A Cold Legacy

“That’ll tide you over till supper. Let’s get you settled now, and tomorrow I’ll show you the manor and grounds, if the storm lets up. There are times it gets so bad the levees fail and the road to Quick floods for days. We can be completely cut off. Our own little island, of sorts.” She handed me the candelabrum from the table. “Take this. The electricity will likely go out if the wind continues. Follow Valentina—she’ll show you to your rooms. I’ll make sure my girls take care of your sickly friend. A fever, is that right?” She shook her head in sympathy. “How awful. We shall put him in a room with a fireplace to keep him warm.”

“That would be lovely—” Lucy began.

“No,” Montgomery interrupted. “No fire. No sharp objects either. And make sure the room has a strong lock. We’ll attend to him ourselves, not your girls.”

Mrs. McKenna’s eyebrows raised, and she exchanged a look with Valentina, but like any good servant, she didn’t probe. “No fire, then. And an extra lock on the door.” She paused. “Might I see that letter of introduction?”

I handed it to her, and she read Elizabeth’s letter, then looked up with a startled expression. Her gaze shifted between Montgomery and me.

“Engaged?” she asked.

Behind her, the thin little girl at the goose spit gasped.

“Yes,” I said, worried. “Is … is it a problem?” With their high-collared dresses and sleeves down to their wrists, they might be religious types who wouldn’t approve of Montgomery and me traveling together unwed.

“No, no, little mouse,” Mrs. McKenna said. She glanced at the thin girl at the spit, who now wore a bright smile that seemed out of place in the gloomy manor. “It’s only that, with the exception of old Carlyle, you’ve walked into a house of women. We haven’t had much occasion to celebrate things like engagements, not in a long time. The girls would so adore helping to arrange a wedding. Perhaps in the spring, after thaw, or midsummer when the flowers are in bloom. It’ll cheer them up so, especially after a harsh winter.”

I smiled. “We’d love their help. And spring sounds perfect.” The warm scone in my stomach, Montgomery at my side, girls tittering over wedding plans: it was starting to feel more like a home, and I told myself that the unsettled feeling I’d had when I first arrived was just nerves from the road.

I squeezed Montgomery’s hand, but the troubled look he gave me said he wasn’t nearly as reassured as I was.

“THERE ARE THREE FLOORS, not including the basement,” Valentina said as she led us up the stairs, with Balthazar trailing behind carrying our three carpetbags over one shoulder. Two of the littlest servant girls walked alongside him with fresh linens in their arms, staring up at him. One had a limp that made her walk nearly as slowly as he did. Far from frightened, they seemed utterly transfixed by him.

“That doesn’t include the towers,” Valentina continued. “There’s one in the southern wing and one in the north. The north tower is the biggest. It’s where the mistress’s observatory is. I’m the only one with a key to it, on account of the delicate equipment. She’s taught me how to use most of the telescopes and refractors and star charts. In turn, I’m teaching the older girls. Education is often overlooked in female children; I’m determined to make sure the girls here have good heads on their shoulders.” She cast me a cold gaze. “Between McKenna and me, we manage quite well during Elizabeth’s absences. Though we’re all eager for her return, of course.”

The stairs creaked as we made our way to the second floor, which Valentina explained was mostly comprised of guest bedrooms and a library they used for breakfast. The regular servants’ rooms were on the third floor, and she and McKenna each had one of the larger corner rooms in the attic. Carlyle slept in an apartment above the barn.

She passed me a set of keys with her gloved hand. “One for your bedroom, and one for that of your ill friend. You’re welcome in any portion of the house that isn’t locked. Those are the observatory and the mistress’s private chambers.”

“And my dog?”

“Carlyle put him in the barn. There are plenty of rats for him to catch.”

Lucy gaped. “He’s supposed to eat rats?”

Valentina appraised Lucy’s fine city clothes with a withering look. “I didn’t realize he was canine royalty. Would he care for a feather bed and silver bowl, perhaps?”

Lucy drew in a sharp breath. I could practically see smoke coming from her ears. I doubt she’d ever been spoken to so boldly, by a maid or anyone else. I wrapped my arm around hers and held her back. “Rats will be fine,” I said.

Valentina smiled thinly and continued up the stairs.

We reached the landing, where a long hallway stretched into darkness broken only by flickering electric lights. Heavy curtains flanked the windows, with old portraits hanging between them.

“The Ballentyne family,” Valentina said, motioning to the portraits. “That one is the mistress’s great-grandfather. And that woman is her great-aunt.”

“But I thought the Franken—I mean, the von Stein family—owned the manor,” I said.

