Frankengeld Pt 21

Previously in Frankengeld. Damion's life having been saved by the swashbuckling defense of Lord Scunthorpe the Mystery Club explored the ancient tower. A hunting lodge that had, at one time, belonged to the Frankengeld family. Here they found many clues and the ladies indulged in some sapphic sex, brought on by the strange odours in the air in the communal sleeping area. In the crypt they found the murdered bodies of the old doctor and his daughter, and laid in coffins like people, the bones of wolves. The Mystery Club returned to Carlsbruck and have been joined by Alicia, and the delectable Sophie.

Now read on...

15th June in the year 1784, the evening.

We needed to decide, fairly quickly, if we should tell the Chief of Police what we had found.

"If you will take my advice," said the delectable Sophie. "Then you'll say nothing of the supernatural parts of this mystery to the authorities. They either will not believe you, or they will believe but will not acknowledge the truth for fear of panicking the citizens."

"I have witnessed this," said Alicia. "A Burgomaster in a town not fifty miles from here knew that my master was hunting maidens but he refused to take precautions. He said it would ruin trade. Even when evidence was placed before him he merely accused the messenger of false news."

"But the poor doctor deserves a decent burial," said Poppy.

I agreed that this was the case, "The old doctor and his daughter do not deserve to moulder in an ancient crypt owned by my family."

"But," said Philip. "As soon as you reveal their location the spotlight of the investigation will be turned on your family. If your father and mother are involved then they will be warned that their subterfuge has been revealed."

"And," added Freida. "Since they have alibi's for the evening the doctor and his daughter were abducted they will simply deny all knowledge. After all, any person or group could have taken residence in the old Hunting Lodge. We have no proof it was your family's doing, Damion."

"True," I admitted. "And worst of all I might be accused of the crime myself, being the person who most gains from the deaths."

"But," said Helena, proudly demonstrating the new word she had learned this evening. "I can give you an alibi."

"Sorry lass," said Lord Philip. "Your word won't count for much, given your origins."

Helena gasped as she realised Philip was another person who had seen through her attempts to impersonate a lady of high quality.

Philip continued, "And you have gained from the crime too." He pointed at the fine clothes she was wearing, originally the property of the doctor's daughter.

Freida summed up. "Without further proof, a link between the wolfwere pack and your mother and father, it seems we would achieve nothing except to warn the murderers that we knew what they had done. I fear the doctor and his daughter must stay where they are for the time being."

We sat feeling a little gloomy, and Poppy's hound lay with his head on his paws and joined us in the gloom-fest his big eyes looking up at us with sadness.

But Freida wouldn't let us stay that way long. Not when there was a mystery to solve. "What we must do is seek more information, follow the leads we have been given, and hope we reveal more evidence," she said. "I will visit the Carlsbruck library to see what we can find about wolfwere creatures in the older tomes in that establishment."

This galvanised us to each offer what we could achieve.

"I will try," I said. "To discover more about my father's mysterious trips away, for it seemed to us that the trip he took just before the tragic deaths was to order, or request, their murderous intervention."

Helena looked up at me with a proud expression on her face. I still had not dealt with her declaration of love for me that she made just a few hours ago. I glanced at Sophie but she merely nodded at my suggestion, there was no corresponding look of emotion on her face. I felt a trifle disappointed, so pushed on with a more dramatic statement.

"Father keeps most of his papers in the Red Room," I told them. "And much as I fear and despise that room, I will brave its horrors to seek the information we need." I realised that I had spoken in rather a grandiose fashion and, perhaps, over-egged the danger, but all in the room looked appreciative that I would risk my Father's anger to do this.

"In our ancestral home," Sophie said. "There were many ancient books on werewolves. I will go home and search in them for something on the wolfwere."

"If you will permit," said Alicia. "I know of certain ancient women that dwell in a cave to the north and east of Carlsbruck. They are descendents of the Delphic priestesses and those women knew many things. Both mundane and occult. Perhaps they can offer insights that books and papers will not."

Philip immediately stood and bowed to her. "If the Countess is pleased to accept, I can convey her to this location and provide her with whatever assistance she requires."

