Page 21 of Lucy Undying (Dracula #1)

21

May 19, 1890

Journal of Lucy Westenra

Mina is engaged.

I suppose this is punishment for my callous attitude toward Mother’s failing health.

I met Mina over tea at the Rose and Thorn Inn, brimming with excitement to tell her that her worries about money and employment were forever ended. No more a governess or schoolmistress! No longer forced to guide graceless youths such as myself into a graceful and secure future denied to her!

It was all planned out in my head. I would remind her of our long walks, when she’d listen as I confessed my darkest secrets, then press her lips to mine to seal the darkness between the two of us, where it would never get out. I’ve thought of those kisses so often. Sometimes it feels as though my whole soul was sealed between us. But I wasn’t going to tell her that. I was just going to remind her of that happy intimacy before giving her this last, best secret: that I was free, and she would be free with me. And then we would press our lips together again, but linger there, and

It breaks my heart now, thinking of this morning. All the hope in my heart as I told Mina I had news. She held up a hand, begging to go first.

“I am engaged to Jonathan Harker.” She presented it as she would have a lesson in geography. Here is Europe, here is Asia, here is the shattered remnant of Lucy’s dreams, and here is Africa.

“Who?” I asked.

“I told you about him,” she said. “Jonathan Harker. He works as a solicitor—well, he will be one soon—for a wealthy man. Mister Hawkins has a tremendous estate and he looks on Jonathan as a son.”

“Jonathan?” I asked again, my mind spinning. I felt as I did last year when I got into Mother’s liquor cabinet trying to soothe myself after what my art teacher did. Everything was too fast and too loud and too confusing. “Wait, not that man who picked you up from my house two months ago! The one who was all forehead and no personality?” I should not have said any of that, even if it was true.

Mina’s eyes flared. “We cannot all be pursued by charming, handsome lords!” she snapped.

Immediately I burst into tears and apologized, and Mina forgave me, as she always does when I’m rotten, which is often. I asked how she knew about Arthur Holmwood. She blinked prettily at me before saying, “Who?” And then she went on to reassure me. “I understand you’re upset because you want me to be happy, but I’m quite certain I can secure a future through Jonathan.”

“I do want you to be happy!” I insisted. “But I thought I could help you, by—”

Mina shook her head. “How could you help me? You’ll have a husband of your own soon and have no use for me. Besides, I’m the one who’s taken care of you all these years we’ve known each other. I take care of everything.”

I grasped her hand, eager for reconciliation, still spinning from this news. “Of course you do. You’re the most capable, clever woman I’ve ever known.”

She looked away, as she always does when she’s confident that I will accept whatever point she’s making. She never looks at me for approval; why should she? Mina is steady and wise, and I am a silly, stupid girl who came to tea hoping for secrets and kisses.

“Trust that I will make the future I deserve,” she said.

“No one could deserve you, though! You’re too good for anyone. We should run away to Whitby and be happy forever. You shouldn’t have to marry if you don’t want to.” I said it lightly, but my soul was reaching out, trying to hold her with me.

Admit you don’t want to get married, I prayed in my mind to Mina, because I knew God wasn’t listening and didn’t care. See a future where the two of us are all we need, I prayed. All while smiling so she wouldn’t see how desperate I was.

Mina patted my hand. “My sweet, silly pet. Jonathan is a catch for a penniless schoolmistress like me. I have only my own mind and work ethic to recommend me. Unlike you, I can never be an angelically beautiful heiress.”

My fingers twitched up, catching hers, linking as though I could chain her to me. “That’s not all you have!” I listed her many, many qualities, which I hold in my heart at all times.

She seemed soothed, and by the end of tea I was almost able to pretend to be happy for her. I acted how a dutiful friend would, and asked how he had proposed (via a long-winded and terribly dull letter) and when they intended to marry (as soon as he got back from a terribly dull trip to help a European count finish buying property in London) and where they would live (she smiled and said she was still working on that, but I suspect somewhere terribly dull).

As I paid our bill, Mina looked at me with pursed lips, the same way she looked at any problem. “The only thing keeping me from perfect contentedness is you.”

My heart dared to hope one last time. She loved me too much to ever marry and be separated from me. I could tell her my plan to save us both.

And then my heart was reminded what a fool it is and always has been.

She nodded as though answering a question I hadn’t asked. “You will find love before the end of the year. You’ll be married, and then I won’t have to worry about you anymore and my happiness will be complete. Promise me that you’ll find a good match. Someone to take care of you when I’m too busy being a wife.”

I promised her, because I had to, because she’s my Mina. Mine no longer, though.

I cannot write any more. My heart feels as desolate as a fog-choked horizon. Neither sea nor sky nor sun visible, only blank gray forever.