Monstrous Design

by Kat Dunn

  ‘Mother?’

  ‘Oh, my poor sweet girl – what did that creature do to you?’ She pressed her hands to Olympe’s face, smoothing her hair.

  ‘Nothing. You didn’t have to—’ Olympe’s voice broke, and she stepped out of her mother’s reach. ‘Why did you have to hurt him? He saved me.’

  Clémentine laughed lightly. ‘I was trying to keep you safe. That’s all I ever try to do.’ She pulled Olympe into her arms again, and this time Olympe let herself be held. ‘It’s okay, we’re together now. Just like it should be, hmm?’

  Despite the complicated woman Ada knew Clémentine to be, she felt a stab of envy seeing Olympe reunited with her mother.

  ‘But … how are you here?’ asked Olympe.

  The woman’s face fell, a mixture of confusion and frustration. ‘Aren’t you glad to see me? Aren’t you glad to know I’m safe?’

  ‘Of course I am. That’s not what I mean.’

  The duc chose that moment to sweep in imperiously. Ada kept in his shadow. Behind her, Guil, James and Al followed.

  ‘She’s here because we have come to take you home, Olympe,’ said the duc.

  Olympe scrambled back. ‘You.’ She glanced between Clémentine and the duc, eyes clouded with confusion. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Ah – yes. There is something we must talk about, mon ange. It was a mistake, perhaps, not to tell you before. The truth is, the duc is my brother, Olympe. I did my best to keep you apart from the world – all the world. I thought it would be easier for you to think our life simple, to remove any temptation to look for more family, for the dangerous world beyond. But this is what matters: he is a man with money and means and it is clear that he is our best chance to keep you safe.’

  ‘Keep me safe? He’s the man who hurt me my whole life!’

  ‘I won’t deny that you have been through harder times than most, but we never acted with intent to hurt you. If we didn’t understand you, how could we know how to protect you?’

  Olympe gaped. ‘Understand me? You’re my mother. If that’s protection, I don’t want it. I want my freedom.’

  Clémentine’s face fell. ‘That is what I am trying to give you.’

  ‘You let him hurt me…’ Olympe’s skin crackled blue with sparks, ripples and twists buckling along her neck, her hands. ‘All this time I thought you were on my side.’

  ‘Ridiculous girl, of course I am on your side.’ Clémentine grasped her wrist, ignoring the pain of the shock, and the sparks damped down immediately. Olympe wouldn’t risk hurting her mother. ‘You are the greatest discovery of our times. I told you I was never scared of you, I thought you were a wonder. But being a mother doesn’t always mean being your friend. When you were three and screamed the house down because I wouldn’t let you play with snakes in the garden – you hated me, but I did the right thing and stopped you. When you were nine and wanted to stay up with the adults and drink wine, and I sent you to bed no matter how much you told me I didn’t understand you – again, you hated me but again, I did the right thing. That is my job. I must do things you cannot understand and you may hate me, but never, ever believe I don’t do this for you.’

  Olympe had gone limp. Behind her, Camille was on the floor, skirts soaked in blood. She’d ripped off the bottom of her petticoat and was tying it around her knee. It took everything Ada had in her not to rush over and help.

  ‘So I don’t have a choice?’ Olympe’s voice was barely a whisper.

  ‘No,’ said Clémentine, gently taking Olympe’s arm. ‘I am afraid you don’t.’

  The look on Olympe’s face broke Ada’s heart. Then it hardened; better Olympe knew the truth than keep believing there was justice in the world. Now the Revolution had fallen, it was dangerous to be so naive.

  The duc retrieved the pistol from where Clémentine had dropped it, tucking it into the waistband of his breeches. He surveyed the bodies on the floor.

  ‘So this is the English competition.’ He hunkered next to the strange, mottled boy, examining the gunshot wound in his forehead. James joined him, a strange mixture of relief and horror on his face. Silently, he kneeled and closed the boy’s eyes, his own limned with unshed tears.

  ‘Yes. But it’s over now.’

