Snowdrop (A Frankenstein Story)

Chapter 15

The evening had not gone according to plan. Not even a little. Well, perhaps a little: Georgia agreed to be his wife. She had finally seen what he looked like and didn't recoil. It was the best thing that ever happened and was ultimately the reason everything went so horribly wrong. Amelia Rizzoli, the beautiful Italian who hovered near him until Georgia arrived, was dead and her father was full of anger and grief; if he saw Felix, he was sure to descend into madness. A special night ended with the murder of an innocent woman, and the arrival of an old benefactor distorted beyond hope. And Georgia was away from him once more.

Felix was rendered unconscious not long after the police arrived. Several officers fainted at the sight, filling Felix with some strange excitement before being subdued. Unlike Rossignol, Felix savored the attention his grotesque form was receiving. Before Felix was taken away, the officers bound him in more chains than was necessary. Rossignol was sure Felix was now chained to a wall in a damp cellar hidden in one of the old buildings past the prison and away from the public.

Nothing seemed to work when he spoke, Felix understood nothing but Agatha, whom he mocked and imitated, and Georgia, whom he believed was dead by his hands. The only thing Rossignol did manage to accomplish from the night was raising the curiosity and suspicion of nearly everyone he came in contact with. If not for his friendship with the captain of the police force he was sure things would have been far worse for him. They questioned his relationship with Felix: how did they know each other and for how long? Rossignol lied to them and claimed that he hadn't seen Felix in eight long years. How could he tell anyone that he had lived in this cruel world for only three years? Or that what he assumed was his birthday was five days ago. To the Italians, he knew Felix, his wife, Agatha, and their daughter, Eva, eight years ago. There was no one to contest his statement. And he was just as clueless as everyone else about Felix's mission.

That didn't stop the horde of questions. Was Amelia targeted because of her close proximity to Rossignol or was Georgia's name simply mentioned around her leading to a mentally deranged Felix to assume she was his target? Witnesses didn't see him until he attacked her. Given that she stood close to a servant's entrance, they believed he had been hiding there. Every staff member and servant of the hall would be questioned in the morning if not that very evening. A beautiful night had unraveled so horrendously. But as it stood, Rossignol was only accused of hiring a servant that either didn't like him or had a grudge against Georgia.

Felix would be executed, Rossignol had no doubt about this, there was nothing that could be done for him. Rossignol's only fear was that they would discover Felix's origin and his as a result. Would they come for him? Would he be strung up for slaughter? Or was his mind merely being cruel to him?

Rossignol sat in his small, inconspicuous apartments several streets from the inn where he housed Georgia. It was modest, he merely slept there. No one ever visited him, not that he would let them in. It was commonly believed by the locals that he was a man of mystery, and perhaps he was, but he coveted his privacy. Privacy kept him safe from rejection, kept the Venetians from fearing him and rioting. Privacy enabled him to envision a future with Georgia, the only downside was the unbearable loneliness, only Georgia was the cure to such an agonizing existence.

The apartment boasted three rooms: a tiny parlor where he took his meals— the only place the servants were allowed, a washroom, and his bedroom. In the parlor was a collection of upholstered chairs and a sofa built for two, a carved, circular table that would be sent to Georgia's home as soon as he could arrange it, and several oil paintings. A large blue and gold rug brightened the parlor bringing the room to life.

In the washroom sat a tub full of warm water. During the unexpected events of the night the few servants he employed made sure he had a bath ready, it was the last thing he expected, but the first thing he needed. Rossignol striped down the layers of clothing and folded each garment as neatly as he could over a small chair in the washroom. This certainly was not the apartment expected for a man of his wealth, but he was new to money and his living quarters went beyond anything he needed or desired.