Page 23 of Her Creation

“Do be reasonable, fish reeks.”

“Beef,” Alphonse added with a grin.

“Oh, now come on. Beef looks almost identical to human meat. Admit it, there is a resemblance.” Her voice lifted in pitch when her father continued to walk silently. “You cannot expect me to cut into patients with you and then sit down and dine on something that resembles said patient. Would you prefer my further training to be in repairing them or salivating when we cut into them?” She quickened her pace until she was even with her father.

Alphonse’s face dropped from a smile to a pucker of disgust. “Victoria Rose Frankenstein. Do not bring up cannibalism when we are twenty minutes from dining.” Their soft chortles carried on the breeze, along with the last remaining leaves from the nearby trees.

The sky had reached the point where the rapidity of night’s descent seemed to increase with every step. Soon, only the silhouetted fingers of twisted, leafless treetops and the long shadowy spires of the castle would stand against the great navy sky. Only a blur of orange remained over the horizon as the castle filled their view, demanding full attention. A beautiful carriage with two white horses stood at the front of the castle.

“Have you secured the cadaver like I asked?”

Victoria glanced at her father as they crossed the long bridge lined with heavy wrought iron. “Yes. He is prepared, though I still don’t understand why…” Her words trailed off as the answers became apparent.

“Dr. Paranthal has come to stay with us for a week. He’s doing it as a favor to help…err…freshen my memory?” He winked at Victoria. “Be sure to bring out your embroidery while you listen to him upstairs and don’t let him hear you on the stairs to the laboratory. Even though Thomas is a dear, dear friend—like a brother, really—he mustn’t know he is here to educate you. He is rather…severe about rules and such.”

Victoria leaped excitedly before covering her mouth with her gloved hand. Dr. Paranthal was a genius, and she could hardly wait to absorb whatever new information he would offer. “Yes, Papa. But do you not think, of all people, Dr. Paranthal would understand why you are teaching me? He would certainly understand that you need help. He knows me, and what a natural fit it is for me to take over. Had I been a son, it would have been expected and celebrated. He gifted me books on metaphysics that have forever changed my life; certainly, he is forward-thinking.”

“I love the man, but I don’t know that I’d call him a forward thinker,” he chuckled.

“I am eager to hear what he will teach. I know I have so much more to learn, but I just need the practice and guidance, and—” She stopped at her father’s raised palm.

“Victoria, my child, aside from experiential learning and applied training, you already have more wits in the matter than most town doctors have, and you have been a part of the world of experiments and medicine for longer than many. Dr. Paranthal will be a great help, and soon after he leaves, I have a midwife coming to refresh my memory on a few things I’d prefer you hear from a fellow woman, but outside of that, you need to see the actions of your mind play out through your fingertips—you need what only immersive, practical experience can bring you.” Her father waved to the stout, masculine figure that stepped out from behind the carriage.

Victoria closed her mouth and frowned. “With winter approaching, we’ve only been getting a few patients a week. How am I ever going to get the practical experience I need? Also, you may want to remove the cranial apparatus from the cadaver. The machine was vibrating so frequently during my work on the cadaver, I had to replace the mechanism that caused the vibrations with a flame so that I could focus without my arms going numb from the constant pulsing, but now the contained flame flickers so wildly, I fear it must be a mistake on my calibration.” She trailed after her father, annoyed that he was so nonchalant about such a serious problem.

“I will take a look. As it’s only attached to his brain and not his heart or other organs yet, it only reads pulses of heightened neural moments. There should be very little, if any. No doubt a wire has come loose or something.”

“The flame flared so frequently this morning that I didn’t need to replace my lamp to see when it burned out.”

“I see. I will take a look. Come, let’s greet our guest. Do not fret. I have a plan that should serve our needs perfectly, but it involves a few…unsavory details that, as a father, I am still inclined to keep from you. We shall discuss this further once Dr. Paranthal has left.” His cane tapped against the ground just out of sync with his footsteps as he hurried ahead to greet his friend.

