Mina Part 7

EIGHT

I

A half hour before Mina Harker was to arrive, Winnie Beason pulled the fresh scones from the oven, put out her cigarette and went upstairs to dress. When she had invited Mina, she'd known that this was the week her cook went to Hampton to visit her mother. However, Winnie was not only capable of baking her own sweets, but actually enjoyed it. Besides, she and Mina would be uninterrupted for most of the afternoon, a much better means of discovering if her new neighbor was as independent a woman as she believed.

Strange rumors had preceded Mrs. Harker to Exeter. Jonathan Harker had been a simple clerk in the Hawkins firm until Hawkins had sent him abroad. When he returned, it was with a wife and, not only an incredible promotion, but a future inheritance as well. Then, only days later, Hawkins died. No one suspected the Harkers, for Hawkins had been ill for some time. However, the Harkers' disappearance so soon after the funeral aroused some curiosity. Winnie was not one to pry, however; Mrs. Harker's fortune had risen as suddenly as her own. Through that bond she hoped to have found a friend.

She served Mina coffee kept warm in a samovar, heated with a candle at the base, and offered her a cigarette, which Mina refused. The initial reserve both women felt soon vanished, for they did have much in common, including a daring that women raised more protectively might have found far too masculine to be fas.h.i.+onable.

"You went all alone to Budapest to marry?" Winnie asked, less amazed than envious of Mina's adventure.

"I had to," Mina replied simply. "I had no one to go with me."

Winnie looked at her, expressing no sympathy for the lack of parents or siblings. As far as Winnie was concerned, family ties were a curse that strangled any real opportunity.

"And what did you do before you married?" she asked.

"I was a teacher."

"A tutor?"

"At first, but I wanted to do something more, well, more worthwhile, so I left to teach school in London."

"London! Dear, what an experience. Tell me about it?" Mina did, pleased to find someone so interested in her ragged youngsters.

She supplied details with only occasional prompting while Winnie refilled their cups."There are over forty women in the Exeter Ladies Society. We have organized a school for poor children and raised money to hire teachers," she said when Mina had finished. "We also run a charity hospital. We've hired a doctor, and the rest of us are volunteers. We learn as we go and do our best. I work at the hospital tomorrow. I'll show you around if you wish."

Mina smiled. "Did you invite me here to convert me?" she asked.

"Convert? An appropriate word. Actually, Mina, when I met you, I sensed that you are a woman who looks at her surroundings.

So many choose not to do so. Blindness is so convenient, you know."

"I know," Mina replied. She mentioned the children she'd seen collecting coal beside the tracks.

"Last week one had his foot caught beneath a tie. He lost one leg and most of his second to a train that could not stop in time. I think it was better that he died."

"In Romania I saw peasant children working the land with their parents. They must have been terribly poor, but they seemed so healthy."

"So you believe in Rousseau's theory of the n.o.ble savage?"

"No." Mina fought the urge to smile. The expression would have revealed too much. Later, when Winnie knew her well enough to be certain of her sanity, Mina might tell her of Dracula. Not yet. "But I believe in the responsibility that we must all share with those less fortunate."

"Please come to the hospital tomorrow. I must show you what we've done."

"I'm not certain I can get away," Mina lied. She wanted to speak to Jonathan about the Exeter Ladies Society and make certain it was more than a suffragette front before she got involved in it. Throughout the afternoon, Mina had been keeping track of the time through the gla.s.s-domed anniversary clock on the mantel. Though she would have gladly stayed the evening, it seemed polite to go.

"Is it really five already? I ought to leave," she said.

"It's getting dark," Winnie said. "Margaret should be back by now." She rang a bell, and a girl no more than thirteen came running up the stairs from the kitchen. She wore a plain gray dress with an embroidered white collar. "Mrs. Harker, this is Margaret. She will see you home."

Margaret curtsied pleasantly and went for her coat.

On the walk, Mina could not coax more than a dozen words out of the child. Through those she learned that Margaret was an orphan, and had lived with the Beasons for two years while attending the Exeter school. With the first hint of emotion, Margaret proudly said that she had made her dress herself. "Even the collar. Madam Winnie taught me needlework."

"Does anyone else live with the Beasons?"

"My brother did. But he was already sick when he came there and he died." She said it simply, as if she had seen so much death that its tragedy no longer touched her.

They walked in silence until they reached Mina's home. There Mina paused then had Margaret come inside. She hastily wrote a note, telling Winnie that she would definitely visit the hospital tomorrow. "Something to do," she said happily as she removed her hat and arranged her hair in the hallway mirror. Jonathan would be home soon. She wanted to look her best.

Dinner was not pleasant, Mina wrote in her diary that night. I described my afternoon with Winnie and decision to visit the hospital. Millicent made her disapproval known. "This is hardly the time to spend energy on charity work," she grumbled, speaking to Jonathan rather than to me as if he were my master not my husband.

"Some of the wealthiest women in Exeter volunteer there," I responded, looking at Jonathan as she had when she'd spoken.

