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“Victor Frankenstein.”
She paused with her teacup halfway to her lips. “Victor?”
“You know him, then?”
She laughed. “Victor’s voracious buying habits financed my uncle’s book-hunting trip abroad. He left last month, as giddy as a child when he walked out the door. I think my uncle would adopt Victor if he could. He has suggested on several occasions that I should try to marry him.”
I repented of my previous thoughts. I did not like Mary. Not at all. My teacup trembled in my hand, and I set it down lest I break it.
She must have sensed my reaction, because she laughed again. “You need not fear on my behalf. I have more than enough company with my books as it is. I would never survive having to make room for someone like Victor.”
Victor did take up a tremendous amount of room in one’s life. And when he left, all that vacant space buzzed, demanding to be filled.
I did not quite trust Mary still, but I needed her. “Do you know where Victor is, then?”
Mary opened her mouth to answer, then hesitated. “I have just realized that I do not know who you are or what you might want with Victor. And the last few months have taught us all to be cautious.”
“What do you mean?” Justine asked. “Our landlady, too, seemed frightened and overly zealous about safety.”
“It is all just rumor. A sailor missing. The corner drunk, there one day and vanished the next. People move, people leave without telling anyone, it happens. Especially among the lower classes, who have less to tie them to one place. But there is a certain undercurrent of…not fear, but concern, that has gripped the city recently.”
“I assure you I have no intention of murdering Victor,” I said, forcing a smile. Making him disappear from this city, perhaps. But if he was such a good client, she would not want anything to lure him away. “He is my cousin. He left us in Geneva two years ago—”
“After his mother died,” Justine added.
“—yes, after his mother died, to study here. We have not heard from him in some months, and I am worried. He can get intensely obsessive and forget to care for himself as he should. We wanted to make certain he is well.”
Mary raised an eyebrow. “But you do not know where he lives?”
Justine answered. “His friend Henry came several months ago to check on him, but—”
I coughed pointedly. Justine had been so silent with the men! But something about this Mary had her at ease. Justine was not controlling the conversation the way she should have been.
“Did your Henry not report back?” Mary watched me curiously, her expression shrewd. Why would the men swallow all my implausible explanations, but this girl catch every snag?
“He did,” I said. “Though he has always been less than meticulous and neglected to give us an actual address for Victor.”
“And Henry cannot help you now?”
I had avoided answering Justine’s questions about where Henry was, allowing her to assume he was here, too, and could help us. She trusted him. It had made her more comfortable coming. But if I wanted answers from Mary, I would have to provide some as well. “Henry left for England not long after he found Victor,” I said, setting down my teacup and leaning forward so I could not see Justine. “You can imagine what an exasperating trip this has been!”
Justine whipped her head around. “England? You knew? But you said he was here!”
“He was. Until about six months ago.”
I finally looked over and her expression made me feel as fragile as my teacup. I braced for anger, but found only hurt and gentle reproach. “Why did you not tell me?”
“I knew you would worry, coming to an unknown city without someone you trusted here. But Victor is here, and I trust him. I am sorry I did not tell you about Henry. I needed you to come. I cannot do this alone.”
Justine kept her gaze on her food, but one of her hands disappeared into her purse, where I was certain she clutched the little lead soldier. “You should have told me.”
“I should have.” I searched her face to see whether she was more upset with me or with Henry. I had never been able to tell whether Justine held any feelings more than friendship for him. I had never encouraged them, exactly, wishing to hold on to all my options. But now those options were gone for both of us. I reached out and squeezed her arm, drawing her close to me. She came, though reluctantly. “I am sorry. It was selfish of me to keep that from you. But I am so worried about Victor, I could not think straight.”
Justine nodded, silent. I knew she would forgive me. And I did not regret what I had done. We were here now. We would find him. And our success would wash away all my manipulations to get here.
Mary leaned back, picking up a piece of chicken with her fingers and popping it into her mouth. She had watched the whole exchange with silent interest. “So Victor came to study and stopped writing. And then Henry came to check on him, and immediately left without giving you Victor’s address?”
“That is the sum of it,” I said flatly. “You know how inconsiderate men can be of our feelings. They get so busy with their lives that they forget we are left at home with nothing to do but fret over them.”