Dr. Paranthal was a sturdy, serious man in his early sixties. He wore a modest white peruke with rolled curls, out of sheer habit and propriety rather than fashion. He was clean-shaven with small brass spectacles that sat on the bridge of a wide nose with a tip that pointed slightly down, giving the impression of a hawk or falcon in his severity. He held the air of someone important and intelligent who was well aware of their influence.

“That’s a truly beautiful waistcoat, Mr. Paranthal. Is it embroidered?” Victoria asked from across the enormous table where the three sat together, dining on ham and boiled potatoes.

“Dr. Paranthal,” he corrected with a sharp tone.

Victoria glanced at her father, sitting next to Dr. Paranthal, from across the table to check if he had noted the sharp reaction. “Dr. Paranthal, excuse me.” She deflated, and all light left her face to focus on the slimy ham she pushed about her plate. She would take her portion to the crows that gathered in the graveyard tomorrow morning, as she always did with their food scraps. She liked to think that in exchange, they guarded her mother’s gravesite now that the church was abandoned and deteriorating.

Having realized his effect on Victoria and likely not wanting to upset Alphonse, Dr. Paranthal attempted to soften his previous words. “We work hard to earn the switch from mister to doctor. Do not trouble yourself, my dear. I’m quite sure it’s not something a woman of your standing would understand.”

Victoria bore an invisible hole into the cobalt-blue pattern that bordered her plate. If she looked up now, both men would see the anger that had been consecrated—set, sealed, and unmoving in her eyes. What lived in her gaze no longer raged—but it had been preserved.

Alphonse didn’t hesitate, barely able to swallow the bite he chewed before defending his beloved daughter. “A woman of her standing? Good heavens, Thomas, you’ve been at that snooty university too long. Victoria is quite capable of comprehending the conferral of a doctorate. It was a slip of the tongue as she was complimenting your waistcoat, which, in my opinion, looks as though you’ve robbed the draper’s shop of his loudest curtain.” A snort of laughter bubbled up and out of his throat when Dr. Paranthal’s mouth dropped open in humored shock.

“My wife, Agnes, picked this for me,” Thomas chuckled, unable to keep his friend’s laughter from affecting him. “Thank you, Victoria, for the compliment. It’s clear only one of you has any taste.” He enunciated his words while he glared at Alphonse for a beat before he turned his attention fully on Victoria. “I meant only that you have no station. I did not mean to offend. I was surprised to see you still here with your father, to be honest. I should have expected it, if our last visit were any indicator. Now calm down, Alphonse; you are so sensitive about her. I mean only that there comes a time in life when the burden of his daughter should fall to another man. I simply thought that she would have developed a bit more since I last stayed here.”

“Bite your tongue, Thomas!” Her father’s voice boomed. “I will not have you come into my home and disrespect Victoria—”

Dr. Paranthal shook his head stubbornly but continued. “Look at her, Alphonse. Mary would be ashamed. She’s not even trying to circulate in society; she’s content to be a burden on you. Still wearing mourning black and stuffing her nose in books she has no business reading. How odd.” His hawklike nose scrunched up with disgust.

Victoria’s hand clapped over the book that sat on the table near her plate and slid it into her lap as her face burned with embarrassment.

He turned his words to Victoria. “You are trying to repel any potential suitors that might be desperate enough to give you a second glance, knowing there is no money in your name. You still haven’t any friends despite being deposited in the most influential circles. You shouldn’t burden your father any longer. No, Alphonse, she needs to hear this—you both need to hear this! Mary would tell you both this, and you know it!”

Silence suddenly blanketed the dimly lit dining room; only the crackles and snaps of the fireplace sounded in the stillness.

Victoria’s eyes remained on the worn cloth corner of the book in her lap as weight filled her chest and pressed into her head. He was right. Her mother would be ashamed and disappointed. She had no friends—leastwise that were alive—no husband, no children, no money of her own, no house to keep. She was a deadweight that clasped onto her father’s already failing legs like a fetter.