SIX
I rapped on the door and listened to the sound echoing away inside the house. A maid showed me into the drawing room, and I’d hardly been there fifteen seconds before Lord Deveraux rushed in. He stopped as soon as he saw me, and took a moment to collect himself. ‘Mr Frankenstein,’ he said finally, with a strained attempt at calm. ‘Good morning.’
‘I did it,’ I said dully. ‘I brought her back.’
‘And is she...’
‘She’s alive.’
He sat down abruptly on one of the chairs. I watched him, thinking that maybe I should feel pity for him. I didn’t. My back ached, the blood wouldn’t come out from under my fingernails, and I was tired, so very very tired, that all I wanted was sit by the lake and watch the reflections of the sky and the mountains until they filled my head and I couldn’t think of anything else.
But I was here, in this cold, empty room, and Lord Deveraux, with something of his old imperiousness, was saying, ‘I take it, then, that the procedure was entirely successful? You were able to keep her body—intact.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I had to replace certain areas of skin with portions taken from the other bodies. The lungs, obviously, had to be replaced, as well as various other organs.’
‘But she is whole?’
‘Of a sort,’ I said, and added brutally, ‘The procedure has left her somewhat disfigured facially, and no doubt the naturally bodily developments that would have occurred as she matured into womanhood will be delayed. Most likely they will never happen at all. She will be barren.’
He flinched as though I’d hit him. ‘But she is alive.’
‘If you can call it life.’
‘My wife—’
‘I know. Your wife wished this. You had no choice.’
Lord Deveraux looked up angrily. ‘I am the head of this house! My wife obeys me!’
‘Of course she does,’ I said, not knowing where the courage to say all this was coming from but glad of it all the same. ‘But it was she who wanted Lenore brought back. You told me yourself.’
‘She has a sensitive and highly-strung nature. She could not have coped with Lenore’s death.’
‘So you had no choice,’ I said, and I thought of Kettlesing in the ice-house.
‘Can I see her? Can I see Lenore?’
‘She will need to rest for a long time. I would not recommend her leaving her bed for at least six months. You should also be aware that her mental state is not stable. The flesh carried its own memories.’
‘What? I don’t understand.’
‘Where does life come from, Lord Deveraux?’
He scowled. ‘I’m not interested in philosophy.’
‘Your daughter, Lord Deveraux, could be one of the greatest philosophical challenges of this century. But the fact is, your daughter’s self degenerated with the rest of her body.’ I let loose a brittle laugh. ‘It really would make a fascinating study.’
‘What are you saying?’
I looked him full in his black angry eyes. ‘She is confused. She has memories from the girls whose bodies I used. She is not altogether herself.’
He clenched his hands into fists. ‘And you did not think to remedy this?’
‘Where does life come from, Lord Deveraux? From the mind or the body?’
I could see him trying to control his anger, and then he said very carefully, ‘Yes, Mr Frankenstein. You have made your point. Now. I want to see my daughter.’
I nodded brusquely. ‘Lady Deveraux?’
‘Yes, yes...’
‘You should bring some of her clothes. It did not occur to me last night, but she has nothing to wear right now.’
‘Nothing?’ He stared. ‘What of her nightgown?’
‘I had to cut through it. When I left her, she was in a sheet and one of my shirts.’
His mouth opened in horror. ‘You dressed her in your own clothes?’
‘I had no choice,’ I said coldly. ‘Unless you wished to view her naked.’
He recoiled, then snapped back in anger. ‘I know you didn’t wish this, Mr Frankenstein, but I will thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head. Lenore is my daughter, and you will not speak of her in that way, do you understand me? As a gentleman, I thought I did not need to explain the most basic manners of etiquette to you, but it is plain that—’
‘Are you going to get your wife or not?’ I interrupted.
He began to snap something, then collected himself, and without another word, he left the room. I stared moodily at the floor, and reflected that maybe Kettlesing was beginning to rub off on me.
I had walked to the Deveraux house, but rode back with them in their carriage. Lord Deveraux sat and stared at the carriage floor, and Lady Deveraux fiddled with the buttons of her gloves and touched her hair, patting it into shape under her hat. I wanted to laugh at her. She thought she must look her best for meeting her monster-daughter?
