“Well, her pulse is weak, her skin pale. By the looks of it, it appears to be some sort of severe anemia.”
“Is that dangerous?” Lucy asked, concern in her eyes.
“If left untreated, it can be,” he said, drawing a gasp from Mrs. Westenra. “Don’t fret. It can be easily treated, for the most part. We’ll get you on a tonic and things should start to turn around soon.”
After promising to write the prescription, he said his goodbyes to Lucy, still unsure of the cause of such an ailment. She hadn’t shown symptoms of amenia when he’d treated her previously, but he supposed there could have been changes to her menstrual cycle that might have resulted in such a thing. But this anemia seemed rather extreme.
Mrs. Westenra walked him down the stairs and back to the front door where he put on his boots.
“May I ask,” Dr. Seward said softly, “if you’ve told Lucy about your condition?”
Mrs. Westenra frowned. “No.”
Dr. Seward exhaled. It hardly seemed appropriate to insist the woman share the diagnosis with Lucy when the girl herself was so ill. But Mrs. Westenra had an untreatable heart condition that would surely result in her demise, and the sooner Lucy could prepare for the loss, the better. Though, this matter of Lucy’s illness certainly didn’t seem to be helping Mrs. Westenra’s weakening heart.
“Please don’t mention it to her,” Mrs. Westenra said. “Not now, while she’s ill.”
He nodded. “Of course. But the sooner you can tell her, the better.”
Mrs. Westenra only nodded but avoided meeting his eyes.
After saying his goodbyes to Mrs. Westenra and stepping back out into the rainy night, the events of the evening formed a pit in his stomach.
CHAPTER 25
Castle Dracula, Transylvania
Mina had long felt that something was wrong in Castle Dracula—had sensed it in her bones—but now there was no denying it. But how could she ask either the Count or Sofia about it without drawing suspicion from them? It was clear they were lying to her, even going so far as to deny her very memories of the night of the raid, but why?
As Mina followed Sofia to breakfast the next morning, she wondered about this woman who’d done so much to care for her, yet whose loyalties clearly lay with the Count. It was unfair, but Mina couldn’t help but feel a stab of betrayal about it all. Had Mina truly seemed that untrustworthy, that fragile, that they’d both thought it best to keep her in the dark about whatever was going on within this castle?
Despite the distress broiling within her, Mina had no choice but to act as though nothing was wrong, as though the world was not crumbling around her. That day passed slowly as Mina tried to return to the routine that had never truly felt like hers. She sat before her desk, paper in front of her and a quill in her hand, yet she could not write. The only things she’d wanted toshare were things she couldn’t yet speak of to anyone—certainly not write down on a letter that the Count or Sofia might read. And what was the point of writing these letters when she’d receive none in return?
Her thoughts turned to paranoia when she considered, for the first time, the possibility that perhaps the Count and Sofia were receiving her letters and simply not giving them to her. It seemed a foolish suspicion, after all, why would either of them have a problem with Mina communicating with her family? She’d been set to marry the Count and she’d done just that—it wasn’t as though they would try to talk her out of it at this point.
Though she supposed, had she told Lucy and Jonathan of the strange things she’d experienced here, maybe they would express concern. Perhaps even insist on coming to see her. But then again, she couldn’t just accuse the Count of withholding her mail without cause.
She thought of the note that had been left behind the day prior. That had not been mail of any kind, but clearly left behind by someone already within the castle walls. And then she wondered about the book that had been left beneath her candelabra, what seemed like ages ago. She had taken the book as a threat, its title seeming clear, yet now she wondered what was in its pages. What if there had been a note inside? But then, why not just leave the note itself?
For a moment, she considered returning to the north wing, but the memory of her name being chanted from beyond the door gave her pause. She’d been frightened by the unseen forces, by the howling of wolves outside the window—there had been something supernatural about it all, like a curse of witches or wraiths. But that was foolish. There was only fact, only science, and it was clear that such things did not exist.
She’d allowed her fear to fog her reason, but she could no longer sit within the gilded walls of this prison and pretend she was content. She had allowed herself to behave like a child, to be treated like a child, but she was a grown woman who deserved the truth. Whoever was within the north wing was someone made of flesh and bone, and that meant they’d been trying to frighten her, trying to scare her. Perhaps they’d even tried to scare her to prevent her from returning, wanting to keep her away from the truth, and she’d allowed it to happen.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever lay within the north wing was a secret worth protecting. And she would not go a night longer without clarity.
Mina skipped dinner that night, unable to stomach food with all these suspicions swirling through her head. She got into bed, listening to the howling of the wind outside her window, and waited for the sun to set.
Once night had fallen, she waited longer, wanting to be sure that Sofia would have turned in for the evening and would not be there to interfere.
When it finally felt time to go on, Mina climbed out of bed.She looked around the room, eager to find something to bring as a means of protection. Her eyes caught on the iron fireplace poker next to the hearth, and she moved forward, picking it up and feeling the weight of it in her hand. Tonight, if she encountered a threat, she would not run. She would do all she could to find the truth, and if needed, she would fight.
With a lit candle in one hand and the poker in the other, she eased open her chamber door and stepped into the dark hall beyond. She turned right, following the path of hairpins she’d laid for herself weeks prior when she’d first taken this path. The deeper into the castle she drew, the more her chest tightened with unease.
Her mind returned to the sounds behind that door, the whispering of her name,Wilhelmina. A chill ran up her spine and she forced the thought away. The Transylvanian people might be superstitious, but she was not. She didn’t believe in ghosts, and she wouldn’t let herself be frightened again. She would move forward, toward the silent darkness of the halls ahead.
When she finally approached a hall that she recognized, one stone corridor merging into another, she took a deep breath. She’d come to the wall with the windows, so close to that wing where last night she’d heard those whispers of her name.
She reached toward the door handle, the iron poker tapping against the wood as she tried to turn the handle. And with aclick, the door eased open.
