Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(103)
“Just let me know,” Victor replied, and patted his inner elbow firmly. “Plenty of blood to go around.” Inventing a reusable blood transfusion tube was much more difficult than anyone knew. In truth, it was a task that had nearly broken him, but he had been determined to do it without his sister’s assistance. Now that he thought about it, it was his first solo invention.
“It’s a story nobody would believe,” Mary said as they watched Adam bend down to fit through the cottage door. “Young Mary is a writer. She has a similar vivid imagination to you. You will get along with her. Ah, our little boy is here to visit old Aunt Mary.”
Up the path, Edwin was being bounced along each stepping-stone. His hands were held by a very careful man, and he arrived at Mary’s feet without injury.
Victor greeted them. “Commander. Clara. How lovely to see you both.”
Christopher lifted the boy up. “We can’t stay away. He loves it here.”
“It’s not the same here without you, Clara. I think you should move back.” Victor said it to rile Christopher, but she answered earnestly.
“I’ve gotten rather used to the academy,” Clara replied with a blush and straightened her son’s trousers. “It wouldn’t do for the commander’s wife to live by herself, would it?”
“The troops might talk,” Christopher agreed. “I shouldn’t like to get a reputation as a bad husband.”
“You could never do that.”
Victor bit into an apple loudly as they kissed. “We’re all taking coaches up to Larkspur as soon as Lizzie pops. She has an absolute insistence about lying on a blanket with Jelly. It makes no sense. And Jelly wants to plant her own apple tree. At least Arlo can keep it alive for her; she’s got no green thumb. You all should come; there’s endless guest bedrooms.”
“That’s a kind offer,” Christopher said awkwardly, but Clara finished his sentence firmly:
“We should love to. We miss Angelika and Arlo very much.”
“When Father Porter shuffles off his mortal coil, they can come back for a visit,” Victor said. “There’s no one left in the village who knows who Arlo really is. Thimms and the magistrate have moved away, thanks to some mysterious meddling.” He jingled his pocket for effect. “He can come back then and walk about without looking over his shoulder. And if Belladonna could accept that she’s a pig, Lizzie can walk around without a broom.” Still, his face creased in amusement as his ever-present shadow put her head against his leg. Down to her adoring face, he said, “You must give up on me.”
Belladonna made an impassioned squeal that meant, Never.
“I don’t think Arlo has minded being holed up at Larkspur in the country,” Christopher said with amusement. “I’m sure he’s been well-occupied.”
“Reading poetry,” Clara said, and even Edwin laughed.
Mary wasn’t in on the joke. “My grandniece, Mary—”
“I have never heard so much about a stranger as this new Mary,” Victor complained.
“She writes and reads poetry. She wishes to write a book, but she cannot find a topic. That is why she is coming to stay. She will find inspiration here. She has torn her hair out with frustration, according to her letter.”
“She will find your home positively charming,” Clara encouraged with a smile. “You have decorated it to look so wonderful. I see Angelika has treated you to some fine furnishings.”
Through the window, Mary’s little cottage was a miniature palace, decorated in the finest French wallpapers. “She is a decadent young woman,” Mary said, and then added in a voice like she was practicing: “But that is a reason we love her. Or, I should say, I love her.”
Clara rubbed her arm. “Doesn’t it all look so pretty. We might go and say hello to Jacob and Adam. Is Sarah here, too?”
Mary replied, “Sarah will be at school, but Adam and Jacob are here.” The little family departed up the path. “Master Victor, I want to know something. Can I tell young Mary about the comings and goings of Blackthorne Manor? I think it might inspire her.”
Victor thought, shrugged, and gave his apple core to Belladonna. “Why not? I’ll send Schneider a copy. Won’t that just burn his biscuits? We would have to ask Jelly if she consents to being a character. After all, I’m nothing without her.”
Mary let out a bark of laughter. “I would strongly suggest changing every detail possible. If I know her, she’ll say that under no circumstances will she allow her name in print to be attached to this scandalous tale.”
“Shame. She was right there, next to me, achieving the same as me.”
Mary squinted up at him. “She was. It’s nice to hear you say it, too. But she’s less vain about it than you.”
Victor put a dramatic hand on his chest. “I submit to your grandniece that I am pure inspiration, through and through.” He straightened the huge green emerald pinned to the old woman’s cardigan. “Wouldn’t it be fun to give Jelly a copy of this future book at some Christmastime? Perhaps Lizzie can adapt it for the stage.”
“You are getting ahead of yourself. It’s not written yet. And I doubt Angelika will have time to read it, what with all their traveling,” Mary replied, and she watched Victor walk back to the house with her heart in her eyes.