invalid."
Jonathan
looked at her, astonished by what she'd said. "Darling, since you'll need
her care, you can hardly hide what has
happened. Besides, pampering
is exactly what you need."
"Jonathan!"
she whispered.
"Please,
Mina. We've kept enough secrets from her." Mina lay back, too weak to
protest. Millicent entered with a pot of tea and
some soup for the three of
them. "Mina thinks she might have been pregnant," Jonathan said.
"Oh,
child! Now you've lost it?" There was genuine sorrow in Millicent's eyes.
"I
fainted at the hospital, but the room was so warm. Perhaps it was only heat or
exhaustion," Mina suggested. As they ate
together, Millicent described Winnie's rude behavior. Though she
did not blame Mina at all, she made certain that Mina's part in it was mentioned,
and suggested, as tactfully as her temperament allowed, that Mina's visit to
the hospital might have been to blame for her condition. "You weren't
completely well and that's the truth," she said to Mina. "You went
out too soon, and to a place such as that."
Jonathan would certainly take her
side now, Mina thought. She had not counted on his habitual sense of duty.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Until you're completely well, you must
stay at home, darling." With that simple assent, those almost loving words,
Mina's desire to confide in him vanished.
She was silent throughout the rest of the meal, stayed silent when
Millicent left and they were alone. That night, for the first time in so many,
he stayed with her and held her-possibly because he was certain that tonight
there could be nothing but affection between them.
Millicent
has been clucking over me like a stern mother hen,
she wrote in
shorthand in her private journal a few nights later.
I admit that I like the
attention, but not the smug way she gives it. I suppose I should be thankful
that the woman treats me as a daughter-in-law ratherthan a rival and in her
own dour way seems to have my best interests at heart.
I have not felt so
despondent since we left Transylvania. It seems as if a huge weight were
pressing down on me, making
it difficult to move, even to breathe. All that is left is sleep.
Fortunately, the loss has brought Jonathan and me closer together. He is with
me each night, and as long as he is beside me, I sleep without dreams.
This
amazes me, for the scent of my own blood seems to hang heavy in this room,
reminding me of all the tragedies that have occurred to mar our happiness. I
tell myself that things will get better, and yet, though my intellect is
certain of this, my soul cannot believe it. Even when I thought I had lost
heaven forever, I did not feel such despair.
And now I have lied to
Jonathan. Well, in a month I will know for certain if I have lost a child or am
on the road to
losing my mind.
When days had passed without any
word from Mina, Winnie sent Margaret to the Harker house with a note. The girl
returned with no reply. Winnie visited Mina personally the following day, but
Millicent said curtly that Mina was resting and could not be disturbed. Winnie
left a second note, but when that was also ignored, she became convinced that
the messages were being thrown away before Mina could see them.
She recalled
that Mina had spoken as fondly of her husband as Winnie herself spoke of Mr. Beason.
With that in mind, her visit
the following afternoon was
to the firm of Hawkins and Harker.
When Winnie
Beason swept into Jonathan's office, filled with polite indignation at being
turned away from his home, he saw in her
a spark of the old Mina, the one of decisiveness and courage. He
desperately wanted that woman to return, but force of habit made him follow
Millicent's sensible suggestions.
"She
told you what happened?" Winnie asked.
"About
the child, yes."
"It is
a loss, Mr. Harker, one that a man for all his love and sympathy cannot fully
understand. She will dwell on it. Her body gives
her little choice. It is
something that she must force herself to throw off. I'd like to see her, to
counsel her."
When
Jonathan had come home last night, Mina had greeted him with a wan smile. When
he left the bed this morning, she had
not stirred. He had stared down at her, amazed at the ashen color
of her skin, the lack of luster in her hair, as if her body responded to the
hopelessness gripping her mind. She needed sympathy, of course, but even more
than that, she needed rest, a concept he doubted that Winnie understood.
"I
don't think it's possible to see her yet. Perhaps next week."
Winnie considered arguing and
decided against it. Instead she made a point of calling on a friend who lived
on the same street as the Harkers and served on the hospital board. As the
women sat in the parlor, Winnie positioned herself so that she could watch the
street. When Millicent passed by outside, carrying a market basket, Winnie
excused herself and walked to the Harker house.
What she planned was most improper, but she consoled herself with
the thought that the worst that could happen was she would be turned away at
the door. After adjusting her hat and straightening her coat, she rang the
bell. When no one answered, she rang again.
After a
third try, she checked the door, found it unlocked, and went inside.
"Mina," she called softly and heard light footsteps on
the servants' stairs.
A young maid
rushed into the hall, her hair falling loose from its net, her face smudged
with dirt. "I would like to see Mrs. Harker,
please," Winnie
demanded.
"That isn't possible. Miss Millicent and Mr. Harker gave
orders that-" "I've just seen Mr. Harker. Is Mina upstairs?" "She's
sleeping."
"Then
I'll peek in and see how she is. You needn't show me the way; I know it."
Winnie walked up the stairs slowly, certain that
any speed would send the
flustered girl running after her.
The heavy
drapes were drawn over Mina's window. Though the fire had nearly burned out,
the room was warm from the earlier
blaze. Mina lay in bed,
sleeping so soundly that Winnie's hand on her forehead did not wake her.
"No
fever. Well, that's good, Mina dear." She spoke louder; "Now you must
wake up!"
As Mina
began to stir, Winnie went and pulled open the drapes. A rush of sunlight, its
rays diffused by the dust falling from the
curtains, forced Mina awake. Her eyes, red and swollen from
crying, squinted in the harsh light as she tried to focus on her tormentor.
