Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Victor limped into the dining room. He was filthy and still wearing only one boot. “Good morning,” he said to Angelika and Will, who were partway through their porridge. “Mary says we are to call you Will. Nice to meet you. I haven’t been up this early since I was a boy.”

“It’s true,” Angelika said to Will. “I have breakfast alone. And sometimes lunch.”

“I work late,” Victor defended himself. “And what a wild night that was.”

“I have to agree with you,” Will replied. He had given no indication to Angelika that he even remembered his late-night confession, but she burned with it. Not noticing her pink cheeks, Will asked Victor, “Did you catch your friend?”

“Sadly, no.” Victor dropped into his seat with a groan. “I nearly had him in the orchard, but he was moving uphill quite fast. I followed the screams for a long time, but it’s rocky ground.”

“Will you keep looking?” Angelika passed a basket of bread to her brother. “He’s completely defenseless out there.”

“I will find him. I just need to eat, saddle Athena, and find a new boot.”

“There’s a new pair in the bottom of your closet.” Angelika gestured now to Will. “He’s so handsome, he can make even your clothes look respectable, Vic.”

“Thank you for the loan,” Will said. Angelika noticed that he acknowledged every courtesy another person did for him.

Angelika sat up straighter, and when Mary came back through with a pot of butter, she thanked her graciously. She received a suspicious side-eye in reply.

Victor replied to Will, “The clothes? Don’t mention it. Jelly will get us more.” He yawned, but then refocused on his sister’s face with sharp interest. His green-eyed stare, so similar to hers, was unnerving. “How did you get that bruise?”

Angelika glanced reflexively to Will, the bump of the laboratory’s window frame a tender remembrance of his instant rejection.

Victor fixed him with a death glare, gripping his knife. “You did that to her?”

“It was an accident, and I’m very sorry, Angelika,” Will said with genuine remorse. “I’m still figuring out this new body, and I was careless. What felt like a mild reaction became something stronger.”

“It’s those blacksmith shoulders,” Victor observed, relaxing down in his seat. “Well, I hope you were gentle to her last night,” Victor said, assessing Angelika afresh. “Was it everything you were hoping for?”

“Nothing happened.” She transmitted with her eyes: Drop it.

“What are you hoping for?” Will asked.

Ignoring her glare, Victor said cheerfully, “You, my friend, were created purely for Miss Angelika Frankenstein’s personal use. She was going to bonk you halfway back to the grave.”

“Shut. Up. Victor.” Angelika’s cheeks were crimson. “I was not. You are contributing to scientific advancement, Will.”

Will’s complexion did not betray a blush, but his eyes darted between the Frankenstein siblings, trying to make sense of this teasing.

Victor continued. “Now that my own fantastic achievement is probably halfway to Glasgow, I might need to borrow you for a few scientific assessments.” At Will’s expression, Victor brayed heartily. “Don’t get the wrong idea; it will all be proper. I have a nemesis named Jürgen Schneider, and he is about to become very depressed by my skill.”

“Personal use?” Will was caught on that earlier detail. “I’m sure I misunderstand you.”

Victor replied, “You understand correctly. Jelly, I will need a full account of how you resurrected him by yourself. We will run some tests. This justifies a new microscope nicely.” He was beaming at the thought.

Will seemed to be grappling with this revelation when he looked at Angelika. His pupils were dilated, turning his brown eyes almost black, reminding her of last night and how he scented her neck like they were animal mates. “Why not just go down to the village and find a living volunteer?”

“She’s tried that many times,” Victor said with all the tact of a brother. “She has practically gone to Salisbury on market day and put herself into the livestock auctions. No buyers.”

She begged, “Please, just leave it.”

Will gave his observations. “Angelika, you are very fair, with your striking coloring.”

“Thank you,” Victor replied on her behalf, for he shared the exact same rippled waves of honey-red hair. “I once received an anonymous love letter, describing my eyes as ‘celadon gateways into sunlit fields of sage.’”

“That’s terrible writing and makes no sense,” Angelika said, looking at her own reflection in a spoon. Even in daylight, with his decorum restored, Will still thought her very fair? Encouraging. “You probably wrote a love letter to yourself.”

“Ask Lizzie. She’ll tell you.”

“I have no idea what she sees in you. And I don’t wish to know.”

Will continued to address Angelika. “You are clever enough to defeat the laws of living and dead. This grand house, and what I imagine is a fine dowry, would be an inducement.”

“This is my house, unless Athena bucks me off into a wall,” Victor said, biting into an apple.

It should have been flattering how bewildered Will was when he turned to her and asked, “How have you possibly remained unmarried?”

Instead, she imagined the subtext of the question was: What’s wrong with you?

“She’s got something about her,” Victor said slowly, answering the unasked, and it sent Angelika escaping to the window at the far end of the room, with a pastry in hand. “Something that the local men do not respond to. They want simple, straightforward women. Childbearing candidates. Good churchgoing sheep. Bland fair maids who know how to cook cabbage and whatnot. My sister is exceptional in every aspect, and they sense it. They know they cannot measure up to her, so they choose to laugh, or call her spinster, or witch.”

