The Remarkable Miss Frankenstein (7 page)

“Science never advances when thoughts are stagnant. We must go forth and search, knowing that science has no boundaries and that possibilities are endless and infinite. Why be limited to known reality when there is obviously so much more?”

Ian grimaced, wondering to himself when the name “Frankenstein” and reality had ever not been mutually exclusive. Setting his bays at a brisk pace, he found his carriage passing more curricles of all sizes and colors as the fashionable hour drew near.

He and Clair nodded at a passing acquaintance or two. But Ian was in no mood for talk at the moment, pondering as he was his dilemma. Miss Frankenstein was not going to cease and desist. It was not in her nature. He had to stop her research and investigations into the otherworldly. He had thought long and hard on the problem the previous night and come up with a solution. He was male and she was female. It would be the oldest trick in the book. He would call it Plan A, The Seduction of Clair Frankenstein. Although he wouldn’t actually seduce her to the point of taking her maidenhead, he would keep her distracted enough to forego her investigation. It was a dastardly task, but he was just the right man for the job.

After several minutes of their carriage’s brisk pace, Clair touched his arm. “I have another confession to make.”

“You are looking for goblins too?” he teased, his manner lightening.

“Don’t be silly. Goblins don’t exist.”

“You don’t believe in goblins, but you do in vampires? An interesting conundrum.”

“You are being a boor.”

“My dear Miss Frankenstein, I am never anything so mundane.”

She smiled. “True. In fact, you are actually so imposing that I thought you the leader of the vampire nest.”

“Ah. I guess I am flattered that you see me as a leader of monsters,” he teased. Then he probed for more information. “Did you say ‘nest’?”

“Yes. I don’t know if you are aware or not, but many vampires live in nests of sorts. You know, birds of a feather and all that rubbish. Sometimes their familiars live with them.” Clair and her friend Jane Van Helsing had discussed Clair’s theories, with Jane giving pointers on vampire rules and regulations. And Jane should know, being a member of the Van Helsing clan, notorious vampire hunters as well as manufacturers and marketers of a fine line of quality oaken stakes.

Ian urged the horses forward as his mind raced. Just what did Clair know? Or, rather, what did she think she knew? “Familiars?”

“Yes. Familiars can consist of a warlock or witch mixed in with the vampires. They give the vampires guidance with their magic. And wolves. Well, not actually wolves, but werewolves. Vampires can call werewolves. Of course, if they want them in wolf form, they must wait until the full moon, so the shapeshifter can shift to animal form.”

Ian cursed silently. He had to forge ahead carefully.

Clair Frankenstein was digging up a whole can of worms that would wriggle around and bite her most shapely little arse if she didn’t back off. “Werewolves? I thought the vampires would be able to call bats.”

“Those too,” she answered, uncertain if he was teasing her. “Vampires are powerful and can call more than one animal to them.”

Ian winced. “So you intend to go around chasing these monsters down and then writing about them so you can publish your discoveries?” His expression was grim.

“Yes. It is my most heartfelt wish. I wish to win the prestigious Scientific Discovery of the Decade Award.”

“Dead women don’t win awards.”

“I am being careful. Didn’t I have my garlic and stakes with me last night at your home?”

Ian glanced toward the heavens, thinking that it would take a small miracle to keep Clair Frankenstein from being eaten alive by her research projects. “How does your aunt Mary feel about this?”

Clair shrugged. “She is resigned to it. However, my great-aunt Abby, who is Uncle Victor’s aunt, is very excited. She has always believed in otherworldly creatures.”

Ian pulled the carriage over on the side of the path. “Miss Frankenstein, if there are such creatures about, don’t you think that they might not want to be brought to the public eye?”

“I imagine they won’t be thrilled.”

Ian shook his head slightly. He responded, his voice thick with irony, “No, I don’t imagine they would be. Do you think they might dislike it enough to get violent?”

“Well,” she hedged, “their natures are violent. But I did most thorough research. No one has died of loss of blood due to a wound in the neck for over five years.”

Ian snorted. “A vampire is supposedly a most villainous creature. I have read some of the stories written about them. They enjoy torture. Every one is a predator. Someone is bound to get eaten. What do you think they will do to a human who dares expose them?” His bays moved restlessly, and Ian tightened his grip on their reins and got them moving again.

