Mina Part 14

"Perhaps because he isn't thinking at all, darling. Under the circ.u.mstances, that may be just as well," Jonathan commented dryly.

Mina laughed. "Jonathan, you sound as wicked as Lord Gance!"

"And so you smile. I should be wicked more often." He brushed the back of her neck. "It was a wonderful dinner and a perfect gift."

She faced him, kissing his lips, then moving to sit on his lap. She was so light, so delicate.

"I have to go to London next week," he said. "I can arrange the meetings for Friday and we could stay the weekend. Seward would put us up."

"Please, Jonathan, not there!"

He kissed her hands. "I'm sorry. Let's stay at a hotel, perhaps in Covent Garden so we can walk to the theaters at night. Would you like that?"

For a moment her expression became remote. Then she beamed with delight and nodded. It occurred to Jonathan that he had been too preoccupied with work lately. The firm was important to them but so was her happiness. He vowed to be more attentive then realized ruefully that he had made the same vow two weeks before then made no real effort to keep it.

The house was quiet when Millicent stole downstairs and lit a lamp in the dining room. As quietly as she was able, she moved a chair to the hearth so she could lower her portrait and be certain that what she had glimpsed earlier was indeed there.

Pasted to the back of the frame was the artist's name and his address. No, her eyes had not been wrong. The artist lived here in Exeter.

And Mina had gone to London twice.

Millicent had too little imagination. She could only think of the obvious reason.

Should she speak to Jonathan? Years ago, someone had told her the truth about the man she loved. The deceit had ended all chance for a husband and family for her. She should have been grateful, but over the years she had grown to hate the bearer of that news, long after she forgave the man who deceived her. She might tell Jonathan what she had learned, but only if the need arose, certainly not yet.

FIFTEEN

Mina sat in their corner room of the Adelphi Hotel in Covent Garden, drinking a cup of coffee and impatiently drumming her nails on her writing desk. This was her second full day in London. After yesterday's useless search, she had given up on ever finding Ion Sebescue and decided to concentrate instead on discovering someone else who could help her.

"What would Detective Holmes do?" she said aloud, looking down at the most recent issue of Lippincott's Monthly. Thinking of her search as a challenge rather than an obsession made the work more interesting. By the time she had finished breakfast, Mina had jotted down six possibilities. She began with the most obvious one, the Hungarian Emba.s.sy.

"I'm sorry that we cannot help you," one of the employees said. "We come here because of our knowledge of English not Rumanian. But when I want to read something from home, I go to a bookstore in Chelsea. Perhaps they can recommend someone."

"The store's name, please."

"Becks," the man replied. "On Cromwell Road. I'm sorry that I don't know the exact number, but it's near Thurloe Square. If you would like to leave the copy of the writing with me, I could pa.s.s it on to the owner next time I go there and he could contact you."

It was nearly eleven. A trip to Chelsea would take most of her precious afternoon. "Please," she replied and wrote Winnie's name and address on the back of the sample.

"You might also try the British Museum," the man suggested. "They have excellent translators on staff."

"I was just going there," Mina replied happily. Things seemed to be falling in place so much better today.

Since it was a weekday, the museum was nearly empty. Surrounded by all the magnificently restored antiquities, Mina could not help but think of the crumbling ruins of the ancient castle, the ancient creature that had inhabited it. Had he visited this place when he came to London? She was certain of it, could almost see his pale face still hovering on the other side of the gla.s.s cases with their Grecian urns and Roman swords and ancient Egyptian jewelry.

At another time, she might have spent hours studying all the exotic wonders, reading the description of each magnificent piece.

Not today. Instead, she purchased a catalog and noted a few things Jonathan might find of interest then walked quickly to the curators' offices. As she did, her leather-soled shoes beat against the polished marble, setting up echoes in the empty halls like footsteps following after her.

She went to the receptionist and asked if the museum had a specialist in Eastern European doc.u.ments. Mina was led to a more secluded section of the museum where doc.u.ments and paintings were cleaned and restored. There, surrounded by shadows and dusty framed pictures, she met a young man with intense, almost black eyes and prematurely gray hair that, in the shadows, seemed nothing more than an extension of his likewise pale skin. When they were introduced, Anton Ujvari's handshake was limp, leading her to wonder if the young man was ill.

