The Daughter of Doctor Moreau(31)

And yet…the hybrids were born with strange and odd ailments that could claim them in painful ways.

The hybrids suffered for the sake of humanity. Yet pain was a gift, that was her father’s refrain. Pain must be endured, for without it there’d be no sweetness.

That morning her father told them that they should be obedient and meek, another common topic in the chapel.

“To speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be gentle, and to show perfect courtesy toward all people,” he said.

In the back of the chapel she spotted Montgomery leaning by the doorway, looking dour. She doubted he was listening. She couldn’t find Lupe among the congregation. When her father started in prayer, she bowed her head and whispered the words.

Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.

After the sermon finished and Montgomery and Cachito led the hybrids back to their homes and chores, she went looking for Lupe. She found her in the old building with the donkey’s skull, gazing up at it. Carlota sat next to Lupe on a bench, and they both stared at the remains of the animal. She did not understand why Lupe sought this spot instead of the comfort of the chapel, but she knew by now that many of Lupe’s preferences could hardly be understood. She did not explain herself to Carlota, and her inquiries were often rebuked.

“You weren’t at the chapel again. My father will be upset.”

“Maybe he will,” Lupe said.

“You don’t care.”

“Cachito will repeat what he said all day today, as if he were a parrot.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’d prefer you to be there,” she insisted. She didn’t want Lupe to find herself in trouble, didn’t want conflict to arise in their perfect household. But Lupe was distant now, her eyes turned from her.

She wishes to take flight, she thought. If she had wings she’d have reached the horizon.

“He says the same thing each time.”

“He does not.”

“You are deaf, Loti.”

She did not reply, not wishing to start another row. Lupe stood up, and she followed her outside. Rather than walking back into the house they settled in the courtyard, by a wall painted oxblood red and crawling with ivy. Carlota rested her head against the other girl’s shoulder and they looked at the fountain.

The silence was like a balm to soothe any wound. The birds sang in their cages, and the fountain bubbled. They forgot any ill feeling they’d held toward each other.

It was Carlota who broke that perfect bubble of comfort, watching the white curtains from her father’s room flutter in the wind.

“I think my father wants the Lizaldes to notice me,” she said.

“Notice you how?”

“He said I was of an age to be courted.”

“Would you like that?”

In her pirate novels the women were kidnapped or met their lovers in exciting ways. To be courted implied a mundane process akin to the cooking of beans or the washing of linen. Yet it was also something alien, which she had yet to experience, and that itself might make it worthy of excitement even if other women were routinely courted.

“They are good-looking. I would have a handsome husband.”

Lupe laughed, and she ran a thin nail down Carlota’s braid, as they’d done when small. Lupe liked to braid her hair. Like a doll. Carlota was a doll to everyone.

“That’s a silly reason to want a husband. Ask Ramona, she’ll tell you. Her husband was pretty enough, and then he broke her nose with his fist. You can’t tell what anything is by looking at it.”

“Ramona didn’t say that.”

“She did. You—”

“Yes, I know. I’m deaf,” Carlota muttered tiredly.

She supposed there was no reason why beauty and virtue must go hand in hand, but she also didn’t want to resign herself to the idea of marrying an ugly stranger with rancid breath. If she could have a handsome husband and a gentleman, wouldn’t that be nice? Not that she’d given marriage much thought. She’d assumed she’d always live at Yaxaktun, tend to her father, drift in and out of the laboratory, stroll down to the water hole for a swim. If she married, must she leave her home? Maybe if it was one of the Lizaldes she wouldn’t have to go far. They could live at Vista Hermosa and visit often.

She didn’t want things to change.

And yet.

The eyes of Eduardo Lizalde had been beautifully green, the color of the leaves of the ja’abin before the coming of the rains. She recalled them and blushed.





Chapter 10


    Montgomery


It took Eduardo Lizalde less than a week to send word that he’d be staying with them for a few days after all. Montgomery hadn’t doubted he’d come back, but he was amused by his haste.

The arrival of the two young men necessitated a myriad of preparations. The house was carefully dusted, the porcelain locked in its cabinet was taken out and washed, the cutlery polished. Even Montgomery was compelled to pull his blue lounging jacket and the single-breasted waistcoat from the back of the armoire. Cachito laughed when he saw him standing in front of the mirror, adjusting his wide, primrose-yellow cravat. Fanny had liked yellow roses, and the cravat had been for her benefit.

“That bad?” he muttered.