Capítulo 512: Vespucci Villa Ⅲ
Cold, and feeling rather exhausted, Tiffany numbly waits for someone to come, but all the while staring at her blood-soaked hands and skirt. The loud shouts from behind her and the on-slewing footsteps do not cause her to glance up. It was not until she felt the grip of hands-on her arms that roughly shook her that she at long last looked up. It is the rather handsome middle-aged figure of Patrizio Vespucci. However, for some reason, she is unable to hear him and can only see his mouth moving rapidly with no sound emerging forth.
A hand suddenly shoves Patrizio Vespucci back causing him to fall onto his backside. Tiffany impassively turns her head around to see the worried expression of her father, Arnold Topsy. His usually groomed hair is in disarray including his fine mustache.
There is a worried look in Mr. Topsy's eyes as he gently pulls his only daughter into his arms and glares at the sprawled figure of Mr. Vespucci on the ground. "My daughter is in shock, Mr. Vespucci, I will take her inside to warm her and see to it that she is cleaned. I would suggest that you, call the Auror's," Mr. Topsy firmly declared, before carrying his daughter away.
The next part is a complete and utter blur as Tiffany can only recall being taken into the house and her mother's tear-streaked face. In some guest bedroom, she is cleaned up, before being dressed in warm, soft pajamas with a bathrobe around her to maintain some of her modesty. Before being laid into bed, and seeing dim figures entering and leaving the room, but unable to understand them as if they were speaking another language.
Blinking awake from like from a strange dream, Tiffany raises her head from the pillows under her head and feels the hand that had gently been stroking her head become still and pull away. Sitting up she glances at the figure at sitting her the bedside, her mama.
"Are you awake, my precious?" Croaked Helena Topsy, the mother of Tiffany.
"Mama?" Tiffany blinked in confusion. "When did you get here?"
The pretty, petite strawberry blond-haired witch stares at her daughter with concern. Mrs. Topsy's lips tremble as she somehow manages to maintain her composure. "I've been here all along, my precious, but you've been far away for a bit. The healer said you would slowly return to yourself within the next few hours."
"Oh," Tiffany said feeling rather foolish now.
Mrs. Topsy fidgets and pats the bedsheets smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. The two females are silent before, Mrs. Topsy says, "The Auror's have already left. They have collected the testimony from Emalia of what occurred, and the Auror's themselves have confirmed it. You won't be needing to recount that traumatic event again, my precious."
"I see," Tiffany dully said. "In that case, why are we still at the Vespucci home?"
Mrs. Topsy glances away with some unknown emotion, before saying, "Your father and Mr. Vespucci are formally negotiating the dissolving of the existing marriage contract between the two families."
"Is that all?" Tiffany said with a frown. "No, that can't be it. What are you not telling me, mama?"
Mrs. Topsy's lips press into a frown transforming her usual jovial face into a rather vexed one. "Mr. Vespucci claims that you are a bride of Death, and that any man that attempts to take your hand in marriage will only result in his death."
"What?!" Tiffany choked in anger. "I'm not the one who was caught with my trousers around my ankles!"
"I know, my precious," Mrs. Topsy smoothly said to placate her daughter. "However, it will be much for difficult for there to be a marriage proposal in the future for you, my precious. The more superstitious families will refuse to bind their only sons to you. I am sorry, love, but I fear that the gossip will spread like the plague on the wind even unto the old continent. We'd have to arrange a marriage for you overseas on the new continent, but I can't bear to send you so far away, my precious."
Tiffany wearily leans back against her pillow and closes her eyes for a moment. There is a pressure in her eyes as the tears well up behind her eyelids. She still dreamed of one-day having children of her own. And now even that was out of her reach.
Through blurry eyes, Tiffany says, "In that case, might I ask for further education, Mama? I am quite good at Arithmancy and took second place in our year. Papa can't very well protest now, can he?"
Mrs. Topsy's own eyes fill with tears as she pulls her second born, her last child into her arms. "It will be alright, my precious. We will make this work."
