Such Wicked Intent Read Online Free Page B

in the Spanish style fashionable for the time. Half hidden in the lace flourishes was a chain with an unusual pendant. Without a doubt it was the star-shaped pendulum weight.
    “This is the fellow who built the château, isn’t it?” asked Henry.
    “And the Dark Library within it,” I replied. “Remember, he’s the one who got on his horse one day and was never seen again.”
    “Your father mentioned that he attempted to converse with spirits and raise ghosts,” Elizabeth said quietly.
    “Perhaps his attempts were successful,” I said. I stared up at his face. His smug smile seemed to be congratulating us for our discovery. “The fellow knows something.”
    “You can learn a lot from a painting,” said Henry, peering more closely at the canvas. “And there’s a great deal of detail in this one. Remarkable. It could have been painted with a magnifying glass.”
    “There’s fruit on the windowsill,” said Elizabeth. “Limes and oranges and apples.”
    “What of them?” I said impatiently.
    “Fruit was terribly expensive three hundred years ago,” said Henry. They’re a display of his wealth. He’s bragging. ‘Look at my limes and oranges! The elaborate brass chandelier! The tapestries on my wall!’”
    I couldn’t help laughing at Henry’s pompous voice.
    “His money’s new to him,” my clever friend continued. “He wants to show it off.”
    Elizabeth looked at him with real admiration, and I felt anunexpected pang of jealousy. “That was well observed, Henry!”
    “I’m a merchant’s son,” he replied, flushing. “I know the cost of things, that’s all.”
    “But there’s symbolism to it as well,” Elizabeth said. “The apple’s always a sign of the forbidden fruit of the tree of knowledge, and”—she pointed—“that one there has a bite out of it.”
    I leaned closer. “So it does. You think that refers to his endeavors in alchemy?”
    “The occult, more likely.”
    “Look at the chandelier,” Henry said. “There are eight holders but only one candle.”
    “Does that have significance?” I asked, starting to feel more than a little irritated by my ignorance amidst all this scholarly brilliance.
    “On the altar at church,” Elizabeth said, “a lit candle is the sign of God’s presence, that He is among us. But”—and she shivered—“that one is unlit.”
    “Perhaps he’s saying he doesn’t believe in God,” I said.
    Elizabeth sniffed. “More like His presence is not invited, but if he thinks he can hide from God, he is sadly mistaken.”
    “But he wants to be seen,” Henry said. “That’s the point of the whole painting. He wants to show us something.”
    “What does he want to show you?” asked a voice behind us, and with a start I turned to see Maria, our housekeeper, staring at us in surprise. Of all our servants Maria had been with us the longest. She had been nurse to both Konrad and me (Konrad being her favorite, naturally) and was practically a member of the family. Indeed, when we were seeking the Elixirof Life, she helped us find the disgraced alchemist Polidori, and kept our secret for us. And when we finally gave the elixir to Konrad, she was in his bedroom, watching. But I never told my parents that—and never would.
    “Hello, Maria,” I said breezily. “We’ve just been amusing ourselves with our ancestors’ portraits. It turns out Henry here has a connoisseur’s eye when it comes to evaluating a painting. He was just pointing out all the signs of wealth in the portrait. The clothing, the fruit, and so forth.”
    “Is that right?” Maria said, looking from me to Henry with some suspicion, then up at Wilhelm Frankenstein. “That fellow, I always look away when I pass him.”
    “Why’s that, Maria?” Elizabeth inquired.
    “The way his eyes follow you. Makes my skin crawl.”
    “Yes, it’s quite a feat to paint the eyes for that effect,” said Henry, playing the part of the eager expert.
    Once more Maria turned her gaze on me,