The door to the laboratory was slightly ajar. Angel pushed it open. He had not stepped in the room since the day he’d carried Jane’s lifeless, frozen body inside. Father’s notes were strewn across the counter as if someone had been sorting through them. He had never been even remotely interested in reading about Dr. Van Ostrand’s scientific theories. His disdain for his father’s research had always overshadowed his curiosity.
Something glittered up at him from the dusty floor. He stooped down and picked up the thin gold chain and tucked it inside his fist. Directly on top of the pile of notes sat a paper describing the female specimen. A sickening feeling washed over him as he realized there was no way to make this right. Jane was full of sweetness and life, but now she had discovered the horrid truth. He would never regain her trust or her love.
Angel swept his arm across the notes and they flew to the ground in a blizzard of yellowed parchment. He had a good mind to grab them all up and throw them into the drawing room hearth but first he needed to throttle his careless father.
“Get up.” Angel pressed his foot against the bed frame and shoved it several inches across the floor.
Father sat up groggily.
“Jane knows.”
The old man scrubbed his unshaven face with his hands and squinted up at Angel. “Knows what?”
“She knows what you did in your foul smelling den of hell. Your notes were on the table and she read them.” He opened his fist and let the necklace dangle from his fingers. “I found this on the floor.”
“Christ almighty,” Father said. “Where is she now?”
“She’s in her room. She won’t talk to anyone.”
Father scooted his legs over the edge of the bed. “Find my shoes, Angel. I must go speak to her.”
Angel laughed. “What makes you think she’ll speak to you? This was all your doing. What could you possibly say to her to make this right?”
Father peered up at him with bloodshot eyes. “I have plenty to say to her,” he growled. “Now get my shoes.”
“Find your own damn shoes.” Angel turned to leave. His stable hand was standing in the doorway. “John— I didn’t hear you come in. Is a horse down?”
John fidgeted with the hat in his hands and walked cautiously into the room. “No, Sir. I’ve just returned from the village.” He took a folded letter from his pocket and held it up to Angel. “Ellie thought I should come here straight away with this message.”
Angel looked down at the letter. His name was written across the front. He recognized the magistrate’s seal. He cracked the wax and read the letter.
Dear Mr. Van Ostrand,
As you may or may not know, a wealthy baron lost his life while traveling to our village. Highwaymen stopped his carriage and the man refused to part with his money and so the thieves stabbed him. As it happens, the two men you caught hiding in your stables were two of the men responsible for this reprehensible crime. They helped lead me to the third man. He’d already gone on to murder another down south. He was promptly hung and his two partners stand trial next month.
The family of the victim had offered a reward of one thousand pounds for each man. I will receive one thousand pounds, and you shall receive two thousand pounds. The Baron Rowntree’s widow is eternally grateful.
Angel stared down at the letter for a long moment. The irony was too much. Angel chuckled and handed the missive to his father.
Father reached to his bed table for his glasses. “What is this about?”
“Let’s just say that Baron Rowntree no longer needs to worry about his mortality.” Angel turned to John. “Thank you, John. Be sure to check the mare’s right rear leg. It looked swollen this morning.”
“Aye, Sir.”
Angel turned back to his father. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened with each line of the letter. “Good lord,” Father muttered. He flopped back on the bed and covered his eyes with his arm. “All this has been for nothing.”
“Two thousand pounds,” Angel reminded him.
His father yanked the arm from his face and lifted his head. “I was owed five thousand,” he said angrily.
“I think, in the end, you both got what you deserved.” Angel walked out and closed the door behind him. A shoe slammed against the door as he headed down the hallway.
He stopped at Jane’s door and pressed his ear against it. The room was silent. He turned and pressed his forehead and hands against the door. “Jane, please” he said quietly. “Please talk to me.” There was no reply.
Chapter 30
Jane stood in front of the open window. The drapes fluttered around her as the freezing night air blew against them, cooling her face and easing the queasiness that had been gnawing at her empty stomach for several hours. But no amount of food could fill the hole growing inside of her. More than once she’d glanced to the ground below, but she’d convinced herself the fall from a second story window might bring broken bones but not the relief of death.
With her skin like ice and her face and lips chapped from the biting breeze that had pummeled her for the past hour, Jane shut the window and turned back to her bed. She crawled under the covers and tried not to think of anything. She laughed softly. Just weeks ago her mind was nearly empty of thoughts, memories, and images. Now every time she closed her eyes, she was bombarded with visions, and the ones that were hardest to push away were the ones of Angel. How was it possible for someone with so much deceit to have captured her heart so completely?
“Jane?” Ellie’s voice barely penetrated the door. “I have a bowl of hot soup and some tea.”
Both sounded comforting and warm but eating was impossible. “Thank you, no, Ellie,” Jane called weakly. “I’m not hungry.”
“I’ll just bring the tray in and place it down. Maybe the aroma will tempt you to try some.”
The door opened before Jane could protest. Ellie placed the tray on the bed table. “This room is freezing. Let me start a fire for you.”
“No thank you, Ellie. The covers are enough.”