Jonathan hesitated. I could almost feel him considering the most tactful way to placate us both. Staring directly at his aunt, he replied, "You have been such a help to us that Mina has nothing to do. And she is right. The contacts she makes could be valuable to all of us. "

"There's other work, Jonathan. There's the preservation society, the literary clubs. I know about all of them. She doesn't have to work with all those poor." Millicent spoke the last words as if poverty were a curse.

Perhaps it was to her. Nonetheless I did not hide my anger. "How can infants and small children have any blame for their misfortune?" I retorted. "You may not have been a wealthy woman but you were never penniless, you never lacked for food to eat or a bed for the night. Decency demands that we share-"

"Mina!" Jonathan exclaimed, cutting me off. I saw not anger but anguish in his expression. Peace. Above all, he wanted peace.

"Winnie Beason works two days a week there. If I approve of what I see, I will be doing the same," I said evenly, left the table and came upstairs to write this. I notice that my hands are shaking, but I said what I felt, as calmly as / was able. I consider that a triumph.

II

The Exeter Charity Hospital was located in one of the older, poorer sections of town. Its front doors opened onto a wide street where carriages could come and go, dropping off not patients but the wealthier women who volunteered their time. High brick walls flanked both sides of the old hospital, and the building itself, while st.u.r.dy, looked windowless and ugly from the front. Judging from the area, Mina thought that at one time the building might have been a warehouse or factory.

The waiting room was cheerier than Mina had expected. A large open hall had locked cupboards along one wall, mismatched chairs and davenports in the center. Since there was no one to receive her, she followed the instructions posted on the wall and rang the bell. The faint smell of lye hung in the air, a smell that became stronger when the inner doors opened and a stern-faced young woman motioned her inside.

Winnie stood next to one of the beds, spoon-feeding a youngster who had both arms in splints. She gave the duty to the woman who had brought Mina in so they could tour the building.

They walked past rows of cots placed so close together that the nurses could only approach the beds sideways. Girls were on one side of the huge room, boys on the other, and a screen that could be moved from bed to bed provided the only privacy. Mina noted sadly that there were no empty places.

"Winter is one of our most difficult times," Winnie said. "Malnutrition and this terrible damp cause so much disease. If any more patients come in, we'll have to double up the babies to make room."

"Are there always so few nurses?"

"It's nearly Christmas, Mina, hardly a time to risk becoming ill by working here. This is also the ward for the oldest children. Most of the women prefer working with the babies, so this section is always understaffed. I would be here every day, but Mr. Beason will not allow it. Ever since he learned that microbes are responsible for disease, he has a terrible fear of this place. As a result, I am only allowed to work here on days when he is certain he will be at the office until late, and I must bathe and have Margaret scrub my clothes before he comes home. Fortunately, Mr. Beason also has the hugest heart of anyone I have ever known. I should like you and your husband to meet him."

It was an opening, Mina knew, but she was not sure how to respond. "I would love to have you both for dinner," she said.

"Sunday, perhaps."

"Sunday," Winnie said. "Definitely." She linked her arm through Mina's and led her to the infants' ward.

The ward faced south. Tall windows let in the sun, making the room both bright and hot. The smell of lye, sour milk and dirty diapers made Mina's eyes water. There were no cots in this room. Instead long tables were arranged in front of every window, and on them unpainted cribs held infants and toddlers. Many were dull-eyed from fever, their faces and bodies marked with sores.

Others appeared nearly well, playing happily with stuffed dolls and strings of painted beads. Mina had expected to see more mothers there, but only a handful sat beside their babes. Two mothers were nursing, and as soon as the children had finished, they rearranged their clothing and left. "Most of the mothers work," Winnie explained. "And most of them have other children to care for."

"The babies have no clothes," Mina commented, looking at all the tiny pale bodies around her.

"If they did, we'd have more to wash-scrub actually, since so many of the children have infectious diseases. The room is warm and blankets and diapers are work enough for the staff. Besides, Mr. Beason has very definite ideas about cleanliness."

"Your husband?"

"Mr. Beason founded this hospital. He may never set foot in it, but I a.s.sure you, he is as much a part of it as any volunteer."

One of the toddlers had escaped his crib and crawled beside Mina, gripping her skirt for support as he stood. His shoulder and the side of his face were burned, the depth of the wounds making it certain he would be scarred for life. Mina wanted to lift him, but his hands and knees were dirty. She wished she had dressed more simply.Winnie picked up the child. Before putting him back in his crib, she carried him to the huge porcelain sinks and washed the dirt from his knees and palms. "Do you know that this building used to be a slaughterhouse?" Winnie asked as she carried the child to his bed. "Now water and lye goes down the drains instead of blood. I like to think of that. The history of the place makes our work all the more fitting somehow. Mina, what is it?" she asked, and followed Mina's fixed stare to the crib behind her.

