“Penny?” a warm voice called, and I saw Elizabeth looking at me from the balcony. She wore a pale yellow gown, and her blond hair hung freely past her shoulders. I put on a pleasant face for her, and she hurried down the stairs and clasped my hands in hers. “How good of you to come.”
“I was delighted to receive your invitation,” I replied, squeezing her hands in my gloved ones. “I’ve been looking forward to the chance to get to know Justine’s family better.”
Elizabeth offered a radiant smile, which seemed an attempt to dispel the grim mood. “You’re just in time for dinner. I can’t wait to introduce you to the others.”
She led me into the den, the same room where I had spied on her mere nights prior. Alphonse Frankenstein was seated at the same spot as before, again staring blankly at the fireplace from the sofa. Browsing one of the bookshelves, his back turned to me, stood Victor.
“I have a surprise for everyone,” Elizabeth declared as we entered the den. “I invited a guest for dinner this evening. Her name is Penny—Penny Moritz. Penny, this is my Uncle Alphonse and Victor Frankenstein, my fiancé.”
Victor had already started to turn around as she said the words, but when he saw me, his eyes widened in horror and he briefly went white as a sheet.
“Good evening, Victor,” I said, extending my hand. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Elizabeth’s told me so much about you.”
“Victor,” Elizabeth said, her smile fading. She moved to his side and laid a hand on his back. “Is something wrong? You look ill.”
Victor only stared at me, unable to look away. “I’m fine,” he managed to stammer. A mischievous grin briefly graced my face at the reaction I had evoked in him.
Alphonse stirred on the sofa. “Moritz, you say?” he grumbled, looking decidedly unhappy.
“She’s Justine’s cousin,” Elizabeth answered as Victor continued watching me with unbelief. “She’s from…” She hesitated and turned back to me. “I’m sorry. Where is it you said you were from again?”
“I was born in Scotland,” I answered, looking from Elizabeth to her fiancé, who remained positively nonplussed. “Though I’ve travelled a bit since then.”
Alphonse rose from the sofa and approached us. In the daylight, he looked even older than I remembered. The nondescript black suit he wore was clearly out of fashion, as if he had not been to the tailor for new clothes in quite some time. He walked stiffly with a cane and leaned toward me, squinting.
“I don’t see the resemblance,” he said curtly. “Then again, I don’t see much these days.” He turned to Elizabeth. “What is she doing here?”
“I invited her, uncle,” Elizabeth said, attempting another smile. “I wanted her to meet the family.” If it was meant to set him at ease, it clearly failed.
“Justine Moritz killed William,” Alphonse said, waving his cane at me, and suddenly, I was the one at a loss for words. “She put her hands around his neck and choked him to death. My greatest mistake was letting her into this house, and now you invite her cousin into our home?” The veins in his head throbbed with anger.
Elizabeth’s expression hardened. “Justine was our friend. She didn’t kill William. No matter what you believe, that’s no reason to take it out on Penny.”
Alphonse let out a long sigh at Elizabeth’s reproach. He seemed to shrink before my very eyes, looking every inch the tired, empty old man that he had become. My heart broke seeing the pain and suffering that the loss of his youngest child had inflicted upon him. I wanted to run to him—to tell him that I had loved him as a second father, that I had never hurt William—but I could only watch as the dinner bell rang and he shuffled away, a husk of the man I once knew.
Elizabeth followed after him into the next room, an uneasy look on her face, and as I moved to join them, Victor’s hand shot out and grabbed my arm. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
He did this, I thought. Victor was the reason William was dead—the reason my life had ended—and yet he had allowed his family to believe the lie that I was responsible for William’s death. Before Victor could react, I wrested myself from his grip and shoved him against the bookshelf, pinning him there.
“I wanted to reacquaint myself with your family. It’s been far too long, wouldn’t you agree?” I released him and crossed over into the adjoining room without another word, leaving him gasping for breath behind me.
