Mina (36 page)

When three
days had passed without Mina contacting her, Winnie Beason grew concerned. She
sent a note to the Harker house.

It was not answered. Discreet inquiries revealed that Mina was
apparently visiting friends in London. Winnie did not believe it. She sent a
wire to Gance and requested an immediate reply. None came.

Winnie had
met Jonathan only a few times, but she thought he knew him. Honest. Upright. A
bit dull. Not at all the equal of his

wife in either wit or
intelligence and well aware of the fact. In short, he resembled so many other
husbands, save that, like Mr.

Beason, he was fiercely in
love with his wife.

She wasn't
solely aware of that because Mina had told her so. Anyone who saw them together
could not help but notice it.

Yet Jonathan
was in town, going about his business as usual. This puzzled Winnie. She knew
that if she were missing, Mr. Beason

would be frantic with worry.
She expected the same of Jonathan Harker. Therefore, he must know exactly where
Mina was.

Winnie decided to force the
information from him.

She went to
his office. Denied an appointment, she sat in the lobby until it became clear
that she would wait the day, if necessary,

just to speak to him.

What did she expect? she wondered.
Since he knew where his wife had gone, he must also know where she'd been.
Winnie could hardly expect him to welcome her prying. He seemed only tolerant
as he offered her tea. She declined, then scandalized him by asking for sherry
instead. He poured her a small glass, slowly, as if measuring just the right
amount for a woman.

Winnie laughed. "More, please. I think the amount Mina takes
to help her sleep would be about right for this conversation." She saw
the shock in his expression and laughed. "Mr. Harker, in the few weeks
your wife has lived in Exeter, we have gotten to know one another quite well.
She told me about the sherry. Among other things."

As she had
last time she was here, after Mina's fainting spell at the hospital, she went
directly to the point. She explained how she

had accompanied Mina to the station and seen her off on the train
for London. Mina was supposed to contact her and had not done so, "I assume
that you've heard from her," she said.

"Yes." Jonathan stared down at his desk top. "She
is remaining in London for a time." "Is she all right?"

"You've
seen how fragile she's become." He looked her squarely in the face as he
finished. "She is quite ill. She is remaining in

London for treatment. She'll
contact you when she can."

"Is she
so ill that she cannot put a pen to paper?" Winnie asked with real
concern.

"Not
physically, no."

Winnie had intended to push him, but
she heard the anguish in his voice and admired his candor. He still loved Mina,
that much was clear. Yet his voice held traces of weariness, as if the love
had become a chore he'd grown tired of performing. "I'm sorry, Mr. Harker,"
Winnie said. "Please, give Mina my love. Be sure to tell her that a woman
who can face the undead can survive any lesser shock."

Winnie's
revelation had the effect she'd desired. "She told you about that?"
Harker asked incredulously. "Oh, yes. She told me about Dracula, and Lucy
Westerna, about all of you and what you did in the east." "You must
have thought she was raving."

"On the
contrary, I believed every word Mina said because she spoke them." She
leaned across Jonathan's desk, as if about to

impart some great secret.
"You see, I have faith in Mina. But of course you understand that well
enough."

"I
did." His voice held traces of bitterness, the emotion well hid.

Winnie,
finding the clue to how much she could reveal, plunged on. "Until Lord
Gance?" she asked.

His
expression grew more bitter. "You knew!"

She nodded.
"I hardly approved, but I understood. We are taught such rubbish, Mr.
Harker. Sometimes it takes a desperate act

to unlearn it."

"But
that she could love him. It's unthinkable, insane."

"Love!"
Winnie wanted to laugh at him. Men could be so incredibly dense when it suited
their egos. "Did she tell you that?"

He shook his
head.

"She
didn't love him. She didn't even care for him. Go and ask Mina what he was to
her. The answer won't come as a surprise. I

think you already know
it."

"I'd
like you to go now," Jonathan said.

"Not until you tell me where she is." "This does
not concern you," Jonathan replied. "Now, please go."

"It does concern me. She confided a great deal to me because
she saw no way to confide in you." "Go!" he bellowed.

"Where
is she?" Winnie repeated, calmly, as if their conversation were still a
cordial one. "I will leave when you tell me where she

is."

He stalked from the room, taking his
coat from the rack, then slamming the outer door behind him. Winnie sighed and
picked up her things. Stopping in the outer office, she noted the sudden
silence. As she stood, wondering what to do next, the typewriter began to
clatter again, a conversation between a clerk and a client continued.

Though it wasn't a workday for her, Winnie stopped at the hospital
and pulled the last three issues of the London Times from the stack the
volunteers kept for patients to read. She spread them out on one of the tables
in the nursery and began to scan the news she usually skipped-the tales of
killings, beatings and robberies that seemed to plague all big cities these
days.

On the bottom of the front page, she
found a follow-up story on Anton Ujvari's murder. The report noted the further
mystery that Ujvari's death had taken place days before the fire occurred.
Police speculated that the fire and murder were not linked, the fire possibly
started accidently by looters who had entered the abandoned house.

Mina had
been too late. And the fire?

The
knowledge of James Sebescue's attack and death, her affair with Gance, even the
loss of the child would not have been

enough to push Mina into the
insanity her husband hinted now possessed her. This had to be at the root of
her problem.