Ellie turned to leave then stopped. “It’s touching seeing how hard this household is taking Zander’s loss. Even Master Angel is not himself tonight. But we’ll all feel better in the morning,” she predicted confidently.
“Yes,” Jane said forcing a smile. She watched Ellie leave. The poor woman thought they were all deep in mourning and that would have been the proper reaction. A man had died a terrible death, and all Jane could do is stew in her own misery. Then she thought back to something she’d read in the doctor’s notes— a giant male specimen with supreme strength. Of course, how could she not have seen it? Zander was a victim of the doctor’s foul experiments as well. Then a wretched thought filled her mind. Had Zander always been simple-minded or had his childish state of mind been a result of the procedure? Jane shivered and hugged her knees to her chest. If only there was a way to stop her mind from thinking completely. Perhaps Zander had not had it so bad after all.
Too weak to change into her bedclothes, Jane slid down beneath her covers and waited a long time for the relief of a deep, dreamless sleep but it never came. The hollow pit in her stomach and the terrible melancholy she was suffering kept her wide awake. She sat up and dropped her bare feet to the cold floor. Her head felt light as she stood and walked to the door. She had no real destination but decided a walk would help relieve the terrible restlessness she was suffering.
It was late but she’d not heard the clock chime midnight yet. The entire household was sleeping. She wandered past Angel’s door and paused there for a brief moment before heading down the stairs. She was glad that she would be alone on her late night trek. She couldn’t face anyone at the moment but most especially Angel.
She wandered into the drawing room. The room was stark black, but she knew it well enough to avoid the furniture on her way to the giant window that overlooked the grounds.
Jane pushed open the heavy drapes with her hand and looked out. Tiny flecks of snow glowed white as they drif
ted past the window and disappeared into the dark of the night. Her breath left a mist on the window and she ran her finger through it. Was it truly possible that she had been dead and that the doctor had coaxed life and breath back into her? At first the thought of it terrified her, repulsed her from existing in her own body, but now her mind tried to absorb the impossibility of it all. Dr. Van Ostrand had always seemed like a thoughtful, well-read man but a genius who could recreate life? It was too astounding to comprehend.
“I have loved you since the first moment you walked into this room.”
The deep voice startled her at first but only for a moment. She didn’t pull her gaze from the window.
“How could you when you knew what I was.”
He moved behind her. She could feel the warmth of his body, but he didn’t touch her. “What you were and still are is a woman who has restored a life that I had given up as unforgiving and desolate. You made it easy to push any inconvenient reality from my mind.”
She did not dare turn to him. It would surely destroy her resolve to not touch him. “I’d convinced myself that God had decided to spare me because I deserved to have a better life than what I’d had with my stepmother.” She could not stop the laugh that spurted out. “But he hadn’t spared me at all. I wasn’t meant to live and that thought will haunt me forever.” She paused for a moment then reluctantly turned around.
Even in the darkness, Angel’s face stirred her emotions. She could sense tension building in his every muscle as he strained to keep from reaching toward her.
She dreaded the answer to the question she was about to ask but she needed to know. “Tell me, Angel, was Zander always—”
“Child-like and simple? Yes.”
Her shoulders softened. “Thank goodness.”
The light of a candle wavered suddenly in the room. Dr. Van Ostrand stood in the center of the room looking as unstable and feeble as a newly planted sapling in a windstorm. “Good, you’re both here,” he said hoarsely.
Jane skirted past Angel to leave the room.
“Stay, Jane, you may despise me but there is something you must hear.” The candlelight illuminated his pale, drawn features. His once bright eyes had sunk deep in his face and dark rings circled them giving him a cadaver-like appearance. He looked at his son then glanced toward the hearth. “Start a fire, Angel. I have much to confess, and the room is unbearably cold. Then both of you sit down, and I will start at the beginning.”
***
Angel watched his father attempt to find a comfortable position in the chair closest to the fire. The fresh wood crackled loudly and tiny red embers bounced through the air as the flames roared to life. He couldn’t think what the man could possibly have to confess, but one thing was certain, his father looked extremely ill. The laudanum, the constant pain in his head, and his own conscience appeared to be draining the life from him.
“Several years back when you were away on the battlefield, Angel, I’d fallen into a lowly state. The house was empty. I’d lost my wife, most of my fortune, and I stood a great chance of losing my only son.” He looked at Angel. “And that thought terrified me. I occupied my time theorizing how one might regenerate a lost life. I began experimenting on rats. My research had brought me to the conclusion that electricity was the answer. The empty glass tanks in my lab held hideous fish from the sea that produced electricity naturally.” Father looked down at a burn scar that crossed the back of his hand. Angel knew he’d done it in an experiment but he’d never known exactly how. “However, capturing electricity from the beasts proved too dangerous.” He rested his head back a moment and closed his eyes. “I’ve been plagued with these episodes ever since.” He lifted his heavy head and gazed into the fire. “One day I had success. I brought to life a dead rat. It flopped convulsively on the counter and then died again moments later, but I considered it a success.”
Angel glanced over at Jane. There was a look of distaste in her weary face, but she listened with keen interest.
