This Dark Endeavor

CHAPTER NINE

After lunch Henry and I set out on horseback for Cologny, the small village outside of Geneva where the mapmaker’s widow lived.

I was most relieved to be away from the chateau-and from Konrad and Elizabeth. I didn’t think she had told Konrad about my midnight trickery. Certainly he’d seemed completely natural with me all morning-unless he was a better actor than I thought. Had he done the same thing to me, I would have been volcanic with fury.

The day was sunny but cool, and it was very pleasant to be astride my horse, trotting along the roadway, side by side with Henry. To our right sparkled the lake, alive with sailing vessels bringing freight and passengers to and from Geneva.

“How does it come to you, your poetry?” I asked Henry.

He looked across at me. “You’ve never shown any interest in my scribbling before.”

“I’m curious. Where does it come from?”

He looked off into the distance, frowning. “Small things, often. A vista. A feeling. A longing. It struggles to be described, to be captured.”

I had no shortage of feelings, and usually no problem expressing them-not to those closest to me. So how could my true feelings for Elizabeth have lain dormant for so long? Was it that she’d been raised as my sister, and so I had suffocated any romantic thoughts I’d had for her? But she was not my sister. She was not even a first cousin, but some distant relation. So why had I not allowed my feelings for her to blossom? Konrad had had no such trouble.

I turned back to Henry. “And you can write about anything?”

“Anything I care about.”

“Love?”

He laughed. “Love!”

I shrugged. “Just by way of example. Yes, words and phrases that would describe love. That would, um, impress a young lady.”

Henry sighed. “Good Lord. You are not in love with her as well, are you?”

“I’m sure I don’t know who you mean!”

“You are a terrible liar, Victor. Miss Elizabeth Lavenza, perhaps?”

“Her? Good heavens, no. A fine girl, of course, but-” I blew air through my cheeks. “The tongue on her. She would wear any man out within ten minutes. I’d rather hear a dog bark than her voice.”

“Is that so,” said Henry, sounding utterly unconvinced.

“What did you mean when you said, ‘You are not in love with her as well?’”

“She is a wonder,” Henry admitted frankly. “It’s impossible to know her and not love her. I’ve long suspected Konrad does as well.”

I shook my head. All around me, everyone was in love-and me without a clue! What kind of imbecile was I?

“You’ve never spoken to her of your feelings?” I asked, jabbed by jealousy once more. I’d often thought that these two had a great deal in common, with their love of writing. When they’d collaborated on our play, they had spent a great deal of time together, words and laughter ricocheting between them, eager ink staining their fingers and hands.

“No,” said Henry. “And I trust you will keep it secret. She would never have me. I have no delusions. Around her I feel like a pale, feeble moth. It’s all I can do to avoid her flame.”

“You really do have a poet’s tongue, Henry,” I said in admiration. “Would you, you know…”

“What?”

“Scribble a few lines for me?”

He looked at me, askance. “You wish me to scribble you some declarations of love?”

“Just a few little things. You’re a genius, Henry,” I said, warming to my cause, “and no one has your talent with words. Just five of your words could make the sunset itself pause.”

He frowned. “That is not bad, you know,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe something like, ‘Your beauty would make the sunset itself pause.’”

“Ha! You see!” I cried. “You have the gift! I could never have done that myself.”

“You very nearly did,” he said.

“No, ’twas you, my friend! I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me! You genius!”

“You flatter me,” he said. “I don’t dislike it.”

“You put Shakespeare to shame. Just two or three more baubles like that, and I’m forever in your debt. I know how easily these things trip from your tongue. You don’t mind, do you?”

“I will see what I can do,” he said with some reluctance.

“You’re a true friend, Henry. Thank you.”

We were in the village by this time, and I looked about for the widow’s cottage Polidori had described.

“Is it that one there?” Henry asked, pointing.

It was a mean place indeed, surrounded by a dismal yard with chickens, goats, and a pig.

We dismounted and tied up our horses.

“Now, remember our plan,” I said to Henry.

We had dressed smartly, for we had wanted to look as credible as possible.

I knocked on the cottage door. A dog barked from within; a baby squalled. The door opened, and filling nearly the entire frame was a large woman whose face wore an impatient scowl.

“Can I help you?”

“Madame Temerlin, I presume,” I said.

“Not anymore I’m not,” she said, and sniffed. “Madame Trottier it is now.”