“Victor Frankenstein, you mean? You needn’t be so secretive, Miss Moreau. Elizabeth trusts us completely; she’s told us all about her family’s history. The Ballentynes were the original owners of the manor. The first Lord Ballentyne built it in 1663 overtop the ruins of previous structures. He was something of an eccentric. Went mad, they say.”

Montgomery stopped to give Balthazar time to catch up to us. The two little girls were hanging by his side, hiding smiles behind their hands. The one with the limp skipped ahead to Valentina and tugged on her skirt. Valentina bent down to hear the girl’s whisper.

“The girls say your quiet associate—Mr. Balthazar, is it?—belongs here.” She pointed a gloved finger at a small portrait beneath a flickering electric lamp. “They say he’s the spirit of Igor Zagoskin.” The portrait portrayed a large man in an old-fashioned suit, stooped with a hunchback, face covered by a hairy beard. Balthazar blinked at the painting in surprise. The resemblance was striking.

“Who is that man?” Montgomery asked.

“One of Lord Ballentyne’s most trusted servants, back in the 1660s. He was rumored to be a smart man, strong as an ox. He helped Ballentyne in his astronomical research.”

Balthazar blinked a few more times in surprise, then grinned at the girl with the limp. “Thank you, little miss. I like the look of him. I shall hope to carry on in his tradition.”

“Your room is through here, Miss Moreau.” Valentina opened a door into a bedroom that emitted the smell of mustiness and decades of disuse, but inside I found it freshly tidied. Balthazar set my bag on the soft carpet. Valentina handed me a smaller key.

“What’s this one for?” I asked. The bedroom door had only one lock.

“A welcome present from McKenna.” She smirked. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough. Mad Lord Ballentyne was full of surprises when he built this house.”

The little girl with the limp giggled, and Valentina shushed her and swept her out of the room, leaving me alone while she showed the others to their rooms down the hall.

I went to the window, where I could make out little in the dark rain. Lightning crackled, revealing a sudden flash of ghostly white. I jumped back in surprise. It looked like enormous white sheets, spinning impossibly fast, and I threw a hand over my heart before the whirling shapes made sense.

A windmill.

At least now I knew the source of Elizabeth’s electricity. Glowing lights flickered from the other exterior windows on this wing. I wondered which room was Montgomery’s, and Lucy’s, and which room they’d put Edward in earlier. Sorrow washed through me at the thought of him. If only Lucy’s premonitions were right, and the fever would break and he’d be himself again, miraculously cured of the Beast.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t nearly as optimistic as Lucy. Sometimes things didn’t work out for the best. The King’s Club massacre, for one. It had been a messy, cruel solution, even if it had saved us.

Would I take it back, if I could?

The answer eluded me, and I started to pull the drapes closed over the window, tired of the same guilty thoughts circling in my head, only to find that the curtains spanned a wider section of the wall that hid a secret door. The small key Valentina had given me was a perfect fit, and I swung it open.

I let out a soft sound of surprise when I found a second bedroom that was like a mirror to my own—except for the young man standing by the wardrobe in the process of undressing. Montgomery turned at the sound of the door. His suspenders hung by his side, his blond hair loose and still damp from the rain.

“Adjoining bedrooms,” I explained, holding up the key. “This must be the welcome present Mrs. McKenna meant for us. How scandalous. I guess the household isn’t as puritanical as their clothes make them seem.” I tried to keep my voice light. Since fleeing London we’d barely spoken, and I didn’t want our new life here to begin in sullenness. But he came to the doorway and rubbed his chin, distracted.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It doesn’t feel right,” he said. “Those bodies in the cellar. This place, these people, greeting us with a rifle to our heads.” There was fear in his expression, which made my heart dim. Montgomery was rarely afraid of anything.

“It’s better than being arrested for murder,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Well, of course. The housekeeper is kind enough, and they’re good to take us in, but they’re hiding something. I can smell it.”

“Does it smell like musty old clothes?” I tried to lighten the mood again. “Because that’s just the carpets.”

He tensed, not in the mood for joking.

“This isn’t London,” I said, more seriously this time. “Elizabeth clearly lets them run wild, and they’ve no idea what to do with us. You saw the disdainful look Valentina gave Lucy, like we’d die without our tea and crumpets.” I laid a hand on his chest, toying with his top button. “I suspect she’s just jealous of our nice clothes and fancy address in the city.”

For a moment we stood mirrored on either side of the door while the wind whistled outside. His jaw tensed, and he stepped back so my hand fell. “We don’t have a fancy address anymore. We can never return to London, not since you murdered three men.”