Hideous Love: The Story of the Girl Who Wrote Frankenstein (7 page)

Claire knows it.

I think of the myriad

comments I could make

about my stepsister

and her facial features

but I just say,

“One day I hope

you experience

pregnancy and all

of its wonders too.”

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BIRTH

February 22, 1815

My baby comes early,

and I am at ease

when she arrives.

Shelley, agitated

and exhausted, paces

about the room.

We do not name her

as we were not prepared

for her to be born yet

and selected no name.

I am as though

the sun

ran through my body

and light

beams from my pores.

Being a mother delights me so.

Shelley and Claire

run about town for a cradle

and to find us a new home,

though I wonder if we should

move the baby.

We move on March 2

to Arabella Row.

When I awake on the eleventh day

of my little baby girl’s life,

I cannot stir her.

When I went to nurse

her the night before she didn’t budge

and I thought her sleeping.

She is so cold when I pick her up today

my arms ache holding her.

No breath rises in her chest.

My baby neither moves, nor screams,

nor can I.

I was a mother

and I am no longer

I was a mother

and I am no longer

repeats through my brain.

I don’t know what to do

and a heavy numbness

settles over me

like one lost

out in the cold

all night.

I cannot be moved

from bed.

I send for Hogg

to help with arrangements

and to console me.

I feel I can rely on him,

and I worry

that Shelley might not handle

what is required

or my mood right now.

My own mother

died eleven days

after my birth,

and my baby

lived only eleven days.

Shelley and Claire

resume their daily schedule

of visits to money lenders

and booksellers,

but a part of me

has died.

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MARCH

March 1815

I dream my baby girl

restores to life,

we rub her

before the fire

and she opens her eyes.

But then I awake

and the cradle lays empty.

And my heart shatters

all over again.

Shelley fears he is dying

of consumption.

He obsesses about death,

yet seems to forget

that we have just lost

a child.

Claire has no understanding.

“Why must you always

gloom about so?” she demands.

Claire must go.

I tell Shelley this.

I need to breathe.

I cannot even

see my own hands

when Claire stands in front of me.

We cannot send her

back to Skinner Street

as the family scandal

of us leaving with Shelley

cannot be condoned by Father

or it will damage

my sister Fanny’s prospects

of gainful employment

with her aunts.

Because there is nowhere else

for Claire besides among us right now,

here she remains

like a hatpin through my skull.

But another solution

will be found.

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SALT HILL

April 1815

Shelley and I travel

alone to the Windmill Inn

at Salt Hill in Buckinghamshire.

The creditors

hound my love and

we need to escape.

The inn is as pretty

as I could have imagined,

the fields greener

than emeralds,

and we steal away

from London alone,

never mind the reason.

I feel serenity and joy

for the first time

in months.

Shelley kisses me

tenderly and whispers

that perhaps we should

try to have another child.

I can think of nothing I want more.

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GOOD RIDDANCE

May 1815

We return to a new house

that Hogg finds us,

and Claire tromps about the rooms

as though she is the lady of the house.

I reach wit’s end.

Shelley retreats by reading Seneca,

while Claire and I

fight like angry hens

about every choice to be made.

My sister Fanny sneaks

out to see us from time to time,

though if my father

knew she saw us

he would string her up.

Her visits are brief as a glance,

and she often entreats Shelley

to give my father money

as she claims his situation to be dire.

Sir Timothy, Shelley’s father,

settles Shelley’s debts as well as

some of my father’s obligations.

We will finally receive

our annual allowance

of one thousand pounds,

two hundred of which

go to Harriet. At long last

we shall not be

running from creditors.

Shelley spends all morning

with Claire, all afternoon

amusing her as well

and in the evening

they share a last talk.

For tomorrow

Claire leaves for Lynmouth,

a village in Devon

on the west coast of England,

where she will reside alone.

I gavotte about the house

light as silk.

While Shelley escorts Claire

to her carriage

I await at home,

maintaining my usual schedule.

When he does not return all day

I pace the house

with tears that fail to end.

I fear that Shelley has fled

with Claire

and left me,

like he did Harriet,

for good.

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TRUST

May 1815

When I lived

on Spinner Street

with nothing but my wits,

Shelley recognized

in me a glow

of greatness.

When we eloped

to Switzerland

on nothing but our beliefs,

Shelley held

my hand promising

not to let go.

When we lost

our first child

to death’s cold silence,

Shelley vowed

to once again

create our family.

When I wait

in an empty house

for my love’s return,

I shall be vindicated.

Shelley will bound

back into my arms

as though we never

were apart.

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OUR REGENERATION

Summer 1815

Shelley more than returns

to me.

With Claire gone

we nestle into life

as a twosome.

I am pregnant

again, and happy

as my beating heart.

Health becomes paramount

as I refuse to lose this baby.

My poor Shelley

suffers from debilitating

abdominal pains

and panics that he will die

very soon of consumption.

I believe this may be somewhat

a construct of his overactive mind.

Nevertheless, we must

escape London

and salve him with the seaside.

We vacation to Clifton

and Torquay, both renown

for their health giving air.

But my Shelley stirs, restless,

even as we travel

and abandons me

to holiday alone.

He returns to London

to seek a home for us

and to see Dr. Lawrence,

who assures Shelley

that he has not contracted tuberculosis.

Lynmouth is less than a day’s walk

from here, and I fret

when Shelley leaves me,

he does so

to visit Claire.

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A HOME

August 1815

Shelley finds us a home

in Bishopsgate, near Windsor.

I love it immediately

as there is a garden

and enchanting views of the abbeys,

the heath and the lake.

I also acquire a small staff

to perform the domestic duties