“You are not.”
“We don’t know when my true nature will reveal itself. I must find the life I left behind. Until I know who I really am, I can make no choices for my future. You will not distract me with your beauty, or how silk lays on your body.” He closed his eyes and swallowed. He appeared tormented. “You will not distract me with your perfume in every room of the house, or how you bounce up and down stairs.”
“It does sound like I am rather distracting.”
He saw her smile and turned dour. “I am quite resolved.” He turned on his heel, walked across the hall, and shut his door, audibly locking it. Was he anticipating she might slink in, during the night, as Mary had directed?
Her cheeks burned. “You didn’t need to lock it!”
A door opened, but not the one in front of her.
“You two, shut up,” Victor barked from his end of the hall. “Either bed each other or do not speak. Will, we are going to the morgue tomorrow night to sort this mess out, and maybe I will have some peace.”
“And maybe I’ll collect myself a new husband while I’m there,” Angelika snapped back. Neither man replied. Louder she hollered, “Mary, fetch hot water. I am having a long, distracting, and very naked bath, with my door unlocked.”
“Ugh.” Victor recoiled in horror and slammed his door harder than he ever had before.
*
“You both will have to go to the morgue without me tonight,” Victor said as he fastened his cloak with one hand, the other hand gripping the reins under the chin of his evil gray mare. “I’m sorry, but this sighting is too promising. Athena, stop prancing. Give me a leg up, Will.”
Word had come via messenger that a seven-foot man with a waxy pallor was spotted several parishes west, stealing cabbages.
“I will be two days, possibly three,” Victor said on a grunt as Will legged him up onto the horse. “Take care of my sister. The morgue is dangerous, but it’s not the dead ones you’ll have to worry about.”
“He can go alone,” Angelika said spitefully. “He has declared he has no need of me.”
“You must go, too, Jelly,” Victor said, circling his mount around them. “He has no proof of identity until I find my lost achievement. If Will gets into trouble, only you with your honorable Frankenstein name can keep him safe. There’s been news of thieves and highwaymen. Every stranger will be under scrutiny by the night watch.”
“Fine, I will accompany him,” Angelika said. “Even though he wishes to be a stranger.”
“So, in summary, I wish for you to look after each other,” Victor advised them both, but his eyes were on Will. “You are in charge of protecting the house in my absence.” Athena spun in rearing pirouettes, skittering gravel on their shoes.
Will was uncomfortable. “How could you let me have that role?” He looked back at the house, perhaps noticing its faded grandeur for the first time.
“Because my sister trusts you.” And with that, Victor allowed some rein and galloped down the wide carriageway, arched over by yew trees. He called back, “My sister created you, and that counts for something, brother.”
The impressive exit was slightly undermined by Belladonna chasing after him, tailed by her runt piglet.
“Brother,” both Angelika and Will echoed cynically, but he did look pleased. Then he remembered something. “What did Victor mean just now? He said we have no proof of my identity until he finds his creation.”
“I never know what he is talking about,” Angelika evaded. The image of the ring flashed behind her eyelids, but it was soon blinked away as she noticed how handsome Will was in this fading afternoon light.
She wasn’t the only one distracted. Will had not recovered from seeing her in a negligee. Every time they saw each other, he obscured his lower half. A hat. A bunch of carrots. A hunting trophy. Anything that came to hand, he’d utilize it. They’d had a bland discussion about the smoking fireplace in his bedroom while he stood behind the bust of her great-great-grandfather Leonard Frankenstein.
This much was painfully clear: Will’s brain abhorred her, but his body adored her. It was a pity that his upstairs faculties always won out.
He tore his gaze away from her. “I should have accompanied Victor.”
“We have no idea if you can even ride,” Angelika reminded him.
“I’ve actually got a good seat. Victor gave me a fine gelding; it was most generous. And I am honored beyond measure that he, and you, trust me enough to remain here to man the house. Without you both I’d have nothing. Not even life. It’s most humbling.”
