Chapter 7 #2
“You’ve been reading in the corners of the social events I ask you to attend.” Alphonse’s laugh settled into his belly. “Don’t think word doesn’t get back to me. You would rather die of dysentery than know how many mothers are offended and appalled by your independent tendencies at events.”
Victoria frowned. “I think frequently that I should have been a man, for my interests don’t align with my sex. Would anyone say such things if I were a man?”
“Yes, well, nonetheless, I wish you would try to make friends. I feel sad that you spend all your time on our experiments and lessons. We’re at the baron’s,” he said with a great sigh.
“I know you haven’t brought a book tonight, because the one I’ve given you most recently to study is as thick as my skull and will not fit in your reticule.
” He smiled widely. “Come, let’s—” He snorted out a small chuckle when Victoria pulled out the enormously thick tome he was referencing from under the black silk wrapping that tied around her waist and set the book on the carriage seat next to her. “Good heavens, Victoria.”
The two removed themselves from the carriage and sorted each other’s clothing, straightening the disheveled bits before they entered the front door of the enormous manor.
“Good God, all this and it’s only Wilhelm and the baron?” Victoria whispered. “It grows larger and more pompous every time I see it.”
“Yes, though it’s rumored that Wilhelm has taken another estate nearby with the intention of marriage.” He wiggled his bushy gray brows playfully as they moved up the grand steps.
They were announced and their outer coats taken. “Herr Doktor Frankenstein and Fr?ulein Frankenstein.”
The people mingling about the enormous entryway and front rooms paused their lively conversations to look. Since they rarely saw Dr. Frankenstein, the people were quite excited to gaze upon the man who had performed so many miracles.
“Herr Doktor! I am so pleased you have arrived safely,” a domineering man with slicked-back brown hair and brown eyes, one opened slightly more than the other, shouted.
Bushes of thick brown hair shot out in various directions over his eyes, matching the mustache and sideburns that decorated his stern face.
“Baron von Lichtenmarstein,” Alphonse said with a forced voice that Victoria rarely heard. “I am embarrassed by our lack of promptness; you see, the roads through the forest are still muddy from the unending storms we’ve been experiencing.”
“Nonsense! You are perfectly punctual. The clouds have parted this evening in your honor. I hear it is glorious in the gardens at this hour. Perhaps you would enjoy a tour of my humble house before we begin tonight’s festivities?”
Alphonse and Victoria looked at one another in silent conversation.
“Fr?ulein, you will enjoy the fresh air immensely; the roses hold on despite the cold weather that comes our direction,” the baron added.
“Yes, of course,” Victoria answered for both her and her father. “We would love a tour. Thank you.”
“Dr. Frankenstein! Alphonse, tell this man that what Napoleon is doing is absurd.”
The doctor glanced back apologetically at his daughter before several other men pulled him into conversation.
Victoria stood awkwardly with the baron, wishing it were appropriate for her to follow her father and partake in the more intellectual conversations instead of being forced to loom awkwardly around the women and pretend to care about their mundane topics.
“You are lucky you do not have to suffer the obnoxious conversations about to take place. Please find your way to the gardens and enjoy the roses. I will gather your father and meet with you in a moment to give you both a tour,” the baron said, as if he’d read her thoughts.
“Oh, please, do not bother your—” She’d already seen the gardens no less than five times and could not have cared about his additions less.
“Nonsense! Have a look around and I will meet you in the garden shortly. Pop into the office on your way out, if you wish. It’s the last door before the gardens.
Your love of books is widely known, and I have plenty collecting dust. It would bring me joy to have them interest the daughter of the man who saved my heir’s life. ”
Saved from an awkward span of wordlessness, the baron bowed quickly and took off in the direction her father had gone.
When Victoria stood from her curtsey, her fake smile fell, and she glanced about the space before moving in the direction with the least amount of people, which also happened to be toward the gardens and office.
She hadn’t realized that another set of eyes had begun to trail behind her.
Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik wafted quietly through the air over the many voices.
It grew louder for a moment as she passed the string quartet.