There were no windows in the dining room. A well-polished banquet table of rich mahogany sat in the center of the room atop an ornate maroon rug. Two bright chandeliers that hung over each end of the table illuminated the room, accompanied by candlelight and the flames in the stone fireplace built into the wall behind the head of the table. A row of eight matching chairs lined either side of the table, in addition to those at the table’s head and foot.
I walked over the hardwood floor on my way to my seat, admiring the beautiful china that adorned the table. A footman pulled back a chair for me, and I settled into place opposite Elizabeth, two chairs down from where Alphonse sat at the head of the table. As Victor trudged in behind me, I watched the servants as they hurriedly brought in the food and began to serve the meal. Once, I had been one of them. No matter how close Justine had been with the Frankenstein family, or how they claimed to love her, she was still beneath their station. I thought of Gerhardt’s words, and wondered what it must have been like for Justine, loving Victor from afar while Elizabeth had been handpicked for him since childhood. Then I saw Elizabeth cover his hand with hers to reassure him as Victor took his place beside her, and I realized it wasn’t a feeling I needed to imagine.
An awkward silence fell over the dining room until Alphonse picked up his utensils and began eating. Elizabeth looked from her uncle to her fiancé, as if trying to find the right words to start a conversation. Before she opened her mouth, I heard footsteps coming from the den, and seconds later Ernest Frankenstein appeared in the doorway.
“Father,” he said, nodding respectfully at Alphonse, who seemed stunned by his sudden appearance. “Victor.” He smiled when he looked at Elizabeth. “Good evening, Cousin Elizabeth. I hope it’s not ill-mannered for me to show up unannounced.” He wore the familiar red soldier’s garb I had seen inside the cathedral.
“Not at all,” Elizabeth said, seeming to delight in the broken silence. She stood and motioned to me. “We have a guest tonight. Penny, this is my cousin, Captain Ernest Frankenstein.”
Ernest froze when he noticed me for the first time, and all the color drained from his face. “It can’t be,” he said, taking a slight step back.
“Ernest, this is Penny Moritz—Justine’s cousin.”
Ernest let out an audible breath of relief, though he still seemed somewhat taken aback by my appearance. “For a moment I thought…” He trailed off but recovered quickly. “I’m sorry for staring. Your resemblance to Justine is uncanny.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” I replied with a courteous nod. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Ernest took the empty chair that separated me from his father at the table now filled with the last remaining members of the Frankenstein family. It seemed strangely appropriate that I should be there with them on such an occasion. I raised a glass of wine into the air and grinned at Victor and Elizabeth. “I propose a toast—to the happy couple.”
“Hear, hear,” Ernest said in approval.
I lifted the dark red wine to my lips and drank deeply, and the others followed my lead. “Tell me, Elizabeth, how is it that you came to live with the Frankenstein family?”
“I was orphaned when I was younger,” she replied. “The Frankensteins were my nearest relations, and they were kind enough to adopt me into their house.”
“Not unlike Justine,” I said as I cut into the lamb chop on my plate, releasing bloody juices to the surface.
Elizabeth nodded. “When my aunt Caroline learned that Madame Moritz had turned her out, she took her in at once.”
“She must have
been a remarkable woman,” I said, gazing at the portrait of Caroline that hung over the fireplace. I lowered my fork and dabbed the corner of my mouth with a napkin.
“That she was,” Ernest said.
“This place hasn’t been the same since she died,” Alphonse muttered without glancing up from his food.
“So I gather,” I said. “It’s no surprise, considering all the loss you’ve endured. It would be enough to darken anyone’s spirits.” The words were addressed to Alphonse, but I stared at Victor as I delivered them.
“It’s not as bad as all that,” Elizabeth offered. “The night never lasts forever—morning is always just around the corner.”
“Tell that to my wife,” Alphonse said. “Tell that to my boy.” He choked on his wine and stopped speaking.
