Page 14 of Lucy Undying

It seemed inevitable that he would come for me. Dracula had made me this on purpose. And if he did it with purpose, there had to be a reason. I wanted to know what the reason was. That question burned in me, nearly as brightly as my need for Mina.

“Where is he?” I demanded of Raven. “I have to find him.”

She hissed in annoyance. She needed him as much as or more than I did.

I think now he’d never invited her to come with him to London. I think he meant to leave her and his other brides behind forever in his castle in Transylvania. She followed him, because without him, who was she?

I understand Raven. She was my first mirror in a world where mirrors could no longer reflect what I had become.

But I couldn’t keep waiting there with her. She was tiring of me as quickly as I was of her, and I couldn’t rest while Mina was out there. Not until I knew she was truly safe. Unfortunately, I said as much to Raven. “Please. I have to make sure Dracula doesn’t hurt my friend. And I need to speak with him so I can understand who I am.”

Raven, ever clever, ever the loyal bride, devised another game to play. This time, I was the victim, though it would take crossing the world to realize it.

15

May 16, 1890

Journal of Lucy Westenra

My hopes that all Doctor Seward’s visits would include Quincey Morris, who is at least distracting and tolerable, have been thoroughly dashed.

He—the doctor, with no Texan in tow—arrived early this morning, bearing his doctor’s bag and also flowers. I wanted neither. With barely an examination, he told Mother that the condition of her heart was “precarious” and she had best retreat to her bed. Then he insisted on taking me on a walk about the park because my color was “off.” As though I am a pampered pet and must not be allowed outside without a leash and minder.

I resolved to endure it as best I could. There is nothing outright beastly about the doctor. Mother certainly likes him. I do feel I’m being unfair to him at times. It’s not his fault that his hair looks like a patch of dying grass, or that his breath has the strangest smell of antiseptic, or that he speaks in a monotone so droning I can feel it in my teeth. I can be indifferent to all those things. But spending time with him is like being under observation. I am more specimen than a person. I would so love to be a person sometimes.

The day was beautiful, though, and despite the company I enjoyed the walk.

Doctor Seward stopped. “You should sit,” he said to me, pointing to a bench. I informed him that I would like to continue walking. He insisted I sit, so I sat. Perhaps I am a pampered pet, and a well-trained one at that. Mother has taught me it’s always better to do as I’m told; it’s not worth the fight.

Doctor Seward’s face became even graver than usual. The light caught on his glasses so that his eyes appeared to be two half-moons of brilliant white, impassive light, burning down at me.

“Your mother is dying,” he said.

How does one respond when calmly informed of such a thing? My etiquette lessons never included this. I said the first thing that came to mind, which was the wrong thing. I should never say what’s actually on my mind. I know better.

“How long will it take?” I asked. His eyebrows raised in surprise and perhaps alarm, so I pulled out my kerchief and hid my face, feigning upset. Was I feigning? It is upsetting. But at the moment I only wanted information. Everyone’s always keeping the truth from me for my own protection.

“I can see you’re overcome with emotion,” Doctor Seward said, which proves that while he can watch me all he wants, he doesn’t see anything. “Here, this will calm you.” He held out a vile little vial. He’s always offering me laudanum drops, or other things in powders or pills. I never take them. I can only be myself in my own thoughts; why would I let something else influence those thoughts?

“No,” I demurred. “I must stay strong for Mother.”

He droned some nonsense about my own tender and excitable nerves needing care, relentlessly pushing the laudanum on me until at last I accepted. I slipped behind a tree as though modest and fearful of being observed—though laudanum drops are hardly a shocking matter among women of my station—then poured half the bottle into my handkerchief.

Doctor Seward seemed satisfied after that, assured my womanly hysterics would not inconvenience him. I moved as if in a daze while he walked me home—not because I was pretending to have taken his laudanum, but because I was actually in a daze.

Mother is dying. I still cannot force my mind to accept the information. Mother is everywhere; Mother is infinite. Mother is the gravity of my whole life, keeping me chained to the earth, forever revolving around her. What will happen when gravity ceases its terrible tyranny? Will I float away? Will I shed my mortal coil and become nothing but light and happiness? Or will I be condemned to hell for these very thoughts?

(I do not believe in hell, I think. It feels too much like something Mother would invent to keep me in line. Fire and brimstone and eternal torment to deal with if I’m not a perfect doll who can marry well! Though marrying any man I know seems about as close to eternal torment as I can imagine.)

I was in a state of frantic confusion when I arrived home, ready to write a letter to Mina, begging her to come over. I burst into tears upon finding Arthur Holmwood in the sitting room waiting for me, instead.

“My mother is dying,” I said, hoping he would excuse himself out of shame for my hysterics.

To my surprise, he rose from the sofa and took my hands in his. Genuine concern creased his brow. He looked at me like I was a person, rather than a silly girl.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Westenra. Please, come, sit. Would you like to talk about it?”

No one ever asks me what I’d like. Perhaps I’ve been too harsh in my judgment of Arthur. I babbled some of my fears—how long it might take, whether she would suffer very much. He generously assumed that I was afraid for her, rather than afraid of how badly this would increase my burdens. But he listened with gentle patience as I came to the end of my fears and was faced with the reality of the moment.

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