Alicia looked intrigued.

"My coach," he continued. "Is provided with the latest in light-proof curtains for the windows. These are designed to allow lovers to have secret assignations, but they would protect you from sunlight just as well as they would protect a young lady's reputation.

Poppy looked a little put out by this suggestion, especially the bit about lovers having secret assignations, until Philip pointed out that she was really needed in the library, that her skills with the cataloguing of books was second to none, and that he and Alicia would be 'fine and dandy' as he put it. She agreed to look for folk tales on the subject of werewolves.

Alicia thought for a moment, then agreed, "I have, for too many years, submitted to the death sleep during the day. This was because there was nothing for me during those hours. But perhaps I need to shake off that part of my nature if I am to be of greater help in this mystery. Your coach, and a generous cloak with a deep hood, may give me a freedom I have not had for hundreds of years."

We agreed to meet again on the evening of the 17th to share our findings, but the night was yet young. Poppy suggested we visit her cousin's Kaffeehaus and partake of a new blend of beans he had obtained recently. This seemed like a good idea since there was nothing more we could do until we had made our investigations. Only Sophie declined this suggestion, much to my disappointment since I was hoping that I might get her to stay overnight at number 34, with the possibility we might share a passionate embrace. She declared she would depart now for her home, and seek information to help us in our quest.

The rest of us walked through the streets in the warmth of the evening until we arrived at the Ritter Kaffeehaus. A Ritter was an armoured knight from earlier times and a wonderful model of that nostalgic figure was mounted over the lintel. The smell of coffee drifted from the open door and enticed us in.

There was a lobby and a place to divest oneself of coat and hat in colder months. We walked through towards the main rooms until we were abruptly stopped by Alicia, who had stopped in her tracks.

She looked very tense, I would almost say frightened, and we bumped into her unyielding form. The room in front of us was typical of any kaffeehaus, full of loud conversation and friendly disagreement over trivial things. The whole lit by the flickering flames of lanterns and torches in sconses. It seemed fine to me, until I looked at this from Alicia's viewpoint.

Three score of drinkers, lit by fiery light, and loud as only a crowd of people can be. This could just as easily be a mob come to destroy her. I moved to her side, took her hand, and whispered, "You are safe. We are with you, and these people mean you no harm. Listen, they laugh, even when they disagree with each other. They are not the mob."

My friends picked up on Alicia's distress and, within moments, she was surrounded by us. We were the armour to her Ritter. She looked at us in gratitude, then tentatively stepped into the room. I could see that the illusion was broken for her at that moment and, released from her terror, she followed us to a side booth where we could all sit.

I thought it was empty but when we got there we saw two occupants, huddled at the back, who seemed to be studying a paper. They looked up. One was my sister, Elodie, and the other was Freida's cousin, Erik, who owned the Kaffeehaus. Many cheeks were kissed in welcome and if Erik or Elodie realised that Alicia was dead they said nothing. Lord Philip took out a purse to pay for drinks only for Erik to insist he put it away. Tonight the drinks were 'on the house' for relatives and friends of Elodie.

"He seems very happy," I said, pointing at Erik as he scuttled off to organise our hospitality.

"He feels that the Literary Club would be a good addition to the kaffeehaus," Elodie replied. "He has already employed a resident artist, but to have poets and authors too would further enhance the reputation of the Ritter. I like him, he speaks to me as if I were an equal, which is refreshing after certain suitors."

"You plan a literary event?" asked Lord Scunthorpe. He looked impressed by the idea.

"It was Damion's idea," admitted my sister. "But I have done the planning."

She sounded proud of herself, and rightly so. I made a mental note never to tell Mother what she was doing.

"I have been known," said the Lord. "To render a reasonable poem or two. May I join you and, perhaps, present one of my works?"

Out came ink and quill and his name was added to the list of performers. I wondered what he would declaim. Would it be an ode to the pendulous breasts of a certain English aristocratic duelist, or perhaps a sonnet to Elodie's friends writhing on sheepskins in an abandoned hunting lodge. Either way I must be there to support my sister. It promised to be an interesting evening.

