This Dark Endeavour (with Bonus Material) (24 page)

“Victor?” she said impatiently. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him we kissed in the library.”

Her dark eyes blazed. “How could you?”

“I regretted it instantly. I told him I pretended to be him, that you were guiltless.”

“And the sleepwalking?”

I looked at her in surprise. “So you believe me now?”

“Answer my question!”

“No, I said nothing of it. And he remained very calm—until the very end. I was amazed.”

“He’s not like you, Victor,” she said. “He can master his temper. But you went too far, and put his blood into a fever.”

“You’re saying
I’m
responsible for his fever?” I demanded, though the same idea plagued me too. “Listen to Mother. It’s a passing ague. Others in the house have it.”

Neither of us said a word. We both shared the exact same worry.

“I hope you’re right, Victor,” she said, “because if you’ve brought back his illness, I will never forgive you.”

And she walked away from me.

“I’d like to visit St. Mary’s and light a candle for Konrad,” Elizabeth said as we were finishing breakfast.

The slightest flicker of irritation crossed Father’s face, but he said, “Very well. I’ll have Philippe take you.”

“I can take her,” I said quickly. I’d been planning on making a trip to the graveyard to check for Polidori’s note—and this gave me the perfect excuse.

Father looked at me closely, and I realized he was still reluctant to let me out of the house.

“To the church and back, Victor,” he said.

“Of course.”

Outside on the lake road, with the water sparkling and the heady smell of the fields in my nostrils, I ought to have felt exhilarated after my two weeks’ confinement. But I felt wretched. Elizabeth sat beside me, silent and reproachful.

My only thought, thumping in time with the horse’s hooves, was:
Let it be there. Let there be a message waiting.

When we arrived, I watched her enter the church, then tied up the horse and ran through the tombstones to the Gallimard crypt, a huge pile of granite that had glowered there for centuries. I walked around it twice, scrabbling in dirt and leaves, looking for some kind of wallet.

Nothing.

I cursed and kicked at the crypt’s wall with my boot. Polidori had had the better part of a week. What could be taking the old fool so long? I wanted to ride the rest of the way to Geneva and box his ears.

If Konrad’s illness had returned—

I banished the thought, and walked inside the church. After the bright sunlight, it took my eyes several moments to grow accustomed to the dim interior. The church was nearly empty, only a few people at prayer scattered among the pews.

I took a seat near the back. I saw Elizabeth at the front, kneeling before a row of small lit candles, her hands covering her face.

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I looked away.

On the altar a young boy was polishing the brasses. My knowledge of the Church was small, but I did know about how the priest was said to perform a miracle, turning the bread and wine into the body and blood of Jesus Christ.

From the stained-glass windows shafts of coloured light angled through the stillness of the church. My thoughts drifted.

Wine to blood. Lead to gold. Medicine dripped into my brother’s veins. The transmutation of matter.

Was it magic or science? Fantasy or truth?

Two days passed, and my brother’s fever did not leave him.

His body ached. The joints of his right hand became swollen. Downstairs, our two servants were still laid low as well. We had a visit from the kindly, useless Dr. Lesage, who administered his
usual strengthening powders and tinctures to help combat the fever.

“I am sending for Dr. Murnau,” Father said at dinner. William and Ernest had already been taken off to bed, and it was just Elizabeth and me with Mother and Father. For a moment there was silence around the table.

“But I thought this was just a passing illness?” Elizabeth said.

“Mostly likely it is,” said Mother, “but I think it best to be safe.”

I avoided Elizabeth’s gaze, for fear of the anger I would see there.

“Before he departed,” said Father, “Dr. Murnau left me a detailed schedule of his whereabouts, in case we needed him again. He’s currently in Lyon with another patient. I mean to ride there myself and bring him back as soon as possible.”

Lyon was in France, and the country was in turmoil. Mobs of revolutionaries still roved the land in a reign of terror, persecuting any who might disagree with them. I looked at my father, and for the first time he seemed old to me, and tired. My heart felt as crumpled as his shoulders.

