty, and really, who would believe such a girl was?
With that matter settled, there was only one problem: What was to become of Miss Emily Merrimack? She was the last remaining heir of the Merrimack fortune and estate, but being an heiress with no inheritance was a bit pointless. There was also the matter of who would take her on.
She had no relatives to take her in and close friends of the Merrimacks were not financially able to provide for somebody else. She was in quite the predicament.
That was until a wealthy fish merchant and his wife agreed to take her in as their ward. Their business was prospering, making them one of the wealthiest families in town, and they were more than capable of providing for her.
They also had a son, just shy of being a year older than Emily. He was very timid and kept mostly to himself, so Emily did not know much about him or what he looked like, as she only ever caught glimpses of him.
Oh, but Emily hoped they would grow to be great friends. Goodness knows she needed one during such a time.
And that was the beginning of Emily Merrimack's life with the Van Dorts.