A short, incredibly serious waiter cut her off and offered her something to drink from a shining silver tray filled with delicate-looking glasses.
The smell of muslin and hot meat permeated the space.
Victoria declined a drink and continued on past the servant, eager to escape the sight of so many people she didn’t know, only to be bombarded by yet another servant, this one offering small glasses of spiced wine, which Victoria eagerly took if not for any other reason than to busy her hands and keep the other servants from pouncing.
The music softened to a melodious lull behind her as she made her way down the corridor and finally into the quiet of an empty room.
It was plain, clearly not used for anything other than to show their wealth.
She wondered briefly how many rooms in their castle had the same feeling to others.
A feeling of empty uselessness despite the elaborate decor.
She glanced at her dress and the glistening black silk of its empire waist and could not help but feel a kinship to the decorated, useless rooms. Her fingers itched inside her gloves, too hot, and she yearned to remove them and find a nice corner to dwell in.
She’d hardly been there ten minutes, though, far too early to post herself in the corner.
After wandering through a few more rooms, exiting a few quickly when another set of people would enter, Victoria stepped into the nearest quiet space she could find.
Hundreds of lifeless heads mounted on every free inch of wall met her, the haunting glass eyes of red deer, roe deer, and enormous, horrifying wild boar all glaring at her.
She made no sound, though her stomach had tightened into a knot that sat heavy and uncomfortable.
She took several steps into the horrid space, examining the features of each mount, observing the coarse hair on the large stags and the oak plaques that held them on the walls.
The dark-oak-paneled walls, though the many animal heads obscured most of it five feet up, caused the dimly lit corners of the room to whisper soft threats of eerie things that couldn’t be seen.
It was odd that this room, with its faint musk of preserved hides and sad undertones, brought Victoria enough comfort for her stiff shoulders to soften as she lifted the etched checkered glass of glühwein under her nose and inhaled the warm, spicy scent of cloves and cinnamon.
The glass pressed against her lower lip, a slow heat seeping into her skin before she let the liquid fill her mouth.
Spiced wine was a favorite treat of Victoria’s.
Her mother had not allowed her to drink it while she was alive, but the memories of her mother stirring cloves and orange slices above a pot and smiling at Victoria while the heavenly smell filled the house made it one of Victoria’s favorite seasonal treats.
The sound of the door’s metal latch clicking shut startled her, and she felt the uncomfortable warmth of her sticky wine drip down her chest. She said a silent prayer that her black dress would hide her clumsiness.
“Hiding? Or were you hoping that I’d find you?” Wilhelm whispered into the back of her elaborate updo of glossy black hair.
Victoria’s eyes pinched tighter before they opened, and she took a few steps away from the man.
The moment she caught his gaze, flashes of the same brown eyes that peered at her from beneath the blindfold flashed in her mind.
For weeks Victoria had been a wreck, worried he’d actually been conscious enough to realize it was her.
She had waited, and waited, and waited to see if he would tell everyone of what he’d seen—if he remembered.
She didn’t dare bring it up with her father and cause him more stress.
So, a week prior to the dinner, when Wilhelm had sent a note to Victoria, she’d been sick with fear. She’d hardly been able to eat a full meal since, wondering if it was a threat or perhaps what her father thought, a kind gesture of thanks to the daughter of his savior.
Surprised by his words and the closeness of his presence, Victoria struggled to think.
She noted his clean-shaven face, the small, round dimple in his square chin.
He looked different like this, standing and full of life, than he had on the stone slab in the laboratory.
They had been in the same room many times but had never really spoken.
Victoria, who struggled with how to make a situation feel normal, curtseyed low, hoping to buy herself another moment to figure out what to do.
“Miss Victoria Frankenstein,” he said. His brown, serious eyes fixed on her. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”
Victoria felt the blood drain from her face with a chill and pool at the soles of her feet.
“I can call you Victoria, can’t I? Obviously, I’m happy to call you Miss Frankenstein if you prefer.
However, you seem so unorthodox in your preferences that I just assumed it would be all right.
Please call me Wilhelm.” He kept his dark eyes tethered to hers as he lifted her gloved hand and kissed it.