The infant in it had a long, deep gash across his cheek. A thick bandage wrapped tightly around one of his arms was soaked and dripping fresh blood, and blood stained the bedding as well. Winnie glanced from Mina to the child. "Esther!" she screamed.

"Esther, come and help me, William's st.i.tches have opened!" She pushed Mina aside, unaware of how pale her friend's face had become, and lifted the unconscious child.

The babies around them, startled by Winnie's call, began to cry, their noise drowning out Mina's soft plea for help as she gripped the side of the empty crib for support. It tipped toward her, and she fell with the b.l.o.o.d.y linens falling above her. A scream, seemingly from a great distance, followed her descent, and she wondered vaguely if it had come from Winnie or herself.

The scent of blood was all around her-the child's mingling with the scent of her own-and for a moment its terrible pervasiveness blocked out sound, and speech.

She felt herself pulled along the floor then lifted by more than one person and carried to a cooler, quieter room, where she was placed on a cot. She felt someone grip her hand, heard Winnie calling her name. "If you don't open your eyes, I am going to have to wave smelling salts under your nose, Mina dear. They're quite disgusting. I'd rather not."

"I'm still here," Mina whispered.

"I'm so sorry, dear. It was an emergency. The child . . ."

The child is dead," Mina finished for her and squeezed her hand.

"How could you know? Well, perhaps it was obvious, the poor little thing. It's a wonder he survived his accident at all."

Mina opened her eyes and focused on her friend's face, on the tears on Winnie's cheeks. They weren't for her, she knew, but soon they would be. She felt the pain that had made her so faint on the channel crossing, like a hand gripping her womb with relentless strength. Her thighs were wet and sticky. "Please send for a carriage," she said, wanting nothing more than to go home and somehow get to her room and wash and change. Afterward, she could go to bed and plead illness until the pain subsided.

Her body would not allow it. As she sat on the edge of the cot and reached for her cloak, a wave of pain coursed through her.

She pressed her hands against her stomach and moaned.

"Mina, you're hurt!" Winnie exclaimed.

Mina shook her head. "No, I'm not certain but I think I may be losing a child. I've never felt a pain like this before."

"How late were you?"

"About ten days."

"Then it's far too early to tell. Even so, after what happened you need a doctor. While he examines you, I'll send for your husband."

"NoWinnie, please. Just take me home."

"Not yet, dear," Winnie said. Her eyes focused evenly on Mina's, and her voice was firm, that of a nurse to a patient. "Just lie back and rest. I'll take care of everything."

Winnie did. Throughout the next few hours, she left Mina's side only to bring her gauze and tea and, when the bleeding increased, bringing with it an increase in pain, laudanum.

That evening, after helping Mina change into one of the gray hospital work gowns, Winnie took her home in a hired carriage. At Mina's house, she asked the driver to leave and helped Mina to the door.

Laura answered the bell. Noting her mistress's pale face and how heavily she leaned on the woman with her, she immediately went for Millicent. By the time the two returned, Winnie had helped Mina upstairs to her room. "Who is this woman?" Millicent asked.

Mina, giddy from the pain and the drug, giggled. "Madam Winifred Beason, wife of the founder of the Exeter Charity Hospital for Children," Mina replied. "And my nurse. Winnie, this is Miss Millicent Harker, my . . ."

"A nurse?" Millicent asked before Mina could finish. "Why on earth do you need a nurse?"

"She suffered a fainting spell while visiting the hospital," Winnie replied for her. "Now, please, Miss Harker. Mina is still very weak. I must help her undress."

"Where are her own clothes?"

"Being washed, madam. They were soiled when Mrs. Harker fell. Now, please, would you go downstairs and ask the maid to bring a sponge and hot water so Mina can bathe?" As tactfully as she could, Winnie began forcing Millicent back toward the bedroom door.

"I am quite able to take care of my nephew's wife myself, Mrs. Beason," Millicent replied.

"I'm sure you are, but since I brought her home and it is my training, I might as well see her safely into bed. Some tea would make her feel better, I think. If you would please summon a servant." With one final step forward, she forced Millicent into the hall and shut the door.

". . . my husband's aunt." Mina, finally able to finish the introduction, smiled weakly.

"Should I have let her stay?"

"No. I want to be the one to tell my husband." She sat on the edge of her bed and removed her bonnet and coat. Winnie helped with the rest then sat with her until, finally, Mina slept.

Though Winnie had aired the room before she left, the smell of blood was still strong, its reminder drawing Mina into the nightmare of a terrible, b.l.o.o.d.y birth and a black-haired child with dark knowing eyes that glowed red in the center as she nursed him. Horrified, her dream self screamed. Laughter answered, and the three vampire women floated toward her, each carrying a child of her own who suckled their naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s though blood, not milk, dripped from their nipples. "Sister, what a gift you bring!"

they cried in their cold and beautiful voices. They surrounded her, lifting the child from her arms. Milk dripped from his tiny mouth.

His tiny hands gripped their hair as they raised him to their lips and began to feast on him one after the other.