Of Monsters and Madness (13 page)

T
he next morning when Maddy is occupied with cleaning the stained-glass windows, I slip away from the house and make my way to the market. I know I should not be going alone, especially after news of another murder, but the need to get away from everything overwhelms me. The raven portent was right. There are many secrets being kept in this house.

As the marketplace finally comes into view, I retrace the steps Maddy and I took the day before, proceeding from the yellow apothecary shop toward the butcher’s
tent. I know I will pass the handkerchief stand along the way. Thankfully, I’m able to find it quickly, and Maddy’s gift is ready and waiting for me. I turn to make my way back to the apothecary, then realize that none of the shops I’ve passed look familiar.

I turn back around, choosing a street to my left, and come face-to-face with the hanging carcass of a pig, split straight down the belly. A thick trail of flies buzzes about the creature’s lifeless eyes. A second pig, this one missing its feet, hangs just beyond. Despite the gruesome sight, relief washes over me. Somehow, I’ve found my way to the butcher’s shop.

As I move past the dead animals and come around to the front of the tent, I see that Mr. Higgins is speaking with someone. There’s something familiar about the customer’s silhouette, and when he swings a cane, I see it’s Edgar. He passes several banknotes over, and then the butcher hands him a bag with a crimson stain in the lower corner.

With their transaction complete, Edgar turns away and I hurry after him. I know Cook told me to stay away, but surely it will be all right if I merely ask him how to find my way back to the apothecary. I follow him to the edge of the marketplace. He’s taking the
same path I had—the path that leads back to Father’s house. He walks so quickly that I wonder why he carries a cane. He seems to have no need of it.

We are nearly to the house, when I suddenly lose sight of him. One moment he’s there, and the next he seems to have vanished. Then I notice the wrought iron gate connecting Father’s house to the alleyway is open. Stepping through the gate, I find myself in the courtyard.

“Fancy an afternoon walk, did we?” Edgar leans against a vine-covered wall, twisting the top of his cane. “If you wanted to walk with me, all you had to do was say so.”

My cheeks grow warm. “I was turned around in the marketplace and followed you to find my way back.”

“Out without a chaperone?
Scandalous
.”

He draws out the word, and my cheeks burn even more fiercely. “I was picking up a gift for a friend.”

“You were doing some shopping? So was I.”

My eyes shift to the bag he’s holding. The red stain has grown larger. When he notices me looking, one corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “Curious?” He holds the bag up. “If you come with me, then you shall find out what’s in here. It’s very scientific, I assure you.”

Without waiting for my reply, he crosses the courtyard. Everything inside me knows this is not proper. The rules of society say I should not be alone with him. Yet I long to see what’s inside the bag.

Why must I be cursed with such curiosity?

Pushing my misgivings aside, I follow Edgar into the kitchen. He’s standing beside the small door next to the fireplace, and I find myself coming to a sudden stop. He sees my hesitation.

“Does your curiosity only take you this far?”

“My father would not approve of my being in his laboratory.”

“Your father’s not here.”

I am still so unsure.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

It sounds more like a taunt than a reassurance, but if I follow Edgar, I’ll finally be able to satisfy my maddening curiosity. And that’s something I cannot ignore. Though I try to talk myself out of it, I know I must see what’s behind that door.

Edgar opens the door slowly, revealing stone stairs that disappear into darkness below. A lantern attached to the wall holds a candle, and he takes it with him, leading the way. As we descend, the air grows cooler.
A second door at the bottom of the stairs awaits us. Edgar pulls a set of keys from his pocket and deftly finds the right one. When he pushes the door open, the sight before me is something out of a nightmare.

My father has his own operating theater.

A giant, crudely made table stands in the middle of the room, surrounded by rough, hand-hewn wooden benches. Fresh bloodstains mar the table’s surface, and an assortment of surgical instruments sit on a nearby tray. A large chandelier has been rigged overhead on a pulley system so it can be lowered to provide light.

The walls of the room are lined with shelves holding jars full of bloated white specimens, decanter bottles with peeling labels, and dirty wooden crates. The crates have burlap draped over them. A memory of last night flashes before my eyes, and I know that whatever was being delivered is inside those crates.

I take a step into the room. A sharp smell stings my nose. Something tangy, with just a hint of putrefaction below the surface. The floor is spotted with dark stains. “This is my father’s laboratory?” Edgar nods, and I take another step. “I’ve been told he is a doctor.”

“A brilliant doctor.” Edgar watches my reaction. The look on his face is one of careful scrutiny. “You’re
not afraid of what you see here?”