Clair looked everywhere except at his vibrant green eyes. “I imagine they might be a tad irritated.”

“A tad irritated,” Ian echoed sardonically, wanting to yank her into his arms and shake some sense into her. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. She was many things, but he had to admit faint of heart was not one of them. “I would say it might just be a bloodbath. Yours!”

Clair paled, pulling her cape tightly around herself. “True scholars of the sciences must go forward. We can’t stand back because we are afraid, and let the truth be buried. Besides, you don’t believe in such nonsense.”

Ignoring her words, Ian reached over and touched her cheek. “I don’t want to see you buried, Miss Frankenstein.”

His touch was tender, sending a shiver of excitement through her. “Clair. Please call me Clair.”

“And name is Ian.”

“It is a fine name.” Then she laughed. “But not much of a name for a vampire.”

Ian shook his head and grinned tiredly. “No, I don’t think I have heard of a single vampire called Ian.”

Clair released his arm. Gazing into his eyes she said, “I thought you said you didn’t believe in vampires.”

Ian’s patience snapped. “Clair, if there is a possibility of supernatural beings living in London, a slight possibility, I don’t want to see you hurt by trying to discover who they are and where they are. I can’t stress this enough!”

Clair looked down at her hands in her lap. “Thank you, Ian. I appreciate your concern. But I cannot stop my scientific studies. It would be cowardly and wrong. What would happen to the world if we gave up when the going got difficult? What would happen to man’s spirit if he let his dreams die?”

She gazed at him steadily, trying to help him see. “Thoreau wrote, ‘If you consistently advance in the directions of your dreams and endeavor to live the life which you have imagined, you will meet with success in common hours. If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost. That’s where it should be. Now put the foundation under them.’” She glanced away, emotion stark on her face. Her dreams and goals were who she was and what she lived for.

Ian was deeply moved. For too long he had lived in a gray area between dusk and dawn. He had lost his youth, his father, and almost his mother to her morose grief. Yet he had gone on, anticipating neither the journey or the journey’s end. “I have heard Thoreau read before, but never have I heard words put so beautifully and to such purpose.”

Clair blushed. “So you understand this is my destiny, to follow the star that only I can see?”

“Ah… a believer in the Fates.”

She laughed. “You have to be if you’re of Frankenstein ancestry. Uncle Victor always says there’s no escaping destiny. It’s like a runaway train, hurtling us to our unknown destination. We can get off the train for a bit, but ultimately we must always reboard or be left behind in obscurity.”

“You will continue on this path you’ve set yourself, even if you know it will get you killed?”

Clair wanted to make him understand. It was important to her to know that he accepted who and what she was. “How can I do less than the legions of Frankensteins before me? Uncle Tieck was laughed out of university for his novel on vampires. And look at Uncle Victor. The villagers tarred and feathered him for creating Frederick. But their travails never stopped my uncles from their scientific or artistic quests. How can I give up? How can I be less than I was raised to be? It is who I am, a Frankenstein. she finished modestly.

Scowling, he knew he was going to have to do some serious thinking to try and change her mind. She was a woman of strong convictions. Even worse, she had a quest. “I don’t suppose you are interested in the Holy Grail?” he said.

“Why, Ian, what a strange question.” Clair chuckled.

“Forget it. It was only a passing thought,” he replied glumly. “Well, I’ll be deuced! I thought he was still in the Highlands.”

“Who?”

“See that giant coming toward us? The one in the dark green riding jacket?”

She nodded, studying the figure who was approaching at a fast clip. The man was large, not heavy but stocky. And he appeared to be very tall and wide of shoulder like Ian.

“My cousin, Galen McBain, my father’s sister’s son. Someday he’ll be laird of the McBains.”

Ian pulled his bays over and onto the unbeaten path, out of the way of the promenading curricles, as Galen McBain arrived on his tall roan mount. He dismounted lithely for such a big man. He stood holding the reins of his steed, a friendly smile on his face.