"Laura, is that you?"
Winnie sat
beside her. "I suppose after that awakening, you'll want me to go,"
she commented.
"Winnie! I was expecting you, but I assumed I would get some
warning." "Warning!" Winnie laughed. "Mina, I nearly had to
break down the door."
They spent the next hour alone together. During it, Winnie kept up
a constant stream of chatter, coaxing Mina out of bed, sitting behind her at
the dressing table, working to comb the many tangles out of her hair.
"Does Millicent know what happened to you?" she finally asked.
"Yes.
But it's so strange. My bleeding stopped two days ago, just as always. I had
heard that when you're traveling, it's natural to
be late. But if it had been
nothing more than that, shouldn't the pain have subsided by now?"
"Physical
pain?" Winnie asked, concerned that some infection might have set in.
Mina shook
her head. "I think of the life I may have lost. The lack of certainty
makes it worse somehow."
"Even
if you weren't certain, it will be hard to forget. I know. I had four
miscarriages before Mr. Beason and I decided to remain
childless. The last time, I
was in my sixth month."
"How
did you go on?"
"By doing what I always did. Every day the anguish would be a
bit less." She took one of Mina's hands in both her own, the way Van
Helsing had done so recently, while Mina stared into the mirror at both of
them. How pale her face seemed, how colorless her eyes.
"What
was it you wanted to do before this happened, Mina?" Winnie asked.
"Wanted?" Her little
journal and the book she had taken were still safely hidden. Secrets, Winnie,
she thought. I wanted to keep secrets from my husband and his aunt, even from
you. Now the last didn't seem right. Someone besides herself ought to know
what she was planning. Perhaps Winnie could even help. "Winnie, do you
consider yourself to have an open mind?"
Winnie laughed. "As open as possible. About what?" "About
... the devil, and creatures that serve him."
Winnie
stared directly into Mina's face, an amused smile on her lips. "Mina
Harker, are you inviting me to a séance? If you are, I
assure you that I shall be
certain to attend."
"Not a séance. I need to tell
you about the last few months of my life. I don't expect you to believe any of
it, but I assure you that it is true. Jonathan has the journals and notes that
we all wrote locked in his safe. I would rather not ask him for them just now,
but you can check some of the facts for yourself through the newspapers. I
remember the dates quite clearly. It began when Jonathan left Exeter the end
of April . . ."
An hour
passed. Millicent brought up tea, set it on the bedside table and left without
a word. After that short pause in their
conversation, Mina talked until four. She had just finished
describing Lucy's death when Winnie said she had to go. "I'll come back tomorrow
if you like," she said.
Mina nodded. "Come at one. I will be in the parlor waiting
for you." "Dressed for a walk, I hope."
"If you wish." Mina looked
down at her hands. "Winnie, I said I would understand if you did not
believe me, but I want you to." She took a piece of paper from her
writing box and scribbled some dates. "The first is the date the storm
blew the ship called
Demeter
into Whitby harbor. The story ran in the Whitby papers for some
days. I'm sure you can find mention of it here. The second is the day Lucy
Westerna died. The third was the day we read about the molesting of children in
Hampstead. I haven't come to that part of the story, but it is important to my
tale. The Exeter newspaper keeps back issues, does it not? Please go and check
them."
"Mina,
I have no reason not to believe you."
"You will," Mina replied. "Be assured that you
will. Now, please. I need you to be completely convinced. Do as I ask." "All
right, but no matter what I discover, even the plague could not keep me from
coming tomorrow to hear chapter two."
In spite of what she said, Winnie did want to check Mina's dates.
Curiosity would not let her wait for morning, and she arrived at the
Exeter Telegram
just as it
was closing. A healthy tip kept the office open an extra half hour while she
paged through the back issues.
The strange story of the Russian ship
Demeter
had the most
prominence for, as its writer asserted, "Never before had a ship reached
harbor with a dead man at the wheel." Follow-up stories on the boxes of
earth inside and the diary of the captain gave credence to Mina's story,
Actually, Winnie realized, Mina's story of a vampire feeding off the crew made
more sense than the madman theory that finally closed the case.
Lucy Westerna's death in
mid-September was briefly mentioned, primarily because she had been engaged to
Lord Godalming, who owned a house in Exeter. As for the mysterious
"Bloofer Lady" preying on children in Hampstead, Winnie remembered reading
that odd story when it ran two months before.
That night,
as she and her husband ate their dinner, he commented that she seemed strangely
silent. "Preoccupied," she replied.
A one-word
answer to a question that would normally keep Winnie conversing for hours
alarmed him. "You're not ill, are you?"
"No,
merely thinking of something I was discussing this afternoon." She put
down her fork and stared at her husband. "Do you
believe in ghosts?" she
asked.
"Of course. Many sane people do these days, particularly
since they seem to be turning up everywhere." "And do you think that
the soul of a person could somehow ... well, animate the body it once occupied?"
Emory Beason chuckled. "Not for very long, my dear, though I
could well imagine some moldering body appearing like Grendel in the midst of
a roomful of aristocratic dabblers in the occult. The sight would ruin a
perfectly respectable séance, not to mention the effect of the smell. Now,
whoever gave you that idea?"
"Just a
conversation I had at tea. Nothing serious."
But it was.
Whatever Mina told her, she was prepared to believe. She reminded herself of
this as she rang Mina Harker's bell the