Mina Part 13

He took the letter and locked it in his desk then went on with his work. Within a day, the memory of its contents, like the journey itself, was carefully closed off. He would not think of it, dared not consider that Van Helsing might have written the truth. His sanity required that he forget that the letter even existed.

II

Abraham Van Helsing-doctor, writer, psychologist, and expert in obscure diseases of the soul-had spent the last two months in Romania and in that time had learned nothing new about vampirism, and little about Dracula that he had not guessed already.

Yet he sensed that their ordeal was not yet over, for, as with Mina and the others, night brought him little rest. Instead he had terrible dreams of the three vampire women and how they had moved so lewdly before him, tempting him with their bodies. Often he woke with his hands pressed against his neck, his lips b.l.o.o.d.y where he had bitten them as he thrashed in his sleep.

Less than a month after the others left him, Van Helsing had moved from a hotel to a little house near the center of town. He had it blessed, sprinkled holy water on the doorstep and around the windows, slept with blessed hosts beside his bed. Nothing helped.

The dreams continued, growing ever more vivid until he became convinced that his memories would drive him mad.

Days were no better. In spite of the winter storms that had closed the mountain roads, he fought a terrible compulsion to go back to the castle where he had beheaded the concubines and watched their master crumble to dust. Often the compulsion seemed justified. The more he learned about Dracula the man, the more convinced he had become that Dracula would not have been destroyed so easily.

Many natives from the region around the Borgo had settled in Galati, and Van Helsing sought them out. He gained their trust slowly, for they were suspicious of strangers. Once he knew them, however, they were quite open with him. They did not like foreigners, they said, because foreigners were stupid and laughed at their warnings.

"About what?" Van Helsing had asked.

"About everything."

"About the Borgo Pa.s.s?"

"They are fools. What do you know of the Borgo?"

"I have been to the castle," Van Helsing replied.

"Ah, then you are different. You went and they let you go." The speaker had clasped Van Helsing's hand as he said this, holding it as if Van Helsing had somehow been blessed by the monsters.

"Why did you tolerate them in your midst?"

"Our ancestors lived in peace because of them. We owe a debt and we are protected," he said and refused to comment any more except to offer Van Helsing another gla.s.s of slivovitz, the plum brandy of the region, which brought its own kind of forgetfulness.

Then he read the account of the attack on the train.

He had little difficulty locating the German who'd written the account of the storm, but even when the right questions were put to the man, he could add nothing to his tale.

"The wolf howls sounded strange," he said. "I thought I saw a figure in the swirling snow ... It was dark by then. How can anyone be certain?"

Possibilities. Nothing more. How could Van Helsing tell Jack Seward to leave his work for possibilities? How could he pull poor Lord G.o.dalming from his mourning? Jonathan Harker from his firm? And dear Madam Mina! What could he tell her to put her mind at rest?

Nothing until he went there and saw with his own two eyes that the castle was empty.

Luck was with him. A few days after he wrote Jack Seward and Mina, a sudden spring-like break in the weather opened the pa.s.s, allowing Van Helsing to reach the castle. He walked its musty halls and visited the lower chamber where the women had taken their daytime rest. Their headless bodies had been burned but not destroyed by the fire. The flesh that remained had frozen and was only now beginning to decay. The rings still circled their fingers; sc.r.a.ps of lace and satin still clung to their bodies.

So beautiful they had been once, Van Helsing thought, like his wife in all the beauty of her youth. Now the monsters were dead, and if anything remained, it could only be their memory.

He slept in one of the upstairs rooms with a blessed host beside him. His dreams were unchanged save that they had become less vivid, perhaps because of his exhaustion after the journey.

Before he started back to Galati, he blessed the halls in the name of G.o.d and those who had been destroyed by the creatures who had lived here. He recited each name slowly in a sort of litany to the dead." . . . Miriam Sebescue ... Marie Sebescue ...

Zoltan Somogyi ... Henry Watts . . . Jacques Munroe . . ."

On and on. Names, all names to him until the last, when finally, after so many years of seeking respite from his sorrow through revenge, he was able to cry, "Maria Van Helsing."

She had loved to travel, marveled at the mountains, the wonder of all these exotic, primitive places. Her mind had been as quick as his, as curious. In his ignorance, he had brought her to the Carpathians, into the shadow of these cursed walls. The villagers had searched for her. When he was finally led to her body, the natives had already done what was necessary to see that she did not rise.

III

The portrait artist had finished his work in two weeks. Jonathan's birthday party was a few days later, and Mina could not wait for a reply to her letters before making her move. Actually, she doubted her letters had ever been received, and so she made a second trip to London. There, she spent most of her day in Bloomsbury searching for the Romanian family.

Owners of the Huntley Street shops could tell her little. Some recalled the bookstore, but no one could remember exactly where it had been. As to the old Romanian, one elderly woman remembered him fondly but could only say that he had not lived in Bloomsbury.

She returned on the evening train, stopping at the studio to pick up Millicent's photograph and Jonathan's gift. "Where is the portrait?" Millicent asked as soon as Mina returned from London.