“And you, Captain Frankenstein?” I asked. “I take it you’re a soldier?”
“Yes, Miss Moritz. After my brother’s death, I was lost—adrift. I didn’t know where to turn, but I found solace in the church. Father Wilhelm helped me find God’s purpose for my life, and I enlisted in the army. I couldn’t protect William, but I could keep others like him safe.”
“A beautiful sentiment,” I said, wondering if the army had left its mark on him the way it had Gerhardt. How much of the boy I remembered was still inside him? “And, Victor, what is it that you do?”
When Victor didn’t answer, Elizabeth spoke for him. “Victor studied at Ingolstadt to become a doctor.” She squeezed her fiancé’s arm proudly while Victor watched me with a wary gaze. “They kept him so long I feared he might never return.”
“And then he left us again,” Alphonse said bitterly. “If I hadn’t come to Scotland to retrieve him, he would have died in prison, accused of Henry’s murder. He had nearly lost his health and sanity in that God-forsaken place when I arrived.”
As far as I was concerned, however long Victor had suffered in prison, it hadn’t been enough. His unchecked pursuit of knowledge had left his family in tatters, and even Elizabeth’s best efforts seemed not enough prevent it from unraveling. I wondered how long he had waited after returning home before he resumed his experiments. Had he given his loved ones’ safety any concern at all?
Victor spoke for the first time in an attempt to interrupt. His knuckles whitened as he clutched the table, visibly pained. “Father,” he said, but Alphonse slammed his hands against the table before he could finish.
“I won’t be hushed like a child,” the old man bellowed. “You left this family after your mother died, only to flee again after your own brother was murdered. He was a child, Victor! You turned your back on this family when we needed you most.”
Alphonse stopped short and clutched his chest, nearly spilling his wine. He grimaced, his face red.
“Father,” Ernest exclaimed, concerned.
“It’s just a small pain,” Alphonse said through clenched teeth. “It will soon pass.”
“Are you sure?” Victor asked, clearly worried. “I can prepare a tonic for you.”
“You’ve done enough,” Alphonse said, straightening in his chair.
“Uncle Alphonse, please,” Elizabeth said. “Victor was only trying to help. You know he never meant to hurt you. He was suffering, too.”
I suppressed the urge to frown. How could Elizabeth defend Victor so blindly? I wondered what might happen if she learned the truth.
At her reproach, Alphonse fell back against his chair, his rage spent. His chest rose and fell deeply as he caught his breath, like waves against the shore. “I apologize,” he said quietly, and for a moment I saw an echo of the man I once knew. “Thank God for you, Elizabeth. You’re the only one who held this family together after Caroline died.”
“Did you know Justine well?” Ernest asked, looking up at me. “I don’t think she ever mentioned that she had a cousin.”
“We were not well acquainted, sadly,” I replied, “though I remember her fondly. That’s why I returned to Geneva—to learn more about her, and the way she died.”
Ernest started to form a response, but Victor interrupted, having found his voice at last. “Do you plan on staying long?”
“As long as necessary,” I replied, “to obtain what I desire.” I turned back to Ernest. “I must admit, I’ve heard the most frightening rumors in the city—that graves are being disturbed, and the dead are rising from their sleep to prey upon the living. It sounds silly, I’m sure. As a soldier, perhaps you could shed some light on the matter.”
Ernest shook his head. “Someone is digging up graves, that much is true. We’re searching for him, whoever he is. We were hot on his trail last night. As to the other matter…there were sightings of a monstrous creature around the time of William’s murder. Some villagers claim to have seen some manner of giant living in the forests.”
Alphonse scoffed. “Surely you don’t put any stock in such tales.”
Ernest’s face was serious. “I believe there’s something evil at work here,” he said, and Victor shivered involuntarily. “If there is such a monster out there, it’s an abominable perversion, and I won’t rest until it’s destroyed.”
