Page 25 of Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match
Angelika unsaddled the horses and turned them out in the orchard as an apology for not rubbing them down. They bolted off, bucking and skittish. She sat down on the low stone wall, with their warm leather bridles hung on her arm.
She did not feel particularly concerned for Will. He had her gun, and the thieves looked to be barely in their teens. Indeed, if she sharpened her senses, she could practically hear the calm negotiations that would be happening inside.
He’ll be explaining to our thief why he’s done wrong, but that he understands why.Angelika pictured the unfortunate villagers of Salisbury. She hated riding through there; everywhere she looked, she saw a crying child, a sad-eyed woman,a man in rags.He’ll tell him that times are hard, and jobs are hard to come by, and the crops did poorly, and scarlet fever has taken even their strong ones. Stomachs are empty in Salisbury.She wiped sweat from her temple.If I know Will, he would think a bag of candlesticks and silver would make a suitable donation. And tonight, as I think about it, I’m inclined to agree.
Angelika found herself having an odd daydream about what a silver candlestick might be able to buy. Warm bread, curls of butter, wedges of cheese? A bag of apples, like those ripening on the trees behind her?
“My goodness. I’m sitting here daydreaming about villagers’ larders and not my own first kiss?” She tapped her knuckles on her temple. “What has happened to me tonight?”
She was preparing to stand, listening for Will’s call, when she heard a stick snap behind her. With a dry mouth, she whispered, “Who’s there?”
Silence was the reply, but she felt their stare on her seated body. She took back her earlier declaration: shewasa helpless maiden. Rogues were out in the village, strangers were in her house, and there was someone behind her. Frozen, she could hear the slow press of footsteps approaching, and the trembling jingle of the bridle buckles on her arm.
“I’ll give you what you want,” she said to the night air. “Don’t hurt me.”
When a hand touched the top of her head, she closed her eyes and nearly lost consciousness. It was a slow stroke, from the crown of her head, down her back, to the tips of her hair. When it lifted away, she let out a whimper. “Don’t.”
It happened again. She was being stroked like a horse in a field. Man, or ghost? Impossible to know. The moment the touch lifted away was the worst part. Would the next touch beon her side, sliding around to her breast? Or hands, wrapping around her throat? She flinched when the touch resettled on her crown. Surely this was a joke, before the tearing of clothing began. Nobody in the village had any fondness for her.
“He’ll come,” she said through her clenched jaw, shuddering through the next downward stroke. “He’ll come for me.”
“Angelika,” Will’s voice called at a distance. The touch stopped. When Will walked up to her, he found her still sitting on the stone wall. “It’s all over. The boy in the library was terrified. I gave him a coin, and we had a talk, and he promised not to come back.” He took the bridles from Angelika and laid them aside. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not. I’m not. I’m not—” She began hiccupping for air, and Will enfolded her in his arms. “Someone was here, and...”
“Someone? Who?”
“They were behind me. Right behind me. And they were touching me.” She felt the swell of horror in Will’s rib cage. “My hair. A hand, stroking down my hair. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever felt. But it also felt like my mother.” She gave a hysterical bark of laughter. “They could have snapped my neck, or cut my throat. And I just sat there.”
“Come inside,” he urged, and when she could not walk, he put an arm under her legs, lifted her, and carried her toward Blackthorne Manor. “At daylight, I’ll go and look for footprints. Perhaps there was a third thief, hanging back. Or could it have been...” He looked toward the barn.
“Victor is chasing him, miles away. He’s angry at us, besides. I’m sure he would not have been so gentle.”
They were at the kitchen door now, and Will called, “Mary, help.”
Angelika was still in a wheezing heap when she was laiddown on a bed and saw a sideways bear. This was Will’s bedroom. “She’s had a shock,” Mary said. “I’ll fetch smelling salts, and whiskey. I’ve been telling Victor that there’s someone in the orchard.”
“Angelika,” Will said, unlacing her boots. “Please, come to your senses. Did he touch you anywhere else?” When she shook her head, he let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I was intoxicated by the thought of protecting the house, but I did not protect you. Victor should hang me.”
When Mary came back, they urged Angelika to sit up and drink several mouthfuls of liquor. “You’re all right,” Mary said brusquely. “But what am I always telling you?”
Angelika’s throat felt like it had closed completely. She could not repeat the mantra that Mary had drummed into her for so long, and the old woman said it now with angry force. “No hesitation, no politeness, run.Did you do that? Angelika, did you do as I told you?”
“She was terrified,” Will defended her. “She was frozen solid. Don’t be hard on her.”
“Someone has to be,” Mary returned. “She is a simple fool.”
“I—” Angelika could not explain. All she knew was that Mary’s expression was full of deep disappointment as she left the room.
“Don’t talk,” Will told her, closing the door. “Don’t try to talk. We will wash your hair.”
It was marvelous, having someone understand exactly what was needed in this moment. He guided her to his tub, prepared earlier by Mary. With shaking hands, they worked Angelika’s riding habit loose, until she was sinking down into the water in her muslin underdress. “Just like when we met,” she croaked, and Will skimmed the warm water over her shoulders, washing her with urgency. She was not the only one inshock. Her hair was lathered and rinsed, and he applied the sponge to each of her fingertips.
“I’m so sorry,” he told her, and his voice cracked with emotion. “You didn’t deserve this terrible fright.”
“It could have been worse.” She closed her eyes and focused her breathing. And gradually, she sank back into her own body again, hearing the lap of water, and became aware that the wet muslin on her body must have been translucent. But she trusted him and the careful way he handled her body, and he repaid that trust. There was nothing lecherous in his eyes as he kept them firmly on her face, checking her mental state.
“I’m all right. I think I am myself again. What an odd experience.” She blew out a breath, and a smile quirked her mouth. “I was sitting there, imagining you counseling the thief on the moral error he had made. I was right.”
