bed.
The dreams came. They were expected,
for, in the days since she left the vampire's castle, the dreams had always
come when she felt most helpless. His form was shrouded by the mist. His face
was turned to her, but she could see only his lips, the fangs that were the
mark of his terrible curse, and his eyes so filled with need.
Her arms
lifted, her lips parted. When he touched her, she moaned with delight.
And, as always, reacted with horror.
She cried out in her sleep for him to stop, beat the covers away with her
hands. On the train that brought them back to a world of orderly cities and civilized
men, Jonathan had always lain beside her, had always awakened and comforted
her. Now she fought on her own and, when she woke, he was not with her.
"Jonathan,"
she whispered, certain that in all her life she had never felt so totally, so
terribly, alone.
The room
smelled of rose sachet, a scent she had always associated with her youth, with
her mother, with an innocence she had
lost so suddenly only weeks
ago. Loneliness and memories pressed too close, and she wrapped a blanket
around her shoulders
and went into the hall. At
the top of the stairs, she halted.
The house
was dark except for the light spilling into the foyer through the open parlor
door. She smelled the smoke from
Jonathan's cigar, heard
Millicent speak her name.
She sighed
when she heard the woman's voice. Did Millicent ever smile? Ever laugh even
when she was young? Mina doubted it.
No, to her Millicent was one of those women who saw life as a
trial, her virtue constantly at risk. The heaven Millicent hoped to achieve
with this behavior would hardly be any better.
Before her journey with the men, Mina had not been one to
eavesdrop, but now she was less certain of herself, less willing to trust that
people who cared for her intended the best for her. She descended halfway down
the stairs and, in the shadows of the landing, sat listening to their
conversation.
" . . . few weeks Chapel has
taught me so much," Millicent was saying. "And you know how easily I
manage things. If Mina is still ill, I could rent out my cottage the way I do
my lands and stay on as cook. In the beginning, I could also handle Mina's
duties so she can rest and recover. Jonathan, I'm worried about her. She
hardly ate and drank nothing but the sherry. She seems so pale and fragile,
like an empty glass."
The woman
had no way of knowing how appropriate the metaphor was, Mina thought, as she
listened to Jonathan mumble some
agreement.
"I'd like to help you ... both
of you in any way I can." Mina clasped her hands together and closed her
eyes. "Say no, darling," she whispered. "Please say no."
Even as she spoke the words, she knew the truth. The woman had raised Jonathan.
He could never turn her away.
"She is
still weak. Yes, I suppose, if Mina agrees."
And what
could she do but agree? Mina thought. Millicent would see through every excuse
she would give for managing the
household on her own. Mina would never be forgiven if she demanded
that the woman be asked to leave. Millicent was, in her own devious way, far
more deadly than Dracula had ever been, because Jonathan loved her.
"And
there is the matter of the sherry, Jonathan," Millicent said sternly.
"You cannot just talk to her. You must be firm with her.
Promise me."
Mina did not
need to hear her husband's reply to know what it had been. Feeling suddenly
chilled, she pulled the blanket more
tightly around her shoulders
and moved slowly up the stairs, her bare feet making no sound on the thick
green carpet.
She had just
reached the door to her room when she noticed a growing light on the servants'
stairs at the opposite end of the hall.
A moment later, Laura, in a
white nightdress, reached the second-floor landing. Mina was lit by the
gaslight coming from her room,
Laura by the oil lamp she
held. Each stared silently at the other.
Laura took a
step toward Mina. Mina, alarmed, put a finger to her lips, motioned the
The dreams came. They were expected,
for, in the days since she left the vampire's castle, the dreams had always
come when she felt most helpless. His form was shrouded by the mist. His face
was turned to her, but she could see only his lips, the fangs that were the
mark of his terrible curse, and his eyes so filled with need.
Her arms
lifted, her lips parted. When he touched her, she moaned with delight.
And, as always, reacted with horror.
She cried out in her sleep for him to stop, beat the covers away with her
hands. On the train that brought them back to a world of orderly cities and civilized
men, Jonathan had always lain beside her, had always awakened and comforted
her. Now she fought on her own and, when she woke, he was not with her.
"Jonathan,"
she whispered, certain that in all her life she had never felt so totally, so
terribly, alone.
The room
smelled of rose sachet, a scent she had always associated with her youth, with
her mother, with an innocence she had
lost so suddenly only weeks
ago. Loneliness and memories pressed too close, and she wrapped a blanket
around her shoulders
and went into the hall. At
the top of the stairs, she halted.
The house
was dark except for the light spilling into the foyer through the open parlor
door. She smelled the smoke from
Jonathan's cigar, heard
Millicent speak her name.
She sighed
when she heard the woman's voice. Did Millicent ever smile? Ever laugh even
when she was young? Mina doubted it.
No, to her Millicent was one of those women who saw life as a
trial, her virtue constantly at risk. The heaven Millicent hoped to achieve
with this behavior would hardly be any better.
Before her journey with the men, Mina had not been one to
eavesdrop, but now she was less certain of herself, less willing to trust that
people who cared for her intended the best for her. She descended halfway down
the stairs and, in the shadows of the landing, sat listening to their
conversation.
" . . . few weeks Chapel has
taught me so much," Millicent was saying. "And you know how easily I
manage things. If Mina is still ill, I could rent out my cottage the way I do
my lands and stay on as cook. In the beginning, I could also handle Mina's
duties so she can rest and recover. Jonathan, I'm worried about her. She
hardly ate and drank nothing but the sherry. She seems so pale and fragile,
like an empty glass."
The woman
had no way of knowing how appropriate the metaphor was, Mina thought, as she
listened to Jonathan mumble some
agreement.
"I'd like to help you ... both
of you in any way I can." Mina clasped her hands together and closed her
eyes. "Say no, darling," she whispered. "Please say no."
Even as she spoke the words, she knew the truth. The woman had raised Jonathan.
He could never turn her away.
"She is
still weak. Yes, I suppose, if Mina agrees."
And what
could she do but agree? Mina thought. Millicent would see through every excuse
she would give for managing the
household on her own. Mina would never be forgiven if she demanded
that the woman be asked to leave. Millicent was, in her own devious way, far
more deadly than Dracula had ever been, because Jonathan loved her.
"And
there is the matter of the sherry, Jonathan," Millicent said sternly.
"You cannot just talk to her. You must be firm with her.
Promise me."
Mina did not
need to hear her husband's reply to know what it had been. Feeling suddenly
chilled, she pulled the blanket more
tightly around her shoulders
and moved slowly up the stairs, her bare feet making no sound on the thick
green carpet.
She had just
reached the door to her room when she noticed a growing light on the servants'
stairs at the opposite end of the hall.
A moment later, Laura, in a
white nightdress, reached the second-floor landing. Mina was lit by the
gaslight coming from her room,
Laura by the oil lamp she
held. Each stared silently at the other.
Laura took a
step toward Mina. Mina, alarmed, put a finger to her lips, motioned the
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