Mina waited until they were alone, then explained. "I have a doc.u.ment that I need translated. I brought a sample of the writing."

She handed the sheet to him.

He angled his work light for reading. As he scanned it, Mina saw his back stiffen, his hands grip it more tightly. Why had she been so foolish? Mina asked herself. Van Helsing had not been wrong about the vampires' nature. Why had she expected him to be wrong about those who hunted them? "Are you able to read it?" she asked as evenly as she was able, praying he would say no.

He studied it a moment longer. "I have been in ... this terrible place for nearly a . . . a century? How unusual!" he exclaimed. His accent, no more than a slight inflection when they were introduced, thickened as he went on, more quickly, his voice reflecting all his excitement. "I do not know if I am a ... slave or captive, perhaps, or . . . a word for 'mistress,' I believe, of this place." He looked at her intently, his eyes glittering in the shadows of their deep sockets. "What does this mean?"

It occurred to her that to lie about the nature of the journal would not work with its translator. "I don't know," she said. "I purchased a journal in Bucharest. I was told that it was valuable and quite old. One of the pages was loose. I brought it with me."

She took a magazine from her handbag and flipped through it until she found the single page from the end of the book.

Ujvari studied the quality of the paper, the shade of the ink. "Not so old," he said. "At least not as old as its author claims to be."

For the first time, he smiled, and some of her uneasiness about confiding in this stranger vanished. Fanatics, she thought, did not smile.

"I would like the entire journal translated. Could I hire you to do that?"

"Gladly. Did you bring it with you? It will be very hard to agree on a price otherwise."

"I have it in London but not with me. It has about fifty handwritten pages. I can bring it to you tomorrow morning, and we can discuss the terms then."

"I'm sorry, I won't be working tomorrow. We could meet somewhere else, if you wish."

She suggested the cafe next door to the Adelphi Hotel. They agreed on ten the next morning. On the way out, she stopped in the main offices once more. "Could you tell me how long Mr. Ujvari has worked here?" she asked the secretary.

"Five years," the man replied.

Long enough to be reliable, Mina decided. And long enough that she would always know where to find him.

Mina arrived at the cafe early, ate breakfast and finished her detective story while waiting for her translator. When he arrived, Ujvari seemed even more intense than yesterday, and she decided, with a pang of pity, that as one so enamored with novelty, his job must bore him terribly.

"I finished reading the page you gave me," Ujvari told her as soon as he sat down. "The narrator identifies herself as Countess Karina Aliczni. If you have purchased copy of a journal kept by her, it may solve a very old mystery."

"Why wouldn't it be an original?" Mina asked.

"Because the writing is no more than a few decades old, at most, and the countess disappeared over a hundred years ago."

Mina feigned confusion, not certain that she had done it very well. "Was she that famous?" she asked.

"Her father was wealthy. He a.s.sured that her legend would live on. I show you." He pulled a kerchief from his jacket and unwrapped a gold coin. "Many people wrote of the beauty of the young countess. This is a likeness of her. The coins were stamped in the year 1772, just after she disappeared from the Romanian town of Sibiu. Her father ordered the coins circulated in the hopes that someone would recognize her and lead him to her. He promised a thousand more coins like this to the one who would do it."

Mina looked down at the stamped likeness. Even in this, she could see the girl's delicate beauty and the similarity to the fair creature in Dracula's castle, the one who reminded her of Lucy. "Did her father ever get news of her?" Mina asked.

Ujvari shook his head. "But she lives through this coin and the legend that surrounds it." He took the coin from her hand and abruptly kissed Mina's palm. "I am romantic," he said. "I like to think that she found a happier life, perhaps with a lover in some distant land. You have given me a chance to solve the mystery. For that I am so very thankful."

Mina already knew that the truth was far less beautiful. She pulled the book from her bag. "I will need proof that I have given you this," she said.

