Dracula in Love

fortune.

Mina, time is of the essence. How I wish that I could send word to Morris. I know that you hold the lowest opinion of him, but I am also certain that there was some feeling in his heart for me, despite his having abandoned me, and that he would come to my rescue if he knew how desperate and acute my situation. Please present my letters to your dear husband and beg of him to think of a means of getting me released from this place. Oh, this horrible place! I feel it packed with the spirits of those who have died here! Sometimes I think I hear them moaning in the night. Time is crucial. I will not last long if they continue to administer the treatments. I cannot eat and I am shaking with fever.

Your desperate friend,

Lucy

Kate’s ink-stained fingers gripped Lucy’s letters tightly, turning her nails and knuckles white with tension. No longer clad in black, she was back to the loose-fitting clothes she wore when working, but I could still see her chest move as she took short, audible breaths.

We sat in the Cheshire Cheese off Fleet Street, where Bohemian artists and newspaper people fought over the table at which Doctor Johnson himself had once sat and held court. Kate ate lunch here so often that, without needing to order, a waiter had placed two plates with steaming rump steaks in front of us. They sat untouched.

“What do you make of this, Kate? Did they kill Lucy? Should we go to the police?” I hadn’t been able to go to sleep after reading Lucy’s letters, and now my eyes were burning, my back ached, and my mind was a jumble of ruminations that had slammed against the walls of my brain all night long.

“And present the letters of a ‘madwoman’ against the word of Lord Godalming? That would not be wise, Mina. You must try to think like a crime investigator. These letters do not prove a thing. Many doctors are experimenting with the transfusion of blood from one patient to another, sometimes with positive results. Some use the blood of lambs and claim it has revived dying patients entirely. Lucy had a very vivid imagination. You yourself have told me the story of how she imagined that the American was in love with her.”

“She had quite a bit of help from that gentleman, who told her so.”

“Nonetheless, she had a vivid and often prurient imagination. She thought all the boys were in love with her.”

“And they were, if I recall,” I countered. I detected a little strain of the old jealousy that Kate had for the prettier and more flirtatious Lucy. “But those letters, Kate. We cannot just drop the matter. Lucy lost her life! She did not belong in an asylum and she was not sick.”

“That is not exactly true.” She picked up her utensils and began to slice the meat. “You said that she had lost weight, and that she seemed quite out of her mind over this Morris Quince, and then even more disturbed over the loss of him. Perhaps she was completely mad by the time she wrote those letters.” Kate waved her fork at no one in particular. “On the other hand, madwomen are subjected to terrible things in the name of curing them. Oh poor Lucy. She should have just married the lord and kept the lover.”

“I am afraid I may have made a pact with the devil,” I confessed. “I made arrangements with John Seward to take my husband to the asylum.”

Kate had speared a chunk of steak with her fork but stopped short of putting it in her mouth. “Did you?”

I explained to Kate that Jonathan had not been himself since he had contracted brain fever in Styria, and that when I told Seward of his condition, he offered to examine and treat him. I did not reveal the extraneous details of Jonathan’s infidelity, nor did I reveal the incidents that were leading me to believe that I too needed a doctor’s care. “Obviously, I would not want Jonathan to have the sort of treatments Lucy described. On the other hand, he does need help, solid medical help.”

Kate chewed her steak while she pondered this. She held her empty fork in the air as if it were one of the pointing sticks I used in the classroom. “Mina, an expose on the treatments in some of these asylums would make a gripping newspaper story. Really, the mad doctors do the most barbaric things, from what I have heard. Strange, perverse things-as horrible as what Lucy described and even worse-all in the name of science and medicine. Oh, it would be a gruesome story, but the readership would eat it up, I assure you.”

“Kate Reed, you have been on Fleet Street too long!” I could not believe what my ears were hearing. Had she gone mad too? “Perhaps you could have yourself committed to do the research,” I said. “It won’t take much to convince John Seward, or any other man, that you are mad.”

“Mina, it is not like you to be sarcastic,” she said. I believe I had actually hurt her feelings. “I am a journalist. It is my duty to expose practices that may be harmful. And if it is mostly women who are being harmed-as it inevitably is-then I am especially interested and obliged.”

“I apologize if I insulted you. But we must think about Lucy and Jonathan, not some article that might be written.”

“You must keep up with me, Mina. We are thinking of them. The mad doctors in private asylums are not supervised and are free to do what they wish. Oh, some of these places are mere resorts for the wealthy who need a rest from society after the Season. That is the sort of place where someone like Mrs. Westenra would go. Remember that ridiculous woman? I know I should be saying ‘God rest her soul,’ but I cannot be a hypocrite.”

“Kate!”

“Mina, will you never tire of being nice? I hear that these asylums hold some of their patients for life and turn them into veritable slaves. I have thought to write on this before, but Jacob said that for centuries, the Church tried to stop medical men from dissecting human corpses, which delayed scientific discovery. He thinks that we should not interfere with medical experimentation, even if we find the methods gruesome.”

“I am not interested in writing a story, Kate. I am only interested in helping my husband and in getting to the bottom of how Lucy died.”

All around us people were carving, chewing, and swallowing their food while laughing and talking. Some picked up chops by the bone, tearing the meat off with their teeth. For some reason, it reminded me of the way Lucy said that her body had been handled and abused, and I had to turn my eyes away.

“On the other hand, if something terrible did happen to Lucy within those walls, and you found out about it, your story would be a great tribute to her memory.”

“You cannot expect me to subject Jonathan to these sorts of vile treatments that Lucy described?”

“Oh, they will not do those things to a man. Not against his will. And you will be there to supervise.” Kate was smiling now as the idea took hold. As we finished our meals, she continued to talk as if I had already agreed to her plan. “One of the great benefits of being a lady journalist is that no one thinks that you have a brain at all. People will reveal to you the most amazing things. It won’t take long for Dr. Seward to tell all about Lucy’s demise. Especially to you, pretty Mina with your dazzling eyes and ladylike comportment. Society women love to volunteer at the asylums. You might convince Dr. Seward that you are just another do-gooder.”

Each time Kate emphasized a word, she leaned forward with her lips like a woman about to take a bite out of her veil. “Mina, you know you want to do this. Just admit it.”

In fact, the part of myself that had always been intrigued with Kate’s journalistic activities was quickly being drawn into the plan. “I am interested in learning about the last days of Lucy’s life. I cannot promise that I will gather enough material for a newspaper story,” I said.

“Oh, but you will, Mina. I have no doubt. You always play the goody-goody with me, but that is only because you want to act as my foil.”

She wiped her mouth clean with a napkin. “Now listen carefully and I will quickly instruct you in the art of gathering information. You will find that the feminine habit of interrupting silences with meaningless chatter will not serve you. I have discovered that if I sit in silence, the subject will begin to blurt out things that would have gone unspoken if I had started chattering.”

“I have never seen you silent, Kate. You are a very aggressive interviewer.”

She considered this. “Normally, I interrogate vigorously. But it is not in your nature to do that, so you must use this other tactic, which I assure you will produce results. Pretend innocence and ignorance. Smile sweetly, as you