Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(74)

Angelika stepped in. “I think we should consider another option, rather than hunting him. I’ve thought about this all night. I’m the only one he trusts, and I think—”

“No,” all three men said together.

“If I go with him, he will take me to Mary.” She appealed to Christopher. “You are a hunter, so you know we need bait. I’m nice-smelling, and he will absolutely come for me. Then I can talk my way out of it, or pay a ransom, and bring her home.”

“No, you little idiot,” Victor said with feeling. “Absolutely not. Chris and I are going to ride up into the chapel area, where you saw him last. I am going to talk to him and convince him to take us to Mary.”

“And if he won’t be convinced?” Christopher’s hand went to his pistol again like a reflex. “You both believe you can talk, or pay, your way out of anything, but take my advice. Things rarely work out that way in the moment.”

“I agree with you there,” Will said.

“If you shoot him, Mary might never be found. Look at that mountain.” Angelika pointed to the peak rising up from behind their black manor house. “She is up there right now, possibly injured, and certainly irate. He could have her tied to a tree.”

“Here’s a plan,” Christopher said. “Angelika will put out her gifts for him”—here his voice stiffened in disapproval—“and I will be in a deer hide, watching. I will follow him.”

“You aren’t listening to me,” Will told him bluntly. “I have seen him in person. No one could track him.”

Whatever emotion Christopher was feeling caused his mount to stamp the ground. “And you weren’t listening when I said I can hunt anything. This man is finally a worthy adversary for me, and doubly so because I will be protecting Angelika.”

“Enough, peacocks.” Victor was weary. “Chris, let’s set off to search the forest behind the house. Will, you stay with the bait while she undertakes her errands in the village.”

“Errands on your behalf. I am going to arrange your wedding,” Angelika said with a nose-wrinkle.

Victor tipped his hat. “Much obliged.”

Angelika explained to a concerned Christopher, “I will be fine. He promised me he would not leave Frankenstein land. He will not cross over the walls.”

“Promises don’t mean much to desperate people. How vast is your land?”

“There’s almost two thousand acres to search, so I could use some assistance.” Victor circled his mare, Athena. She pinned her ears back and bit Percy’s rump.

As they all reshuffled positions, Victor’s eyeline was on Will. “Look after my sister,” he commanded gruffly. “We’ll take a route through the walnut grove. Everyone, reconvene for supper. Catch me if you can.” In an unnecessarily showy gesture, he lined Athena up to the wall and jumped it.

Christopher grinned as he watched, despite the gravity of the situation. “Look after Angelika,” he told Will.

“I have looked after her longer than you’ve known her. You’re being left behind.”

They held their reins tight as Christopher succumbed to the swirling excitement; he, too, put his horse to the stone wall and jumped it with easy competence. In the distance, they heard Victor whoop in exhilaration.

“They will have far too much fun hunting today,” Will observed with a headshake. As they began to trot their horses in the direction of the village, he asked, “Are we going to talk about what I told you? Last night, you grabbed Lizzie and vanished.”

“We were in my room. Hardly hiding.” But she hadn’t exactly emerged from her room, either.

He now held his reins tied in a knot, with his wrist fed through the loop; just like someone who was having difficulty with their hands might. Once she found a solution for this current crisis, she would explain to him very firmly that he was not dying. He’d told her that on the very first night as she half carried him naked up the stairs. He was wrong then, and wrong now.

“We really need to talk,” Will repeated.

Angelika sat deep in her saddle, and pushed Percy into a canter.

The village of Salisbury was even more shabby and depressing than she remembered. Most of the shops were boarded up. A ruddy-faced maid had her skirts tucked into her underwear as she tossed a bucket of excrement into a ditch. Every eye catalogued her clothing, horse, and tack.

“Here, little sweetlings,” Angelika said, tossing coins down to the children. “The church is along this left street, and we will ride past Clara’s cottage. Let us call on her. I might even get to hold Winnie if he’s awake.”

Will nodded. “Of course.”

As if she had conjured them with her thoughts, Clara walked into view down the crossroad and turned in the opposite direction, lugging Edwin on her hip. Her friend looked like any one of these poor folk, with mud on her hem and an exhausted aura. In addition to her boy, she was struggling with heavy string bags of groceries.

“She needs help,” Will said.

“Where is she going? Down this horrid alley? But she lives this way.”

They had to halt to let a pony cart pass, and by the time they trotted to catch up, Clara was at a wooden door, and was struggling to open it.

“Clara!” Angelika halted Percy. “Do you require assistance?” She noticed a sign: WINCHESTER BOARDINGHOUSE. A bucket was emptied out a window. A cough and a spit followed. They could hear a man shouting, and a woman’s placating tones. A bang. A cat yowl. Everything stank.