  ‘I was expecting something a little more intimidating.’ The duc gave a harsh laugh. ‘Good to know the English lag behind us as ever. All empty threats and bluster. Ada, come and—’

  He never got a chance to finish the sentence.

  Something exploded at the periphery of her vision. Ada flung herself down, along with Clémentine and the duc. Through the smoke, she saw Al and Guil in the doorway, Al holding a small paper packet. Her heart soared.

  ‘You think we can’t pick locks?’ he crowed. ‘Idiot.’

  He lobbed something into the room and took off running. James hauled Camille up by the elbow, and with his other hand grabbed Olympe. Another flash turned the world white, and when Ada looked again, James, Camille and Olympe were gone – a concealed servants’ door swinging shut.

  For a moment, Ada thought about going after them.

  But the pieces were falling into place. The game was still in motion.

  And she wasn’t finished yet.

  5

  The Servants’ Passages

  Eye pressed to the crack around the concealed servants’ door, James held his breath.

  In the long gallery, the duc was raging, left alone with nothing but two bodies and probably a burst eardrum. Wickham’s ambitions had ended in a messy splatter of rotting flesh, smeared into an Ottoman rug. James had managed to spirit Camille and Olympe away in the chaos, but it felt like a hollow victory.

  James tried not to look at Edward, sprawled as lifeless as he had been on the operating table. Death had only been held at bay for a few days; now his walls had fallen and death was back to claim its own. There wasn’t time to grieve, and after everything Wickham had done, he didn’t know how to. But Edward – oh god. He deserved more than this.

  The three of them waited in silence until the duc, Ada and Clémentine had left. They could hear the duc snapping orders to split up and hunt Olympe down.

  Once they were sure the coast was clear, James led them further into the servants’ passage. They were inside the narrow corridors built behind the walls of the house, a network of unseen walkways to make sure no Lord or Lady Harford need ever see a servant unless expressly summoned. As children, he and Camille had used them as a playground, an echo of the dark game they now played.

  Camille let them out of the passage at the other end and into Lord Harford’s study, then immediately wedged the door shut with a chair while James looked for the key to lock the main door. The sturdy wood of this old part of the house was as close as they could get to a defensible position.

  Just as James found the key, a noise came from the antechamber, where he’d waited for his father to summon him only a short while ago. He moved to lock the door, but Camille shook her head, then held a finger to her lips.

  Silently, she lifted a poker from the grate and edged towards the door. One hand on the handle, the other raising the poker like a bat, she yanked the door open and swung.

  With a yelp, Ada ducked just in time.

  ‘Good lord!’ she said, straightening shakily. ‘Well, I suppose that answers the question, are you all okay. You might want to be a bit quieter, I heard you from outside.’

  Camille sagged in relief. ‘Come in, quick.’

  They locked the door behind her and Ada and Camille stood at an awkward distance.

  Ada folded her arms. ‘I would kiss you, but I’m not sure you want me to,’ she said icily.

  ‘Ada – it’s not – whatever you’re thinking, you’ve got it wrong.’

  ‘So you weren’t about to marry James?’

  If James could have disappeared, he would. This was not a conversation he should be present for.

  Camille looked like she was going to throw up. ‘It wasn’t real.’

  ‘Lo
oked pretty real to me. You had an altar and guests and everything.’

  ‘Well – what I mean is – it was part of my plan.’

  Ada narrowed her eyes. ‘Go on, keep digging.’ James had never heard that note of cruelty in Ada’s voice before.

  Hesitantly, Camille explained how she’d used their engagement as a cover to get close to James, and then when his father suspected her of spying for France, going through with the wedding seemed the only way to avoid rousing his suspicions further.

  Ada remained at a distance, radiating cold fury. ‘I can forgive you a lot, Camille, but this is…’ Ada shook off Camille’s hand when she tried to touch her, then turned away. ‘Do you even think of me when you do these things?’

  ‘I’m sorry – god, Ada, I am so sorry.’

  ‘Were you going to go through with it?’ she asked.

  ‘I…’

  Camille stood, twisting her fingers in her skirt. James wasn’t used to Camille looking so undone. It made the ground feel uneven beneath him.

