The Companion Series

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

It was a rare but welcome dry summer morning that Mary strolled along the waterfront with Mr. Henry Clerval. Still, she had her umbrella ready, should the weather turn.

“You must stay as long as you are able, Mr. Clerval. George, when he returns, would be much appreciative of any conversation in the languages you study. He often speaks of the East and the romance of their culture and history.”

“A pleasure, Mrs. Shelley. It would be an honor to make acquaintance with Lord Byron and your husband, Mr. Shelley.”

They took a seat on a bench to enjoy the vista of the lake and the elegance of the swans in the shallows. Clerval had removed his top hat and it now rested on his lap. Mary was pleased to be escorted by such a charming young gentleman with faultless personal cleanliness, snug pantaloons tucked into his boots, immaculate linen shirt with high collar, and double-breasted frockcoat in dark blue, topped off by a perfectly tied cravat, clipped curls, and fashionable long sideburns.

“How fares your friend, Doctor Frankenstein? I have held much concern since being made aware of his sad history by Monsieur Aldini. I was much relieved upon hearing of your expedient arrival in Montreux to assist him.”

Clerval nodded. “It is true he had not slept soundly in several weeks and, per his housekeeper, also refused to eat more than a slice of bread and lard at her urging. When I arrived with Monsieur Aldini at the Frankenstein residence, we climbed the main lobby stair past dark-stained wood-paneling and even darker portraits whose oil had tarnished ancestral faces into a blackness well beyond recognition. We entered Victor’s private rooms without invitation—though, of course, his housekeeper supplied the key, as she was as much concerned as us all. I was aghast at the state of the spaces. You must understand, Mrs. Shelley, his downstairs staff were not permitted in the rooms to do their duties, so what I am about to reveal is not to bear on their good character or diligence.”

“Of course.” Mary raised her umbrella to afford some shade.

“The first vestibule and corridor of his rooms were quite pitch-black, the candles having long burnt out. We carried two lit chamber sticks, but they did not paint a handsome picture of our friend’s abode. His sitting room was in disarray, the bedchamber unkempt. Please, you will forgive me if my narrative is slim, as there are facets of my account I am loath to utter in the presence of a lady such as yourself.”

Mary nodded, her imagination filling in the missing details.

“We lit fresh candles and opened the windows and shutters to the night air but, even so, the atmosphere continued very stale with a subtle stench of unknown origin. Perhaps decay or—please forgive me, Mrs. Shelley—death. Light seeped from under the door of the final room. Victor’s housekeeper said the doctor referred to the chamber as his laboratory. There was a shuffling followed by silence, then further shuffling and clattering. ‘Victor!’ I called out, ‘It is Henry Clerval, come to visit.’ Footsteps crossed rapidly back and forth, followed by the opening and closing of cupboard doors and glass instruments clanking against one another. There was a shattering crash, followed by words a gentleman seldom requires. I tapped on the door. ‘May I enter, Victor?’ No sooner had I uttered my request than the door opened, and Victor exited and closed the door behind him. I caught but a glance of the laboratory within.”

Mary noted how Mr. Clerval’s pupils dilated and his face flashed white before taking on a gray hue. He held a shaking, clenched fist tight against his thigh, staring in earnest at the Alps on the far side of the lake.

“Victor . . . er . . . well, well then, where was I? Oh, yes. Victor closed his laboratory door behind him. He was indeed very pale, his eyes slack and rimmed red. He said he was excited to see me, but I could tell he was distracted by his unfinished work in the laboratory. We sat for over an hour on a settee, talking, or at least I talked at first and eventually Victor seemed to become enthused and joined me in conversation. Suddenly he appeared to come to his senses, as if just realizing I was with him in the room. He looked up, surprised, to see Monsieur Aldini. ‘Monsieur!’ he exclaimed. ‘You have come for supper at last.’ He begged us to follow him from his private rooms to the comfort of the study, almost running down the staircase as he called to his housekeeper for sherry and a light supper.

“He was animated for some time but finally conceded that he was, indeed, exhausted. Our friend fell fast asleep in his great chair by the study fire, the attentive housekeeper extracting the sherry glass from his hand before it might fall. We thought it best to leave him as he was, rather than disturb him to retire to his chamber. Monsieur Aldini proposed to spend the night in the study, keeping watch over Victor as he slept, but I retired to my lodging to prepare for the new day of assisting Victor as might be required. By the time I left the Frankenstein residence, most of the street lanterns had been put out and I had only a few stars to light my journey back to the centre of town.”

Mary took Mr. Clerval’s hand in hers. Even through her gloves and on this sunny morning, his skin felt cold to the touch. “Mr. Clerval, Doctor Frankenstein is fortunate indeed to have both yourself and Monsieur Aldini as acquaintances. Your untiring friendship is admirable. I trust the doctor is regaining his strength and sensibilities?”

“Yes, he most certainly is—though I will stay several weeks more in Montreux to ensure he keeps his schedule intact and is more conservative in the hours spent on his work.” Uncertainty passed across the young man’s face.

Mary could see she needed to change the subject. “Come. The public salon at my residence has a most wonderful afternoon luncheon. There we may talk of happier times, a more amiable conversation. Perhaps you would wish to hear a portion of the ghost story I am writing . . .”