“More nonsense from Father Wilhelm?” Victor demanded.
Ernest’s brow furrowed at his older brother, but it was Alphonse who spoke up. “We all know your views on religion, Victor. I would thank you to keep them to yourself in my house.”
Victor glowered at his father before returning to his plate. After that, we ate in silence for a time, until at last the meal was finished, and Elizabeth stood up to make an announcement. She put her hand over Victor’s and he reluctantly joined her.
“Since we’re all together, I would like to take this moment to share the news—Victor and I have decided to marry in three days’ time. We’ve put it off for far too long already. It’s time for some new, happy memories in this castle for a change.”
I could only watch as she stood on her toes and kissed his mouth.
The glass shattered in my hand. “Apologies,” I stammered quickly as each member of the family stared at me, surprised. After an awkward interval, they returned their attention to the happy couple. Only Victor continued to hold my gaze, clearly mindful of my silent fury.
Chapter Fifteen
Geneva slid into view as the carriage rolled downhill under the cover of the pines. Night had fallen over the city in my absence, bathed in the warm glow of the gibbous moon. The streets were now occupied by a different segment of the population indulging in various unsavory pursuits unsuitable for the daylight hours.
I shifted restlessly in my seat before striking the roof of the box. “Let me out.” The carriage ground to a halt just within the city limits. I heard the coachman’s feet hit the ground, and seconds later the door opened.
“Are you certain, ma’am?” he asked reluctantly, glancing over his shoulder at a group of rowdy sailors whistling and laughing across the street. “This is no place for a lady.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” I couldn’t stand being cooped up any longer. I needed the fresh air.
The coachman bowed without another word and stepped out of my way. I stormed into the night, away from the carriage, feeling the weight of his gaze on my back. Lampposts blazed above the muted starlight to illuminate the path forward. An unseasonably cool wind blew down from the mountains, rustling my dress. My pace quickened the farther I walked, matching the flurry of emotions raging inside me.
I had been forced to endure every agonizing second of Victor and Elizabeth’s wedding announcement with a false smile plastered across my face. Now that smile was gone, abandoned like the mask it was. I festered with bottled-up rage. I wanted to scream, to unleash my wrath on the world that had taken everything and left me with nothing.
Victor’s engagement was merely the final insult in a long line of sufferings I had been forced to endure. I scarcely remembered what it felt like to be human. A sea of darkness had consumed the hope and love that once filled my heart, and I could not find my way back to the light
. Deep down, perhaps I no longer wanted to. Fleeting remnants of Justine had held me back, but now I felt at last unshackled from the constraints of her humanity.
My path led me through a seedy part of the city full of old buildings with cracked façades. I pressed on, ignoring the occasional beggar dwelling in the alleyways, intent on finding my way to the inn. Suddenly, the sound of laughter echoed over the wind, and when I glanced at the torch-lit tavern across the street, something caught my eye. I stared past a small group of inebriated patrons as they stumbled outside the tavern, and my gaze fell on the shape of a portly man dressed in nondescript clothes who approached the entrance. Even with his back turned, I recognized him at once in the silver moonlight.
Father Wilhelm.
Accompanying the priest was a young woman in a scandalous red and purple corset—clearly a prostitute. Upon closer inspection, she couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, if that. There was sadness in her face that even the layers of her audacious rouge couldn’t conceal.
The hypocrisy was staggering. At the priest’s urging, some peasants gave everything they had in hopes of securing eternal reward, while he squandered their offerings on wine and women. This was a man who had the temerity to force Justine to confess to a crime of which she was innocent by threatening her salvation. I watched as the priest opened the door and hustled the young woman past the entrance before I pursued them across the street.
The tavern was dimly lit. The candles burned low, and a cold had settled over the hall. It was likely the tavern’s patrons wished to remain as inconspicuous as possible, which was probably why the priest had picked it for his midnight rendezvous. I desired anonymity as well.
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