Winnie tore
out the story and finished her work quickly. It was time to go home, she
decided, and well past time to have a frank

talk with Mr. Beason.

The
housekeeper had fixed a lunch. Winnie took a tray to Margaret's room and ate
with her. She had just finished when someone

pounded on her front door.
Winnie cracked open the door enough to examine the Scotland Yard identification
the man offered her.

"Are
you here about the robbery?" Winnie asked after she'd shown the man into
her parlor and offered him a seat in her most

ornate and least comfortable
chair.

He seemed
far too young to be an investigator and most aware of it. He sat stiffly on the
edge of his chair, twisting the brim of his

hat as he spoke. "We've
identified the man you killed. His name was James Sebescue."

"I'm
sorry, but the name means nothing to me."

"I doubted that it would, but you see, there is another
mystery here." Winnie leaned forward, "Such a terrible affair. My
maid was wounded, you know. But mysteries. Sir, I do cherish them so."

"Then you should appreciate this one. It seems that two days
after James Sebescue was shot while attempting to rob your house, his father,
Ion Sebescue, an aged and somewhat crippled man, was killed by Lord Gance while
attempting to rob the Gance estate in London. What do you make of that?"

"Why,
nothing. Except, of course, that I know Lord Gance. Everyone in Exeter does; he
sees to it." She hesitated, then asked,

"Can you tell me what
happened?"

"The report will be in
The Times
this afternoon. According to the
statement we were finally able to take from Lord Gance-" "Finally?
Was he hurt?"

"Seriously.
He was shot by the man. Though badly wounded, Lord Gance then attacked and
overpowered him, stabbing him

with a knife he'd been
carrying."

"Were
there any witnesses?"

"A
servant, I believe. According to the report I was sent, the woman was too
hysterical to question. Now, I'd like to ask again,

do you have any thoughts on
why two men, bookstore owners with no criminal records, would suddenly become
thieves?"

Winnie shook her head. "The
usual need for money, I suppose. But I can swear, sir, that I never saw James
Sebescue before he broke into my house and attacked me. As for his father . .
." She hesitated long enough to get the inspector's undivided interest.
"If he was truly infirm, his son's death might have unbalanced him.
Robbing Lord Gance could have been a simple act of revenge on someone else who
was a native of Exeter. Then again, robbing Lord Gance is somewhat akin to
suicide, don't you think?"

"I
really don't know. I suppose that it's possible." He seemed suddenly
anxious to go. He stood and handed her a card. "If you

can think of any other
connection, please contact me."

"I'm
sure more will come to me. Is Lord Gance staying in London? I'd like to send
him a note. Perhaps if we confer on this, we

can find a better
connection."

"I
believe he is."

"Then
until we speak again . . ." She smiled sweetly, as if she'd just made him
a promise, then led him to the door. "Good day,"

she said and closed it softly
behind him.

After dinner
that evening, Winnie told her husband everything that had happened to Mina.
Like Jonathan, he believed Mina to be

unbalanced. Unlike Jonathan,
he had no valid reason for assuming otherwise.

"I am
going to London tomorrow, Emory," she declared, the use of his Christian
making it clear that she was utterly serious. "I

have to see Mina. It's the
least I can do."

"After being attacked by a
fanatic, and tying to police about his motives, I think you've done enough,
Mrs. Beason." He waited for her scowl before adding, "But since
you'll undoubtedly go whether I approve or not, I might as well give my
blessing. You have a tremendous heart, dearest. It's your greatest
virtue."

"Is
it?" She walked to the other side of the table and lifted her skirts,
straddling him on the dining chair. Before he could protest,

she kissed him with so much
enthusiasm that she nearly tipped over the chair, and the table as well.

"One of
your greatest virtues."

"Better."
She kissed the bare spot on the top of his head.

"You're not going until morning, are you?" "On the
earliest train. I'll stay with Patty Walker." "Be sure to take an
extra five pounds," he said.

"Whatever for?" "The fines, dearest. The last few
times you stayed with Miss Pat, weren't you arrested for stoning members of
Parliament?"

"We
merely demonstrated for the vote," she said and gave him a good-natured
jab in the ribs before leaving him just long enough

to lock the doors and shut
the drapes.

TWENTY-THREE

The day
after he received it, Gance's wound threatened to become infected. The doctor
treated it with alcohol and poultices, the

patient's pain with morphine,
until Gance was no longer certain that he would survive.

And in his
delirium, his dreams grew terrible-of torture, of demons, of a hell he'd
created for himself so many years before.

A less determined man might have peacefully passed on; Gance
fought death with every bit of effort he possessed. When Winnie Beason
arrived, she found him sitting up in bed in a mauve silk dressing gown,
devouring a huge plate of eggs and sausage and fried potatoes.

"You
look remarkably well for a man greviously woundedjust a few days ago,"
Winnie said.

"Willpower,
Mrs. Beason. I hoard it for truly important matters."

She laughed.
He started to, then winced and settled for a smile instead. "What brings
you here?" he asked. "Certainly not concern

for my health."

"I'm
looking for Mina Harker."

"Here? Have you heard rumors I've somehow missed?" "Mina
said she was meeting you in London. If she is not here, I would think you'd
know where I should look." "For what reason? Do you have the rest of
the translation?" "The rest of what?"