Dracula in Love by Karen Essex (7)

I returned to a quiet house. Lucy was still sleeping in her bed, her blond hair splayed across the pillow. Her mouth was open, and a tiny stream of saliva had dried up into little white flakes in its corner. I was trying to close the bedroom door as quietly as possible when she began to stir. Her eyelids fluttered a few times as she whispered my name.

The room was growing dark so I struck a match and lit a bedside lamp. Lucy squinted against the light, shading her eyes with her hand. I sat on the bed next to her, blocking the light for her while her eyes adjusted.

“Oh, I cannot move,” she said, closing her eyes again. I thought for a moment that she would fall back asleep and that I would have a reprieve. But she opened her eyes again, and this time, with an anxious look.

“Well? Did you speak with him?” Despite the lethargy in her body, her eyes peered at me as if she were the predator and I the prey.

“Lucy, my darling, there is no gentle or nice way to say what I must say.” I put my hand over hers, but she drew it away.

I told her the truth: I had gone to speak with Morris Quince, but he had left to go back to America. She did not react as I anticipated, with tears or self-recrimination. She leapt from the bed and tore off her nightdress. She pulled the dress I had laid on the back of a chair over her head. “I don’t believe you,” she said when her head popped out of the top.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “You are making too much noise. Your mother is asleep. You’ll wake her.”

“I am going to see for myself. Mina, you have been in league with my mother since you have been here in Whitby. I should never have trusted you.”

She slipped her shoes on but did not bother to lace them and raced to the front door, where she was met with a shock. John Seward and Arthur Holmwood were standing there, Holmwood’s hand raised as if to knock.

“There she is,” Arthur said, kissing Lucy’s forehead. The men entered the room, and Seward put down his black bag. “Miss Lucy, you really should not be out of bed, what with all you have been through.”

Hearing the men’s voices, Mrs. Westenra came rushing in. “Ah, our knights have arrived!”

The men came deeper into the parlor, removing their hats. Everyone stood awkwardly until Mrs. Westenra called for Hilda to make tea.

I will never forget the way that Lucy composed herself at that moment to get the information she so desperately sought. She took a breath and broke into a smile. I knew the smile was utterly false, but I think that the men did not see it. She graciously invited them to sit down. “Mr. Holmwood, I hope you did not upset your holiday in Scarborough for my sake, for as you can see, I am very well.”

“You look as lovely as ever, Miss Lucy,” he said formally. “But I think we should let the good doctor here be the judge of your health.”

“Of course,” Lucy said, looking around the room as if something were missing. “But where there are two, there are usually three. Where is Mr. Quince?”

She astonished me with her innocent tone. Her mother stiffened.

“Why, I have no idea,” Holmwood replied. “He was to travel by land and meet me in Scarborough, but the wretch did not.” His voice was inflected with the sort of affection men reserve for their irascible friends. He turned to Seward. “John, have you heard from Quince?”

Seward scrunched his shoulders in a shrug. “He is our friend, but we allow him to be socially unreliable, as Americans tend to be.”

Holmwood spoke slowly, considering his words. “An interesting breed, but they do not have an English gentleman’s sense of honor, or of the sanctity of his word. He is probably off on an adventure, as per usual. Probably involving one young lady or another.” Holmwood winked at Seward.

“Miss Lucy, you look a little peaked. I would like to check your vital signs,” Dr. Seward said.

But Lucy had reached the limit of her acting skills. “I am not ill. I am well!” Lucy stood, raising her hands into the air like a dancer and then letting her fingers glide down the length of her body as if to emphasize its state of well-being. “I am all too well! Now please excuse me.” She threw her head back and walked into her bedroom.

“I apologize on my daughter’s behalf,” Mrs. Westenra said. “She is not herself since the incident.”

“It’s a typical response from a female who has been attacked, Arthur,” Dr. Seward said. “One must not blame the patient.”

Both Seward and Mrs. Westenra searched Holmwood’s face, looking for signals of his mood.

“Why don’t I go check on Lucy?” I said. I started to make my way to Lucy’s room when Holmwood stopped me. He had yet to comment on Lucy’s outburst, but his face was wrenched into an uneasy frown. “Miss Mina, would you please take a message to Miss Lucy?”

Mrs. Westenra put her hand on Holmwood’s sleeve. “Now, Arthur, please do not take any drastic measures. Lucy has had an upset, but she will recover and she will again be the Lucy you proposed to.”

Holmwood look appalled at the lady’s little speech. “Madam, you misinterpret. I would never abandon Lucy in her hour of need.” He looked truly insulted. “Please tell Miss Lucy that whatever unfortunate thing has happened, it will not cause me to love her less. In fact, I-I-” he stammered, looking to Seward as if for inspiration or permission, “In fact, tell her that I wish to expedite the day of our marriage. Tell her that I desire nothing more than to care for her as a husband must care for his wife, and that I shall set an immediate date for our wedding.”