Justine opened the door for us, and took the Deverauxs’ hats and cloaks. I dropped my coat on the stairs on the way down to the workshop and didn’t care when Lady Deveraux made a startled tsk-tsk behind her teeth.
Kettlesing was awake and down in the workshop, sitting on a chair by the table and looking down at his hands. He started up when we came down the steps, and he lunged forward and grabbed me by the arm. ‘What the hell are they doing here?’ he demanded.
‘They’re the parents,’ I said dully.
‘The parents? Jesus, Mary’n Joseph, Victor!’
‘Excuse me,’ Lord Deveraux said sharply. ‘Kindly remember that you are in the presence of a lady.’
Kettlesing looked Lady Deveraux up and down, and snorted. ‘Presence of a lady. Oh hell, yes.’
‘This is the gravedigger?’ Lord Deveraux hissed. ‘This is the company that you keep?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Why in God’s name would you associate yourself with a person like this?’ and he looked at Kettlesing as though he would have liked to grind him beneath his heel.
‘He assisted me with the procedure.’
‘He assisted you? You let him touch our daughter?’
Lady Deveraux drew in her breath with a sound very like a sob. ‘Please...’
I sighed. Nothing else seemed worth the effort. ‘He has no medical training. He held the light and threaded the needles. I associate with him because he understands what I do, and because he is of far more help to me than anyone else I could find.’
‘But surely—your maid—’
‘I didn’t want her to be a part of this.’ I felt very tired, and although part of me knew that I ought to offer Lady Deveraux the chair to sit down on, I just couldn’t see the point. ‘I’ll go fetch Lenore.’
‘Yes,’ Lord Deveraux said stiffly. ‘Perhaps that would be best.’
Kettlesing jammed his hat down on his head and stared belligerently at Lord Deveraux’s kneecaps.
My workshop was divided up into several rooms: the big main room, which opened onto the garden, where I dealt with the flesh; the clockwork room, where I made the machinery; and several smaller rooms that had no particular purpose that I used for whatever my most pressing need at the time was. One of these little rooms had a rough cot in that I used sometimes whenever I was working late and couldn’t be bothered to go upstairs to my bedroom. I had left Lenore there, and the light from the small gas lamp showed that she had not moved from where I laid her on the bed.
I shut the door behind me and knelt down beside the bed. ‘Lenore,’ I said softly.
She lay with her arms by her sides, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes closed. I had rolled up the sleeves of my shirt above her wrists, but the hem still came down to her knees, affording her some measure of modesty. The blanket that I had left tucked tightly around her waist had been pulled down, and lay in a crumpled heap over her legs.
‘Lenore?’ I said again. ‘Your parents are here.’
She didn’t open her eyes. ‘I don’t want to see them.’
‘They want to see you.’
‘No they don’t. They hate me.’
‘No!’ I exclaimed. ‘Of course they don’t. Why would you think something like that?’ Silence. ‘Are you still—aware—feeling—the other girl?’
‘A little. But I know my own name now.’
‘Tell me.’
‘My name is Lenore Deveraux.’
‘Good, that’s good.’
‘No.’ She opened her eyes, and silver tears spilled out down her cheeks. ‘No.’
I reached out and touched her shoulder, but she flinched away. ‘I know it’s difficult,’ I said, ‘but your parents really want to see you. They can help you.’
‘I don’t need help.’ She sat up. I made a movement to stop her, but she jerked away, shifted so she sat with her back against the bare wall, facing me. She pressed her hands against her head, fingering the black suture line. ‘I don’t need any help,’ she said again, slowly and bitterly. ‘I have never felt like this before. I don’t—is this what normal people feel like?’
‘How do you feel?’ I asked guardedly.
‘I feel strong! I feel as though I could rip out these stitches without even trying. I feel like... like I could walk by myself. And jump. And climb the stairs without stopping to cough.’
‘You have new lungs,’ I said. ‘New organs. Your disease had affected them too badly, destroyed them, so I had to give you new ones.’
‘That’s why... the sewing?’
I nodded. ‘The stitches on your head are where I had to connect your brain to the dynamo. To make it work again. And the other stitches are where I replaced your organs. And your skin tore in several places, so I had to patch the holes with new skin...’
She was shaking her head, her hair whispering back and forth. ‘No... I don’t understand. Why didn’t I die?’
‘I’ve done this before.’