Galen studied the enchanting woman with his cousin, while Ian made the introductions from where he sat. Although Clair Frankenstein was a lovely lass, Galen couldn’t help but be curious, since she was in a far different league from his cousin’s usual chères amies, who mainly consisted of widows, opera singers, or courtesans, with a bawd or two thrown in for good effect. But this was a Frankenstein, and Frankensteins were trouble, with their manic ideas and unshakable curiosity.

Clair was delighted by the unexpected meeting of a relative of Ian’s; however Galen McBain was a little intimidating. When Ian was tall, Galen was well over six feet by at least four inches. He had arms the size of small tree trunks and his shoulders were formidable. His hair was a pale wheat color, his eyes a stormy dark blue. They reminded Clair of dusk, after the oranges and pinks of the sky made their appearance and signaled night fall.

Soon she forgot his size and concentrated on what the two cousins were saying. She could tell by their attitudes and tone of voice that they were close.

The conversation flowed easily, since each had a sharp wit, but Clair made a blunder which took the conversation to a more somber tone. Mistakenly she inquired if Ian’s mother had remarried. Ian’s features seemed to contort as he told her most emphatically his mother had not and would never remarry.

“My mother almost died of grief when my father was killed in a freak fire. If not for my sister and myself, I believe my mother would not be alive today. She loved my father dearly. Theirs was a great love story and, as with all great love stories, it ended quite tragically.”

“I am so sorry. I lost both my parents when I was quite young also. I do understand the sense of loss and aloneness,” Clair responded. She leaned over and tenderly patted Ian’s arm.

It was a move which did not go unnoticed by Galen. The man wasn’t sure how he felt about the attraction between Clair and his cousin. Ian was a hard man, but even hard men had been known to break, especially when a lovely lass was involved.

Clair’s sympathy touched Ian. He squeezed her hand. “Thank you. It has, been a long time.”

“Grief knows no hourglass,” Clair added.

Galen broke the spell by saying they were all growing maudlin, and he began regaling Clair with a few stories of he and Ian growing up. She learned that Ian had been quite the mischiefmaker, slow to learn a lesson and passionate in his pleasures. One of the best stories was of questing for honey after seeking the bees’ nest for two days.

Galen’s eyes sparkled with mirth as he related the tale. “Both Ian’s parents had warned him repeatedly not to attempt to rob the bees. But Ian knew best. He conceived a plan to distract the bees so he could gather the honey. He wore a bee disguise that he had created with false wings, and painted his shirt yellow and black.”

Clair started giggling. She could almost see Ian in his striped shirt. “What happened?”

“The bees didn’t recognize his kinship. Ian returned home empty-handed with a swollen nose. However, his adventure did have a moral.”

Clair was laughing hard, tears running down her cheeks. “What?”

“A fool and his honey are soon parted!” Galen howled with laughter.

Ian took offense, his dignity wounded. “Don’t you have someplace to be, Galen? Someone to pester besides myself?” He stood in the carriage, staring down in the perfect picture of the aloof aristocrat. “Or do you intend to follow us to Miss Frankenstein’s home?”

Galen took the hint. Cantering off, he decided to reserve judgment on the Frankenstein and Huntsley union. He left, his husky laughter in his wake.

Sitting back down, Ian flicked a wrist and his bays leaped forward, eager to be on the go after their lengthy immobility. Clair wiped her eyes, deciding wisely to keep her amusement to herself. Men could be so touchy when teased.

As the phaeton lurched forward at a fast clip, Clair clutched the railing with one hand and her bonnet with the other. After they drove in silence for some minutes, she commented on how much she liked his cousin.

“Just don’t like him too much,” Ian warned lightly, wondering as he spoke where that remark came from. He didn’t get jealous. Women were generally possessive of him. He also knew that his cousin was less handsome than himself. Yet that had never halted most females of the species from falling at Galen’s feet. Ian knew most assuredly that he wouldn’t like it one bit if Clair joined their fawning ranks.

“You’re teasing,” Clair said, blushing, looking at Ian and hoping that he wasn’t. No one had ever been jealous of her before. It was a remarkably stimulating feeling.

Ian shrugged. “I don’t think I am.” And with those telling words, he turned his attention back to his driving. He was mostly silent after that, a dark look marring his arrogant yet handsome features.