“Through my scientific circle of acquaintances, I’d heard of a wealthy baron who was interested in finding the elixir for eternal life. He’d made it clear that he would pay handsomely for the gift of immortality. My own estate struggled financially, and I saw it as a perfect opportunity. And so my quest for eternal life began.” Father’s breathing was shallow and faster than normal. He stopped to rest a moment. “Whenever I came across a dead animal in the forest I would bring the carcass to the lab. But I could never reproduce the one success I’d had with the rat. It was not long before I realized I’d taken on an impossible task.”
Angel sat forward. “Impossible? I don’t understand. What about Zander?”
A weak smile deepened the creases along his mouth. “Zander, along with this lovely girl,” he looked at Jane, “and you, Angel— all of you became pawns in a wild storm of deceit and treachery that snowballed to monstrous proportions. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to stop it. Money and the lure of once again being a well-respected scientist made it too difficult.”
“But I was there,” Angel said. “I rode with you to the cemetery where Zander was buried. We watched his grave while the mourners came to pay respects.”
Jane gasped and shrank back into the corner of the settee. The desire to comfort her nearly overwhelmed Angel.
Father lifted his trembling hand. “Let me speak, Angel. None of this will make sense unless I tell it all.” He paused and took several slow breaths.
Angel clenched his teeth in frustration while he waited for his father to continue.
“While you were away at war,” Father said at last, “I had an affair with the wife of a rich businessman. I’d been socializing with some of Baron Rowntree’s friends. Francine was the wife of the baron’s business partner. Our attraction was instant. She was unhappy in her marriage, and I was desperate for companionship. Francine had three lovely daughters and a son. The three daughters married well and moved out of the house, and Francine was left with her son. The poor lad had been blessed with mighty size, magnificent strength, and the mind of a toddler. His name was Zander. Francine loved her son and the sisters adored him as well.”
“The three women who visited the grave— those were Zander’s sisters,” Angel said.
“Yes. Only it was not Zander’s grave at all. I paid the gravedigger to bury an empty coffin and mark it with his name.”
Jane was silent as she huddled into the cushions listening to it all.
“Francine loved Zander but her husband hated the boy. Zander was an embarrassment, and Francine was quite convinced that he feared his son as well.” Father stared down at his hands and paused. “Then I did something detestable. I’d read so much about electricity, I began to create my own outlandish, and frankly baseless, hypotheses about electricity and the human brain.” His words had grown barely audible. Then he lifted his face and sighed deeply. Each breath took effort. “I convinced Francine to allow me to experiment on Zander’s brain. I was certain I could help him.” He sank back against the chair. “The two scars on the back of Zander’s neck were a result of my abhorrent experimentation. It was a miracle I didn’t kill him with my ignorance. It would have been better if I had. His body was stronger.” An ill-timed chuckle rolled from Father’s mouth. “He even snapped the tethers on my table when he woke up. Unfortunately, his mind was weaker. His father made arrangements to have Zander placed in an asylum. Francine was inconsolable. Our affair had turned into something more for me. I was truly in love with her and I offered to take Zander in. As pure as my motives were to help my beloved Francine, there was a sinister side to my offer as well. Astonishingly, an opportunity had presented itself. Francine’s husband would naturally become suspicious if a perfect stranger offered to take in his son, so we faked his death. Being a physician, it was quite easy for me to prepare a death certificate. Then it all came together so neatly, I couldn’t believe my fortune. Francine told her family that poor Zander had died on the way to the asylum. By the time the n
ews had reached the sisters, Zander’s empty coffin was in the ground. Of course, he was safe here at Greystock. The three sisters mourned the loss of their brother, and the father was relieved to be free of his burden.”
“But I was home at that point. How did you manage all this without me knowing?”
“I kept Zander sedated in the lab. Angel, you came home a broken shell of a man. For the first year, you wandered this house in a fog of alcohol and suppressed memories. At that time you spent far more time at taverns, pugilist matches, and brothels than home. You were away for days.”
Another small noise came from Jane.
“You came home one day battered and bruised from a fight—”
“That was the week Zander suddenly appeared at the manor. You told me you’d paid several gravediggers to dig up his coffin and bring it to the house. It was all a lie.”
“I could have marched Zander right under your nose and you would not have noticed or cared because you were in such a bad way. You went along with my scheme unknowingly. I took advantage of your weak state of mind, and I’m sorry for that. When you finally started to heal from your war wounds, both mentally and physically, you began to feel the disdain and disgust toward me that was long overdue. It was painful knowing that you hated me, but my greed kept me going. I received word that my dear Francine had died of a fever not long after that. But all was not lost. I now had a reanimated corpse with a death certificate to prove it. I had a specimen to show Baron Rowntree.”
With the exception of the fire humming in the hearth, the room fell silent. An obvious string of questions hung in the air. Angel could feel the tension from Jane who sat at the opposite end of the settee so pale, so vulnerable, so incredible.
Father looked at Jane apologetically. “My greatest regret was bringing you into this, Jane. But I have never regretted pulling you from that icy pond where you would have surely died.”
Angel leaned his forearms on his thighs and shook his head at his father. “But I carried her up to your lab. I saw her—”