Most mornings I had to dutifully visit Madame Frankenstein and play with boring little Ernest. I did not care about him, but it made Madame Frankenstein happy. She had told me when she was still pregnant with him, her stomach distended and horrible in a way I could not understand, that it was because of me she had finally been able to bring another child into the house.

I would have been happy to never see the baby. But I did not let her suspect that as I cooed over him long enough until I could slip back outside.

As soon as I was out of sight of the house, I would take off my white dress and set it carefully in a cleaned-out tree hollow. Then, free to wander without fear of damaging my clothes and bringing home proof of my transgressions, I would prowl through the trees like a wild creature.

I discovered warrens, nests, burrows, all the hidden places of things that creep and crawl, leap and bound, fly and flee among the deep green and loamy brown. Though my heart was filled with joy among them, my journeys served a dual purpose: if I discovered where the animals I loved lived, I could deliberately avoid them when I was with Victor.

When I could not be outside, during the depths of winter or in the afternoons when Victor returned, I studied his schoolwork or looked at paintings and read poetry. It delighted the Frankensteins. They saw it as evidence of my good breeding that at such a young age I was so attuned to the arts. But really, it was a way of escaping back into the wilderness when I was trapped inside.

If I could have worn nothing but my slips, I would have. But clothes were part of the role I played. And I never stepped out of character where they could see me.

—

“Elizabeth?”

I stopped stirring my tea, which had gone cool as I stared out the fog-covered window. I smiled at Justine to cover my lapse in attention. She returned my smile to let me know she did not mind. Things were always so with Justine. I could never do anything to make her cross with me. It was a tremendous relief not to have to choose each word and expression with care. Sometimes, though, our relationship felt as false as the one with my benefactors. I wondered if she truly was that good, or if she merely acted that way to avoid being sent back to her monster of a mother.

No. I did not really wonder. If there was any pure good in the world, anything as clear and unsullied as freshly fallen snow, it was Justine’s heart.

“What were you thinking of?” she asked.