Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(47)
“If you think of an appropriate end for my character, please advise me.” Will closed his book like he was reluctant to stop reading, and to Angelika he said, “Thank you so much.”
“You’re so very welcome. Anything and everything you could ever want, I will give you.” Angelika really wanted her flowers now. “Are they for me?”
He appeared to be greatly embarrassed, glancing to Lizzie. He had overheard her earlier words. “They are not a fitting return gift.”
Angelika frowned. “They are from you, so of course they are.”
“They’re not mine to gift. They belong to you, like everything here.” Ignoring her outstretched hand, he laid them on the blanket beside her, in the same way one might put flowers on a grave. He was gone before another word was said.
“Poor man,” Lizzie said with empathy. “He tried his best.”
Angelika gathered up her flowers. “He picked each one thinking of me. Can’t you see that is something that cannot be bought? All I ever wanted was someone who thinks only of me and will let me spoil him. I was right about the book. I think he can rest easier now.”
As she sorted the blooms into a bouquet, she noticed there were dozens of rich purple larkspurs. She wondered if his subconscious knew it, or if it was a sign from the cosmos.
It was time to do something scary.
“Lizzie, I want to talk to you about something important to me. Something that probably belongs to you now.” Lizzie was already clutching her ring in fear. Angelika rushed to clarify, “Larkspur Lodge.”
“I don’t know where that is,” Lizzie said, perplexed. “I haven’t heard of it.”
“It is our lake house, six hours by coach. It is terribly overgrown and unloved and has been sitting out there alone with only a caretaker for many years. I can relate to it very well,” she added, trying for humor. She didn’t quite succeed. “I am possibly destroying a very large surprise, and I do apologize.”
“A surprise?”
“When you are married, it will be your gift that you can rightfully accept, but I want you to know that I love it desperately, and it is the only place where I think I can decide what to do with the rest of my life. Becoming a scientist is Victor’s ambition. I want to use my talent,” she explained haltingly, “for something that is mine.”
Lizzie patted her notebook, titled IDEAS FOR PLAYS. “When you find your role, the rest of your life will fall into place. I promise you.”
“I don’t like to ask for anything, but if you should decide that six hours is so very far away—”
“You wish to have Larkspur.” Lizzie clasped her hand on Angelika’s. “I will talk to Victor. It would be my honor to see that gift go to you. But in exchange, I wish for you to be open to being courted, by either man. Let them compete. And think of what meaningful occupation you will take up in your new home. That is our deal. Promise me.”
With larkspurs in her hands, Angelika found herself saying, “I promise.”
Chapter Fifteen
Angelika knew her brother very well, because as soon as their dinner guests finished eating dessert, Victor threw down his napkin and said: “Let’s go outside. My colleagues have told me there is a high chance of star showers tonight. It is too dull to sit indoors like our fathers did. Ladies, too. Get your cloak, Lizzie.” At the doorway, he hollered, “Mary! I say, Mary!”
“Already bringing it,” Mary said with a bottle of liquor under each arm and a tray of crystal tumblers. She knew Victor well, too.
“I shall light a bonfire,” Victor told the small assembly. “I have some Chinese firecrackers, too, and a huge piece of cheese. We shall make up ghost stories and have a laugh.”
As they all pushed back their chairs, Angelika watched Christopher. If he found this outdoor sojourn odd, he didn’t show it—except for a flicker in his eyes that might have been frustration. He had probably been counting on adjourning for brandy as an opportunity to corner and cross-examine Will.
Angelika watched Christopher, and Will watched Angelika.
The entire evening had been both pleasant and tense.
Christopher had arrived early with an enormous bouquet of flawless hothouse roses that Angelika had dutifully admired for approximately one second before looking back to the carriage, where her other dinner guest, Clara Hoggett, was emerging, with a very important package.
“Give him here,” Angelika had begged, arms up, and the bouquet was completely forgotten in favor of the baby. Luckily, Christopher had laughed good-naturedly, saying, “She’s mad over this little chap.”
Will leaned against the porch in shadow and did not initially come over to admire Edwin. When pressed to do so, he had offered a tense half smile and let the tot hold on to his finger. The heart-stopping, womb-squeezing moment was merely an illusion, but Angelika snatched it and sewed it into a momentary reality, one where she was also a good person.
Inviting Clara had not been an act of kindness, but one of selfishness.
Angelika forgot everyone in the room except Edwin. She talked only to him, in cooing nonsensical prattle. She had sat with him on her lap for the entire first course, kissing his head while he played with her spoon and her soup went cold. The smell of his flossy hair was a drug stronger than opium. He was heavy and humid, and she loved him to distraction. At some point, he’d started to sob, and Clara took him away to change him and let him nap in his basket in the drawing room. Angelika had almost cried herself.