Servers appeared with a large coffee pot and seven little cups, and a tray with two bottles of red wine and goblets for those who preferred something less stimulating. It was recognised that coffee was something that made you more alert, and that it would help if you wished to throw off tiredness, but why this was, as yet, nobody knew. It was a subject I was tempted to make my life's study, the beneficial effects of food and drink, when I was at university, until I came up with the idea of my pleasure elixir, which I liked much better.

We sat and chatted about nothing in particular for a while and then we were approached by the aforementioned resident artist. He was doing quick portraits, each taking just a matter of minutes. I paid him for a portrait of my sister. His hand moved across the page, charcoal and crayons building up an image like magic. He was good, very good, and soon we were looking at his work and praising the man.

Philip took a coin out and laid it in the table. I think Poppy thought she was to get her portrait, but he gestured at Alicia.

"Sir," he said. "I would appreciate a picture of my new friend."

Alicia held up her hands in protest but we encouraged her and soon the artist was at work again. He was concentrating fiercely and Alicia's portrait seemed to be taking a little longer than Elodie's.

"Your pardon madam," he grunted without losing his flow. "Your skin tones are hard to capture. You are fashionably pale."

I felt a tension in Alicia and wondered what she was thinking. To have someone studying her so closely must have been very concerning. Then, suddenly, the drawing was done.

The artist handed it over, and it fell portrait side down on the table. He was instantly called away by another group anxious to have a likeness. Alicia sat, her eyes closed, refusing to look.

"What ails you, Alicia?" asked Philip. "Have I hurt your feelings? It was not my intention."

"I am a monster," she whispered. "You, my friends, have been kind to me, and look me in the eye, but I fear what I look like to the world."

I suddenly understood. This was a woman who had not been able to see herself in a mirror, probably in any reflective surface, for four centuries. And every day she had known she was an outcast, declared evil by society. Ancient vampires were said to look more beast than man, the nosferatu apparently were hideous to behold.

I picked up the picture and, without forcing Alicia to look at it, took a peek myself.

"If you will trust me, Alicia," I whispered to her. "I believe you should look at it."

Alicia took the picture from me and glanced at it. Then she studied it, and smiled, which had the effect of showing her canines, just a little.

"I am beautiful," she gasped. "This cannot be right, the artist flatters me unmercifully."

"It is a good likeness," said Poppy, which I thought was a generous thing to say since Alicia was becoming her rival for Lord Philip's attentions. "So, please, let us have no more of describing yourself as a monster."

We continued to converse, with Elodie and Alicia holding onto their artwork, until my attention was caught by a single word from the booth next door, 'Frankenstein.' I was seated at the outermost part of our booth so I was able to lean out and attempt to eavesdrop on the two men who were discussing my cousin. A mirror on a nearby wall gave me a view into the booth. A view of two men, dressed in hunting garb, and incidentally, a gap in our group where Alicia sat.

"Now you have your coffee, what's this about young Frankenstein's tower?" said the first man.

"You know I have a licence to hunt on the Frankenstein estate?" said the second man.

"Yes."

"Well two days ago, the night of the storm, I passed by the tower. It was a ghastly sight, all lit up, the windows baleful yellow and with strange flashes of blue inside the building, at odd intervals."

"I have seen it from afar, does it not have a contraption of metal on the roof?" enquired the first man.

"Yes," agreed the second. "As I passed the metal drew the lightning to itself. There was a great shattering sound, a smell of the sea, and then there was a lull in the storm, all went quiet."

"And?"

"I heard a voice, clear as I'm hearing you now, it cried out 'It's alive!' several times."

"What a strange thing to say," said the first man.

"There is more," whispered the second man. I leant closer to hear his words, almost calling out of the booth and revealing myself.

"Pray tell," said the first man. Yes, pray tell, I thought.

"This evening I returned that way and passed the tower again," said the second man conspiratorially. "There was the light of a lantern in the topmost window. And in the lowest part of the tower a small opening, that I judged went down into a cellar or oubliette, glowed red with the flickering flames of a torch."

Both myself and the first man were now fascinated by the tale. We sat in rapt attention.