“Thank you, brother, how kind,” she replied with a tight throat, and looked outside the window. She did not feel very exceptional. Underneath the window stood a sow. Belladonna was tawny brown, spotted, big enough to saddle, and had a permanently hopeful countenance. One solitary piglet—a runt, slow to wean—was rooting around in the fallen leaves behind her.

Angelika opened the window and leaned down to feed the pig her pastry. “Victor, your secret admirer is here. The one who thinks your eyes are celadon gateways.”

“Tell her I’m not home.” Victor’s voice had the animal’s ears quirking up.

“But you are both wealthy,” Will said, valiantly staying on topic. “Surely she’s had countless suitors. Come back, Angelika, it’s all right.”

It was nice to be with someone who remained kind, instead of teasing like Victor. If she could, she’d sit on Will’s inviting lap and rest her face in his neck. Maybe he’d rub her back, up and down, until the loneliness subsided. Then, she might sit up, and he’d put his hand onto her jaw, encouraging a kiss—

Victor continued. “Suitors have come from miles away, from different towns, countries, and continents. They arrive in carriages to call, and to work out the extent of our fortune. The ones who are fervently religious are quickly shown the door. Others bore me to death. It is incredible to me how many men take no interest in science.”

“You aren’t finding yourself a husband,” Angelika reminded him dourly.

Victor grinned. “She then asks them very creative questions from a prepared sheet. They do not accept a second cup of tea.”

“I’ll take a second one,” Will said charitably, extending his cup.

Victor poured, and spilled. “She’s too focused on the end result of her love experiment. As a scientist, I tell her that unexpected things happen all the time. She’ll find her match. Frankensteins always do.” He considered Will at length. “Besides, she’s the only one I trust to be my assistant, and she does everything to my exact requirements.”

Will nodded. “I gathered that firsthand.”

They set about eating and chewing, like two relaxed friends. Angelika decided to wait by the window until her red face faded.

“How are you feeling?” Victor asked Will.

“Like I’ve been drinking spirits. I have a headache. I’m cold now, though your sister kept me warm all night.” Will said that last bit with a slice of humor. “I should tell you, I couldn’t keep her out of my bed.”

“My bed,” she corrected him, smiling.

“Of course,” he replied, sinking down lower into his seat. His countenance changed in an instant. “I believe there is no room for me in this house.”

“Mary is making up the room across the hall from mine, like we talked about. That shall be yours.” Angelika saw how he only relaxed when Victor nodded his assent. The man had a sparkle of sweat on his brow now. “We would not bring you into our home if you were not very much welcome.”

“I am grateful for such hospitality,” Will replied in a faint tone. So, this was a person who required his own guaranteed personal space? Angelika really should have slept across the hall last night, but the bed across the hall was unmade, cold, and had a bear costume on it. She’d slipped in on the edge of the mattress and stacked pillows between them to allow him some dignity.

They’d woken up wrapped in each other, the pillows thrown to the floor, her cheek tucked perfectly on his beefy shoulder. She’d looked up. Eye contact occurred next. Her nightdress had ridden up at some point, and her thigh was across his. His cock was harder than iron.

They’d rolled violently apart.

Like he was reliving the same memory, Will said to Victor in a whisper, “You’re a doctor, correct? There’s something wrong with my . . . It’s private.” He put his napkin back across his lap.

“Jelly installed that for you, so you’d best ask her what she did.” Victor lolled back in his chair, cackling. “We are scientists, not doctors. I must say, I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to have a new person to chat to. I’m glad you’re not screaming through the forest.”

Will laughed, too. “Angelika made a strong argument against it. I’ve got nothing. Not even my memory. I’m afraid I will need to rely on your generosity until I have my strength enough to leave.”

“Leave?” Angelika was brought back to the table by this. “Where are you going?”

“To find my old life,” Will replied. “When I see where I’m from, my memories will come back.”

Angelika was aghast. “I forbid it. Here, try some ham.”

Will recoiled at the slice of meat she forked onto his plate. “I cannot stomach it.”

“Only yesterday he was like meat,” Victor reminded his sister. “And it is his decision to make if he wants to leave us. Let’s try to find some clues about you. You speak like you are educated. Here, what do you make of this?” He rummaged in his clothing and then proffered a discolored and well-folded piece of parchment.

Will narrowed his eyes at it, then looked up. “You carry your last will and testament in your breast pocket?”

Victor snatched the page back. “Grand, you can read.”

“Perhaps I should have done the same,” Will said, looking at his hardly touched breakfast.

Victor replied, “You had not a pocket upon your person. So, we have deduced you may be a gentleman indeed. But finding you at a public morgue for commonfolk leaves a question mark.”

“I did not think you would be so interested in your past. Perhaps you could instead think of what the future might offer you?” Angelika looked around the dining room, seeing things through Will’s fresh gaze.

They sat underneath a sixteen-candle French chandelier, with fine glittering ropes of beads that might break under the weight of a dragonfly. When hosting guests, Angelika’s father, Alphonse, would often gesture upward and retell the delivery-day story. Eight people had walked thirty miles from the port of Bournemouth, carrying the chandelier’s crystals in baskets. They were too fragile to withstand the rattle of a carriage or cart. Angelika opened her mouth, ready to share this anecdote, and then closed it again, remembering Will’s concern over Mary carrying the heavy pails of bathwater.

