cheekbone is a smudge of red. The very spot where Edgar touched my face with his blood-stained fingers.
Furious, I rub at the blemish. He must have seen it. He must have known it was there. How dare he mark me like this? What if someone else saw?
My footsteps echo angrily on the floor as I decide to find something to keep my mind occupied, and head in the direction of the library. As soon as I enter, I’m drawn to the back corner again. To the case with those odd books. Are they the strange ones that Cook said Father was always reading?
Just as I’m about to select one, the sound of breaking glass comes from outside the room. I hurry to the door, and find Father there. A shattered vase lies on the floor. He’s standing amongst the jagged pieces. The alcove behind him, where the vase once stood, is nowempty. He must have lost his balance and knocked it off the ledge.
“Wretched thing,” he mutters at the ground. Then he looks up and sees me standing there.
“I was just looking for a book to pass the time,” I say. I feel as if I have to offer him an explanation as to why I’m here.
“I have need of a book as well.” He glances over at the library door and then glances back to me. “Would you retrieve it for me? In the very back of the room is a small section of books in a glass case. I need the one titled
De viribus electricitatis in motu musculari commentarius
.”
I know which bookcase he’s speaking of. I was just there.
“Of course.” Hurrying to the glass case, I find the book he’s requested. I return, and hold it out to him.
But he doesn’t take the book from me. Instead, he leads me into the kitchen. I’m surprised to find the room is empty. Father gestures toward the worktable, then withdraws a pocket watch. Annoyance crosses his face as he clicks the watch shut. “My assistant was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. How am I to work when he’s tardy?”
I don’t know where Edgar has gone, but I can’t tell Father that I saw him just a little while ago in his laboratory.
Father looks at his watch one more time. “Worthless boy! I’m in the middle of a project, and time is of the essence. I can wait no longer.” Taking a large ring of keys from his pocket, he moves toward the door beside the fireplace. He waves at the book and then at me. “You may carry that downstairs for me.”
I follow quietly behind as he slowly limps down the stairs. When we reach the bottom, he takes out another set of keys and pauses. “You must not speak of anything you see down here. Do you understand? I demand my privacy.”
“I understand.”
“Good.” He inserts the key into the second door and pushes it open. “Place the book on the operating table. I have need of it there.”
I slowly move toward the table and lay the book down. Some kind of experiment is taking place. There are three large bowls on the table, connected to one another by wires. Another wire travels from the third bowl to the cow’s heart, which is on a silver platter.
Father takes down a black canvas apron from ahook on the wall and ties it around his waist. “You can go now, Annabel.”
I give him a brief curtsy and turn back to the stairwell. Just as I’m about to pull the door closed behind me, I hear a crash. Rushing back into the room, I find him on the floor surrounded by broken shards of glass. Knowing this is the second time I have seen him like this, I anticipate his anger.
But it never comes.
“Damn leg wants to be a bother,” he says gruffly. There is embarrassment behind his words. Using the table to steady himself, he gets to his feet.
“Shall I fetch someone else to assist you, Father?” I ask.
“There is no one else, and I have squandered too much time already. You may stay until my tardy assistant arrives.”
A wave of excitement sweeps over me, and I have to sternly remind myself to act like a lady. That’s the only way to gain his respect. “Of course, Father,” I say demurely. Waiting for
Furious, I rub at the blemish. He must have seen it. He must have known it was there. How dare he mark me like this? What if someone else saw?
My footsteps echo angrily on the floor as I decide to find something to keep my mind occupied, and head in the direction of the library. As soon as I enter, I’m drawn to the back corner again. To the case with those odd books. Are they the strange ones that Cook said Father was always reading?
Just as I’m about to select one, the sound of breaking glass comes from outside the room. I hurry to the door, and find Father there. A shattered vase lies on the floor. He’s standing amongst the jagged pieces. The alcove behind him, where the vase once stood, is nowempty. He must have lost his balance and knocked it off the ledge.
“Wretched thing,” he mutters at the ground. Then he looks up and sees me standing there.
“I was just looking for a book to pass the time,” I say. I feel as if I have to offer him an explanation as to why I’m here.
“I have need of a book as well.” He glances over at the library door and then glances back to me. “Would you retrieve it for me? In the very back of the room is a small section of books in a glass case. I need the one titled
De viribus electricitatis in motu musculari commentarius
.”
I know which bookcase he’s speaking of. I was just there.
“Of course.” Hurrying to the glass case, I find the book he’s requested. I return, and hold it out to him.
But he doesn’t take the book from me. Instead, he leads me into the kitchen. I’m surprised to find the room is empty. Father gestures toward the worktable, then withdraws a pocket watch. Annoyance crosses his face as he clicks the watch shut. “My assistant was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. How am I to work when he’s tardy?”
I don’t know where Edgar has gone, but I can’t tell Father that I saw him just a little while ago in his laboratory.
Father looks at his watch one more time. “Worthless boy! I’m in the middle of a project, and time is of the essence. I can wait no longer.” Taking a large ring of keys from his pocket, he moves toward the door beside the fireplace. He waves at the book and then at me. “You may carry that downstairs for me.”
I follow quietly behind as he slowly limps down the stairs. When we reach the bottom, he takes out another set of keys and pauses. “You must not speak of anything you see down here. Do you understand? I demand my privacy.”
“I understand.”
“Good.” He inserts the key into the second door and pushes it open. “Place the book on the operating table. I have need of it there.”
I slowly move toward the table and lay the book down. Some kind of experiment is taking place. There are three large bowls on the table, connected to one another by wires. Another wire travels from the third bowl to the cow’s heart, which is on a silver platter.
Father takes down a black canvas apron from ahook on the wall and ties it around his waist. “You can go now, Annabel.”
I give him a brief curtsy and turn back to the stairwell. Just as I’m about to pull the door closed behind me, I hear a crash. Rushing back into the room, I find him on the floor surrounded by broken shards of glass. Knowing this is the second time I have seen him like this, I anticipate his anger.
But it never comes.
“Damn leg wants to be a bother,” he says gruffly. There is embarrassment behind his words. Using the table to steady himself, he gets to his feet.
“Shall I fetch someone else to assist you, Father?” I ask.
“There is no one else, and I have squandered too much time already. You may stay until my tardy assistant arrives.”
A wave of excitement sweeps over me, and I have to sternly remind myself to act like a lady. That’s the only way to gain his respect. “Of course, Father,” I say demurely. Waiting for
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