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announced he was marrying her; a childless widow ten years older than himself,
a comfortably built creature of a certain grace but no great beauty, and her
hair already turning grey. But once we became acquainted, we were quickly won
over. She is one of the kindest, wisest souls I have ever met. It was quite a
strain at first, remembering never to mention Lucy's name in her presence.
Once, Lucy's name did slip out, and I was mortified; but Alice took me aside,
and said so sweetly, 'Mina, I know all about Lucy. I know that she was
beautiful, which I
am not, and that my dear John loved her, even though she was promised to
another. And I
know how she died, and that it broke his heart. Oh yes, John has told me
everything. That is why he needs me; because he can tell me such things, and I
will never be shocked or disbelieving.'
I was very startled by this, yet relieved that she knew our secret story of
Dracula. It meant we could be open and trusting with her, and not have to
watch every word. Alice smiled and went on, 'I know you must wonder why John
is marrying me, and not a girl as young, pure and lovely as Lucy, especially
when it would be easy for a handsome, accomplished doctor like him to make
such a match. The reason is simple. He dares not love another Lucy, for fear
that she would be taken from him as Lucy was.' There was no bitterness in her
voice as she said this, only warm understanding. 'With me, he feels safe.
He is a good, caring man, but he has his black moods when all that is bad in
the world weighs upon him. He needs someone to protect him, someone who will
never be torn away by another - be it rival or monster.'
That is Alice. Our rock! Proof that wisdom and good sense are far more
valuable qualities in a wife than beauty - and all credit to Dr Seward for
realizing it.
14 September
Alice has gone home, and Elena is settling in beautifully. She is such a dear,
helpful girl. Quincey adores her. He has roses in his cheeks and loves his new
companion. She enlivens him when he is strong enough to play; when he is tired
and peevish, she soothes him. It is a delight to see them together; Quincey,
fair as an angel, his face rapt and intent on hers; Elena, neat and
dark-haired, sitting with such demure grace as she reads to him.
Her English is excellent; I have no fear of her leading Quincey into mistakes!
Though once or twice I have heard him correct her, which made me smile.
I feel we will be soul mates. I have had no truly close woman friend since we
lost
Lucy. Elena is, naturally, very different from Lucy - who in life was a sweet,
passionately animated soul. Elena is quiet and demure, with large, dark,
watchful eyes. A little wary of being in a new country, with its different
customs. But often a smile dimples her cheek, and there is such kindness and
intelligence in her face. I truly feel as if I have known her all my life -
perhaps in another lifetime! Almost without exchanging words I feel very close
to her. There is surely a bond between us!
16 September
We have had the most delightful day.
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Jonathan was at work, of course, but Elena and I took Quincey for a walk. I
feared it would be too much for him but he marched along like a little
soldier, and we went much further than we meant to. We are lucky to have the
countryside within a few minutes'
walk of our house. It was such a beautiful day, warm without being too hot,
the sun gleaming on the meadows and edging the trees with soft golden light.
The air was full of fluff and seeds, white gossamer! And late-summer flowers
everywhere; roses in the gardens, wild flowers in the fields.
We stopped for a cream tea at a little cottage near the church, and had a long
talk - the three of us - in the tea room. Quincey's talk is very grown-up for
his age. (I suppose that is due to him having, of necessity, to be with adults
rather than other children. I hope he does not feel too deprived, but we
cannot risk him being exposed to every childhood illness.)
On the way back, Elena was very interested in the church and insisted on going
inside the churchyard to read the gravestones. Parts of it are very overgrown
with long grasses and cow parsley; so much life burgeoning among the
lichen-covered stones. Indeed it is a
bigger and more rambling place than I had realized, with long aisles that are
invisible from the road and some remarkable tall gravestones with crosses and
angels looking down. There are even sepulchres in hidden corners, monuments to
the more influential families of the area. But these were overshadowed by dark
yews and looked very dank and unkempt; I thought it would not be healthy for
Quincey to explore them, and so suggested that we continue on our way.
Strange, how Elena dragged her feet, as if she did not want to leave! I
suppose she is thinking of her father.
She was not sombre as we walked back, however. On the contrary, she was
flushed from the fresh air and positively glowing with health and good humour.
I am glad. I hope she will not try too hard to resist the natural process of
grief, then suffer for it.
Quincey did not want to be put down for his nap when we returned home, but
Elena persuaded him. He was so well today - do I dare to hope he might shake [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]