Page 96 of Now Comes the Mist

When Arthur regained control of himself, he said to me, “Mrs. Harker, I know you love Lucy as much as I do. The doctor believes she will sleep during the day for fear of the sun, and I have a notion that he and Jack will return in the morning to kill her.”

“They can’t! They mustn’t,” I cried.

“Mr. Morris is all for it. Which means that you and I are the only ones who can protect her. Please, Mrs. Harker. I hate to ask you when your husband is ill and you ought to be home with him, but I wish that you would please come back and help me keep Lucy safe.”

I have never seen a man cry before. Jonathan never has, not even on the worst days of his illness, when I knew he wanted to. But Arthur wept inconsolably as he spoke, and I could only touch his shoulder and say, “Have no fear, my friend. I shall stand watch with you until dawn.”

Well, Lucy, it was a lucky notion of his. I patrolled the churchyard entrance with him until sunrise, when Dr. Van Helsing—who is every bit as much of a hunter as Mr. Morris—came back with the other men in tow. When I saw his face, I knew he would not rest until you were no more.

I truly thought he and Arthur would kill each other. Arthur refused to move out of his way, so Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris pinned him to the ground. Oh, the violence with which they treated their friend! “I am sorry, Mrs. Harker,” Mr. Morris said to me. “I am sorry that you stayed.”

“I will not move, either,” I told Dr. Van Helsing, prostrating myself before him. “Will you hurt me, too, Mr. Morris? Or you, Dr. Seward? I beg you to let Lucy be. Do not take her life.”

“It is not a life, Madam Mina,” Dr. Van Helsing said quietly, “but an evil, soulless existence that she must now endure. In the name of the love you once bore her, let me pass.”

“Evil? Soulless? Take those words back!” I had never shouted like that in all my life, and the men went still with shock. “If you want to kill Lucy, you will have to kill me first. Go on! My head and my heart are here for the taking, and I would rather you destroy me than her.”

Lucy, I meant those words. Every one of them.

They protested that you had almost harmed a child, to which I replied, “I should not have said what I did. Lucy may not like children, but she would never hurt them. Not even now. I have loved her long and well and ought to beg her forgiveness for making such an assumption.”

Mr. Morris shook his head. “It wasn’t an assumption, ma’am.”

“The doctors examined the child thoroughly,” I said. “There was not a scratch on her. Lucy did not hurt her, though she had the opportunity. Please go away and let her be!”

Dr. Van Helsing’s eyes held such sorrow as he looked at me. “Madam Mina, you do not know what you ask.” But something about my plea touched him, and the men vowed not to return that day. I believed them, but Arthur did not and stayed with you all afternoon. I went home to care for Jonathan, and when I came back, Arthur was on the bench with his head in his hands.

“I cannot leave her,” he said. “I cannot leave my love.”

For two nights and a day, we watched over you. I had to leave now and then to see to Jonathan, but then I would return to sit with Arthur. Writing this helped distract me from my fear, for always I sensed a presence watching us. My intuition told me that this being did not wish to harm Arthur and me … at least, not right away. And I knew they had something to do with you.

I am sobbing as I read Mina’s words. The page ends with a large ink blot, and then the letter continues with one last sheet, her neat handwriting becoming crooked and agitated.

Oh, Lucy! Such distressing news since I last wrote to you!

On the third day, I stayed at home, as Jonathan was growing worried by my long absences and lack of appetite. He took a nap after lunch—sleep hasbeen elusive for him ever since his journey—and a good thing, too, because Arthur came to see me, looking frantic.

“She is gone, Mrs. Harker,” he said. “Lucy is gone!”

That morning, the doctors and Mr. Morris had returned to the churchyard bearing wood and iron, and Arthur had been too weak from lack of food and rest to fight them. They bullied the caretaker into opening the Westenra mausoleum … but what should they discover but an empty tomb? There was no sign of you. Perhaps you had not been there for days.

Where are you, my darling? Can I be writing this letter to no one?

No sooner had Jonathan and I returned to England than we received news of Mr. Hawkins’s death. He had loved my husband as a son and had left his business and his entire fortune to him. You can imagine how touched Jonathan felt. Ill as he was, he insisted on going to London at once now that he was a partner in the firm. I came, too, to take care of him.

I was already worn down with grief for Mr. Hawkins and worry for Jonathan, and so the news of your and your mother’s deaths almost destroyed me. I wrote to Arthur, telling him that we were in town, and he came to me on the very eve of your wedding, half-frantic with terror. He told me of a strange notion that Dr. Van Helsing had regarding your demise. I lied to my husband that night, telling him that Arthur had invited me to a gathering of your loved ones to celebrate your life. It was the first time I have ever been untruthful to him.

Oh, Lucy, something dreadful indeed befell Jonathan in those mountains. He has never spoken of it, and I fear he never will. All he would say was that he had kept a journal there and wished to spare me the details, but he would give it to me if ever I desired to read it. What a joy it is to be so loved and trusted by one’s husband … and yet I am so afraid to even touch it, Lucy, even as my intuition tells me that it may be important to us somehow. Not just to Jonathan and me, but also to you. I cannot explain why, even to myself.

Lucy, please don’t go. Don’t leave us. Arthur and I love you and we want to help you. Read this letter, find us, and show us how. We are not afraid. We know you would never hurt us.

Stay, dear heart, and save us the agony of your loss. I know you have done wrong and your new existence compels you to commit awful, unspeakable deeds, but there must be something we can do. We will come up with a plan and talk it over, you and Arthur and I, and in time, we may change Dr. Van Helsing’s mind and enlist his assistance as well.

What a fine, first-class brain that man has! I sigh as I write this, for it sounds foolishly hopeful even to me. He is dangerously single-minded, cool, and calculating. He is like a train that, once on the tracks, will not veer until it reaches its destination. But we shall cross that bridge when it appears, shall we not, my Lucy?

I must end this letter and seal it with a kiss. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Please find me. Please don’t leave us.

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