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While I was blocked, the constable rushed Justine down the hall. “She cannot account for her whereabouts,” he said.
“She is not well! She cannot even stand!” I twisted free and darted after them. “This is absurd! She loved him!”
“William,” Justine sobbed, losing her strength and falling to the floor. Her arm was wrenched where the constable had not released his grip. Another officer—where were all these men coming from? Where had they been when William was in danger? Why were there seemingly dozens now, as though Justine were a threat?—grabbed Justine’s other arm, and they continued to drag her away.
Someone grabbed my arm, and I turned with my other hand raised, ready to strike.
It was Ernest. I stayed my blow. He was still crying, and I saw a resemblance to Victor in his enraged visage. “She stole the necklace! That is evidence!”
“That is not evidence, you stupid child.” I flinched at the hurt that managed to break through on his face. I dropped to my knees and looked up at him. He was a child, but somehow I felt that if he believed in Justine, it would be proof of her innocence. And I knew how badly it would hurt her to hear that Ernest had believed this false and terrible accusation. “She knows I would have given it to her if she had so much as asked! She had no reason to steal it! She lives here. She could have taken anything at any time.”
“Then why did she have it?”
“Perhaps the maid was framing her,” I snapped. The men had paused in the entry hall, and I stood to give chase, stopping short only when one stepped into my path.
“Why?” Judge Frankenstein asked. “What motivation would the maid have? She loved Justine, as did we all. And she was here all afternoon with the cook. Neither of them had any reason to fear accusation, or a need to deflect blame.”
Ernest jumped in, parroting what he had heard from the constable, who was already building a case against Justine. “And why would she spend the night in a farmer’s barn not a mile from where William was murdered?”
“She was sick with grief over her mother! Who among us can claim to act rationally when faced with the death of family? Neither of you is!”
Ernest turned his back on me, trembling with anger. “You are defending a murderess. She killed my brother. She might have killed me, too.”
“Ernest!” Justine called. He ran from the room. Justine’s sobbing intensified. “Ernest, please! He is so upset. Where is William? William needs me. Elizabeth, please. Where is William? I will take care of William while you go and help Ernest. Please bring me William. He is fine, I know he is. He has to be.”
I shook my head, covering my mouth so I would not cry.
“Elizabeth.” Her eyes were wild and feverish. “Please. Help me. Tell me where William is. Tell me why they are saying— Tell me it is not true.”
I could only stare at her. I saw the moment the truth finally broke through her haze. The moment she finally grasped that William was beyond her care, forever. The light in her eyes, so frantic, died. She dropped her head and fell to the marble floor.
“Let me help her!” I shouted. Judge Frankenstein took my elbow in a tight grip, and I could only watch as the men lifted Justine and carried her out the door. “Let me help her! She is innocent!”
I turned to my captor, glaring up at him as my tears cooled on my cheeks. “You know she is innocent.”
Judge Frankenstein shook his head. “There is evidence both for and against her guilt. We must trust the courts to rule justly and fairly. It is all we can do. If she is innocent, they will discover it. And if she is not…” He raised his free hand and then lowered it. It could have been a shrug, but it looked like the motion of the terrible lever that operated the gallows trapdoor. “Then they and God will see to her punishment.”
I shoved my arm forward and then ripped it back, breaking his grip. I ran outside, but I was too late. They had already bundled Justine into a boat and were out of my reach.
I needed to get to her. I ran to the dock, but the only boat left was occupied by a man we sometimes hired to row us across. “My apologies,” he said, and he did look sorry. “They said not to let you cross right now.”
I let out an animal scream, shocking him. Then I ran into the trees. I knew what Justine would want. She would want me to go to Ernest, to take care of him.
What did I care for him? He had believed her guilt with the barest of evidence! How could he? How could any of them!
The trees grabbed at me, twigs and branches like claws. My dress caught repeatedly, and my hair tumbled free. I ran until I reached the hollowed-out willow tree where I had read Henry’s last letter to me. How would things have been different if I had not been the cause of Henry’s departure? How would things have been different if I had not selfishly gone to Ingolstadt to chase Victor and secure my own stability?
I curled up in the tree, burning with hatred and guilt and secrets. Judge Frankenstein had said the truth would come out. But how could it, when I had worked so hard to obscure it?
* * *
—
I awoke with a start. I scrambled free from the tree, pushing against its confines. How had I fallen asleep? The night—for day had passed me unaware—was hungry and vicious, another storm punishing the land for our failure to protect the innocent.
Lightning lit my way and rain lashed my face. I ran toward where I thought the house was, all sense of direction scrambled in my disorientation. I stumbled and fell. My hands and knees slammed into the ground. I let my head hang heavy. I had brought all this down on us. And then I had fallen asleep, while my Justine was somewhere in a cell! I had to get to her. I could not help William now, but I could help Justine. I had to fix this somehow, because one truth remained: if I did not, no one would.
Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled. I lifted my head.
