A Cold Legacy

It was a sweet, simple scene. Edward sighed in his sleep and pulled her closer, just like any couple in any bed in the world.

 

I glanced at the fireplace that held the trapdoor to the passageways. Tomorrow I’d board it up with nails so Hensley couldn’t get inside—just in case. And besides, I’d tell Montgomery about Edward soon enough, and then we’d all tell Elizabeth together. She wouldn’t be happy, but what choice did she have but to accept it? She had accepted Hensley. In time, she’d come to accept Edward.

 

Feeling deeply contented, I eased the door closed so as not to wake them. Was there anything in the world better than a husband waiting for me downstairs, and my two best friends healthy and falling in love upstairs?

 

I tiptoed back to my room and sprayed some perfume over my shoulders to justify my absence, and then knocked on Montgomery’s door.

 

When he opened it, he pulled me inside. “That was two moments. Are you trying to torture me?”

 

“Perhaps,” I whispered. “Now, kiss me.”

 

He was all too happy to oblige. His hands found the row of buttons down my back and he undid them gracelessly, anxious to feel my skin beneath. Once his fingers brushed the scar that ran the length of my back, I moved his hands away and slid the straps off my shoulders, shedding the lace and pearl buttons, stripping down to my undergarments with the ivory ribbons, a thin chemise and corset and petticoats that stretched to just below my knees.

 

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” he said. I turned around so he could unhook the corset, which he let fall to the floor. He tugged loose the tie around his neck, threw it on the pile along with his black jacket, and dragged the shirt over his head.

 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked.

 

I silenced him with a finger over his lips. “You’re the one who wanted to wait. Not me.”

 

With something like a growl, he wrapped an arm around my back, pulling me into a soft kiss, and then it wasn’t so soft anymore, and my thoughts were lost amid the sounds of wind pushing at the window. Making love wasn’t like it had been with Edward. That had been rushed, hungry. Being with Montgomery was nothing but love. Victor Frankenstein’s wedding night might have ended with tragedy, but history wasn’t always doomed to repeat itself. Sometimes, things could go right.

 

We fell asleep, arms intertwined, to the sounds of the windmill churning outside. Even in sleep, I didn’t want to let him go. I dreamed of us together in my house on Belgrave Square with children of our own and hallways that always smelled of fresh roses. I dreamed that one day, years from now, it would be safe for us to leave Ballentyne and we’d travel to Paris and New York and Rome.

 

As I fell deeper into sleep, a different scent reached my nose. Montgomery’s arm suddenly tightened around me, shaking me until I blinked fully awake.

 

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked, just as screams rang out from beyond the walls.

 

 

 

 

 

THIRTY-TWO

 

 

WE THREW ON CLOTHES and raced through the dark hallways toward the sound of the screaming. I nearly slipped on the stairs before Montgomery caught me with quick instincts. Smoke. Screams. It was still night out, but just barely. What had happened? Had lightning struck the house?

 

We reached the foyer and spun, trying to find the source of the screams. Footsteps came from the kitchen, where Lily appeared straining under a bucket of water, still dressed in her nightclothes, her eyes glassy with fear.

 

“It’s the south tower, miss!” she cried.

 

The laboratory. We raced up the stairs, but a door flung open, startling us. Moira stumbled out of Hensley’s bedroom with smoke billowing behind her. She leaned against the wall, coughing.

 

“What’s happened?” I said.

 

She let out a wail, and a terrible dread twisted inside me. Hensley’s bedroom. The secret room of rats that I’d told him about last night.

 

No, no, no . . .

 

“Is anyone hurt?” Montgomery asked, but I just squeezed my eyes closed. I’d have done anything not to face that room, afraid of what we’d find, and my own role in it.

 

Moira cried harder. “It’s the mistress,” she choked. “And Hensley too . . .”

 

I opened my eyes and took a shaky breath. We pushed into Hensley’s chambers, and I froze.

 

I had expected a raging fire. Charred furniture. Every scrap destroyed.

 

But everything was exactly as I’d last seen it, untouched by flame, save the smoke stains on the ceiling. They came from the secret room where Elizabeth kept Hensley’s rats. The door was cracked open.

 

“There.” My voice was faint, as I pointed toward the secret room. “In there.”

 

Montgomery threw open the door. His face went white. “My God.” He tried to block the sight from me. “It must have been an accident. I’m so sorry. Tonight, of all nights . . .”

 

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