Part Thirty
Vespertine
Part Thirty
September 21, 1912
Dear Mrs. Harker,
As fate would have it, I am in London, brought here to give a symposium to your English doctors on the latest advances in diseases of the blood and the treatment thereof. Your letter took some time to get to Austria, only to find me absent, and then make its way here.
I am not so young as I once was, child, nor do my bones knit as quickly as they once did. I suffered a minor fall just days ago (ah, what a cruel taskmaster is Time!), and while my flesh is somewhat less able than you may remember, the spirit is still willing.
Willing, I must say, but not eager.
I do not look forward to the lives and friendships we shall lose in this endeavor, nor shall the days look kindly upon our health. We have endured what no two people should have to endure, and to be called upon, once again, to do this duty... I cannot help but feel that God is laughing at us. Perhaps even testing us. For myself, I know the horrid sins of my past for which I must atone. But you? You, dear Mina, have been the soul of all that is feminine and grand in this world. What possible atrocities could cloud your door that our divine Lord should treat you so roughly?
Name the day and the hour and you shall find me on your doorstep. I am as much to blame for your husband's transformation as the damned witches that leeched his blood.
In your service,
Abraham Van Helsing
* * *
September 22, 1912
My dear Doctor,
In London! Kind fate, indeed! For all the minor ills that the world has set to gnaw upon us, I am overjoyed for this one small favor. Already I feel somewhat relieved, knowing that such a learned scholar of the occult shall be guiding us in this, our most darkest hour.
I must protest, however, to the absurd notion that you had all to do with my husband's demise. He was a good man, and I live my every day in the certainty that were it possible for any man born of woman to resist the temptations of those harpies that my Jonathan most surely would have done so. But they have their nails dipped in poison, their fangs envenomed. What hope did so moral a man have in the face of such evil?
Please, sir. Forgive yourself this perceived injury. You are alone in the target of that guilt, and I would forgive you in a heartbeat if there were but anything to forgive.
Oh, the relief I feel at your presence is most palpable! I would gladly find you in my hall this Tuesday, the day after tomorrow, at 7 in the evening, if such time and place are agreeable to you. I shall introduce you to the new players in this saga, and will take much comfort in having you all in the same room.
You saved me once, Doctor. I have not forgotten that kindness. I wish you would entreat me to some task or service that I may, at long last, remit some payment on that debt.
Yours truly,
Mrs. Mina Harker
P.S. A fall at your age is no laughing matter. You must endeavor to take better care of yourself! Whomever shall watch over me if something were to happen to you?
Part Thirty
September 21, 1912
Dear Mrs. Harker,
As fate would have it, I am in London, brought here to give a symposium to your English doctors on the latest advances in diseases of the blood and the treatment thereof. Your letter took some time to get to Austria, only to find me absent, and then make its way here.
I am not so young as I once was, child, nor do my bones knit as quickly as they once did. I suffered a minor fall just days ago (ah, what a cruel taskmaster is Time!), and while my flesh is somewhat less able than you may remember, the spirit is still willing.
Willing, I must say, but not eager.
I do not look forward to the lives and friendships we shall lose in this endeavor, nor shall the days look kindly upon our health. We have endured what no two people should have to endure, and to be called upon, once again, to do this duty... I cannot help but feel that God is laughing at us. Perhaps even testing us. For myself, I know the horrid sins of my past for which I must atone. But you? You, dear Mina, have been the soul of all that is feminine and grand in this world. What possible atrocities could cloud your door that our divine Lord should treat you so roughly?
Name the day and the hour and you shall find me on your doorstep. I am as much to blame for your husband's transformation as the damned witches that leeched his blood.
In your service,
Abraham Van Helsing
* * *
September 22, 1912
My dear Doctor,
In London! Kind fate, indeed! For all the minor ills that the world has set to gnaw upon us, I am overjoyed for this one small favor. Already I feel somewhat relieved, knowing that such a learned scholar of the occult shall be guiding us in this, our most darkest hour.
I must protest, however, to the absurd notion that you had all to do with my husband's demise. He was a good man, and I live my every day in the certainty that were it possible for any man born of woman to resist the temptations of those harpies that my Jonathan most surely would have done so. But they have their nails dipped in poison, their fangs envenomed. What hope did so moral a man have in the face of such evil?
Please, sir. Forgive yourself this perceived injury. You are alone in the target of that guilt, and I would forgive you in a heartbeat if there were but anything to forgive.
Oh, the relief I feel at your presence is most palpable! I would gladly find you in my hall this Tuesday, the day after tomorrow, at 7 in the evening, if such time and place are agreeable to you. I shall introduce you to the new players in this saga, and will take much comfort in having you all in the same room.
You saved me once, Doctor. I have not forgotten that kindness. I wish you would entreat me to some task or service that I may, at long last, remit some payment on that debt.
Yours truly,
Mrs. Mina Harker
P.S. A fall at your age is no laughing matter. You must endeavor to take better care of yourself! Whomever shall watch over me if something were to happen to you?