She hardly knew him at all, but she thought Will probably would not like that story.

The dining room walls were stacked to the ceiling with frowning ancestral portraits. One painting of a great-great-uncle, nicknamed “Poor Plague Peter,” stood ajar on a hinge from the wall. Behind it there was an open safe box, glinting with gold in the morning sunlight, and it had not escaped Will’s notice. For a split second, Angelika felt fear.

Was he being truthful about his memory, and who he was?

There were another twelve hidden vaults throughout the house, from the basement cellar to the uppermost chimney on the roof, and now a stranger sat at their table. Hidden treasure, towers of treasure, dusty and forgotten treasure—enough for a hundred extravagant lifetimes at least—were all brought here by persons unknown, to be collected under the one black slate roof.

It was a fine upgrade from the morgue. Wasn’t it, indeed. A swindler could be sitting here right now, with her mother’s napkin on his lap. When she made eye contact with Will again, she saw no guile, no concealment, and she forced herself to let go of her gold-clutching terror. All she could do was hope, and trust.

Angelika put on a smile. “Could you start to make a list of things you would like me to purchase for your wardrobe?”

Will ignored that and replied to Victor’s remark. “Maybe we could go back to the morgue. They must have a record of me. I could be home before nightfall.”

“It is more likely that if you do have a family, they do not know where you are,” Victor said carefully. “Or they had no option but to leave you, rather than bury you at the church. Come now, my good chap. Is this so bad?” He gestured to the table, and then the room around them, and finally, at his sister.

“I am grateful.” Will’s gaze lingered on Angelika’s lips. “There is nothing bad at all.”

Angelika saw his hesitation. “How do you think your family will react when you appear like an apparition on their doorstep? You’re sewn together. They will not understand.”

“I’ll make them understand,” Will said, taking a sip of tea and wincing, a hand on his stomach. “I’m sorry, but in the interests of science, I’ll advise I am about to destroy a chamber pot. I’m afraid of what will happen just now.”

“Mary will be ever so pleased,” Victor said, after roaring with laughter. “Off you go. We will help you find your old life,” he added with more seriousness when Will stood.

Will bowed politely. “I will do my best not to inconvenience you.”

Victor wasn’t done. He held a finger aloft.

“We are an unconventional household, but I must be old-fashioned about something. If you deflower my sister with that unpredictable knob, I’m afraid you will be stuck with her for good. I will insist on it, brother-in-law.”

“There’s not a chance of that,” Will said, and left the room.

The look of sympathy on Victor’s face was unbearable. “Don’t say anything,” Angelika said quietly.

Victor disobeyed. “I always thought that I would recognize your future husband when I met him. I walked in just now and saw you two sitting together at breakfast and thought: Yes. That’s him. A patient, sensible constant, to counter your headstrong extravagance. Will is absolutely perfect for you.”

Angelika’s stomach flipped happily at the surety in her brother’s voice. “I did make sure of it. And I knew it, too, the moment he sat up.”

Victor was regretful. “But I’m afraid he will never know that he’s your match. Give up on this particular dream, my dear sister.”

“I don’t want to.”

“If you take that path,” Victor warned, nodding at the hallway, “you will find only heartbreak. He is going home to his family. But you will always have me, and Lizzie, and you will be Aunt Jelly to our children. We will all live happily here, together, forever.”

“But there’s no room for me in this house,” Angelika said, echoing Will’s earlier assertion. “Where am I to fit into this life, once the children begin arriving?”

“I’ll clear out a few inventions” was all Victor said in reply. “Now, let us return to the laboratory. We must write a full account of what happened last night.”

“Please bathe yourself first, you smelly boy.” Angelika drank from Will’s teacup. Did this count as a first kiss? “And there is a question I must ask of you. You used some of Will’s original body. Did you take the ring off his left hand?”

Victor looked at her in surprise. “I couldn’t be bothered finding cutters. My creation is still wearing it. The engraving bears a clue, no doubt,” he breathed, looking at the hallway. “I should go and tell him—”

Angelika was grim. “Your loyalty is to me, brother. When we find that ring, I want you to give it to me. Promise me. He’s mine. I made him, and everything he has is also mine.”

“You are wrong, you brat,” Victor said in a warning tone. “He belongs to himself. Or to a pretty widow somewhere who is crying her eyes out. I do find this rather amusing. You have found the one man you cannot ask a hundred questions of.”

She put her face in her hands. “I cannot believe neither of us could be bothered to look properly at his ring. I think we are a pair of fools.”

“This is the sort of thing a man would be very angry to find out about.”

“I’ll deal with that if it ever happens. There is no point in raising his hopes. For all we know, your naked creation is shot dead by now, lying on a slab again.”

“I should ask my colleagues to keep an eye on the county morgues,” Victor replied, grabbing another apple from the silver bowl on the table. “You’re a genius, Jelly.”