"I've brought it." He handed her a letter describing the work he would undertake to use as a receipt. They agreed on a price then exchanged home addresses. Mina gave him Winnie Beason's, then, in case it was necessary, the address of the Exeter Hospital as well. Just before Ujvari left, he took a pencil and made rubbing of the coin. He left it with the letter as they parted.

He'll think it's fiction, she decided, as she watched him go with the wrapped book under one arm. The more fantastic the woman's account becomes, the more he will be certain that it's fiction. And if he should believe it, well, he doesn't know my real name.

Now that she had parted with the book, she felt a lightening of her spirits. She had found a translator, had given him the book.

There was no use worrying about an outcome she could no longer change, nor any use waiting impatiently for something that would take weeks to finish, and there was even less use in anxiety about what the journal might contain.

She wandered the streets around the hotel, buying trinkets for Winnie and Millicent, some charming carved and painted wooden birds with outstretched wings to hang in the children's hospital. She had tea in the Savoy Hotel, tried on bracelets and rings at a jewelers nearby, fingered lace scarves and bonnets, bought a feather fan to take to the theater that night. So many beautiful things.

Exotic things. Expensive things. Things to adorn the body and the home. Things to show taste when manners would do. Things to show affection when a word would do.

All the sunshine of the day faded within her as she saw the world as Dracula must have seen it, the glorious press of humanity- unaware, defenseless-all around him.

It seemed that she had never seen England as clearly as she did on the walk from the Savoy back to her quiet hotel on Floral Street. Near the entrance to it, a flower vendor thrust a small bouquet into her hand, the miniature yellow roses and daisies wilting in the damp winter cold. She paid for them gladly and went inside. When Jonathan was dressed for the theater and dinner, there would be a flower for his lapel, roses for her bonnet, something honest and fresh amid all the gilt of London. She held the bouquet up to her face, inhaling the scent as she went inside."Mrs. Harker."

Startled, she looked around and saw Lord Gance coming toward her, one pale hand outstretched. As always, the sight of him brought back memories and emotions she had to struggle to hide. What must he think of her, she wondered as he took her hand and kissed it, his lips just brushing the back of her glove. He did not let go of her hand as he spoke. "I was just about to leave you and Jonathan this note inviting you to dinner tonight after the show." He handed the card to her.

"Dinner? I can ask Jonathan."

"Miss Lewis, Arthur and I are meeting a group at Rules. Tell him that I don't invite him, only you. Him, I order to attend. The new wealth of London will be there tonight. He is so young and honest, he must meet them."

"We are all young, Lord Gance."

"It's the age of youth. May we never grow old." He noted her shock. "Oh dear, if I've said something wrong, I apologize. I was only trying to be complimentary."

He looked so mockingly sad that she had to laugh. "And if I decline?" she asked.

"You won't. These people are more than amusing, Mrs. Harker. They are an adventure, and an education. You must come, especially tonight, since you seem to be looking more beautiful than usual."

Did it show in her face, that pa.s.sion that flowed from somewhere deep inside her? "And you so witty," she replied with a tiny laugh.

"London does that to me. All the wits bring out a compet.i.tiveness in my nature that is utterly useless in Exeter. Promise me that I will see you there."

"I'll do my best." The thought suddenly became more intriguing. She needed the company, the diversion, the chance to laugh.

"Yes, I promise."

He closed his eyes and nodded solemnly; then, without warning, he moved close to her. She thought he was going to whisper something to her. Instead his lips brushed the edge of her mouth and her cheek. Her face was still cold from the winter air, and his breath was warm against her skin. "Until tonight," he murmured as if they had arranged a tryst, then turned and left her.

Jonathan arrived at the hotel nearly an hour late. Mina had already dressed in the magnificent green gown she had worn to Lord Gance's dinner. She had piled her hair high on the sides, let it hang in loose ringlets down the back and arranged the rosebuds in a single clasp near the crown.

"Now you look so perfect that I shall have to take you to the Savoy after the show," he said as she slowly turned to show him the dress.

"We're invited to Rules." She handed him the card.

"Gance again," he said with no real enthusiasm. "Do you want to go?"

"Please!" She sounded too eager, she decided, but went on anyway. "Arthur will be there, along with Miss Lewis and others from the cast."