"Mm," Tiffany can only mutter as she silently weeps in her mother's arms.
Warmly, cocooned in her mother's arms, Tiffany hesitantly asks, "Will I still be able to attend the funeral, Mama?"
"I don't think so, precious," Mrs. Topsy rather sadly replied to her daughter's question.
"I see," Tiffany soberly contemplated, before wiping her tears and pulling herself out of her mother's arms. "In that case, there is no further use in weeping."
Mrs. Topsy's lips twitch in understanding, before saying, "In that case, let us visit your brother tomorrow."
Tiffany's face slightly brightens up at the prospect of visiting her older brother and her little nephew. Her nephew was just so cute, and she loved the little boy with all her heart. Feeling a painful streak of pain in her heart again at the thought of never having children of her own, her face wilts again.
Mrs. Topsy's own eyes darken with emotion and understanding of her daughter's expression. Only fifteen years old and already condemned to the life of a spinster. It simply was not fair! But life is not fair.
Loud angry footsteps can be heard down the hallway causing both men to look up. Mr. Topsy's face is red with anger, but triumph. "We are leaving!" Mr. Topsy announced leaving no room for argument not that either woman would have argued back.
Tiffany slides out of the bed and pulls the bathrobe tight around herself and striding after her parents in warm bedroom slippers. The three Topsy's make their way to the floo hearth in the main hallway. The halls are utterly silent as they make their way to the Vespucci Villa.
Glancing around at the home one last time, Tiffany to her surprise she is relieved. Even if this had all ended in tragedy, she would never have to worry about marrying such a man again. For better or for worse in a way, Vasco had done her a great favor that could never be repaid. And for that, she would be eternally grateful to him.
The sudden hush of voices caused Tiffany to be jolted out of her reverie to find that the Vespucci family is before her. Emalia Vespucci's head is down as her eyes refuse to meet with Tiffany out of fear or shame. On the other hand, Vera Vespucci loudly weeps and leans against her husband, Patrizio Vespucci, who glares at Tiffany with utter loathing and rage in his eyes.
"You are a wicked curse upon my family," Patrizio bellowed pointing at Tiffany. "And to all those that you encounter. Mark my words, she is a death harbinger!"
Tiffany is protectively drawn into her mother's arms, while her father, Arnold Topsy takes a step forward and says, "I will hold myself back in understanding that you are at present hurt and in mourning because of your son's sudden death. However, listen well, Patrizio Vespucci because I will only say this once. Should you repeat such a foolish remark in front of me and my wife again, I will see to it that you are run out of England. Do not test me."
Mr. Topsy's words ring coldly in the Vespucci's home causing Patrizio Vespucci to stiffly nods his head in understanding. Mr. Vespucci knew that Mr. Topsy's words are no mere idle threat. Mr. Topsy had vast connections, and his wife, had been a Selwyn, before marriage. The Selwyn's were rather vicious characters and if Mrs. Topsy beseeched them for aid, they would surely and most violently ensure that the Vespucci's permanently left England never to return.
Seeing that they had reached in an understanding, Mr. Topsy says, "You first, Helana, then you precious." Mr. Topsy keeps his face facing forward lest Mr. Vespucci pulls out his wand and attacks his unprotected back. Mrs. Topsy floo's first then his daughter, and at last Mr. Topsy.
All long last when Mr. Topsy turns his back on Mr. Vespucci he cranes his ears for any sign of movement as he tosses the sparkling floo powder into the fireplace. "Topsy-Turvey Manor," Mr. Topsy said, before stepping into the green flames with infinite relief at not being attacked. Still, it was close, he could tell by the cold sweat drying on his back but considering the circumstances of that evening, he would take that any day.
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
EsliEsma
EsliEsma It is illogical, yes, but so were the Nazi's in making the Jews the scapegoat, and yet many believed. Logic is always taking out of the equation when trying to reason with emotion.
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