  ‘You were.’

  ‘I couldn’t see another way out.’

  It was the wrong answer. ‘You never have a choice, do you, Cam?’ Ada spun round, eyes flashing. ‘You hurt me, and you always say you had no choice. But that’s not true, is it? You do exactly what you want and only think about whether it’ll hurt someone when I end up crying.’

  Camille hung her head. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glassy; James could hear the wheeze in her breath. As her friend, he didn’t want to see her in pain; as her doctor, he desperately wanted to tell her not to get worked up. But they were too far beyond that now.

  ‘I’m a coward,’ she said. ‘That’s the truth. I know it, Ada. I know I don’t deserve you.’

  Ada crossed to the window and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. ‘I’ll stay if I want to, I’ll leave if I want to. Stop trying to force my hand or you may have too much success.’

  There was a knock at the study door.

  ‘It’s very rude you started the party before we arrived.’ Al’s voice was muffled, but James would recognise that smug tone anywhere.

  Camille flew to the door, flinging it open and dragging Al and Guil inside.

  ‘You could have told me you had some of the firecrackers left,’ she scolded, but there was no heat to her words.

  Al gave her a wry grin. ‘I got jealous thinking about you having all the fun, so I thought, why not keep a surprise up my sleeve? One more flirt with danger, as a treat.’

  ‘I would like it on record that I thought a surprise explosion was a bad idea,’ said Guil wryly.

  ‘What? It worked, didn’t it?’

  Guil squeezed Camille, while Ada pulled Al into a hug and he patted her on the shoulder. ‘Good to see you too, my dear.’ Then she turned to Guil, something unspoken passing between them.

  Finally, Ada embraced Olympe, who had been silent at the back of the room, tears still streaming down her face to mingle with Edward’s blood. ‘Don’t think I forgot about you. I’m so happy to see you safe.’

  ‘Please don’t fight with Camille,’ said Olympe quietly. ‘I can’t bear any more fighting.’

  Ada didn’t reply, her expression tight. Then she said, ‘I’m sorry I told your mother how to find you. I thought she could help us. I was wrong.’

  ‘No … you kept your promise. You said you’d help me find my mother. I suppose I should have realised it might end up that I didn’t want to be found.’

  Guil glanced at James, one eyebrow arched. ‘I assume it is safe to skip the part where you explain that we can trust him now?’

  ‘Ah. Yes.’ Camille straightened her skirts. ‘Take it as read that I’ve given him a good kicking over it.’

  Ada settled against the windowsill, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

  James cleared his throat. ‘Er, so, sorry to bring us back to the situation at hand, but … do we have a plan? I’m not sure we can hide here for ever.’

  Guil nodded. ‘We should make a play while we have the upper hand. I would suggest that Ada and I don’t blow our cover yet.’ He explained how Ada had infiltrated the duc’s operation and gained his trust by revealing Olympe’s location. ‘The longer he thinks he has allies, the sloppier he will be.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll trust you enough to follow you to a location we choose?’ Camille asked Ada.

  She shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. But it’s worth a shot.’

  ‘Good, then we finish this. I have a plan.’

  Guil smiled. ‘Ah. I’ve missed those words.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ Camille grinned back. ‘I can’t fight like this,’ she gestured to the makeshift bandage around her leg, ‘but I know what we can do.’

  As the battalion drew together for the first time in weeks, Camille explained the bones of her idea. And James began to have hope. Because this was what Camille was good at. Not the Camille he’d known before, the girl still finding herself. But this Camille, the one he didn’t know so well. The one with her own life that didn’t have space for him. He’d been angry she had moved on without him. Now, he felt pride. He’d always known Camille was brilliant, and now everyone else got to see it too.

  ‘I don’t like it,’ said Olympe when Camille had finished. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘Whatever we do will have some risk,’ said Guil. ‘This is about minimisation, not elimination.’

  Al pulled the paper packet from his pocket. There were no more firecrackers, but something silver glinted inside. ‘I might have another surprise we could use.’