"This time I was much closer to the tower," said the second man. "I heard snarling and roaring, an inhuman voice, in pain. And a man's laughter. Then, from the top of the tower a voice came clear."

"What did it say?" said the first man. I nearly joined in his plea but bit my tongue and remained silent.

"He, for it was a man's voice, said 'Oh come away Fritz, leave it alone.' in a despairing tone."

"What did you make of it?" said the first man, but his companion merely shrugged. Not even prepared to speculate, which was possibly a good thing. They changed the subject and I returned to concentrating on my friends.

It was hard, my mind kept drifting off to contemplate what the hunter had overheard. To my mind it was clear Victor had been successful, life from lifelessness, but there were hints of darker things. Could it be that the process had not gone as planned? Or perhaps that his creation did not match his vision?

I was shaken from my musing by the sound of laughter to realise that Alicia had just told a joke. All around her faces were filled with happiness and hers no less so. What, I wondered, is a monster? And is it inevitable that a monster remains that way, or can they change?

Some nobles believed that low class people should remain in their 'place', that they should be required to remain in their low born roles. In the same way that nobles should forever remain in authority over them. I glanced at Helena in her beautiful clothes and was grateful that at least one woman had escaped that fate, though she would need more practice.

I switched to wine at that point, anxious to ensure I had a good night's sleep, and the rest of the evening passed most pleasantly.

16th June in the year 1784.

I woke the next morning after a deep and dreamless sleep. Despite the fact that it was after midnight, well after midnight, before we slept I woke refreshed. Helena seemed to be full of energy, she was already dressed and gently shook my shoulder to stop me turning over to get 'just a few more minutes.'

"Lots of patients this morning Damion," she grinned. "If all the ones on Anya's chart arrive."

To our cleaner's annoyance it had become known as Anya's chart. When I got down to the kitchen I found she was studiously cleaning, no doubt to let me know that I had exceeded my authority by asking her to be more than a domestic.

"Morning, master Damion," Anya nodded at me with her mouth set in a firm line. "I will be doing the consulting rooms now.

If

you have no

other

duties for me."

She had emphasised the 'if' and 'other.' I acknowledged her with a nod and sat to have my breakfast.

"Helena, when will you do the shopping today?" I asked.

"This afternoon Damion," she replied. "There's too much to do here this morning. And I will need something this afternoon to take my mind off the fact that you will be up at Durishaus."

"You are visiting your home?" Una enquired.

"This is my home Una," I answered. "As I hope you feel it is yours now. This afternoon I will be visiting my Mother at her home. I may have to stay for dinner, it all depends."

"When should we send the officers in to rescue you?" Anya's droll tones came through the open door to my study.

"With hearing as acute as yours, Anya," I laughed. "You will hear me shouting for aid all the way from my ancestral pile."

The doorbell rang, so conversation had to stop. I stuffed the last few spoonfuls of breakfast down me, dropped the bowl in the sink, and ran to the study. I had just enough time to get settled behind my desk before a knock on the door announced my first patient of the day.

With a brief pause for a coffee at ten thirty I was kept busy until noon. In one way I was gratified that all the patients who said they would attend did so, on the other hand it was hard work.

Over lunch Una praised Yani who had been helping patients up and down our ancient steps to the road if they showed signs of struggling. It made me aware that our home was not the best of locations for patients to visit if they had weak or injured legs, or were generally frail. The need for defence several hundred years ago, to place a barrier between attackers and the occupants of the house, left a legacy of difficulties today. Ideally it would be better for patients if the consulting rooms were on the ground floor. I must think about this more when I have the chance.

I changed into travelling clothes for the journey to Durishaus, and Yani had taken a note for me to the stables. A dun riding horse was awaiting me when I came out into the sunshine, the groom stood holding the bridle. In case I found things of interest I had pulled out my shoulder bag, a ruse so that I would have somewhere to hide documents for the return journey. I judged that if I came with nothing but departed with a bag, or documents obviously stuffed into my clothes, that someone might gossip to my father.

I was still unsure what I might find. It was unlikely to be a map, with a big red cross on it, and my father's notes saying 'my mysterious destination.' That would be too much like the mythical treasure map favoured by equally mythical pirates.