Mina Part 8

She would have thrashed, fought until she woke, but the laudanum Winnie had given her allowed no release.

"How can you do this! How can you let them destroy your son!" she screamed to the darkness beyond the women's hovering forms. There was no reply, no salvation to be found in calling him. Dracula's powers did not extend this far. The women moved toward her slowly, their hands rubbing her swollen b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her stomach still painful and swollen from the recent birth. She opened her mouth to cry out, and the fair one covered it with her own. She felt the life leaving her body, blood through her womb, breath through her parted lips.

When Jonathan woke Mina that evening, she was sticky with sweat. She shook as he held her, then lay back and took his hand.

"Did the fever return?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I fainted, but I'm certain it's for the last time."

"How can you know?" he asked.

"I can't be certain, but I might have been pregnant, Jonathan. I'm bleeding now. I may have lost a child."

"Child?" Comprehension came slowly, followed by a grief that brought its own sharp pain. She saw him wince, his eyes blinking to hold back the tears. She rested a hand on his sleeve. It seemed so pale against the dark gray wool, so small and delicate as he wrapped it in his own. She felt more helpless than she ever had, more in need of his comfort, as if she were a little girl and he her father not her husband. "Oh, Mina. Are you certain?" he asked.

"No, but my monthly was late by three weeks and the pain ... I've never felt such pain." She lied about the days, but the rest was true enough. Birth must feel like this, she thought.

"You would have conceived before. . ."

"Definitely, Jonathan. Before."

Neither of them mentioned the name. Dracula. He drained their life force even now. They feared him even now.

"I love you," he whispered, and kissed her hand.

The tragedy brought them close, closer than even their desperate journey had, because now there was only her and him and no one else to share the sorrow. He would understand what she had done, she decided. She took his hand intending to tell him everything that had happened in her days with Van Helsing, and of the book she had found.

Millicent's footsteps in the hall outside stopped her. "Don't tell her about the child," Mina whispered. "She'll treat me like an 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 a.s.sent, 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 rather than 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.

NINE

When days had pa.s.sed 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 l.u.s.ter 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 pa.s.sed 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 fl.u.s.tered 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 a.s.sumed 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 seance? If you are, I a.s.sure you that I shall be certain to attend."

"Not a seance. 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 a.s.sure 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 pa.s.sed. 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 s.h.i.+p 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 a.s.sured 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 s.h.i.+p Demeter had the most prominence for, as its writer a.s.serted, "Never before had a s.h.i.+p 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 G.o.dalming, 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 seance, 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 next afternoon.

Mina answered the door herself. Her bonnet was already pinned on, and she carried a coat and bag. "If I don't leave immediately, Millicent will find some excuse to keep me inside," she whispered as if she were a disobedient child. Her pace began slowly then quickened. While they walked, Mina looked at the sunlit winter sky, the frost her breath made in the air. She drank it all in eagerly. "This is the medicine I need," she said and looked at Winnie with thanks.

They went to a confectioner's close to the market, where they ordered cocoa and shortbread and took a table close to the windows. Beyond the lace curtains and polished rolled gla.s.s, people walked back and forth on mundane errands, while inside, Winnie sat watching the smoke rise from her cigarettes as Mina went on with her story.

Mina had just begun describing their chase across Europe when she noticed that tables were filling up around them as people came in for afternoon tea. "The rest I haven't even told Jonathan," she whispered. "I can't go on talking here."

"We'll go to my house," Winnie suggested. "Mr. Beason will be working late. Send a note home and stay for dinner."

Mina finished her story that evening. In the last moments of it, when she described finding the bodies and taking the journal, Winnie sat with her hands gripping the chair, her eyes fixed on Mina's. If Winnie was not fully convinced, Mina knew she was nearly so.

"And now you think the vampire is still alive?" Winnie asked.

"Not for certain, and yet it seems that he must be. I still feel his blood in me. I still feel that pa.s.sion his touch aroused."

"That's hardly surprising. You're a married woman. You now have permission to be pa.s.sionate," Winnie replied.

"You're right, but it's more than that. I have dreams, terrible dreams. And the smell or sight of blood is ... attractive, far too attractive, and the attraction itself unnerving. I wonder if I really did lose a child or if what I felt when I began to bleed was something less natural. If so . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she looked away to hide her fright. "Now, I keep waiting for all of these things to diminish, but if anything they all grow stronger." She tried to shrug. "I fight it. I put on a magnificent act even though I feel my will crumbling slowly inside me."

"Have you spoken to your husband about this?"

"A little." Mina knew her deceit must sound strange, particularly since she was newly wed. "He was through so much at Dracula's castle, that any reminder of it is painful to him. If I tell him about the journal, then he will want to know how it came into my possession. I'm hoping to keep it a secret until it is translated, and even after that if there's nothing in it of any importance. I suppose I'll have to go to London to find an expert to work on it. If I do, we'll have to write back and forth. Jonathan is sure to discover it.

"Well, if that's necessary, you can have the letters sent here. But perhaps you won't need to leave Exeter. I know of someone here who has ties all over eastern Europe, even into Russia itself-Lord Gance."

"Truly? He's one of my husband's clients," Mina said. "We're invited to a dinner party at his house on Sat.u.r.day. Now Jonathan is trying to beg off because I've been "Ill! Despondent is more like it. That party is exactly what you need, Mina Harker. Tell Jonathan so! Mr. Beason and I will be there, so you'll know someone. After you meet Lord Gance, it will be easier to approach him about the book."

"But he knows Jonathan," Mina protested and reminded Winnie of the need for secrecy.

"Lord Gance manages to be both a hedonist and an astute businessman. As a result, you can rely on his discretion. He makes a point of it, particularly since he has had to rely so often on that virtue in others." Winnie concluded that summation with a sly smile.