It was a fine apology, but Angelika did not want it. It had the first echoes of a goodbye.
He tried again. “You’re a scientist. Surely you can understand the intense curiosity to know everything, rather than making assumptions?”
She had to confess a partial truth, because the urge to put hope in his eyes suddenly outweighed her own selfish aspirations. “The big man Victor seeks has your transplanted hands. You were wearing a ring when we found you. Now he wears it.”
He was filled with energy now. “A ring. Describe it to me.”
Angelika could anticipate what his reaction would be if she admitted the truth: that the Frankensteins were so careless with trinkets of pure gold that neither of them had paid it much notice. She had wanted to forget the possibility of a wife, and Victor had been too lazy to walk two minutes to fetch cutters. The possibility of a crest or engraving might raise his hopes, only to be dashed if it were gone forever.
“It was dark, so I have no idea of the particulars. That’s why we are trying so hard for you, even though you do not realize it. Victor will locate his fine achievement and bring him home, and in turn, you may find a clue to your identity.”
He nodded now, beaming. “I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult. So, could we try to be friends? And you’ll help me tonight at the morgue?” When happy, he was illuminated.
“Yes,” she said, thinking ahead. “If you’ll take me to the tavern for an ale after. I’ve always wanted to. Saddle your new horse and we shall ride out at sunset.” She smiled at the direction Victor had left by, hoping to appear cool and unaffected by Will’s close presence. “Maybe I will have some fun at last. I’m not being facetious. I think I might search for a new husband while I’m there.”
He didn’t like that. “Where? The morgue or the tavern?”
“Don’t you know me at all?” Angelika laughed and walked away. “I’ll search both.”
*
They rode their horses over the crest of a hill. Angelika pointed with her crop.
“I will give you a tour of Salisbury. It is a fine village, with much history. Victor says we are ideally situated, only a day’s carriage ride from London, and we can easily ride to the plains to see the big stone druid temple. We can take a basket of food and a bottle of wine. It is a marvelous day out.”
“I am sure it is all very nice,” Will said. “You do not have to be nervous that I won’t like your home. I already do.”
They halted their mounts and looked at the village lanterns in the distance. The sky was peach and lavender. Turtledoves cooed in a hedgerow, and honeysuckle perfumed everything. The horses sidestepped, causing their riders’ legs to brush. It was a moment steeped in romance, but only in Angelika’s imagination. She looked sideways at what was indeed a fabulous riding seat. That horse was a lucky creature.
Will broached a new topic with care. “Victor used my hands for his monster, but you said my body was not salvageable due to an accident. Can you explain this to me, so I can stop wondering about it?”
“He is not a monster. I wanted to test my skills in transplanting body parts, and as a scientist, Victor needed to prove his superiority to Jürgen Schneider.” Science was something Will rarely argued with.
“The way Victor rants about that man is unhealthy. I think he would gain peace if he could just forgive his past offenses. Whatever they are.”
She shrugged. “It fuels Victor. It goes beyond science. Schneider was once a potential suitor for Lizzie. Victor is a beast when he is jealous.”
“How did they meet? Please do not tell me that Lizzie is also . . .” He gestured vaguely to his own neck area, where his cravat hid his stitches.
“Goodness, no. Victor has been betrothed to Lizzie since they were children, but when Papa died, he forgot about it. He got drunk and wrote a manifesto of sorts, denouncing the institution of marriage. ‘Opting Out of England’s Elite Breeding Program’ is what he titled it.”
“I saw it on your dressing table. I read it. I’ve felt terrible for prying.” Will did look guilty.
“Hardly prying, when it has traveled the world ten times by now. Victor has always wanted to be famous; now he most assuredly is. Lizzie’s father was livid. Threatened to expel him from his secret society. We traveled to Russia to handle the situation. His grand plan was to be so boring that she rejected him.”