Montgomery leaned forward. “Did the King’s Club know about this?”
“A few of the elite members suspected, which is why they sent men like Isambard Lessing around to question us. But it was never more than rumors. If they knew the truth . . .” She shuddered. “They wouldn’t adhere to the oath, I can promise you that. They’d bring back anyone who might serve their ambitions.”
“Well, we needn’t worry about them,” I said. “With their leaders dead, the rest of the King’s Club members have scattered just as we predicted. John Radcliffe’s letter in the newspaper proved that.”
Montgomery flexed his knuckles. “Perhaps, but there are other associations in other cities, in other countries. There’s no shortage of unscrupulous men and women who would exploit Frankenstein’s science, if they knew about it. That science is too dangerous to exist. It should be burned.”
“Absolutely not,” Elizabeth said, her eyes flaring. “We’ve kept the secret for six generations. It’s perfectly safe.”
“The servants know,” Montgomery pointed out.
“You needn’t worry about them. They’re entirely loyal to me. That’s what giving people body parts they’ve lost will do. I’ve operated on all of them, except for McKenna—but Ballentyne is in her bones. Her family’s been the primary caretakers of the estate for generations; I couldn’t possibly manage this place without her. Most of the work I’ve done on the others is beneath their clothes where you can’t see, or the odd eye or tongue that you probably haven’t noticed. They’ll go to their graves with the secret and would give their lives to protect Ballentyne.”
I thought of Valentina’s hateful glare at the bonfire. Was it possible her anger came, not from jealousy, but from a fear that I was a threat to the carefully constructed secrets that the manor held?
Outside, clouds rolled in, bathing the moors in shadows. Night had fallen, but there were no stars. So remote. A person could lose herself here.
A flash of white near the door caught my eye, and I turned just in time to see dark curls and a white nightdress disappear around the corner. Lucy. She must have slipped away from Balthazar. How much had she overheard?
I glanced at Elizabeth, but she was pacing by the desk, running her fingers along the row of dusty books, too lost in her thoughts to have noticed our eavesdropper.
“You said you were one in a long line of Ballentyne mistresses to uphold the Oath of Perpetual Anatomy,” Montgomery said. “You have no natural children of your own, so I can’t help but wonder if your decision to name Juliet as your heir has anything to do with the Oath.”
I nearly choked on my gin. I’d never assumed the inheritance was anything other than the house, but one look at Elizabeth’s face told me Montgomery’s guess was correct.
“It’s true,” Elizabeth said. “I hadn’t intended to talk to you about this so soon, but after the professor died, I became the last one with this knowledge. If anything happens to me, a century’s worth of secrets will be lost. I’ve already named you heir to Ballentyne, Juliet—the buildings and the land. It is my intention to make you heir to its secrets, too. To teach you Perpetual Anatomy.”
Montgomery’s hand clamped onto mine. “She’s promised never to delve into that sort of science.”
I tossed him an uncertain look. “He’s right,” I said slowly. “I promised to put all that behind me.”
Elizabeth gave me a sharp look. “Promised whom? You’re the type of girl who makes her own decisions. Besides, it’s what the professor wanted. It’s the reason he took you in.”
I shook my head, confused. “No it isn’t. He took me in because he felt guilty that he couldn’t save my father. He wanted to give me a chance at a normal life.”
A pitying look came over her face, and I realized how naive I had been. “That isn’t entirely true, I’m afraid. He took you in because I’ve no children of my own. We needed someone younger to pass the information along to. Someone who had the intelligence to understand how the science worked, and an open mind. Someone who wouldn’t run away screaming. He heard how you slit Dr. Hastings’s tendon and thought you might be a good candidate.”
I closed my eyes. It was cold, and yet sweat beaded my brow. I could still remember the day, nearly a year ago, when the professor came to get me out of jail and told me he was making me his legal ward.
Why are you doing this? I had asked him.
Because I failed to stop your father until it was too late, he’d said. It isn’t too late for you, Miss Moreau, not yet.