"I thought you didn't like Miss Lewis," Jonathan countered.

"Not herNo, I thought Arthur was using her. Perhaps I'm wrong. They've been seeing one another quite often, and Arthur seems so much happier. Please, Jonathan, we came for a holiday. Tonight I would like to do something we would never be able to do in Exeter!"

"I don't like crowds," Jonathan grumbled.

Mina recalled that Lord Gance's holiday party had resulted in two new clients for Jonathan's firm. Though it galled her to have to say it, she went on. "Lord Gance said there are a number of people coming whom you should meet."

For the first time, Jonathan seemed to consider her request. "I suppose we could put in an appearance," he said. "Will you promise that we won't stay too long?"

"Only as long as you like," she replied, her happiness somewhat contrived.

They met Gance and his party outside the theater. Rose Lewis, looking flushed from her performance and the three curtain calls after it, joined them some time later. Arthur was already at Rules along with a dozen others. Mina never learned all their names, nor could she recall half of what was said that made her laugh so happily.She dined on partridge and smoked salmon, drank far more than usual. As the evening went on, she noticed Arthur's jealousy of Gance's friendship with the actress. Rose ignored his barbs, treating both men with equal affection. Unlike Lucy, who had to choose one suitor and marry, Rose Lewis could have two men or more if she chose. Rose also did her best to make Mina and Jonathan feel welcome, but it seemed to Mina that the more she relaxed, and the more she laughed, the less pleasant Jonathan became. Finally Jonathan and Arthur retreated to a quieter table. At first she thought they were merely sulking, later Mina decided that they might actually be discussing business.

She took pity on them both and joined them, suggesting that they walk back to the hotel. The men lit their cigars, and with Mina in their center, her arms laced with theirs, they began a leisurely stroll toward Covent Garden.

The street was more crowded at midnight than it had been at noon, and far more lively. Carriages and riders moved down it, ragged flower girls sold exotic bouquets and street bands played for pa.s.sersby.

The lights, the scents, even the wine she had drunk lent magic to the night. Mina lifted her face to the sky and inhaled deeply, feeling as if she could also drink in the night. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something huge and black on the opposite side of the street.

"Jonathan, look!" Mina exclaimed, pulling away and pointing across the street to an organ player with a dancing bear on a leash.

"Let's get closer," she suggested and the trio began crossing.

At that moment, the bear stepped off the curb and moved too close to a pa.s.sing carriage. The driver pulled the team toward the center of the road, and one of the horses reared, its hoof cutting the side of Jonathan's head. Mina screamed. The driver yelled a curse and went on.

Arthur pulled Jonathan to the sidewalk and pressed a scarf against the wound. "Are you all right?" he asked. Jonathan's only reply was to grip Arthur's arm until he was able to lean against a lampost in front of the restaurant. The blood had soaked the scarf and soiled Jonathan's coat. Mina longed to help him, but the sight of it held her back. She feared that the fainting spell at the hospital would be repeated. In spite of his pain, Jonathan saw her tortured expression and understood. "Go back to Rules, darling. Arthur will see me safely to the hotel and send for a doctor. If I'm able, I'll be back in an hour or so."

"You're not coming?" Arthur asked Mina.

She did not seem to hear him, but only looked down the street, as if something far distant held her interest more than her wounded husband. "The blood," Jonathan whispered for her.

"I understand." Arthur flagged down a cab, helped Jonathan inside then took Mina back to their table, whispering a few words to Rose and rea.s.suring Mina that he would return and tell her how Jonathan was.

Rose had Mina sit beside her, but as the evening stretched on, they moved apart in the crowd. It seemed that Mina's winegla.s.s was always full and, though she made an effort to drink slowly, so much talking in the noisy, smoky room made her thirsty. Two hours pa.s.sed before Arthur returned. "Jonathan is sleeping. He has a concussion, but the doctor believes that he'll be fine in a few days," he told Mina. "I'll walk you back to the hotel whenever you wish."

She was about to ask to leave immediately when Rose motioned Arthur to join her. Mina watched him go, waited a while for him to return, then found her coat and slipped outside to hail a cab.