Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(102)
Mary’s prayers were not exactly centered on Arlo, but she prayed she would find the courage to say important words out loud. That was the fault Angelika had with herself, wasn’t it? They were cut from the same cloth, because Mary had never once told either of these children that she loved them.
Angelika prayed for a heartbeat, and anything beyond that would be a bonus.
They were all so lost in thought, holding hands and making promises to themselves, that they did not notice the new tinge of pink on Arlo Northcott’s cheekbones. And when they did, Angelika Frankenstein refused to let up; she drained herself into the only man she had ever loved, until he opened his exquisite eyes on a new day.
His head turned on the pillow. Everyone remained silent.
“Where am I?” His words should have been terrifying, but there was a dry humor in the question.
Angelika was so weak, the quality of her voice alarmed everyone. But she was smiling now, too. “You are in the bed of a spoiled, wealthy heiress who has realized her privileged position and will work for the rest of her life to deserve you.”
His mouth twitched before he looked down at their linked arms. “What have you done for me?”
“She has at least halfway died for you,” Victor interjected, efficiently pulling the needle from Arlo’s arm, and then his sister’s. The fragile tubing promptly disintegrated, and Mary roared at the mess it made on the bed. As Lizzie began to mop, and Victor began to crow about how Jürgen Schneider would take the news of this latest scientific breakthrough, Angelika used the last of her strength to put her cheek on Arlo’s chest, the one she had personally selected.
“My dream man. The one I have waited for. The one I will live and die for. I think we have found a way to keep you with me forever.”
“Forever?” Arlo’s lips, growing pinker by the minute, quirked into a tired smile. “Forever is a long time, my love.”
“I know.” She tipped up her face to his, and they gave each other a kiss. “Do you doubt me? Have you forgotten who I am?”
“Angelika Frankenstein,” Arlo said, “if forever is what you want, you shall have it.”
He glanced up at the smiling faces that were beginning to appear in the room: Sarah, Jacob, the cook, and the gardeners. Mary was telling Sarah loudly how to soak a sheet. Mrs. Rumsfield was ladling out broth. Lizzie put her hand to her stomach, then laughed and took Victor’s hand, pressing it to her side. “Like stars,” she told him.
Dropping his voice to a whisper, Arlo said into Angelika’s ear, “I think we will have some peace and quiet at Larkspur Lodge.”
Epilogue
The change of season put Victor Frankenstein in a good mood.
“I’ve never seen apples like this,” he enthused to Mary, who was digging a hole in the garden patch beside her cottage’s front door. “There must be a hundred times the usual amount.”
“It’s the same number of apples as every year,” Mary said as she pushed a flowering shrub into the dirt and began to press it in. “You’re only noticing them because of the harvest. Every year they have fallen to the ground.”
“Not this year,” Victor said. “We are doing things differently around here. Now, why are you tidying up so vigorously?” He indicated the rug airing on her windowsill. “You’re bustling around like mad when we want you to relax and enjoy your retirement.”
“My grandniece is visiting me, which you should know, as I’ve told you at least ten times. She will be in Clara’s old cottage.”
“I’ve been distracted,” Victor protested.
His every waking moment revolved around the growing protrusion on his wife’s midsection. She was agreeable enough to cooperate in some baseline experiments, and the trip to the altar on the hill had been just in time. He grinned now at the memory. “Jolly good of Arlo to perform one last ceremony, wasn’t it?”
“Focus,” Mary scolded, and handed him a broom. “Sweep up. I want everything to look respectable.”
“How old’s your grandniece? How does that work? Is she your sister’s granddaughter?” Victor didn’t much care about some stranger, but he listened dutifully, and swept a path for the first time in his entire life. “Seventeen? Careful she doesn’t fall in love with me. I am told that the girls in the village think me terribly handsome and rich, mysterious and refined. It’s all truth, but I am now married, and a father in a matter of months. All the girls fall in love with me,” he added to Belladonna, scratching her chin.
“I am sure you tell your reflection all that in the mirror every morning,” Mary replied cuttingly. “Mary isn’t a stupid girl; she won’t fall for whatever charms you believe you have.”
“Her name is Mary, too?” Victor smiled his particularly irresistible smile, and grudgingly Mary found herself smiling back.
“She is named for me. Put them on her bed,” she said to Adam, who was walking up the path with blankets in his arms. “Good boy,” she encouraged him. Mary had a grandson at long last, and it was delightful to see her dote on him in her way. “Do you feel all right?”
“Fine, fine,” Adam said in his grumbling tone as he trudged past. “Victor won’t need to top me up for another week, I’m sure.”