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Victor’s eyes narrowed with a twitch. “You mean back to work?”
I waved dismissively. “She does not consider it work. She adores William, and has been so good for Ernest.”
“And she has been your dearest companion.”
I looked toward the outer rooms, where Justine was waiting. She had been so good to accompany me. Without her, I never would have been able to make this trip. I had deceived her and pulled her away from the things she loved. As much as I wanted to remain and make certain Victor came back, I could not ask her to do the same. If Victor wanted me to go and Justine wanted to go, I could not justify staying. And I would have no one to help me do so. “If you think it best, I will return home for Justine’s comfort. But you must promise to write me at least once, and send word ahead when you are on your way.”
His eyes were heavy and dark with some meaning I found—to my great dismay—I could no longer read. It filled me with panic. What was he thinking? Was he upset? Was he just tired? Suddenly he was a language I did not know.
“I will most certainly send word ahead.” He smiled then, and some of the tightness in my chest released. “You will know when I am coming. I promise.”
“I will hold you to that.” I leaned over the bed to kiss his forehead. I was entirely unprepared when Victor tilted his head up and met my lips with his own. A charge passed between us, and I gasped, pulling away. It reminded me too much of the one I had received in his horrible laboratory.
Victor looked amused. “Why, Elizabeth. Have you forgotten how to kiss me?”
I lifted my chin in the air, looking down at him imperiously, but with a hint of a smile. “You had better hurry home so you can remind me.”
His laughter followed me out of the room, my steps lighter for it.
Justine stood, putting William’s mending in her bag. How she had managed to pack it, I did not know. “How is Victor?” she asked. Justine had not gone back to see him. I offered to let her, but she blushed at the mere thought of seeing her employer’s oldest son in a state of repose. What would she think if she knew how often I had shared his bed, however innocently!
“He is restored to himself. And he insists we go home immediately.”
Justine closed her eyes and bowed her head, smiling in silent prayer. “I am so glad.”
“That he is restored, or that we get to go home?”
“Both! And that we will have only one more night in that horrible boardinghouse.”
I pursed my lips thoughtfully. I had already bidden farewell to Victor. Everything was settled between us. He loved me. I had secured my prize and protected Victor’s reputation through a few careful acts of destruction. My future was once again free from the threat of poverty and destitution.
Judge Frankenstein could take himself straight t
o hell.
Smiling, I tucked Justine’s hand into the crook of my arm. “We should leave tonight. As soon as we have secured our things. I do not want to spend another moment in this town, either.”
Justine kissed my forehead, then pulled an extra pin from her hat and carefully pinned my hat more firmly in place. As we walked out the door, I glanced over my shoulder and thought I saw Victor passing back into his room. Had he come to say goodbye? Why had he not called out to us?
Perhaps he, too, was shy in front of Justine, wearing only sickbed clothes. He did not like talking to people in general, much less when he was ill. Or perhaps it had been the doctor, not Victor. It nagged at my mind as we hurried back to the boardinghouse. I would have been much more settled if he were returning with us.
But I had to trust that he would come home as he had said. Victor did not lie to me.
Back in our room at Frau Gottschalk’s, I closed our trunk with emphatic flair.
“Oh!” Justine exclaimed with dismay. “What about Mary? She was so good to us. It would be rude to leave without saying goodbye.”
I agreed. It would be rude. And also the most prudent thing to do, given what she knew of my activities while I was here. “Write to her and give her our regrets. Tell her I am grateful for everything. Particularly the cloak she lent me.” I ran my fingers along its edge, surprised to find I already missed Mary.
Justine, ever dutiful, sat down at the scratched and peeling desk and proceeded to write a letter more sincere and elegant than I could have managed. Under other circumstances, I might have been friends with Mary. Circumstances under which I could afford such indulgences as friends, that was. She had her uncle and her shop. She had no need of me. And I had no need of her sharp and perceptive eyes. Besides, I had Justine and Victor. I had lost Henry, but that only showed how one truly could have too many friends.
* * *
—
Just before nightfall—saving us from the enthusiastic locks of Frau Gottschalk, who watched us leave with suspicious eyes after demanding extra coin for more ink usage—Justine and I settled in our carriage.
“Home!” I cried, pointing forward. The carriage bumped over the roads and out of Ingolstadt, back to the house on the lake that no longer threatened to spit me back out. We would ride all night for Justine’s sake.