“Is it safe for you, Father?” Elizabeth asked. “The stories we’ve heard …”

“I will take Philippe and Marc with me. The French people have no quarrel with the Genevese—we have no love of monarchy either. My only worry is how long the journey may take. I plan to leave tomorrow morning.”

Later that evening I found Father alone in his study, hurriedly packing a valise.

“May I speak with you?” I said, closing the door behind me.

“What is it, Victor?”

I took a deep breath, let it out. “Father, given Konrad’s condition, is it not worth … at least
considering
the Elixir of Life?”

He looked at me as if I had gone mad, but I persisted.

“We need only one last ingredient and—”

He lifted his hand. “Enough. Dr. Murnau will advise us.”

“But he himself said he couldn’t give Konrad the same medicine so soon. What can he do? Maybe if you’d told Mother the truth, she’d be willing to pursue the Elixir of Life as well. If we at least had it at hand, we’d—”

“No!”

“You would rather let him die?”

“How often must I tell you? Alchemy does not hold the answer!”

My heart thudded. “How can you say that when you yourself have practised it?”

His split second’s hesitation betrayed him. “Nonsense.”

My voice shook. “I saw your handwriting in Eisenstein’s book. You have transmuted lead into gold.”

Quietly he said, “It was not gold.”

I stared in confusion.

“It only had the appearance of gold.” There was bitterness in his voice.

“But in your notes there were calculations for some two hundred pounds. If it was not gold, why did you make …?” My voice trailed off.

My father turned to look out the window, and I had the dreadful sense that something was about to be taken away from me forever.

“Its appearance,” he said, “was enough to fool a great many people.”

It took me a moment to form the words. “You sold people fake gold?”

“When I was a young man, the Frankenstein fortune was all but gone. My family would have lost everything. Everything. When I discovered the Dark Library, I thought alchemy might prove our salvation. The gold, alas, was not real—but it was possible to carefully sell it through various agents, far away, in the empires of Russia and the Orient.”

“I see.”

“Without that money our family would have failed. I would not have married. You would not exist. I am not proud of it, but it was necessary.”

I felt feverish. My father, the great magistrate, was a liar, a hypocrite, a criminal. I could not sort my thoughts properly. He turned to face me, and this time it was I who could not meet his eye, so ashamed of him was I.

He took me tightly by the shoulders. “You must tell no one of this, Victor. You understand?”

I said nothing.

“It would destroy us.”

I forced myself to look at him. “What about Konrad?”

“Listen to me, my son. Alchemy is a mirage. You must accept that.”

I wrenched myself free of his grip. “Maybe it was only
you
who failed. You cannot dismiss the entire discipline because you could not make gold! Maybe others are more skilled than you!”

“Victor—”

“No,” I said, blood pounding in my ears. “I no longer trust you!”

He tried once more to put his hands upon me, but I twisted away and fled his study.

The next morning he was gone. He’d departed for Lyon before I was even awake.

At breakfast Mother looked at Elizabeth and me rather uncomfortably and said, “Your father left instructions that you are to stay within the house until he returns.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“He is concerned you might entangle yourselves in more mischief.”

Elizabeth’s face filled with innocent amazement. “That is not fair! We have no such plans!”

I said nothing, watching Mother, wondering how much she knew—of my interview with Father last night, of Father’s criminal past.

“Those were his wishes, and they will be kept,” said Mother firmly.

My pulse was a drumbeat of anger. I would not keep Father’s secret any longer—if secret it were. I would not be treated like a prisoner! But Elizabeth spoke before I could.

“Surely I am still permitted the freedom to worship.”

Mother faltered, for the word “freedom” in our house was given great weight. “Yes, I am sure your father would not deny you that.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “Because Elizabeth wants to
visit St. Mary’s again this morning. To light another candle for Konrad.”

Elizabeth glanced at me in surprise.

“And I am happy to take her,” I hurried on, before Elizabeth could say another word.