‘No!’ she almost screamed. ‘Why didn’t they let me die? I wanted to die, I want to die!’
‘But you said you felt strong, better. You’re well now.’
‘No. No. I’m not well. I’m not well at all.’
I bit down on my tongue, then said, ‘It will get better, Lenore. You’ll have to stay in bed for a long time while your body readjusts, but then that will give you time to get used to—everything. The stitches. And on your face, it’s just the one suture. I’m sure your maid could arrange your hair to hide it. And the bruising will all heal.’
‘I feel wrong,’ she whispered.
I looked at her helplessly. ‘Lenore—’
The door banged back on its hinges and let in a horrific cacophony of noise.
‘I said, you need to wait for him, you can’t bloody barge in and—’
‘You can’t tell me to stay away from my own daughter!’
‘Please, just let us see her, we just want to see her—’
‘I bloody well told you—’
‘Be quiet you despicable—’
‘Lenore!’
I whipped around. Kettlesing had been grappling with Lord Deveraux in the doorway, but Lord Deveraux shrugged his hand off his sleeve. Lady Deveraux swayed, staring at her daughter, her hand over her mouth.
‘Bloody ’ristocrats,’ Kettlesing growled.
Lord Deveraux didn’t seem to hear him. He took a step forward. ‘Lenore?’
Lenore raised her tear-stained face and looked up at her parents hopelessly. Her chin quivered but she said nothing.
‘Oh...’ Lady Deveraux seemed about to collapse, staring at Lenore with horrified eyes.
Lord Deveraux looked at his wife and shook her arm. ‘Vivienne?’
‘Mama?’ Lenore whispered.
‘No...’ Lady Deveraux’s voice was hoarse. ‘No, no, no...’
‘Mama?’ Lenore made a tiny movement forward, but Lady Deveraux backed away.
‘No,’ she whispered again, then her gaze flew up and hit me in the eyes, and she lunged forward, suddenly screaming, ‘What did you do to her? What did you do to her? Her face, her face, what did you do, you monster, what have you done to her?’
Her hands clawed at my face, and I was too taken by surprise to resist, and the force of her attack backed me up against the wall. Her nails tore my cheek and she was shrieking, ‘You monster, you heartless monster, what did you to her?’
Lenore was screaming, high and cracked with sobs. I ducked away from Lady Deveraux’s hands, but it was Kettlesing who grabbed her wrists and pulled her away. She struggled for a moment and then went still, like a puppet with cut strings. Kettlesing dragged her away and pushed her down onto the end of the cot, and she sat down limply, staring at nothing.
Lord Deveraux had his arms around Lenore, and was rocking her back and forth, murmuring softly into her hair. She buried her cheek in the front of his coat and cried and cried and cried.
SEVEN
The Deverauxs took Lenore home in their carriage that afternoon. Lady Deveraux could not look at her daughter, and sat huddled in the opposite corner of the carriage, clutching her cloak about her with shaking fingers. Lord Deveraux held Lenore close in his arms and kissed her forehead. Lenore didn’t look back at me, or at her mother or even up at her father, but she held the lapels of his coat in her hands and rested her cheek against his chest.
I watched the carriage leave, and even though I felt exhausted, I went for a walk along the lake. The sky was beginning to turn, one side a darkening blue, and in the west a haze of golden clouds in a peachy-tinted sky. I stood in the damp grass at the lake’s edge and watched the wind ruffle the top of the water into tiny white-capped waves and tried not to think. Even out here, where normally everything seemed so much less complicated, things were still the messy dark tangle that they were. I had no idea what would become of Lenore. I had no doubts over whether she would survive; I knew my workmanship was excellent, and physically her body would function perfectly. But I had no control over her mind, and there was nothing I could do to fix that, or to fix her parents. I thought of Lady Deveraux, and found that I didn’t know what to think of her. She had seemed to love Lenore when she was dying, but a Lenore fixed by her own request repelled her. Lord Deveraux? I had absolutely no idea about Lord Deveraux. I had thought him an arrogant bully, but he, at least, had accepted Lenore. So now what?
I couldn’t think. The wind plucked at the tails of my coat and ruffled my hair into my eyes. I looked up at the sky from behind the untidy lock of pale blonde hair and watched the sun sink slowly below the horizon.
END OF PART ONE
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