Part 8 (1/2)

One matter is decided. Until this fever leaves us, and is safely gone, Mina and I can no longer share a bed.

MINA MARKER'S JOURNAL.

29 October I have today written to Van Helsing to tell him how worried I am about my husband. Jonathan, of course, did not want to trouble him, but this has gone on long enough and it is ridiculous to struggle on alone when we have such good friends who will help us at a moment's notice! Would we not do the same for them?

The past few days have been difficult. Jonathan insists on going to work, and apparently convinces everyone there that he is well, but once at home he falls into a dark mood and spends hours alone in his study. At night he is plagued by sweats and nightmares. I dearly want to be close to him, to soothe him, to show him that I am not afraid and will cleave to him through the worst of these attacks - but now he has banished himself to a guest-room, and will not even see me after he has retired.

Secretly, I am deeply unhappy about this. I am so lonely I have even considered asking Elena to share my bed instead - the very idea, it would be like returning to my girlhood with Lucy! How comforting it would be. Still, I sleep alone. Strange fancies swarm around me - some frightening and some pleasant - but I do not succ.u.mb. I do miss Jonathan, even - especially - that unknown, pa.s.sionate Jonathan who embraced me in the depths of the night. When I think of those times it is with a kind of breathless wonder, not with any degree of revulsion.

But that is why he has left me. He is ashamed! And that has made me ashamed, too. But my only concern now is returning my poor dear husband to health.

Thank goodness Elena is unaffected by all of this!

30 October A telegram arrived. Van Helsing will be here in three days' time! Soon all will be well.

ELENA KOVACS'S JOURNAL.

30 October It distresses me to see Mr and Mrs Barker, who have been such friends to me, suffering as they are. They think I do not know, but I notice many small signs. My Dark Companion is playing with them - with the cat, with Mr Harker. I have to remind myself how callously they destroyed him, then I smile, and know that their suffering is for a higher purpose: to give my love his revenge.

And to help me give him back his earthly shape.

I must put aside my human concerns and fix my mind, my will, all my intentions, upon fulfilling him. I stroke the bra.s.s urn in which his ashes lie, and feel the subtle vibrations of his presence.

He is telling me that the time is drawing near, I must act quickly now. I am very afraid, my heart beats hard with anxiety, but I have thought of a way!

The child is very close to me now. The child will do our bidding.

Chapter Eight.

MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL.

1 November We are antic.i.p.ating Van Helsing's visit with eagerness. The prospect of his presence is a great ray of sunlight dispersing our darkness. Jonathan and I are in better humour already. Dear Dr Van Helsing was always, in the dark days we endured, a steadying influence, the voice of sanity and wisdom piercing the chaos!

G.o.d forbid that black times should be falling on us again. But if they are, we shall face them with all the courage at our disposal.

And learn the lesson that we can never relax our vigilance, never take the peaceful order of our lives for granted!

2 November Well, I am going to be in poor form to greet our friend. A tiresome accident has sapped my strength and I have been unable to eat, which makes me all the more enervated.

Doubly tiresome, because it marred what was otherwise a perfect afternoon. It was Quincey's first day out of bed. Elena and I had lunch with him in the nursery, then we sat on the terrace to .enjoy the sun. The weather was delightfully mild and the garden glorious, all wreathed in the lushness of autumn. The roses are still in bloom, red and apricot and white. Beyond the lawn, the sweet docile cows were nosing over the fence so Quincey naturally wished to pet them. The exertion made him wheeze quite badly. I was concerned for him, but Elena works wonders with the child; she is so calm, stroking his brow with her pale, firm hands. She has a wonderful quality of repose, despite her pa.s.sionate nature.We quieted Quincey by reading to him, and he soon recovered, sitting drowsy and happy on the bench between us in the golden light. When I finished the story, the dear boy wanted to bring me a rose as a reward. Elena quickly fetched cutters and a small bra.s.s bowl - in which, I suppose, she meant to place some blooms. Off Quincey trotted and cut a beautiful deep-red rose with a long stem. Bringing it to me, he climbed on my knee and insisted he must present the rose by placing the stem between my teeth, 'Like the Spanish ladies,' he said. He was so charming and so intent on this ritual that I complied. I opened my mouth to receive the rose, but instead of placing it between my teeth he laid it along my lower lip. Oh, I had not considered how long and sharp the thorns would be! I would have removed it but Quincey shut my lips with his fingers, saying, 'Hold the rose, Mama. You look so pretty.' Not wis.h.i.+ng to spoil his game, I kept very still so the thorns would not wound me. 'So very beautiful,' he said.

But then, obviously not comprehending his action, his small fingers pressed tighter upon my mouth and I felt thorns pierce my inner lip and gums. I could not speak, but I made a m.u.f.fled sound of pain. Realizing that he was hurting me, Quincey must have meant to relieve my pain as swiftly as possible.