“Mr. Holmwood, I am overwhelmed!” exclaimed Mrs. Westenra, as if it were she who would marry him the sooner.

“That should go a long way to speeding up Lucy’s recovery,” I said politely, though I knew the opposite to be true. I excused myself, with the three of them watching me as I walked away. I found Lucy in the bedroom sitting at the vanity brushing her hair and examining her face in the mirror.

“Mina, I know you think me a fool, but my heart beats with the certainty that Morris would not have abandoned me to Arthur of his own volition.”

“Let us put aside Morris Quince for a moment Lucy-”

She stopped me, holding the hairbrush in front of her like a shield against my words. “I will never put Morris Quince aside. If you knew anything about love, you would not advise me to do so,” Lucy said.

I intended to give an impassioned speech about the wisdom of marrying Arthur Holmwood and becoming mistress of Waverley Manor, when we heard the light rap of Hilda’s knuckles at the door.

“Miss Murray?”

I opened the door, and Hilda handed me a letter. “This just came for you by messenger.”

“Thank you, Hilda,” I said. The envelope of high-quality laid paper with a teardrop flap and a dragon seal was addressed to Miss Mina Murray. The script was extravagant, with large letters finely formed. I tore open the envelope and read the note given in the same penmanship:

You will find Mr. Jonathan Harker in a hospital operated by the Daughters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul in the city of Graz. You may trust that this information is true and is brought to you by one who cares only for you. You will be protected on your voyage, should you choose to go to him. I remain-

I tucked the note into my pocket and tried to regain my composure. Even in her mad state, Lucy could see that I was in shock. “What’s the matter?”

“Jonathan’s been found,” I said. I could not disclose how I had received the information, and indeed, I did not know how this all-knowing, ubiquitous creature who called himself my servant and my master had found me in Whitby or how he knew Jonathan’s location.

Two days later, in answer to a telegram that John Seward suggested I send to the hospital, a letter came back that Jonathan was indeed on the list of patients. He was recovering from a case of brain fever, and it was advisable for a relation to come to his aid. Seward translated the letter and assured me that Graz was renowned for its hospitals, owing to the excellent medical school in the city.

“My, but it is useful to have one friend from university who did not waste his tenure at drinking and sport,” said Arthur Holmwood. The two men were holding vigil every day at Henrietta Street, pestering Lucy over her condition. She spent most of her time in bed, feigning headaches just to avoid them, all the while certain that word from Morris would arrive at any moment.

Seward smiled at the compliment, but a worried look came over his face. “Brain fever is a blanket diagnosis for a variety of illnesses, Miss Mina,” he said. “When you return to England, if you do not find him fully recovered, I will have Dr. Von Helsinger examine him. He was my mentor in Germany at medical school and, I am happy to say, now my colleague at the asylum. His theories on the interaction of blood, brain, body, and spirit are considered radical, and yet I believe him to be a man decades ahead of his time.”

“Then I am certain that Mr. Harker would like to meet him, for he too is a very modern thinker,” I replied. I wanted to emphasize to Seward that I was engaged to a man of substance.

I sent a telegram to Mr. Hawkins, Jonathan’s uncle, that he was in Graz and that I would go to him immediately. He replied with apologies for the illness that prevented him from taking the trip in my stead but wired ample funds to a bank in Whitby to pay for my journey and any medical costs that Jonathan had incurred.

I had never traveled out of the country, much less traveled alone, and long dialogues were held about my safety and the best and most expedient route I should take. I allowed these matters to be decided for me, as I had no knowledge that might help form a strong opinion one way or another. I sent a note to Headmistress explaining why I would not be present at the start of classes, and allowed John Seward, who knew German and some of the Slavic languages that were also spoken in Styria, to coach me in the pronunciation of a few key words. Arthur Holmwood used his family connections to have a passport issued to me in haste.

At the Whitby station, Seward reviewed my itinerary with me once more. “I envy Mr. Harker his malady if it means that such a beautiful woman is willing to travel so many miles to see to him.” He stole a furtive glance at Lucy, and I had the firm impression that in addition to flattering me, he was trying to make her jealous.

I took Lucy aside to say good-bye. I clutched her hands in mine and kissed both her cheeks. “I beg of you to be wise, Lucy. Your future depends upon it.” I whispered these words into her ear, but when I drew back and looked at her face, I saw that she had no intention of obeying me.

With an uncomfortable feeling in my belly for the welfare of my friend, I thanked the two men for all that they had done for me and I turned my thoughts to the future. Tonight I would be in the city of Hull, where I would catch the boat to Rotterdam, and then travel by train to Vienna, and then on to Graz.