“To the church and back only,” Mother said. “And do not dally, or there will be no more exceptions.”

Later, on the way to St. Mary’s in the trap, Elizabeth looked at me. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “I thought I might light a candle myself.”

“Is that so?” she said.

I let her go inside alone, and then rushed to the crypt to check for Polidori’s message. If I again found nothing, I swore to myself I would ride to Geneva and confront Polidori personally.

At the gravesite I got down on my hands and knees and searched. Finding nothing, I climbed the low fence and peered inside the crypt. Nothing. I should have been clearer in my instructions and specified a place. Where would he have put it?

Then I realized it would not have been Polidori himself who brought the message. He would have hired a trustworthy messenger … or sent Krake.

A great oak shaded this part of the graveyard, and I remembered the lynx’s speed in trees. I looked up, and saw, hanging from a low branch, a pouch. I jumped and snatched it down. It smelled like cat.

I glanced about a touch uneasily, half expecting to see the mysterious lynx gazing at me with his unnerving green eyes. I untied the pouch and took out a small piece of parchment, dated only yesterday.

I went inside, found Elizabeth praying, and lit a candle. I knelt beside her and silently—to whom, I don’t know—said,
Thank you.

When we returned, I saw a pair of horses being harnessed to our carriage. Richard, one of the stable hands, told us that our mother wanted to see us at once. We vaulted up the stairs, fearing it was some desperate news about Konrad.

As we passed my bedchamber, there was a servant packing my clothes into a large valise.

“What’s going on?” I demanded from the doorway.

“Victor, Elizabeth,” my mother said, appearing in the hall. “A third servant has taken ill. Genevieve, from the kitchen, has fever and spots across her body.”

“Is it the pox?” I said.

“It may be.”

“Is that what Konrad has?” Elizabeth asked.

“Certainly his skin bears a rash in places. Dr. Lesage is on his way. In any event, I want you two to go with William and Ernest to the Geneva house.”

Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “You must let me stay as well. Who will help you with Konrad?”

“I have more than enough help,” said Mother firmly. “What I can’t bear is another of my children taking ill. I want all of you away until we know whether this is chicken pox or plague.”

Elizabeth began to object once more, but Mother raised her finger and shook her head. “No arguments. I’ll send a messenger the moment I have news to report.”

Within the hour I was in a carriage with Elizabeth and William and Ernest, on my way to Geneva. William insisted on sitting on my lap, and I held him tightly. He looked up at me, grinning, thinking this a wonderful treat. I pressed my cheek to his, trying to find solace in his soft warmth.

Mother must have sent word ahead of us, for when we arrived, the servants were already throwing open shuttered windows and pulling dust coverings off the furniture. We were greeted most warmly by the staff, who wanted to know all about Konrad and the other ill servants.

All I could think about was getting to Polidori’s. The sooner I knew of the final ingredient, the sooner I could obtain it and have the elixir.

I ate my lunch quickly and excused myself from the table.

Elizabeth followed me out into the hall. “Where are you going?” she asked suspiciously.

I said nothing, but she knew. She grabbed my hand and pulled me into a deserted parlour, closing the door behind her.

“We
promised
your father, Victor.”

“I don’t have any intention of keeping that promise,” I said.

“Well, I do,” Elizabeth retorted.

“Polidori has finished the translation,” I told her.

“How do you know this?”

I pulled his note from my pocket and showed her. “We have been in communication.”

“You kept this secret from us?”

“You wished to give it all up.”

She quickly read the note and looked up at me. “Don’t go.”

“‘Close at hand,’” I said, quoting Polidori’s note. “That means it is easily gotten, does it not? There will be no difficult quest this time. Perhaps he even has it in his shop!”

“Victor, we do not even know what ailment Konrad suffers from. It may just be—”

“The pox? Yes. And it might be mild or it might be fatal. Or it might be his old illness returned. We need to be ready.”

“We must wait until Dr. Murnau returns.”