I wandered to the edge of the lake and collapsed to my knees. Then I lifted my face to the heavens and screamed. I screamed my rage, and my despair, and my intolerable solitude.

Somewhere nearby, a creature answered my call. I was not alone. The other cry contained the soul-deep sense of loss I could scarcely breathe around.

I curled into a ball around myself and wept until my senses left me.

Chapter Sixteen: So Farewell Hope

I LOST A WEEK to the madness of grief. I would see or speak to no one. I hated them all for being alive while Justine was dead. For being men and being unable to save her.

William’s death was a tragedy.

Justine’s was a travesty.

When I finally came down from my room with enough strength to at least pretend not to hate everyone in the house, I found Ernest packing.

“Where are you going?” I asked, though I could not actually care.

“School in Paris. Father thinks it best I leave for a while.” His lip quivered as he struggled for bravery. He had lost so much in his young life—his mother, his baby brother, and now the governess he had loved and trusted. I wished I could comfort him by insisting on her innocence once again, but would that have helped? He could either rage at the presumed betrayal by someone he trusted or despair at the betrayal of the entire world in failing to protect her in her innocence.

It was easier to rage than to despair.

“Where is Victor?”

“I do not care,” Ernest snapped, tears filling his eyes. Had I been like Justine, I would have rushed to him. Taken him in my arms and comforted him as a mother.

Had I been like Justine, would I, too, be dead?

I drifted away to leave Ernest to find his own path through grief. I certainly could not guide him, as my own grief trailed in my wake, threatening to rise and strangle me.

I found Victor in his bedroom. He was pacing, muttering to himself. Before he noticed me, he opened and shut and threw several books. He was agitated, his eyes rimmed in red and accented by dark circles.

“Victor?” I said.

He turned, jumping as though expecting attack.

“Elizabeth.” With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and attempted to release some of the tension I could still see throughout his body. He trembled, shaking out his hands. Then he opened his eyes and really looked at me. “I am sorry.”

We had not spoken since Justine’s execution. “I know.” And I did know. He alone remained steadfastly on my side, believing me about Justine’s innocence though he barely knew her. “Will you come with me today, to visit her grave?”

He flinched. “There is no grave.”

“What?”

“I offered them money. But she died a condemned murderess. They would not bury her in hallowed ground.”