by Cindy Winget
Victor would do all he could to help Elizabeth acquit her of all wrongdoing, knowing even so, that he could not reveal the reason behind his surety that she was innocent. What judge would believe such a tale as the truth would demand? They would think him mad. He would be sent to a lunatic asylum! Or else become a beggar upon the streets like Renfield in the story told to him by Jack.
He wasn’t too concerned, however. He doubted that he needed to reveal his strange tale at all, for he was firmly convinced in his own mind that Justine was innocent of this murder, knowing in his heart that it was his own creation who had cost William his life. He had no fear, therefore, that any circumstantial evidence could be brought forward strong enough to convict her. With this assurance, Victor calmed himself.
He slowly walked home and stood in the front yard for a time, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. What to say to his family? Should he reveal his own disgraceful actions that had led to poor William’s murder? Would they believe him? Would they scorn him and throw him from their presence? He could not abide the look of horror and loathing that would surely appear on Elizabeth’s face.
He took a fortifying breath and opened the front door. Footsteps clamored down the hallway and a young man of perhaps eighteen years of age came into sight.
“Father! Victor is here!” the boy called.
“Ernest? Can it truly be you? You have gotten so tall!” exclaimed Victor.
Ernest grinned at Victor’s exclamation. Victor was elated to note how healthy Ernest looked. He had always been such a sickly child and it was gratifying to see that he appeared as any other boy his age would have looked. Gone were the dark circles beneath his eyes and the pallor. He was no longer gaunt, but merely had the gangly appearance that accompanies youth. It was a shock to realize that Ernest was now the same age as Victor when he had left home. Had he truly been that young?
Alphonse and Elizabeth both came stumbling out of the drawing room to greet him. Victor was surprised to find that Elizabeth was just as he had pictured her in his dream. Her girlish figure had taken on a womanly shape and she had grown a bit taller herself. Her face, however, had not changed a bit. Her hazel eyes sparkled with joy at seeing him and her freckled nose wrinkled as she smiled. She ran forth and gave him a hug. The joyous reunion was dampened, however, as Victor took in the black muslin dress she wore. Mourning clothes for William’s death. Elizabeth had always loved vibrant colors and it was strange to see her wearing nothing but black.
Alphonse, also dressed in black, waited his turn to greet his son. He looked older. More worn. Grief was etched into every surface and wrinkle of his face. It was sheer torture for a parent to have to bury their child and Victor’s smile faded as he saw the sadness in his father’s eyes.
“I am so sorry, Victor. I have long anticipated your arrival back home. I am sad to know that instead of being greeted with smiles, you are greeted with tears.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled with said tears at Alphonse’s statement. “Oh, Victor! After so long an absence, I hate to think that your welcome presence is shadowed by such evil times. I am all the more grieved that it is because of me that this misfortune has occurred!” With this she began to weep piteously.
Victor hurried to her and wrapped his arms around her. “No Elizabeth! This isn’t your fault!”
Her eyes flashed with sudden anger. “Don’t you even dare suggest that it is poor Justine’s fault! That girl has been so fond of this family and so amiable to all around her. I will not be convinced of her guilt unless she herself confesses!”
Victor shook his head. “No. I wasn’t going to say that. I too know of her innocence.”
The vehemence in his voice convinced Elizabeth of his earnestness. She wiped at her eyes. “Forgive me.”
“It is indeed disheartening to have discovered such depravity and ingratitude in one whom I had valued so highly,” Alphonse spoke quietly.
Elizabeth turned livid eyes upon the elderly man and was about to protest, but Alphonse put his hand up to stop her. “I do have sympathy for the poor girl. She scarcely seems in her right mind, but the evidence—”
“Let us not talk of this right now,” implored Elizabeth. “Let us be happy for a time that Victor has returned to us. Come in and have something to eat. You can join Henry in the dining room.”
Victor followed her. He ate all that was placed before him, but he scarcely tasted a bite. The talk was subdued with a dash of forced cheeriness, meant to buoy up Victor’s spirits. Though it was still early, only eight o’clock, by unanimous consent they all went to bed. Victor slept fitfully. He couldn’t let Justine take the fall for a crime that he knew she had not committed.
Chapter Thirteen
Victor sat on the back row of the courtroom. Elizabeth sat on his right while his father and brother sat on his left. A scared, but calm, Justine was sitting on the witness stand. She was dressed in mourning clothes, as the entire Frankenstein household was, her innocence lending a confidence to her demeanor and manner. She was solemn, owing no doubt to the seriousness of the situation, but she did not appear overly concerned. No doubt feeling as Victor did, that there could be no evidence against her since she had not in actuality committed the crime.
“Justine Mortitz, you are charged with the murder of William Frankenstein. How do you plead?” the advocate against her asked. The court stenographer began scribbling away.
“Not guilty.”
Victor knew that if the defendant pleaded not guilty, they were expected to prove it. They had the sole responsibility to disprove any evidence brought against them and establish their own innocence. But since the punishment was no less harsh if the accused pleaded guilty, hardly anyone ever pleaded guilty anyway.
