The Remarkable Miss Frankenstein

'Owls wouldn't groom themselves at dinner parties, true, but there is still the mousing side effect.'

'Oh dear, you're quite right.' Lady Mary paused; then, leaning over to look her brother in the eye, she asked archly, 'Victor—besides the eighteenth, do you know what day this is?'

Her brother focused, truly focused, on her words, and his eyes widened in recognition. 'Good grief. It's Clair's wedding day to that baron fellow!'

Good! Lady Mary rejoiced. She had finally gotten through to her brother. 'Yes. And you need to prepare yourself for the ceremony. After all, you are giving the bride away.' And with those words, Lady Mary burst into tears. She had just realized for the first time that her niece would be leaving the Frankenstein home—the niece whom she had loved like a daughter, whom she had raised since Clair was four.

Mary remembered the first frog Clair had tried to make fly after attaching paper wings to its back. Grimacing slightly, she also recalled the frog's rather ignominious landing, after it was dropped from the top of the house. Clair had been in tears and never again tried to get any creature to fly unless its wings were already built in by nature. Lady Mary would never forget her niece's horrified expression as the frog fell thirty feet and made a terrible splat.

What if the baron didn't treat her beloved Clair right? Mary wondered. What if he was the type to sip brandy all night long? What if he had warts?

And would the baron leave Clair free to be her wonderful, inquisitive self after they were wed? Would he cherish her forever? Would Clair ever come visit her old aunt again? Would she ever see Clair's children? What had she done by succeeding in her stupid Plan A, To Catch a Baron?

Awkwardly, Victor patted his sister's shoulder. 'Come now, Mary. All chicks leave their nest.'

'My darling girl is leaving me!' Lady Mary said. And she cried harder.

Embarrassed, Victor prodded her. 'Come, my dear, you are a Frankenstein. Buck up.' He did so hate seeing women cry. It made him feel helpless, especially when his aid merely made his sister grab a handkerchief from her pocket and sob harder.

Growing desperate, he hit upon a grand idea. A brilliant Frankensteinian plan. 'Eureka! I know, Mary. I will make you another niece,' he stated grandly.

The Bride Is a Frankenstein

Six figures dressed all in black entered St. George's Cathedral and joined the congregation. The oldest of the group marched to the front of the altar and bellowed in a voice at odds with the size of her diminutive figure, 'Where's the funeral?'

Lady Mary, clad in her blue wedding finery, hurried to the old woman's side and explained, 'Lady Vandeover, you have your days confused. Tomorrow is the funeral for Mr. Pugsley. Today is my niece's wedding.'

'Wedding, did you say?' Mrs. Vandeover asked, lifting her hearing horn.

Lady Mary nodded, motioning for one of the ushers to come and escort the wizened woman to a seat. 'Here, let Mr. Sleet help you and your party to the pews.'

Beside her, Ozzie asked, 'Is Mr. Pugsley a relative?'

'No, her pug.'

'She's using St. George's Cathedral for a dog's funeral?' the duke questioned, amazed.

'She's very well off, you know.' Lady Mary told him all about the woman as he escorted her back to her seat.

Glancing about, she felt her spirits revive. The church was still like one in a fairy tale, decorated beautifully with gardenias and orange blossoms. The smell was heavenly. White stuffed turtledoves and lovebirds were placed strategically all around.

Over a hundred and fifty guests—Mary's compromise with Ian—sat in the pews. The Frankensteins and their friends sat on the left; Ian's family and friends were seated to the right, staring over at Frederick. Lady Mary decided their awe must be due to such august company.

As Ozzie seated then took his seat beside her, Lady Mary proudly surveyed the assemblage. Frederick was dressed in a rust-colored jacket, which toned down the greenish cast of his skin. He looked remarkably fine, Lady Mary decided, studying him, for a man who was wearing someone else's face.

Next to Frederick sat Victor and Professor Whutson, both talking shop. Beside them, Clair's uncle Tieck busily scribbled more notes, having confided earlier to Lady Mary that he was writing a sequel to his last novel.

Lady Mary frowned. She'd had enough of all this vampire business. It had almost gotten her beloved niece killed. And if it weren't for the fact that Clair had met Ian through the whole nasty business, she would be quite put out.

'Let them eat cake!' Lady Abby cried from next to Lady Mary. She was dressed to suit her role as Louis XVI's queen.

Mary patted the woman's hand. 'We will, Marie. Soon. And it will be delicious. Ozzie made it, you know.' She smiled fondly at her lover.

'That's 'Your Highness' to you,' Lady Abby huffed.

'Yes, dear,' Mary replied.

At the back of the massive church, another famous figure entered. Dr. Durlock Homes. He stood for a moment surveying the scene, stifling a smile. It wasn't something he did very often. His work was so serious and grave that he had a hard time finding humor in anything but the most absurd.

Beside him, the tall, mustachioed Artie Doyle appeared and asked, 'Which side is the bride's?'

Holmes lifted an eyebrow. 'Rudimentary, my dear chap. Rudimentary.' He pointed, then went and seated himself beside Professor Whutson in the seat vacated by Victor, since it was time for Victor to escort his niece to the altar.

The church grew quiet as the wedding march sounded, and the bridal procession began their walk down the aisle. A collective gasp came from the assemblage upon seeing the bride standing in the entrance. She was indeed a vision, dressed in yards of creamy satin with pearl inlays. Clair carried orange blossoms in her hand, and on her head was the Frankenstein wedding veil—a monstrous creation of lace, feathers, and flowers, with a towering crown topped by a tiara.

Yes, what a vision I am, Clair thought glumly. How could she have let them talk her into this hideous costume? She knew it was custom. All Frankenstein brides were married in this nasty veil. It was said to bring good luck.

'In a pig's eye!' she muttered.

'What's that?' her uncle asked, leaning as close as he could with the offensive veil. 'You aren't regretting your decision to marry Ian, are you? Even though he is not in a scientific profession, I find myself rather liking him.'

In fact, Victor had been estatic over Clair wedding Ian. So much so that he had gotten drunk and fallen into one of the graves he was robbing. Luckily, Frederick had come along and rescued him.

'No. No doubts whatsoever,' Clair said.

Her uncle Victor smiled and patted her hand on his arm. 'Stiff upper back, my dear. Let's give them the old Frankenstein show.'

Clair smiled bravely, even though her knees were shaking, and she began her triumphant walk down the aisle. Soon the festive mood caught her spirit and she forgot about her hideous veil, reveling in her good fortune.

On this day of all days, Clair felt only love for Ian, her family, and her friends. It was a very special day, one she would remember when she grew old and gray. Yes, this was a very special day. Like the day she had discovered sodium sulfate could make exploding gas. Her uncle had shown her, and he had been so proud when she repeated the experiment all by herself, even though she blew up his favorite beaker.

Glancing to her side, she took in her uncle's proud visage. He had always encouraged her to fly to the stars, in spite of the fact that she was only a female. And when she had fallen, both he and Clair's aunts had been there