  Camille pulled her lips into a tight smile and nodded. ‘You know what to do.’

  Olympe spoke again. ‘Please. I don’t want anyone to do this for me.’

  Camille held her hand up. ‘We don’t have time. It’s my risk to take. If you play your part, there’ll be no risk, right?’

  Olympe didn’t look happy, but she nodded.

  ‘Does everyone understand what they need to do?’ Camille looked around the battalion, getting a nod from each of them in turn.

  They readied themselves to leave, and Camille caught Ada’s hand, fixed her with a burning gaze. ‘Can you do this?’

  Ada nodded.

  ‘I’ll go back to the duc. Let him think he’s winning. At the right moment, I’ll make my move.’

  Then she seemed to make a snap decision. In the space of a breath, Ada had crossed the floor and pushed Camille against a wall, kissing her angrily. A flush burned in Camille’s cheeks, eyes glittering, too thin, looking like danger incarnate.

  When they came up for air, Ada said, ‘I hate how much I love you. It makes life bloody difficult, you know.’

  ‘I know,’ said Camille breathlessly. She looked at Ada knowing she held a wonder in her arms, like the whole sun and moon and stars had come to earth to bless her with their light. ‘I love you too.’

  ‘I’m still angry.’

  Camille looked away, mouth tugging down. ‘You have every right to be. I’m sorry. You deserve better.’

  ‘Maybe. But you don’t get to choose what I do. I’m not leaving just because you’re a monumental idiot.’ She backed off, self-consciously tucking back a loose curl. ‘It’s been an age since I saw you in a dress that nice. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re bleeding all over it.’

  Camille pulled up her skirts to show the bandage. ‘I’m all right. I’ve had worse.’

  ‘You know that isn’t remotely good enough an excuse,’ said Ada. But she crouched anyway to inspect the wound and re-tie the linen strip.

  When she stood, Camille pulled her in and kissed her again. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  Ada kissed her back, arms winding around her body to hold her close.

  Then she stepped away, breathing a little shakily, but resolute.

  ‘Well, you’re going to have to miss me a bit more.’

  Without another word, she picked up the poker Camille had almost lamped them with, and left, with Guil and Al in tow.

&
nbsp; As the door shut, Camille closed in on James, hooking her arm through his. That dangerous light was back in her eyes.

  ‘Now, you have something to show me, don’t you?’

  James took her into the antechamber and the set of shelves where his father’s duelling pistol was displayed. The twin of the one Camille had carried, the one she had kept as a memory of her own father.

  Reverentially, Camille lifted it from its stand, ran her hand over the mother-of-pearl handle, checked the store of shot and powder.

  Then she lifted it, sighted down the barrel as though tracking her target.

  Finally, they were closing in.

  6

  The Entrance Hall

  They found the duc in the grand entrance hall, simmering with frustration. Clémentine had returned and was leaning against a side table, braiding the ends of her hair in a gesture so like Olympe that Ada felt suddenly disorientated. At the top of the stairs where they hid, Guil rested a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘You can do this.’ His smile was gentle and familiar and for a moment she could breathe again.

  Behind them Al was limbering up, rolling his head and cracking his joints. ‘Let’s get on with it, before I lose my nerve.’

  Ada checked the hallway again, then pushed them forward.

  At once Al and Guil broke into a run, crashing into the bannister and stumbling down the stairs. Ada followed half a second behind.

  ‘Stop them!’ she yelled, catching herself on the newel post.

  The duc and Clémentine responded at once, heading Guil and Al off at the foot of the stairs. In their haste Guil and Al were uncoordinated, tripping on the last step, tumbling into each other and landing at the duc’s feet. Ada leaped the last few steps and threw herself into restraining them. Al gave a few pathetic wiggles before Clémentine got his hands secured. Guil gave a more realistic performance, and Ada prayed he wouldn’t push it so far things ended up in real violence. A few swift motions and Guil was tied up as well.

  Ada sat back, panting, the tremor in her hands no pretence.

  ‘Did you find Olympe?’ she asked.