Henry consulted the notebook he’d brought as a prop. “Ah, yes, I see that notation here. Forgive me. But you were once the wife of the late Marcel Temerlin, were you not?”

“I was,” she said guardedly.

Henry and I looked at each other and smiled. “Well, that is excellent news,” I said. “We understand that your late husband was a very talented maker of maps.”

“Who sent you?” she demanded.

Henry and I had agreed ahead of time that we would not mention Polidori.

“We’re acting on behalf of the city archives, madam,” I said, playing my part. “The magistrates have ordered a complete geographical survey of the republic, and have sent emissaries like ourselves to collect any materials that might prove of historical or practical use.”

Seeing her hesitate, I took a purse from my pocket and made sure it jingled nicely. “We’re authorized to pay a fair sum for any materials we deem appropriate.”

“They’re in a trunk in the barn,” she said. “I almost burned them when he died, I was so distraught.”

“It must have been a terrible loss,” I said.

“Leaving me with three little ones…”

“The hardship must have been-”

“Would’ve liked to strangle him myself.” She turned and called, “Ilse, watch the baby!”

She led us through the yard to the barn. Judging by the smell, it needed a good mucking out. Near the back, in a closet below the hayloft, she showed us a small battered trunk. She opened the lid. Inside were a number of mildewed notebooks.

Henry and I made a show of paging through them quickly, muttering vague remarks to each other.

“I think these will all be of great interest to the archives,” I said.

“Indeed,” said Henry.

“He was always running damn fool errands for that witch Dr. Polidori,” said the woman darkly.

“I don’t believe we know him,” said Henry innocently.

“Had him looking for minerals and molds in the caves. Then my husband got it into his head that there was diamonds or gold or both down under the mountains.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not mixed up with this Polidori, are you?”

“Goodness me, no,” said Henry. “Our interest is purely archival.”

For a moment her scowl disappeared, and she looked at Henry and me with a mother’s concern.

“You’ve not got some scheme in mind, have you? To go exploring?”

“We are merely messengers, madam,” I said, and to avoid her eyes I started to count out silver coins from my purse. “We would like to take all these maps, if you’re agreeable.”

“They’re yours to take.”

She watched the coins as I pressed them into her palm. I did not like the look and smell of poverty about her home, and I gave her more than I needed to.

“That’s very decent of you, young sir,” she said, but with some reluctance still. “I just hope you’ve not got some fool notions like my late husband. Those caves kill. That’s all they do.”

“Thank you, madam,” I said. “Thank you very much indeed.”

We loaded the notebooks into our saddlebags, and she watched us from the door of her cottage as we rode off.

We did not speak for several minutes. Henry looked uneasy.

“Do you think it was Polidori who sent him to his death?” he said.

“That is overly dramatic. It sounds as if he rendered some services for Polidori, but then undertook his own adventures.”

“The point is, the caves are dangerous,” Henry said.

“But we will not be exploring. We will only follow his map to the pools. We know exactly what we’re looking for. We will go and return.”

I urged my horse to a canter and headed for home.

“What about this one here?” asked Konrad.

Elizabeth, Henry, and I were in his bedchamber after dinner, and we’d spent the last two hours on the floor, poring over Temerlin’s yellowing notebooks and maps by flickering candlelight. Temerlin had been an energetic man. It seemed there were very few caves, paths, cracks, and crevices he had not explored.

Konrad had unfolded a large map from within one of the notebooks. We came closer with our candles.

It was a wonder, almost frightening, for it looked like the intricate scribbling of a very methodical madman. A single passage quickly became many, and while most of the turnings and intersections were very clear, sometimes the lines of ink trailed into nothingness like the wanderings of an unhealthy mind.

“I suppose those were the tunnels he never explored to the end,” said Henry, touching some of these ghostly fadings-out.

“The opening here,” said Konrad, “is in the foothills, not far to the northeast of us. Isn’t that where Polidori said the entrance would be?”

I nodded, and for a moment we were silent as our eyes traveled these endless underground byways, awed by the vast hidden maze within our mountains.

“The general direction of the tunnels does seem to work northwest, toward the shores of the lake,” said Elizabeth excitedly.

“Look here,” I cried. “A pool!”

The chamber was clearly marked with wavy lines of blue ink. Crudely drawn among them was a fish.

“We have our map!” said Elizabeth.

