ONE
The wind was howling like a wolf outside, and the piano sounded sour. In the faint candlelight, the keys looked yellow instead of white, as though the sourness was leaking through and would stain my fingers.
‘Justine!’ I called.
A few seconds later, she appeared in the doorway. ‘Yes sir?’
‘Make a note and remind me tomorrow to send for the piano tuner.’
‘Yes sir. Should I draw the curtains?’
‘Oh, yes, I suppose.’
She went to the window and drew the curtains against the stormy night. The candles on the mantel made feathery orange shadows in her shining dark hair, and highlighted the delicate ridge of her collarbone. I felt the urge to take a piece of paper and sketch her throat for the working of the shadows along her pale skin.
Justine looked up and met my gaze. She blushed, smiling. ‘Sir?’
‘The shadows seem to like you,’ I said thoughtfully.
‘Really, sir?’
‘Yes. Of course, it would be good to have an anatomy doll that was accurate even to the collarbones, because it would make reproducing the muscle and bone structure so much easier...’ I pondered this for a moment.
‘Will that be all, sir?’ Justine sounded tired.
‘Yes, you may go.’
She went out. I raised my hand and looked at it by the light of the candle, flexing my fingers so the tendons stood out like living wires under the skin. The candlelight lit up the green veins on the back of my hand, and I followed their path up above my wrist, pulling back my sleeve to track them up my forearm. There was a quill, half-full inkpot and scrap of paper on the mantel, and I rested my arm on the piano lid and began sketching the network of veins on both sides of my arm.
I was still engrossed in this when Justine returned to inform me that there was a Lord and Lady Deveraux to see me.
‘What?’ I said. ‘At this time of night? I didn’t hear the bell.’
‘Well, they’re here, sir. Shall I show them in?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. Wait—’ I called her back. ‘A lord and a lady?’
‘That’s what they said, sir.’
She left the room, and I cast a hasty glance around. Justine had tidied in here this morning, so it wasn’t in too bad a shape. I put the paper on top of the piano and realised that my fingers were stained with ink. I wiped them on my trousers before I remembered I had a handkerchief up my sleeve. It was too late to do anything more; I heard footsteps in the hall, and then Justine opened the door and announced, ‘Lord and Lady Deveraux, sir.’
I surreptitiously scrubbed my fingers on my sleeve, and rose to greet my guests. Lord Deveraux was a tall man, dark-haired and very well-dressed, with gleaming leather boots and shining silver coat buttons. His wife also looked very fashionable, and very pretty, with lots of curly brown hair pinned up on the back of her head and a few long curls hanging loose around her face. Her skin was milky pale, and she touched the brooch on her damp cloak with nervous gloved fingers. Her eyes darted around the room as her husband bowed and said, ‘I do apologise for the lateness of the hour.’
‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘Not at all, it’s a pleasure. Justine will take your cloaks. Do sit. Can I offer you anything?’
Lady Deveraux sank down onto the couch and pressed her fingers together in her lap. Lord Deveraux sat stiffly next to her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’
I sat down on the piano stool. ‘It’s a foul night, isn’t it? Did you come by carriage?’
‘Sir, you are Victor Frankenstein, are you not?’
His abruptness startled me. ‘Well, yes, my lord,’ I said, feeling as though I were admitting to a fault. ‘I am.’
He nodded. ‘Good. In that case, I feel we may dispense with the civilities.’
‘Um,’ I said warily.
‘We have heard of your work, Mr Frankenstein, and we wish to engage you on... a project of our own.’
‘What kind of project?’
‘Of life,’ said Lady Deveraux. Her voice was very quiet. I smiled at her, but she did not smile back.
‘We wish you to create life,’ Lord Deveraux said.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Um...’ I felt a bit uncomfortable. ‘Well, you see, my lord, what I actually do is make... well, I don’t create life, I create people—servants or creatures or animals and they—well, they are alive, but it’s more like clockwork. Some of the simpler creatures are merely clockwork, but I can make you something much more sophisticated if you have the time. But I don’t really create life.’ I tried again to smile at Lady Deveraux, but she wouldn’t meet my eye. ‘That is more in the realm of the Almighty than in my workshop.’
There was a pause. The rain beat hard against the window, and the wind blew down the chimney, worrying the smouldering log so it shivered up a flock of orange sparks that gleamed bright in the darkness of the fireplace. I fumbled in my breeches pocket. ‘Here... I don’t know if you’ve seen my card, but...’ From amongst the bits of string, the tweezers, and scraps of paper in my pockets, I brought out one of my cards and handed it over. It was cut from textured ivory pasteboard, and on it was printed in large letters Monster and Minions (Made to Order) with my name and address underneath.
Lord Deveraux gave it a cursory glance and laid it down on the sofa arm next to him. ‘Mr Frankenstein, I am well aware of your work. That is precisely why I feel you are able to do this for us.’ He glanced at his wife, then looked back at me steadily. ‘I am aware of your excellent record at the University of Ingolstadt, your experimentation there, the... scandal.’
My stomach lurched, and for a moment I felt bile rise in the back of my throat. I swallowed convulsively and opened my mouth to say something dismissive, but couldn’t think of anything glib enough, so I closed it. Lord Deveraux smiled tightly, and I rubbed my fingers over the backs of my hands to steady myself.
‘Perhaps if I explain our situation.’ Lord Deveraux leaned back in the sofa and rested his hand on the arm. My card fluttered to the floor but he didn’t turn his head. ‘I have been married to my wife for five years. In that time we have only had one child who lived past their first year. A little girl. She lived, but in increasingly poor health, and the physicians advised us that she would not live to adulthood.’
I nodded, but a wave of panicked nausea rose up inside my stomach.
‘Her health has deteriorated considerably in these past few months. To put it bluntly, Mr Frankenstein, she is dying, and there is nothing the physicians can do to help her.’
Lady Deveraux made a tiny sound in her throat, quickly suppressed. I looked at her. She was pulling at the fingers of her gloves, creasing the fine white kid.
‘She will die within a very few days,’ Lord Deveraux said relentlessly. ‘When she does, we want you to resurrect her.’
Stick tight. 
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