Defense lawyers were expensive and hard to come by. Even so, had Victor been here sooner he would have done all that was within his power to procure one, but with only a few hours’ notice of her impending trial, there had been no time.
Victor would gladly have taken her place. It was his fault, after all, that William had perished. He would have stood up then and there and proclaimed himself the killer of William, even at the expense of the delicate feelings of his loved ones, if he could prove his guilt as Justine was now trying to prove her innocence. But how could he? He couldn’t account for the fact that he was out of the country at the time of the murder. They would only think that he was either crazy or else trying to take the blame for a friend. His speaking out would not exonerate her.
The public prosecutor stood up and began his interrogation. “Is it true that you were out all night at the time the murder took place?”
“Yes. That is correct. I had received permission from a lady of the household to spend the evening with an aunt who lived only a league from Geneva.”
“And you never returned to the Frankenstein household that night?”
“No. Upon my return, I met a man who informed me that William Frankenstein was missing. I spent hours searching for him and was subsequently locked out, the gates already being closed for the night. I was therefore forced to spend the rest of the night in a barn.”
“And this barn just so happens to be close to the field where William’s body was found.”
“So I am told.”
There were tsks and murmurs heard throughout the courtroom.
“What did you do after that?”
“Well, I awoke early and, unaware that the child had already been found, I went searching for him once more.”
“Is it not true that a woman going to market found you wandering in the place where the body was found?”
“That is correct.”
“What were you doing there?”
“As I already stated, I was searching for William.”
“Or was it that you went back for the body in order to hide your tracks and to your consternation it had already been taken away?”
“No. That isn’t true.”
“The woman who found you said that you seemed confused and
distraught.”
“Of course I was distraught! I thought darling William was still missing! It wasn’t until later that I learned of his death.”
Her calm demeanor was slipping, and a single tear slid down her face as she glanced with affection in the direction of the Frankenstein family. This look alone spoke to Victor of her innocence, but apparently no one else noticed the look. Or, perhaps, they thought it a clever ploy to win their favor.
“God knows with surety, my innocence. All I can do is give an honest review of the facts surrounding this unfortunate event and hope that my good character will incline the judge and jury to see me in a favorable light where any circumstance seems doubtful or suspicious, and acquit me.”
“Thank you. That is all for now. If you have any character witnesses, you may call on them.”
Justine nodded toward Elizabeth, who stood up and made her way to the front of the room. She was lovely, even in her sorrow. Her face showed a determination and zeal that was a trademark of her personality.
“Please state your name for the record.”
“Elizabeth Lavenza. I have lived in the Frankenstein household since my infancy.”
“What is your connection to the accused?”
“She is my friend.”
“Is it not also true that she works as a servant in your home?”
“As a nursemaid. For William.”
“So, you are her superior.”
“Technically, yes. But I maintain that she is first and foremost, my friend.”
“How long has she worked for you?”
Elizabeth scowled at him before answering. “She has been with us since she was twelve years old.”
“And during that time, has she been loyal?”
“Oh yes! Very loyal. She loved William as a mother loves her own child.”
“Is it true that upon seeing the body of William, Justine fell into wild hysterics and was confined to her bed for several days?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think that this reaction was perhaps indicative of a guilty conscience, having had to confront the victim of her vicious attack?”
“Not at all. I myself had a similar reaction upon seeing the small poor form of my cousin.”
“How convenient to fall sick the morning the victim was found. Could she have simply been forming a reason not to have to talk to anyone? Perhaps hoping that her whereabouts on the night of the murder would not come up or be considered?”
“No. It’s the truth. She really was ill. As she has already stated. She was forced to spend the night in a barn. That would make anyone sick. Ask the other servants if you don’t believe me.”
“Oh, I did.” He indicated a woman sitting in the front row. “Your Honor, at this time I would like to call into evidence, this piece of jewelry.” He pulled Elizabeth’s miniature out of his pocket and handed it to the judge. There were several gasps from those in attendance.
“One of the servants who attended Justine in her illness found this necklace in the pocket of her coat and showed it to the local magistrate. It’s the reason that Justine was arrested in the first place, is it not?”
Elizabeth nodded mutely before stating, “Yes. I believe so.”
“Is this not the same miniature portrait that was around the neck of the deceased at the time of his death?”
Elizabeth had gone pale. Her lips trembled. “Yes. That is correct. It was thought that this was the reason for the supposed thief to kill William in the first place. But Justine had no reason to steal it from around the neck of my dear cousin. I would have given it to her gladly had she asked for it.”
Shocked murmurs of horror and indignation attended this statement. Elizabeth had made a fatal mistake. Victor saw it in the eyes of the all-male jury. Elizabeth had attempted to convey the trust which she had in her friend, but instead these men saw only betrayal of that trust.