“No. My mother assisted a doctor in the village where we used to live, and she let me help her with her work. I’ve had an interest in medicine ever since I was a young girl.”

“I knew there was something different about you.” He strides over to the table and places the bag on top of it. Flashing me a sly grin, he readies an empty tray. A moment later, he dumps the contents of the bag onto the tray and then holds up his prize with a flourish.

It’s a heart.

It can’t be human
.…

He answers my unspoken question. “Bovine.”

I draw closer to study it. The specimen is crimson and quite fresh. With the exception of its size, it looks very much like the human heart that I’ve seen in my anatomy book. Although the illustrations in my book pale in comparison to a real-life example. I long to touch it.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Edgar speaks of the heart like Maddy spoke of the stained-glass windows, and I understand his wonder. I see the same beauty in this as I saw in the windows. “It truly is. And it has the same chambers as a human
heart? A left ventricle? Right ventricle? Left and right atrium?”

Edgar picks it up, and I can almost see it beating again. “The same. I would dissect it for you, but your father needs it whole.” He sounds disappointed.

When he puts the heart down again, there are bloodstains on his hands. He points to a large jar on the shelf beside me. “There’s one that’s already been dissected. Two calves grew as one, and their hearts fused.”

I turn to look. The heart has indeed been split in half, and there are tiny white chambers tunneling through the tissue. But instead of a normal left and right ventricle, there are only two right ventricles. “It was impossible for the calf to have lived a normal life,” I murmur.

“Two halves of the same whole,” he says. “They cannot live together, yet cannot die apart. What do you think?”

“I think it’s fascinating.”

“Of course you do.” He comes out from behind the table and gestures to another row of jars. “We also have two-headed pigs, another fused sheep, a three-faced dog, the bladder of a stunted horse, legs
from a malformed kitten, eyeballs of a blind goat, and my favorite—the body of a rooster that was born without a head. He lived for three weeks until one of the other roosters started to peck away his—”

“My father collected these?” I interrupt. Reaching for the jar labeled
SPECIMEN: MALFORMED PIG
, I take it down from the shelf and peer at it closely. There are two clearly defined heads, each with their own eye sockets, yet only one snout that joins them. It truly is fascinating. I wonder what Father has learned by studying such a creature.

I go to open it, but Edgar puts up a hand.

“I wouldn’t do that. The smell can be quite overwhelming.”

Reluctantly, I place it back upon the shelf. I scan the rest of the jars, noting that the other specimens all seem to have some type of abnormality or malfunction. “Why doesn’t Father have any healthy tissue?” I question.

Edgar tilts his head, as if measuring me. “It’s not his area of … interest.”

“What
is
his area of interest? I thought he was a doctor.”

“Oh, he is. Or rather,
was
. It’s all very”—he pauses
and gives me a sly smile again—“
scandalous
.”

A fly buzzes around my head, and I brush it away impatiently. “Cook told me he lost his license. Is that true?”

Edgar suddenly reaches out and swipes his thumb across my face. I pull back, but he gives me a mocking grin. “The fly returned,” he offers.

“Is it true that Father lost his license?” I say again.

“Does a bird stop flying just because someone tells it not to? It cannot stop, if that’s what it was meant to do.”

Cannot stop …
It’s then I realize that Father must be practicing medicine illegally. That’s why there are strange noises and clandestine deliveries late at night. Why I have been warned not to come down here. Practicing medicine without a license is against the law, and if word should get out, he will be sent to prison.

Edgar stares at me intently. “Ahhh, you’ve figured it out.”

His tone makes me suddenly wary of where I am. If Edgar is my father’s assistant, then surely, he has been helping him with his illegal endeavors. That means I now know not just Father’s secret, but Edgar’s as well.
Is Allan involved, too? Will Father be upset if Edgar’s
revealed what he’s told me? How dangerous is it for me to know such a thing?

I try to think of something to say that will not arouse his suspicion. I must not allow him to know my thoughts. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Edgar.”

He scowls. “Why are you thanking me?”

“It was very kind of you to bring me down here. Thank you for showing me Father’s laboratory.”

“I did not do it to be
kind
. I did it because I thought you would be scared.” He watches me carefully. “But I suppose it
is
in your blood. You were never going to be scared by any of this, were you? You are your father’s daughter after all, Annabel Lee.”

Twelve

I
take my leave from Father’s laboratory with the excuse that I must help Maddy with something, and quickly return upstairs. But I cannot stop thinking about Edgar’s words.