He seized the head of the rose and tried to take it from my mouth by dragging it sideways across my lower lip. The tough thorns pierced me and ripped through the tender flesh. It felt like acid and fire; I cried out, my mouth falling open. The pain was so extreme it made me sob and cough; I could make no other sound. And the blood that poured from the wounds! I had no idea that the flesh of the lip could bleed so copiously. You would think some great artery ran through it! Quincey jumped off my knee - so shocked, I think, that he had no expression at all on his intent little face. He put his hand into the flow of blood, as if trying ineffectually to stop it. The next I knew, Elena was there, catching the blood in the bra.s.s bowl she'd brought out for the roses.

(There was some dust or dirt crusted at the bottom; where she had obtained this appalling old object, I have no idea. From the garden shed, I imagine.) She held my head, tipping it forward so that me fast-flowing blood would collect in the bowl. I'm sure she was trying to help, but this was doing nothing to stop the bleeding. I, however, was too shaken to protest. I felt myself turning very faint and sick.

I fell into a swoon, and when I came round I was lying on the couch just inside the French window, with Elena and Dr Gough - whom, I found out later, Mary had called - leaning over me. He was holding a compress to my lip, and the bleeding had all but stopped. Mary was with Quincey, trying to rea.s.sure him. The pain was indescribable, all the more unpleasant for being in the mouth, and so bad I felt quite ill with it. Nevertheless I sat up and explained - as best I could, my speech being somewhat affected - that the whole thing had been an accident and Quincey was not to blame.

Then they let Quincey come to me and he was so mortified by what had happened he wept, poor lamb. His remorse distressed me far more than my own discomfort!

Well, that was yesterday. The physical shock has diminished. The doctor has given me tinctures for the pain, which he says will continue for some days before healing sets in. Who would believe mat so trivial an injury could cause such prostration!

3 November Dr Van Helsing is here. Although he has turned quite grey since his poor wife's death, and has a certain frailty about him, his vigorous spirit seems to bring our whole house to life! Quincey adores him.

He expressed great concern over my injury, but I explained it was an accident. I do not wish to dwell upon it. Jonathan is the one in need of his expertise.

Over dinner (at which I was content to sip consomme and wine) Jonathan seemed more his normal self, and the evening was so pleasant that I did not want us to touch on our reasons for calling our friend at all. It was almost possible to believe that nothing had happened! But Van Helsing is too shrewd to let anything pa.s.s him by. After the meal, when Elena had gone to Quincey and the three of us were alone in the drawing room, he said, 'Now, my friends, we have endured too much together for this reticence. I know you would not call me so urgently without cause. You may speak frankly and freely. What troubles you?'

He said this with a charming but knowing smile. I was ready to begin, to spare my husband's feelings, but to my surprise Jonathan spoke first. 'I don't know where to start. We have no specific cause for concern, such as we had with Lucy. I have been suffering... dreams, nightmares, delusions. How foolish you must think us to drag you here for something so trivial!'

Jonathan paced about as he spoke, and his cheeks were pale. Van Helsing, watching him, replied gravely, 'On the contrary, a matter that so clearly distresses you cannot be trivial. And even if it is, so? It is still my dearest wish to aid you! What manner of dreams are these?'

'Horrible . .. oppressive.'

'I have been troubled too,' I said, almost forgetting the pain of my lip in my eagerness to speak. 'Though not as sorely as my husband. I fear that our second journey to Transylvania was unwise. It seems to have stirred bad memories.'

'But your memories were more fresh the first time,' said Van Helsing. 'Why not the bad dreams then? Why now?'

I said, 'I think it would save time if I showed you my journal.'

'Mine, too,' Jonathan said heavily. So we fetched our notebooks - we had not read each other's, so I don't know what his said - and waited patiently while Van Helsing read them. The recollection of certain events made me blush, but I suppose they were best disclosed. Van Helsing showed no sign of embarra.s.sment as he read. In fact, at one or two points, he smiled! I was mortified, though naturally I hid it. I suppose he knows so much of life, nothing can shock him.When he finished, Jonathan spoke more easily, as if relieved of the burden of explaining from the beginning.

'I have acted as a beast towards my wife,' he said in a raw, desperate tone. 'I have done something terrible, used her savagely.

But why, I don't know, cannot remember. It is all through a thickness of dark gla.s.s, as if I were drugged, or fevered.'

I said quickly, 'I have told Jonathan many times, he has not hurt me. He did nothing that was. .. in any way unnatural between a married couple.'

Van Helsing looked so keenly at me that I blushed. 'It seems that you remember more than your husband, Madam Mina. Have you any theories?'

'Only as I wrote; a fever, the weather, the worry of Quincey's health...”

Van Helsing shook his head with a rather grim smile. 'You have seen enough of the supernatural to know that it exists as firm and solid as Nature; yet still you cling to the rational, the English explanation! But this is commendable. Dismiss the rational before you look to the irrational.'

'Well, what should we do?' Jonathan said angrily. 'Spend a week at the seaside to see if a holiday cures us? Quincey is not well enough to travel!' He sank down on to a chair. 'Forgive me, Professor. But I am at my wits' end. Mina doesn't deserve this.'

Van Helsing was contemplative. How wonderfully calm he is! 'You say you cannot remember certain matters. Is this blockage of your own making, one of denial, or something else? There is a way to find out, if you will permit me. I would like to hypnotize you, Jonathan.'