“Let’s just hope it truly is a map,” said Konrad, “and not some invented doodling.”

I glanced at Elizabeth, hoping she’d see this remark as a show of cowardice.

“Don’t come if you have misgivings,” I said.

I paged through the scribbled notes in the book that contained the map. “It seems he made a most detailed chronicle of this exploration. It shouldn’t be hard to plot our route.”

“And then we will need to draw up a list of gear we’ll need,” Konrad said.

“I have already begun.” I felt very pleased with myself. I would have to be very vigilant if I wanted to keep control of this quest. From my pocket I drew out a small notebook.

Konrad laughed. “How can you know what we’ll need when we’ve only just discovered our route?”

I smiled. “We’re descending deep beneath the earth to catch a fish. Our gear is obvious. We’ll need lanterns, water, and food to keep our strength up. There will doubtless be holes and crevasses. We’ll need good rope. Mountaineering gear.”

“Mountaineering gear!” exclaimed Henry.

“There may be steep drops,” said Konrad wisely.

“Chalk to mark our route so we can return,” I added.

“Very sensible,” said Elizabeth. “Or a ball of string like Theseus in the Minotaur’s maze?”

“String snaps,” I said.

“Chalk can be wiped away,” countered Konrad.

“You’re assuming there is someone down there,” I said, “who wishes us harm.”

“Victor, don’t joke,” said Elizabeth. “You’ve made me shiver.”

“And me,” said Henry.

“I’m not joking,” I said. “We’ll also need our fishing rods and tackle. And weapons.”

“Weapons?” said Konrad. “To catch a fish?”

“Maybe. But a fish may not be the only thing we encounter in the depths. We were surprised in the Sturmwald, and I won’t be surprised again.”

We shortly bade Konrad good night. Henry went one way to his bedchamber, and Elizabeth and I went the other way. Together we walked silently down the corridor. All day she had virtually ignored me, and I could stand it no longer.

“You haven’t told Konrad about our nighttime tryst,” I whispered.

“That was no tryst,” Elizabeth replied tartly. “That was a deception. And you should be grateful I told him nothing of your shameful behavior. You conducted yourself like a scoundrel, but even so, I don’t want to harm the brotherly love you have for each other.”

I felt a moment’s pang of remorse, but at least now her eyes were on me-her beautiful hazel eyes. I did not understand it, but her angry face and words made me all the more attracted to her.

“And I hope that you say nothing of it either,” she added.

“Of course not,” I said. With a thrill of excitement I realized we had a secret. “Perhaps you didn’t tell him because you enjoyed our kiss,” I said daringly.

Her eyes narrowed. “You took what was not yours, Victor.”

She turned away, but I caught her by the hand. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just-I could not help myself.”

She paused, her back still to me.

“I don’t understand myself anymore,” I said haltingly. “This feeling I have for you…”

When she turned around, her face was kind.

“Victor,” she said, “you must not fall in love with me. I love Konrad.”

“For how long?” I demanded.

“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “Half a year. Maybe longer.”

“Why Konrad and not me?” I blurted, and instantly I felt like a childish fool.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

I muttered, “We’re the same, after all.”

She laughed lightly. “You are not the same.”

“Last night you couldn’t tell one from the other!”

“Your appearance maybe, in complete darkness. But your natures are very different.”

“How so?” I asked, anxious to know how she saw me.

She sighed. “You are rash and headstrong, and arrogant.”

“Not always,” I said, more humbly now. “Surely not.”

Her voice softened a little. “No. Not always. But there is a passion in you that scares me.”

“I thought women craved passion,” I said. “I read it in a novel, I think.”

She walked toward me and took both my hands. “Victor, you will always have my fondest love-”

“As a brother. Yes, I know,” I said scathingly. “I’m not interested in that sort of love.”

“Well, I am,” she said. “And you should be too. It is a precious thing.”

I snorted. “Please don’t insult me.”

She shook her head, looking genuinely pained.

I stormed on. “If I can’t have all your love, I want none of it.”

“I cannot control your will, Victor,” she said, and I saw a flare of her own wildcat fury. “Only you can do that. And I wonder sometimes if you have the discipline to do so!”

“Wait, don’t leave,” I said.

But this time she did not stop, and left me alone in the corridor, the portraits of my ancestors looking down on me severely; all but one.

“What are you smiling at, Happy Hans Frankenstein?” I muttered, and slouched toward my bedchamber.

Measuring this much, and no more. Grinding the ingredients to a fine powder. Finding the hottest part of the flame. Watching the powder liquefy and change color. Watching matter transmute.

The noxious odors sharpened my concentration, and minutes and hours dissolved, so intent was I in my work. Never had I achieved this kind of focus with my schoolwork.

It was also a welcome escape. Down here in my dungeon laboratory beneath the boathouse, I could purge Elizabeth from my thoughts. I’d spent a great deal of the previous two days here, following Eisenstein’s instructions to create the flameless fire. With success so close at hand, I felt a thrill of accomplishment.

I did not hear the footsteps until they were almost at my door. In dismay I whirled. There was nothing I could do to conceal my work. Mixing vessels and bubbling flasks and all kinds of other apparatus covered the table. And I myself, in my shirt with its sleeves rolled back, my brow sooty-I must have looked half-mad.

Konrad walked into view, holding his hand over his nose.

“What on earth is that diabolical smell?”

I exhaled. “Thank goodness. I thought it was Father.”

“You’re lucky he and Mother are still out.”

“Can you smell it in the house?” I asked in alarm.

“No. I only caught a whiff of it from the dock.” He came closer. “So this is where you’ve been disappearing the last few days. What are you up to?”

“Something to help us when we explore the caves.”

I had wanted to surprise everyone, and now that my relief was spent, I felt a twin stab of irritation and disappointment.

“Is this all… urine?” Konrad asked, gazing at several buckets on the floor.

“Yes.”

“I see. Yours?”

“Well, not all of it, obviously,” I replied. “Most of it comes from the horses.”

“Awfully considerate of them to give it to you.” He looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. Then he began to laugh, and I could not stop myself from following his lead. It was heedless, uncontrollable laughter, and even as I enjoyed it, it reminded me how little laughter Konrad and I had shared in the past month. But this-this was fun as we used to have it.

I went to him and hugged him tight. “Do you think me mad?”

He wiped his eyes. “Not yet. Tell me what you’re doing.”

“Well,” I said, “first it was necessary to boil the urine to a paste.”

“Of course.” He put his hands behind his back and surveyed my table like a pompous tutor. It was difficult not to start laughing again.

“And after that I needed to transmute the paste into gaseous form-”

“Gaseous form! Excellent!” he said. “I like what you’ve done with these little glass curlicues, by the way.”

“They allow me to pass the gas through water to create-Well, I don’t want to tell you yet. But you’ll be amazed.”

“No doubt. Where did you learn all this?”

“Eisenstein,” I said, pointing to the green book on the table.

“That is from the Dark Library too, is it?”

I nodded.

“Let’s just hope Father isn’t checking the shelves. How can you bear the smell?”

“I’d stopped noticing.”

“Come on. You need some fresh air, Little Brother. Henry and I want to go for a row on the lake. Your company is requested.”

Looking at him smiling upon me, my guilt was sharp. I had stolen his kiss from Elizabeth. I had harbored jealous and stingy thoughts. I was indeed a scoundrel.

“Soon,” I promised. “I’m nearly finished. Ready the boat, and I’ll join you in half an hour.”

“But is he strong enough yet?” Mother asked worriedly the next day at lunch.

We had just told our parents of our plan to go riding in the foothills.

Father looked at Konrad, who was eating his sausage and potato Rosti with great enthusiasm. “Look at him, Caroline. He blooms with health. I see no reason why they shouldn’t have their outing tomorrow.”

Konrad truly did look well. He’d regained almost all of his lost weight, and his face was no longer gaunt.

“It won’t be arduous,” I said, pouring myself some more cider. “We only mean to do some fishing, wander in the hills, and have a leisurely picnic.”

“And it will be Henry’s last day with us,” Konrad reminded them, for Mr. Clerval had returned from his journey. “Our good-bye celebration.”

“And if Konrad becomes too tired,” said Elizabeth, “he can recline on a blanket like a sultan and we will feed him grapes and fan him.”

Mother sighed. “Very well, as long as you promise to return before sunset. Henry, you are more levelheaded than these three. I charge you with everyone’s safe return.”

“I give you my word, Madame Frankenstein,” said Henry.

“Thank you, Mother,” said Konrad. “And now, to prove my fitness, I will trounce Victor in fencing.”

