The Madman’s Daughter. Megan Shepherd

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       FIVE

      The pocket watch, Montgomery explained, had broken. He’d been instructed to have it repaired by a clockmaker in the city and brought to my father along with the rest of the supplies.

      But I didn’t care about his explanation.

      ‘You lied to me,’ I said.

      He dipped his head, avoiding my gaze. ‘I said I’d heard speculation that he died. That’s true enough.’

      ‘He’s been alive this whole time and you’ve known it.’ I sank to the bed, closing my eyes. Seeing Father’s watch had brought that wall back up, reminding me that I wasn’t a child anymore. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down, not even with Montgomery.

      He turned toward the window, twisting the watch chain. ‘He thought if the world assumed him dead, they’d leave him alone.’

      Father was alive and had never tried to find me – the painful realization of that betrayal ripped open the last tender stitch in my heart. ‘But I’m his daughter.’

      His only response was to pour me a glass of brandy and one for himself. He, as well, had returned to the act of playing adults. He sank into the desk chair. ‘I still work for him, but no longer as a servant. I’m his assistant now. He isn’t here, if you’re wondering. He refuses to come back to England. We live on a biological station, of sorts. An island.’ He swallowed the brandy and considered the empty glass. ‘It’s very far. He wanted a private place to continue his work undisturbed. I leave every eighteen months or so for supplies.’

      I set my glass down, untouched. ‘And your associate? Are all his kind like him?’

      ‘The islanders.’ Montgomery hunched over his glass. His hair had come loose again, veiling his face. ‘They are, yes. You needn’t fear him. He’s harmless.’

      As though he’d heard himself mentioned, Balthazar came in with a fresh pot of tea on a tray. He was a monster of a man, twice my size, with hands like bludgeons. He set the tray down and daintily removed the sugar bowl’s tiny lid. Montgomery thanked and dismissed him.

      He prepared my tea again with my childhood sugar ritual. The steam from my cup rose like the words of an oracle, forming a haze between us. I took a sip, hoping the tea would soothe my nerves. I tried to remember him as a child. He’d been quiet, especially about what went on in the laboratory. But Mother had been, too, as had the other servants, and all of us. None of us wanted to talk about the puddles of blood on the operating-room floor or the animals that went in and never came out or the noises that woke us in the night. Father said those were the ways of science and I shouldn’t question them. Montgomery, at least, had taken good care of the animals before they went in.

      I took another sip of tea. ‘How did you find my father after so many years?’

      ‘Find him? I never left him. The story about running away … it wasn’t exactly like that.’ He brushed the loose strands of hair behind his ear. ‘After his colleagues made their accusations, your father knew he had to flee. He thought Australia might look upon his work more favorably. He took me with him. We found an island off the coast that suited his needs. I didn’t want to leave you and your mother, but I hadn’t a choice. I was twelve years old.’

      ‘And you’ve been there this whole time?’ The teacup trembled in my palm.

      ‘There is much you don’t know,’ he said. ‘I was just a boy.’

      ‘Well, you aren’t a boy anymore,’ I snapped, even though I knew that wasn’t entirely true. He dressed like a man, but he was too stiff in his clothes, too uncomfortable. He was only pretending to be a gentleman, and making a fairly poor show of it. ‘You don’t have to keep working for him. You can come back to London – he can’t return or they’ll arrest him.’

      Montgomery bristled, as though the idea of returning to London was like agreeing to be locked in a cage. He didn’t want to return, I realized. The city, with all its mechanization and soot and rigid society laws, had lost its hold on him.

      But he said nothing. He only jerked his chin at the pocket watch and then at last said, ‘It’s not that simple. He’s been like a father to me.’

      ‘He’s no father!’ I curled my fingers into the armrests, suddenly angry that my father had left me behind and raised a servant boy instead. ‘Haven’t you heard? He’s a madman.’

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