Part 15 (1/2)
Gance joined her. ”I told Arthur I would walk you home. I promised him that I would be a gentleman and reminded him that honest solicitors are far harder to find than beautiful women.” He took her hand and placed it on his arm, then led her across the street.
”And what do you think makes a gentleman, Lord Gance?”
”A simple thing, Mrs. Harker. As every woman knows and rarely admits, a gentleman is one who always gives a lady no less than what she wants.”
”A gentleman can hardly know what is in a woman's heart.”
”It is his responsibility to inquire. For example, I wish I knew what you desired, because I would like to offer it to you, now and as often as you like.”
Mina blushed, and felt thankful for the darkness that hid it. ”I would think you more sincere if you had waited to know me better before saying such things.”
”I know you. I know you through your eyes and the tilt of your head and the firmness of your step. I know you by the way you dance, the friends you have chosen, the causes you support, even by your devotion to your husband.”
Mina laughed. ”You are hardly a romantic, Lord Gance.” ”Call me Winston, please. Let me think I am making some progress here. And I am a romantic, romantic enough that I do not understand why the devoted bride is here in the shadow of St. Paul's Churchyard with another man rather than at her wounded husband's bedside.”
”How dare you!” she exclaimed as she pulled her arm away and turned to leave.
He gripped her shoulder. ”Because I dare anything,” he replied and kissed her, holding her so tightly that she had no chance to resist.
His face glowed in the distant gaslight, his hands gripped her arms painfully, his eyes seemed so dark and inviting. For a moment she was no longer in London but in the little room in Purfleet, and Dracula, not Gance, was holding her.
”No!” she screamed. She pulled herself out of his grasp and ran. The cobblestones were uneven, her balance a bit skewed from what she had drunk. Her ankle twisted and she fell, fighting back the tears. She had not felt so helpless for so long. And the horror was that it reminded her of the past and, more, that somewhere deep within her she reveled in it.
Gance crouched beside her. ”Mina!” he exclaimed, and when she did not answer, he repeated again, ”Mina, can you stand?”
”I think so.” She let him help her up, then tried to walk and winced.
”Here.” He held out his arm so she could lean on it. After a few steps, she felt steadier, the pain less acute. ”I'm sorry,” he said as they went on. ”But I cannot believe that was your first stolen kiss. Even if it were, I would never have expected that a woman as strong-willed as you would . . .”
”It was not my first, Lord Gance. It was how you took it.”
That part of the street was quieter, darker. She knew she had given him an invitation, but nonetheless she felt brave rather than foolish.
”Gently then, dear Mina.” He lifted her chin and looked at her, prolonging the moment until their lips touched. For an instant, she thought that he would not kiss her, and she frowned. It was what he had been waiting for, and he pulled her to him, kissing her with a pa.s.sion that demanded a response.
It was dark. She had had too much to drink. She had no choice. And there was the matter of the vampire's life, his memory, still too much a part of her. She responded.
He pulled away and smiled down at her. ”I think it's time I take you back to your hotel,” he said.
They returned in silence, Mina conscious of the motion of his body beside her, the grip of his hand in hers as he supported her weight. At the door, he stopped. ”I do not love you,” he said. ”I do not wish to love you or to replace your husband in your life. But if what I sense is true, you are my mate in ways I doubt your husband understands. It's your decision now, Mrs. Harker. I will wait to hear it.”
He turned and left her standing there. He did not look back.
Jonathan had left a single lamp burning for her, its light so weak it scarcely threw shadows in the dark room. The smell of blood seemed to hang in the air, the scent half real, half memory. As Mina turned up the light, Jonathan stirred. It was her chance to go to him, to see how he was, but she wanted to be alone with her thoughts of pa.s.sion, and wickedness, and selfishness.
She should have hated herself, and yet as she sat in front of the mirror combing out her hair, her reflection showed a vague smile of satisfaction, a flush of excitement in her cheeks.
