AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The carriage passed the grimy buildings clinging to life at the docks. People moved through the dark. Some furtively, advertising their fear. Some aggressively, stalking the night as predators. And some aimlessly, anonymous and vulnerable in the dark. A monster could walk among them and they would never know. Just as I could button myself into the clothes of a widow and suddenly be free to move invisibly through society.
It took more than that, of course. I had sold every gift the Frankensteins had ever given me, and several things that probably were not mine to sell, as well. By the time Judge Frankenstein realized I was planning something, I was already gone.
What wrath I would return to, I knew not, nor did I care. He was not my concern. Victor was the only person left whom I loved. I would not let the monster take him.
In my trunk I had my funds, my own set of pistols, and my widow’s clothing. I knew the monster feared fire—it had fled the burning building. I would find Victor, and then we would devise a trap to burn the hellish thing from this earth.
I reread the next letter, though I knew them all by heart now.
My Dearest Elizabeth,
London is a dreary town, and I loathe its smoke-choked buildings and refuse-choked streets. Henry was here but has since moved north to Glasgow. Probably to wander the highlands, spouting poetry and crying. I would express how pointless I think it all, but doubtless you, knowing my heart, can anticipate and imitate what I would write. I will save the ink.
My own business still weighs heavily on me. I find London too crowded, too teeming with wretched life to focus. I will follow Henry to Scotland and there, I hope, discharge both my responsibilities to myself and to him to satisfactory conclusions.
With all the affection of my soul,
Victor Frankenstein
We stopped only to refresh the horses. My surly driver—in English I could barely understand despite my extensive study of the language—insisted he did not usually conduct women places in the middle of the night. I promised him more than generous compensation, which notably improved his mood.
We made good time. The countryside here, lit by the light of the moon, was all gentle hills. I missed the security of mountains, the solid and jagged definition of the horizon. Here, the hills rolled on until darkness- or distance-obscured. I felt exposed and unprotected. Perhaps that explained the military aggression of this tiny island country: they could never feel the edges of their land, so they pushed forever outward.
I had lost so much time preparing to chase Victor. The bulk of my journey here—down rivers and across the continent until I found a boat to take me up the coast to Scotland—had taken a fortnight. A fortnight agonizing and waiting, poring over my journal entries, reviewing what I knew and what I suspected. Never writing what I feared most, lest committing it to paper would make it come true.
The final letter I had received—and I prayed none had come since I left—guided my course.
My Dearest Elizabeth,
I write with bad news. I have found Henry in Inverness. I scarcely recognized him.
We will not be reconciled in this life. I have turned my back on him forever. I am sorry. I could have, perhaps, made more of an effort for your sake. I have taken a cottage nearby so that I can finish my own work.
It is cold and dark, the wind eternal and wretched, but for you, I would endure anything. I feel as if you are with me, by my side. My time here is agony. I am haunted by past failures. They whisper to me at night and plague my dreams. I will not fail again. I will protect you always.
With all the affection of my soul,
Victor Frankenstein
* * *
—
I arrived in Inverness sometime before dawn, too early to venture out. A cozy private room was secured by waking an angry innkeeper, and I sat by the fire, relieved to be behind stone walls but still feeling the motion of carriages and boats.
The flames illuminated Victor’s words as I again studied the three letters that had found me before I left. I had already delayed so long! I prayed I was in the right place. And I prayed my courage would not falter. I would find Victor the next day, and feared and hoped—in equal measure—that doing so meant I would find the monster, as well.
I BRIEFLY CONSIDERED LOOKING for Henry, too, but he was under no threat from the monster. That was one benefit to his estrangement from us: the monster had no reason to find him, no purpose in targeting him. I hoped dearly that someday Henry would reconcile with us. But for now he was safe, and that was enough for me. And he was also blissfully unaware of Justine’s death. I envied him that.
Did I, though? Would I prefer to know she was gone from the earth, or to go on under the false belief that she was well?
I thought I would rather believe her well than know the truth. But I had no such luxury.
Thus it was that my first stop was the local post office. It was a charming stone building in the shadows of Inverness Castle. If I had been on holiday, I would have been delighted by my surroundings and taken the morning to stroll and discover. The buildings here were nearly all dark stone and thatched roof. In place of Geneva’s carefully cultivated gardens, their yards were wild and creeping riots of plants.
But I was not on holiday and did not so much as let my eyes linger on the castle. The postmaster was already awake and sorting through his parcels when I walked in.
“Can I help you—” He paused, peering to try to pierce my veil to ascertain my age. Unable to do so, he added, “Madame?”