"I left it at Winnie's. I was afraid to bring it home in case Jonathan was here. I've asked the Beasons to come early so that it can be hanging when the other guests arrive. Do you think we should put it above the dining room fireplace?"

"How is it framed?"

"I've brought a sample. Open the package."

Millicent did. The worn gilt frame the drawing had originally been in had been replaced with a square of polished cherry, richly carved. Beneath it was the old frame.

"I wasn't certain if you'd like it," Mina said.

"It's lovely."

Mina detected her thanks, her confusion and the slight hint of reproach. She could lie and say that it had been included in the price, but she did not wish to. Millicent had to get used to their good fortune as she had done, or they would never get on together.

"The frame for Jonathan's picture is that shade, but the wood is much wider, the carving more intricate. I think the tone will go well with the rose wood of the mantel."

"I'll have Laura wash the wall and rehang the old pictures."

"He'll never suspect." She hugged the woman. It occurred to her that it was the first time they had touched out of affection. "And Aunt Millicent, I want you to come to the party."

"But the meal . , ."

"You have planned it. You can start the roasts and mix the puddings, and Winnie Beason's cook can finish. This is Jonathan's birthday. These are our closest friends in Exeter, not some formal gathering. And Jonathan will want you there."

"I have nothing to wear."

"You will," Mina said firmly. "We'll see to that tomorrow." She sensed Millicent about to protest and went on. "We are giving him a present. You must be on hand for that. How will it look to have his aunt, the one relative closest to him in the world, preparing the meal instead of eating it? If Mr. Chapel were here, he'd tell you the same."

"I've never worn anything that I didn't make myself." Mina was about to remind the woman that they had no time for sewing when Millicent added, "You'll come and help me pick it out, won't you?"

Mina had never seen Millicent fl.u.s.tered as she was in the shop. As she watched the woman studying each garment to determine the strength of the fabric and the workmans.h.i.+p on each seam, she began to comprehend the way her husband had been raised, and his compulsive need for perfection in his work.

They finally chose a simple black skirt and a steel-gray blouse with a trim of pale blue around the high neck and cuffs. It was not a color Mina would have chosen, but it softened the lines of Millicent's face, made her gray hair seem striking rather than drab.

Mina was going to suggest that they eat lunch in town but decided not to push her luck with the woman. They ate in the kitchen instead, Mina fixing the potatoes while Millicent sauteed their meat.

On the afternoon of the party, it took the combined efforts of Mina and Winnie Beason's cook and butler to force Millicent out of the kitchen. The effort, and Millicent's incredible anxiety, gave Mina little time to think of her own nervousness. Though they had entertained the firm's employees and their wives with a buffet less than a month before, this was Mina's first dinner party as Jonathan's wife. It was deliberately small, but still she wanted it to be perfect. Laura was busy in the kitchen, but she had brought her sister, who, for a few pennies, scrubbed the hearths in the parlor, the dining room, Jonathan's den and the water closet, and laid wood and tinder in each.

The two girls then swept, washed china and crystal, pressed the cloths and napkins and laid out the table.

"So much bother. It's only a meal," Millicent commented.

"Your meal," Mina said, reminding her that the pork ragout and roast beef cooking downstairs had been started by her. "Now, let's get dressed."

Mina was just finis.h.i.+ng her hair when Jonathan arrived home. He joined her upstairs and handed her a tiny box, elegantly wrapped in lace and silk ribbon. "It's your birthday not mine, Jonathan," she protested.

"And so I bought something for my wife. Open it." Inside was a cameo surrounded by pale pink amethysts. The matching cameo earrings had tiny amethyst teardrops falling from their bases. "I'm glad you wore the cream gown," he said as he fastened the chain around her neck. "They look as lovely together as I thought they would."

So he had noticed the dresses. When Mina showed them to him, his mind had seemed to be occupied elsewhere. She kissed him lightly on the lips. "You had better get dressed yourself," Mina said. "The guests will be coming soon."

"No little box for me?"

"Little! Indeed!" She laughed and left, deciding to check on Millicent before going downstairs.

As she expected, Millicent was more nervous than ever and with far less cause. Her clothes looked beautiful. Her hair, carefully arranged by Laura in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, was flattering and not at all severe. She had a box open on her dressing table and was rummaging through it trying to find some appropriate jewelry when, to Mina, the most obvious choice was lying on top.

"The blue brooch," Mina said, reaching for it.

"No!" Responding to the panic in Millicent's tone, Mina jerked her hand back. "It was ... Well, I couldn't."

Mina believed she understood. Some treasures held too many memories to be displayed. "The rose quartz brooch?" she suggested.

Millicent nodded. Mina pinned the quartz piece on and, with Millicent following close behind her, checked to see that the guest room was ready for Dr. Seward before going downstairs.

If anyone but Millicent had been with her, Mina would have suggested they both have a sherry. Instead, they inspected the kitchen, the dining table laid out for nine, and sat in the parlor waiting for the first guests.

Jonathan had just joined them when Winnie and Emory Beason arrived. The butler went out and returned with a large gift- wrapped package.

"A surprise from me and from Aunt Millicent," Mina said, drawing the woman close to her. "Open it, Jonathan."The artist had wrapped his work carefully in layers of tissue. Jonathan lifted out the oval portrait and stared at it a moment. "It's been so long," he whispered, staring at his likeness; then he set it aside to reach for a second package in the box.

"Is there some mistake?" Millicent whispered.

Mina shook her head. Jonathan unwrapped a second portrait, not of Mina but of Millicent. The artist had softened her sharp features, showing the girl she had once been. Like Jonathan's, the portrait was lightly colored, with soft brown hair, a touch of color in the cheeks.

"Do you like them? I do," Jonathan said, handing hers to his aunt.

"Did I really look like that?" Millicent asked.

"You still do," Jonathan replied, kissing her forehead.

"We'll hang them together," Mina said.

Laura was already clearing away the pictures and bric-a-brac on the mantel, revealing two new hangers, not the one Millicent had expected to see. As they walked into the parlor, Millicent looked down at her younger self and began to weep softly. The others noticed but said nothing. Jonathan's portrait was handed up. Then Millicent turned hers around and raised it for Laura. As she did, her expression abruptly hardened. Mina was about to ask what was wrong when the front bell distracted her.

Basil and Amelia Lloyd entered. Basil Lloyd had been Jonathan's first employer in Exeter and had referred him to Mr. Hawkins.

The two men had rekindled their friends.h.i.+p in recent weeks, and it had seemed right to invite them. Their presence also made it less likely that the others would begin to talk of their strange journey. Mina certainly did not want to dwell on it, nor did she think it was right for Jonathan to do so.

Lord G.o.dalming had persuaded Jack Seward to leave work for a few days and attend the gathering. Now Seward came alone.

"Is Arthur coming?" Jonathan asked.

"Arthur is not well. He sends his regrets but has some hope of joining us later."

"Perhaps for cake," Mina said and noticed how Seward winced at the thought of the man's presence.

When introduced to each arrival, Millicent greeted them mechanically. Mina would have understood nervousness, but not this frigid detachment. Throughout the meal, Mina tried to draw her into the conversation, but Millicent said little, smiling only once when a compliment on the meal was directed to her.

They were midway through their cake and cordials when Arthur arrived in the company of Lord Gance and a young woman, Rose Lewis, who said little but sat close to Arthur with her hand constantly on his arm, his shoulder or, most inappropriately since he still had a black mourning arm band on his jacket, his lap.

Her coloring and features were so much like Lucy's that Mina understood the attraction Arthur must feel for her. As to his behavior, he seemed somewhat drunk. Seward, a teetotaler, must have found his excess infuriating. Even now, in the presence of a woman whose laughter was infectious, he sat in a wing chair and scowled, his expression perfectly mirrored by Millicent, who was, if possible, even more scandalized.

Mina had intended to take the women into the parlor. Minnie was anxious to tell Amelia Lloyd about the work of the hospital. It also would be courteous to rescue Millicent from what she seemed to view as a trying affair. However, Mina doubted she could separate Miss Lewis from Arthur and place her in the company of strangers.

Jonathan suggested that Mina play the piano. Since her talents were somewhat limited, she pulled out sheet music and looked for her easiest pieces. "Let me," Rose suggested, then sat down and began playing a piece by Stephen Foster. "I Dream of Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair."

Before the others could start to sing, she began in a voice so perfectly beautiful that no one dared to mar its quality by adding his or her own. She followed it with the sad song "Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming" and a slower piece from HMS Pinafore, "Sorry Her Lot to Love Too Well."

Though the last song was no more than romantic drivel, tears came to Arthur's eyes, and rolled slowly down his cheeks. He did not brush them away.

"Give them something difficult, lovey." Gance called to her when she had finished. She nodded, stood and began a cappella a beautiful aria in a stunning soprano.

"Aida," Gance said when she had finished. "Miss Lewis is on the stage. She recently finished an appearance in a revival of Patience at the Savoy Theatre in London.""Where for the few days of her performance the elevators were less interesting than the show," Emory Beason added dryly, commenting on the latest exotic addition to the Savoy's lobby. "I should have recognized the face if not the name, Miss Lewis."

The woman smiled and bent over his chair to kiss his cheek, making certain to hold it long enough to give him a glimpse of her cleavage. "We must go," she said possessively to Arthur. "I have to return to London tomorrow. Mr. Sullivan is staging a heavy round of rehearsals. We open in two weeks with The Mikado. Do come."

At the door, she hugged Mina and Jonathan as if they were old friends and kissed Emory Beason one more time. With Arthur on one arm and a scowling Jack Seward on the other, she led the men to Arthur's motorcar. Then they were off, with Rose Lewis driving and beeping the horn.

"The little tart!" Winnie whispered to Mina with mock disapproval.

Millicent, who had heard the comment, added coldly, "I wouldn't be so polite."

When Mina and Jonathan were alone in their bedroom, Jonathan expected Mina to show some elation. Everything had gone so well, even better than expected thanks to Arthur's amusing friend! Instead, Mina sat at her dressing table, cleaning her face, saying little until she blurted, "I can't see how Arthur can bear to be near that woman when she looks so much like Lucy. How could he not think of Lucy constantly?"