If Gance had hailed a carriage, had taken her away to some secluded room, she would not have said a word of protest, or of a.s.sent, and could have ended the evening with some sense of virtue intact. Instead, he had left the decision entirely up to her. She realized now how corrupt he was, how careful, and how brutally fair.
The doctor had left a codeine elixir for the pain, but Jonathan would only take a little on the journey to Exeter.
Once they reached home, however, he gave in to the pain, took a large dose of the drug and went to bed. Mina sat beside him, holding his hand while he slept, squeezing it each time he moaned and whispering to him that she was near. Though she was reading a book, the words meant nothing to her. Her mind was entirely on Gance, as if vice rather than virtue would free her soul from the past.
Later, when Jonathan's sleep became more natural, Mina unpacked the gifts she had brought and took Millicent's downstairs.
The woman was reading in the parlor. On the carved oak sideboard, the framed picture of Jonathan and her had acquired a central place. Mina picked it up, commenting as she did, ”It looks so right here among our other treasures. I brought you something.” She handed Millicent the package, wrapped in lace and satin ribbon.
Millicent opened it and pulled out a lifelike bluebird on a carved wood perch. It wound like a music box and, when the lever in its base was pushed, began to chirp and move its wings.
”Jonathan said there were bluebirds in the fields around your farm. I thought it would remind you of home.”
The woman did not smile, did not thank her. ”You have been so kind to me, even to the point of letting me into your house,” she said, the coldness of her tone so at odds with the words and the intent of the gift she held in her hands. ”While you and Jonathan were away, I thought of how sad it was here with only Laura for company. Then I considered how marvelous it was that Jonathan had acquired so much through hard work and ambition. I would not want him to lose it, and since I am convinced that you truly love him, I know you feel the same way.”
”Of course I do. Millicent, what is it?”
The woman ignored the question, instead fingering the feathered head of the mechanical bluebird in her palm. ”If you do, you will not bring any scandal on him. Solicitors, and their families, must be above reproach.”
How could she know about one stolen kiss? It had to be something else, perhaps some silly breach of Millicent's rigid etiquette.
”Neither Jonathan nor I have done anything detrimental to his reputation.”
”I'm pleased to hear of it. Perhaps you would tell me, then, why you lied to me. The pictures of Jonathan and me were drawn here in Exeter.”
Mina hesitated then responded with the truth. ”I lied because it was kinder than saying that my reasons for going to London were private. However, my journey had nothing to do with some lovers' meeting or any other scandal. You said it yourself, I love my husband.”
”You are flushed, my child. I hope it is out of righteousness.” Millicent paused, then added, with apparent sincerity, ”Indeed, I'm certain of it.”
Tell me a secret, Mina thought, any tiny secret at all. Tell me why you don't like to wear the blue brooch or the real reason you detested Jonathan's mother, and even though Jonathan will object, I will tell you where we went on the Continent and why. You will have to believe it when Jonathan agrees with my story.
She said none of that, however. She had been so fearless when she was among the men, part of their team. Now, in the face of one old woman, she was a coward. ”I'm going to bed early,” she said. ”Good night, Aunt Millicent.”
Millicent paused. ”Good night, child,” she said wearily.
In Mina's absence, Jonathan had rolled over and lost some of his covers. His face was damp with sweat, and when Mina touched his forehead to see if he had a fever, he woke with a start.
”Are you in pain? I could get some ice for your head,” Mina said.
”Pain? ... Yes. Just stay with me as you did in the hospital in Budapest. I feel so much better with you here.”
She undressed quickly, put on her cotton nightgown and joined him, lying with her back against his chest. In spite of his illness, he was hard. She could feel his p.e.n.i.s pressing against the base of her spine. Usually she would roll over now and touch him, and he would kiss her and whisper some loving endearment. Not tonight, she decided, not when he was so ill and she so very confused.
She kissed the back of his hand, snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes.