Dr. Seward or any of his associates, which I found to be an odd request. Who knows his reasoning? I find it is often better if I do not question him in matters such as these. He either becomes angered and dispatches me to my room or just refuses to answer.
I do wonder if he is an associate with whom he will be collaborating to discuss poor Miss Lucy’s illness. It seems the only reasonable explanation as I do not believe Father is acquainted with anyone in London other than Dr. Seward, at least that I am aware. I am anxious to meet another associate of my father. Perhaps, he too, is a specialist as Dr. Seward and my father. It gives me a sense of hope I have not had in many months.
Late evening
Father’s guest arrived quite late. He immediately sent me to my room. I waited until I knew they sat in the parlor before I crept from my room, careful not to wake Mrs. Billingsley or the other tenants. Father seemed very comfortable in the company of the man who sat across from him. I do wish I could have caught a better glimpse of him. He appeared to be taller than Father by the way he sat with his legs casually crossed. His hands rested on the arms of the chair where he tapped his fingers impatiently. I could scarcely hear their conversation; they spoke so softly, I assume to keep from waking the others. There was no laughter between them. The conversation appeared quite serious at times with my father leaning forward appearing at times agitated. After nearly an hour, he left without the formalities usually given before leaving. I was barely able to reach my room without being discovered.
16 August 1893
This morning I awoke to my room filled with braided stands of garlic and handfuls of wolfbane, my room garnished as though it were a dinner dish. When I questioned father as to why he had done this, his reply was only that Dr. Seward said they provided antiseptic qualities for the blood. I find it rather unlikely that an established man such as Dr. Seward would take to fanciful faith healing remedies in my situation. My father’s behavior becomes stranger and stranger by the day.
Today I return for the final fitting with the seamstress. I hope to wear one of them to the opera. I heard one of the other tenants discussing the theatre last night at dinner. I do so hope to convince father to allow me to attend. I have never been to the opera. Perhaps he would allow Dr. Seward or one of his associates at Cambridge to escort me.
Correspondence from Amelia Van Duresburg
16 August 1893
Dearest Claudia,
How delighted I was today to receive your letters. My life without you is such a bore. Planning for my sister’s wedding leaves me the constant feeling I shall never find a husband. I do wish that you were here to share in the festivities. You would bring light to the gloom I must suffer through daily.
Yesterday Miss Elise Stroup came to finish the fittings for our bride’s maids gowns which are the most horrid shade of mustard I have ever seen. I feel as though I will appear like a faded pumpkin of all things. Mother says I should not say such things and should be supportive as I will hurt Janessa’s feelings. Perhaps I am too brash.
London sounds splendid. How I wish I could have accompanied you. What majesties you must have seen at the mummy exhibit. Were you able to see their faces? Is it true that people believe that powdered mummy remains are a remedy for ailments? Did they have the royal sarcophagi on display with the jewels? I have heard tales they wore gold jewelry that was exquisite. I wish I could have been at your side.
Your gift of the dress is far too extravagant, and I would argue against it, however, I know it would do me no good. Therefore, I will extend my gratitude and thanks knowing that whatever you have chosen it will be lovely. Perhaps when you return, should you be feeling well enough, we could host an afternoon of tea.
Later today, we are to meet
I do wonder if he is an associate with whom he will be collaborating to discuss poor Miss Lucy’s illness. It seems the only reasonable explanation as I do not believe Father is acquainted with anyone in London other than Dr. Seward, at least that I am aware. I am anxious to meet another associate of my father. Perhaps, he too, is a specialist as Dr. Seward and my father. It gives me a sense of hope I have not had in many months.
Late evening
Father’s guest arrived quite late. He immediately sent me to my room. I waited until I knew they sat in the parlor before I crept from my room, careful not to wake Mrs. Billingsley or the other tenants. Father seemed very comfortable in the company of the man who sat across from him. I do wish I could have caught a better glimpse of him. He appeared to be taller than Father by the way he sat with his legs casually crossed. His hands rested on the arms of the chair where he tapped his fingers impatiently. I could scarcely hear their conversation; they spoke so softly, I assume to keep from waking the others. There was no laughter between them. The conversation appeared quite serious at times with my father leaning forward appearing at times agitated. After nearly an hour, he left without the formalities usually given before leaving. I was barely able to reach my room without being discovered.
16 August 1893
This morning I awoke to my room filled with braided stands of garlic and handfuls of wolfbane, my room garnished as though it were a dinner dish. When I questioned father as to why he had done this, his reply was only that Dr. Seward said they provided antiseptic qualities for the blood. I find it rather unlikely that an established man such as Dr. Seward would take to fanciful faith healing remedies in my situation. My father’s behavior becomes stranger and stranger by the day.
Today I return for the final fitting with the seamstress. I hope to wear one of them to the opera. I heard one of the other tenants discussing the theatre last night at dinner. I do so hope to convince father to allow me to attend. I have never been to the opera. Perhaps he would allow Dr. Seward or one of his associates at Cambridge to escort me.
Correspondence from Amelia Van Duresburg
16 August 1893
Dearest Claudia,
How delighted I was today to receive your letters. My life without you is such a bore. Planning for my sister’s wedding leaves me the constant feeling I shall never find a husband. I do wish that you were here to share in the festivities. You would bring light to the gloom I must suffer through daily.
Yesterday Miss Elise Stroup came to finish the fittings for our bride’s maids gowns which are the most horrid shade of mustard I have ever seen. I feel as though I will appear like a faded pumpkin of all things. Mother says I should not say such things and should be supportive as I will hurt Janessa’s feelings. Perhaps I am too brash.
London sounds splendid. How I wish I could have accompanied you. What majesties you must have seen at the mummy exhibit. Were you able to see their faces? Is it true that people believe that powdered mummy remains are a remedy for ailments? Did they have the royal sarcophagi on display with the jewels? I have heard tales they wore gold jewelry that was exquisite. I wish I could have been at your side.
Your gift of the dress is far too extravagant, and I would argue against it, however, I know it would do me no good. Therefore, I will extend my gratitude and thanks knowing that whatever you have chosen it will be lovely. Perhaps when you return, should you be feeling well enough, we could host an afternoon of tea.
Later today, we are to meet
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