“If Justine was, in fact, visiting her aunt that night and then was sick in bed afterwards, how do you account for how this found its way into her pocket?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think the real thief had placed it there himself?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“Why would a thief steal such a priceless artifact, only to part from it so suddenly? Did Justine have any enemies that would wish her harm? That could have perhaps slipped this into her pocket out of a desire to frame her?”
“I wouldn’t think so. Justine is too kind to have acquired any enemies.”
Victor started. How could this be? He knew who it was that had murdered William. How was it that Justine had so innocently acquired the trinket? Was the fiend truly clever enough to have framed Justine for William’s murder? Victor had been so sure at first that because Justine was innocent of any wrongdoing that surely this trial was only a formality. But as the evidence was stacked against her, he began to realize his folly. He had no idea what he was dealing with or how resourceful Dracula was.
“I have been closely acquainted with her for years,” continued Elizabeth, “and during that time I have watched her nurse Madame Frankenstein in her final hours with utmost affection and care. She cared also for her own mother in a time of illness, even though the woman had been nothing but unkind and callous to the poor girl. All who know her, knows of her most amiable qualities and generous spirit. She is a most benevolent person, unable to perform the crimes of which she is accused.”
Justine wept in quiet gratitude at this speech, but Victor sensed that Elizabeth’s trust in Justine was not shared by the jury or the spectators in the courtroom. These were his neighbors and friends. People who had known his family for years. How could anyone who knew Justine really believe her capable of such an act? But to his chagrin, he realized that because they had not the close familial association with Justine that Victor and his family had had, they saw Justine as nothing but a servant. A person of less consequence than the Frankenstein family itself. What’s more, they saw in her a person who had besmirched the good name of Frankenstein. A girl who had been taken in and who had now, through her treachery, been disloyal to that very compassion. They saw only Elizabeth’s good character and the ingratitude of her heartless maid.
Victor was ready to come forth in defense of Justine himself. Ready to bear testimony to this much beloved and most agreeable and pleasant human being, but before he could do so, the prosecutor was saying, “I think we have heard enough, Your Honor. The evidence has been weighed and her character has been measured, and I think it high time to let the jury decide her fate.”
The judge nodded and the men in the jury box left the room to confer. They were gone for only fifteen minutes.
“Has the jury received a verdict?”
One of the men nodded. “Guilty,” he proclaimed.
Although Victor was not surprised by this, having sensed the popular opinion in the room and seen the expressions upon the faces of the jury before they left, the verdict still hit him like a stab to the heart. Justine was sustained by her innocence, but as for himself, his secret guilt made him feel duly ashamed. It was the universe’s way of punishing Victor for his pride and vanity.
In that moment, Victor thought that surely there had never been a man more miserable than himself, no wretch more in need of understanding, yet so undeserving of it. Two lives had been destroyed because of his short-sightedness.
How could he have been so blind? What hubris had led him to the conclusion that he could create life without facing any consequences or bearing any responsibility? He had been so preoccupied with whether or not he could create life, that he had not stopped to consider the significance of it. That the actions of his creation would by default become his own. That any wrongdoing performed by such a being would be his to bear at judgement day.
For a man who had always considered himself an agnostic at best, he found himself contemplating his soul and realized the dire straits he was in if the theology he had heard uttered over the pulpits in the churches to which
his mother had dragged him was the truth. Surely the fiery pits of hell awaited his immortal soul at the end of this life.
Elizabeth, who was contemplating her own dark thoughts and sorrows, looked over at Victor and became concerned at the haunted look she saw in his eyes.
Justine was set to hang in three days’ time. Victor’s family vowed not to attend, not wishing to bear witness to such a gruesome sight, particularly in connection to a friend. All for Elizabeth that is. She stalwartly determined to be there as a comfort for Justine at the end. Victor begged her to reconsider, but she would not be swayed.
Chapter Fourteen
Later that evening, after everyone else had gone to bed, Victor snuck out to the small pond that was nestled among the tall grass and cattails of his family estate. This had always been his favorite spot. He needed a bit of respite from the grief that invaded the house, thus he had turned to nature, as he often had in the past, to help soothe his aching heart.
Climbing aboard the rowboat, he rowed out to the middle of the water. He lay there in the bottom of the boat for quite some time, wallowing in his misery. What was he to do? How could he possibly go on with this weight of guilt upon his shoulders? Elizabeth was beside herself, but her sadness was still the sadness of the innocent. It would pass and fade away in time. Victor feared that his never would.
He recalled feeling like Prometheus of old when he had formed man out of the primordial clay. How proud Victor had been to have formed such a paragon, a perfect specimen of humankind that would forever change how mortals viewed death. Victor laughed ruefully to himself as he reflected on the fact that Prometheus, who had stolen fire from Mount Olympus and given it as a gift to man, was then shackled to a tree by Zeus and had his liver eaten by a bird every day, and every day it would grow back and be eaten once more in an unending cycle of torment. Victor acknowledged to himself that perhaps he was worthy of such a punishment himself.