“Do not count on it,” I said.

“A hit!” said Konrad.

“Your point,” I panted as we retreated to our starting positions. It was not a formal fencing match this time, just the two of us in the armory. Konrad had wanted a single bout-his first since his illness-to see what kind of shape he was in. And damn him, he was in the lead! Three hits to my two.

“En garde!” I said, readying my foil.

“Allez!” said Konrad, and we circled each other. It was my attack, and I watched him like a falcon, knowing I needed three more hits if I wanted to win.

“You are very good, Victor,” Konrad said.

“Without my usual partner I’m out of practice,” I replied.

I remembered our last match. My victory against him had really been a lie, since he’d been sick.

“There’s something I must tell you,” Konrad said. “It’s given me a guilty conscience, keeping it from you so long. You and I shouldn’t keep secrets.”

“What’s your secret?” I was glad my face was concealed.

“I am in love with Elizabeth.”

“You are?” I let my foil drop, as though surprised, and then I lunged. He parried weakly, and left himself wide open for my riposte. I struck him in the belly.

“Nicely done,” he said, retreating.

Now we were tied.

“Did you know?” he asked as we stepped back and prepared to resume the bout.

“I had an inkling,” I said guardedly. “And does she return your feelings?”

“Entirely.”

His single word delivered a sharper stab than any foil.

“But how… When did this happen?” I still couldn’t understand how I could’ve been so ignorant of this.

“Sundays, when I take her to Mass.”

I nodded. Over the years, that would have given them ample time alone.

Hurt barbed my next comment. “But it’s strange, don’t you think? She’s grown up with us as a sister…”

“But she is not our sister, just a distant cousin.”

“True, but doesn’t it seem just a touch… unsavory to you?”

We watched each other warily, foils at the ready.

“Not in the least,” he said. “En garde.”

“I wonder how Mother and Father will feel about it,” I mused.

“Oh, I think Mother knows perfectly well how Elizabeth and I feel about each other.”

“You’ve told her — and not me!” I exclaimed, genuinely hurt.

He lunged, and I quickly parried.

“She could tell,” Konrad said. “I didn’t need to confide in her. And she was very happy about it. She said it had long been her wish, and Father’s, that Elizabeth would one day be a bride to one of us, and be forever part of our family.”

“You mean to marry at sixteen?”

“When we’re older, of course.”

“From what I’ve heard,” I said, “youthful passions are often fleeting. You may both feel differently in a few years.”

“Listen to you-he who has never been in love!”

“How do you know?” I said coldly.

Our blades clashed, and before Konrad could retreat, I had struck his jacket.

“A hit,” I said.

“You are filled with fire,” he said. “Well done.”

We backed away from each other once more, puffing.

“So, have you been in love?” Konrad wanted to know. “With whom? Out with it!”

“That’s my business.”

“We don’t keep secrets, you and I.”

“You’ve kept yours,” I said. “And for quite some time.”

“Well, a few months perhaps. No more.”

That was not what Elizabeth had told me, but I said nothing. I was not quite that reckless, not yet.

“One of us,” I murmured.

“What?”

“You said it was Mother’s wish that Elizabeth marry one of us. Wasn’t that right?”

“Yes. Why?”

“So she wasn’t picky about which one?”

Konrad dropped his guard for a moment, but was quick enough to parry when I lunged.

“What if,” I panted, “you and I were to love the same person? What if I loved Elizabeth too?”

We circled warily.

“But you don’t.”

“Pretend I do.”

He shrugged. “It would be a disappointment to you. Because she loves me.”

In my temper I lunged clumsily. He knocked my blade to the side and hit me.

“A point,” he said. “We are tied. En garde. ”

“Allez!” I said. “Are you so sure she could love only you? That you’re so much better than me?”

“Victor, I didn’t say that.”

“But you think it.”

“Why are you so angry?”

“Because people will always love you best,” I said. “You are… a more charming person. No doubt kinder, too.”

He laughed. “I’ve never thought so.” Backward and forward we tested each other.

“You do not really love Elizabeth, do you?” he said.

“No,” I lied.

Konrad lunged and scored his winning hit, right on my heart.

He sighed, lifting his mask. “That is a relief. A fine bout. I am still out of shape. We must do this more often.”

My brother had kept a secret from me, and now I would keep one from him.

I will have Elizabeth as my own.