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Judge Frankenstein nodded, though his jaw twitched in irritation. “I have a detailed account of the money we have spent raising her. I am sure it is within bounds to request compensation.”
“What are they talking about, Judge Frankenstein?” I asked.
“Father,” he corrected me, smiling possessively.
“You can submit the list in writing, and your claim will be evaluated.” The speaker settled his hat on his head. “Or you can resolve it privately, now that she is your daughter. I recommend the latter. It will take less time.”
The men shook his hand and took their leave. A fly droned lazily, the only thing enjoying the meager feast on the table. There was no air in this room, no current or breeze, despite the high ceilings and the wall lined with windows looking out onto the green of the forest. I wanted to be out there. The glass was not a protection from the elements—it was a barrier. A cage, designed to allow a view of freedom and beauty without ever touching it.
Was the monster just outside, watching us? Did it long to be in here, exulting in its bloody revenge, while I longed to be out there?
“You have come into your inheritance,” Judge Frankenstein said to me, taking a glass of wine and toasting us. “It was to go to you at twenty-one, or upon the occasion of your marriage.”
I sat down at the table, overwhelmed. I should have been making my preparations for defeating the monster. I could not understand what Judge Frankenstein was saying. “Inheritance? From where?”
“From your father, of course. The Lavenza family fortune.”
“But—” I looked up at Victor, who raised his eyebrows to let me know he had no idea what his father meant, either. “I thought he died in prison. In truth, I thought he was a myth. I had nothing when you found me.”
“You had your name.” Judge Frankenstein drank deeply, setting his glass down with a satisfied sigh. Then he paused, looking quizzically at me. “Do you mean to say all this time you thought we took you in without knowing anything of who you truly were? That we were foolish enough to accept the word of some filthy hag in the woods?”
I had no answer, as that was precisely what I had thought.
His incredulity increased. “You thought I would agree to marry my oldest son to a girl of unknown origin? A foundling child? Elizabeth. You have more sense than that.”
I let out a strangled laugh. He was right. I did have more sense than that. That was why I had tied myself so tightly to Victor, why I had chased him down to bring him back. I knew I could not depend on the kindness of his father. I could only depend on the love and loyalty of Victor to shield me from abandonment.
But apparently I had grossly overestimated even my low accounting of his father’s generosity. Of course he would not have kept me all these years without reason. Of course Madame Frankenstein’s dependence on my help with Victor was not justification enough.
“Has there always been money?” My voice was meek out of long practice. If I had known—if I had been aware that at the age of twenty-one I would be secure on my own, without needing anyone else—
What would it have changed?
Judge Frankenstein ripped a leg off the whole roast chicken before us, tearing some of the meat away with his teeth and then wiping the grease from his mustache. “No. Only the potential for it. I have spent many years in a legal battle with the Austrians who seized your father’s estate. It was not easy to secure your inheritance, even after your father died in prison. All my trips abroad were to appeal your case in person. But this has happened just in time. I nearly had to rent out this house—imagine, me! A grasping landlord! My father already sold off much of the land, and I could barely squeeze more money from what remained. Now that you are part of the family, your husband will take charge of your finances. And you can begin to repay our years of kindness.”
“Father,” Victor said, distaste dripping in his voice, “if it is Elizabeth’s fortune, she can discharge it however she sees fit.”
I reached over and gripped his hand. Now Judge Frankenstein’s true reason for being so graciously joyful over my return was obvious. He did not care about me; he cared about the money my name brought.
Victor had not known. He had never worried about my name or my origins. He had always loved me for myself. All my machinations and manipulations filled me with shame. He had been far truer to me than I had been to him. I had wanted him because he kept me safe. But he had wanted me only because I was his Elizabeth.
I looked up with tears in my eyes. “I love you, Victor Frankenstein.”
He brushed my cheek and then kissed the spot where he had cleared a tear. “Of course you do. And I love you, Elizabeth Frankenstein.”
It was the first time the name had been mine. It did not feel the way I thought it would. But nothing that day had.
Victor cleared his throat. “I do not relish the thought of spending our honeymoon here. And in a stroke of luck, we have just been given a villa on Lake Como as a wedding gift! Imagine how much space we will have. How much privacy.” Victor directed me up from the chair. “Go pack your things, my wife. We need some time away from these walls.”
Judge Frankenstein stood, his face purpling with anger to match his wine. “We need to discuss the finances.”
Victor shooed me with his hands. “On our wedding day, we need only consider our own future.”
“Ungrateful boy!” his father roared.
Victor turned to him, smiles replaced by a cold radiating so powerfully that even I shuddered, though his wrath was not directed at me. Victor slammed his fists on the table, rattling the chipped finery. His father startled, nearly tripping over the chair behind him. He sat heavily in it instead.
I put my hand on Victor’s back, stroked his neck to calm him. Part of me wanted him to lose control, to throw one of the violent mad fits of his youth. To terrify his father even further.
