Memoirs of an Immortal Life (12 page)

They have a large exhibit on mummies from Egypt. How strange it was to see them so closely and how well preserved they were. It seems they have little idea how it was they did the actual embalming part, but they believe they used the harsh climate of the desert to dry the bodies and then coated them with some type of sap before wrapping them in yards and yards of linen. I found the entire process very fascinating. Can you imagine being so important that they took that kind of care in your burial? I can only hope to be so fortunate to have twenty in attendance at my funeral when the time comes. I know you are angry when I speak of such things, but I must be realistic as Father has not yet found a cure and time is becoming my enemy.

I am hopeful, though, that now we are in the company of Dr. Seward that he might be able to unlock the mystery behind this strange form of hemophilia that I possess. He knows many scholars at Cambridge whom he promised to introduce me to and to share my case. It does give me hope.

The case Father is working on is also a unique one akin to my own, but I fear her blood is not replicating as it should be and is consuming itself. How it is that there should be someone else in the world who would be my exact opposite is a mystery.

I leave in only a few hours to begin the fitting for my dresses and for yours. I shall give her your measurements and have the dress dispatched as soon as completed. I will write as soon as I am able to keep you apprised of all our undertakings.

With love,

Claudia

Claudia Van Helsing’s Journal

15 August 1893

London

I have not received a letter from Amelia, but I am certain one shall arrive any day, as she promised she would write every day that father and I were in London. Mrs. Billingsley’s seamstress was every bit what she told me she would be. I can hardly wait for the final fitting later today. I selected three fabrics for the dress I wish to present to Amelia. It will have a harlequin print bustle in rose and burgundy with the outer shell in peach crafted for her. She will be so radiant I can scarcely wait till our return to see her wear it.

I, too, chose similar patterns for my dresses with short wasted jackets in cream, moss green, and forest for the first; the second in peach, rose, and wine; and the third in rose, lavender, and purple. Father will say they are far too extravagant for the daughter of a physician, I am certain. But I have never owned dresses such as these, so a little indulgence he can afford just this once.

This evening he says we will have a guest who is visiting from abroad. Father says he has known him for many years, but that I am not to mention him to Dr. Seward or any of his associates, which I found to be an odd request. Who knows his reasoning?  I find it is often better if I do not question him in matters such as these. He either becomes angered and dispatches me to my room or just refuses to answer.

I do wonder if he is an associate with whom he will be collaborating to discuss poor Miss Lucy’s illness. It seems the only reasonable explanation as I do not believe Father is acquainted with anyone in London other than Dr. Seward, at least that I am aware. I am anxious to meet another associate of my father. Perhaps, he too, is a specialist as Dr. Seward and my father. It gives me a sense of hope I have not had in many months.

Late evening

Father’s guest arrived quite late. He immediately sent me to my room. I waited until I knew they sat in the parlor before I crept from my room, careful not to wake Mrs. Billingsley or the other tenants. Father seemed very comfortable in the company of the man who sat across from him. I do wish I could have caught a better glimpse of him. He appeared to be taller than Father by the way he sat with his legs casually crossed. His hands rested on the arms of the chair where he tapped his fingers impatiently. I could scarcely hear their conversation; they spoke so softly, I assume to keep from waking the others. There was no laughter between them. The conversation appeared quite serious at times with my father leaning forward appearing at times agitated. After nearly an hour, he left without the formalities usually given before leaving. I was barely able to reach my room without being discovered.

16 August 1893

This morning I awoke to my room filled with braided stands of garlic and handfuls of wolfbane, my room garnished as though it were a dinner dish. When I questioned father as to why he had done this, his reply was only that Dr. Seward said they provided antiseptic qualities for the blood. I find it rather unlikely that an established man such as Dr. Seward would take to fanciful faith healing remedies in my situation. My father’s behavior becomes stranger and stranger by the day.

Today I return for the final fitting with the seamstress. I hope to wear one of them to the opera. I heard one of the other tenants discussing the theatre last night at dinner. I do so hope to convince father to allow me to attend. I have never been to the opera. Perhaps he would allow Dr. Seward or one of his associates at Cambridge to escort me.

Correspondence from Amelia Van Duresburg

16 August 1893

Dearest Claudia,

How delighted I was today to receive your letters. My life without you is such a bore. Planning for my sister’s wedding leaves me the constant feeling I shall never find a husband. I do wish that
you were here to share in the festivities. You would bring light to the gloom I must suffer through daily.

Yesterday Miss Elise Stroup came to finish the fittings for our bride’s maids gowns which are the most horrid shade of mustard I have ever seen.
I feel as though I will appear like a faded pumpkin of all things. Mother says I should not say such things and should be supportive as I will hurt Janessa’s feelings. Perhaps I am too brash.

London sounds splendid. How I wish I could have accompanied you. What majesties you must have seen at the mummy exhibit. Were you able to see their faces? Is it true that people believe that powdered mummy remains are a remedy for ailments? Did they have the royal sarcophagi on display with the jewels? I have heard tales they wore gold jewelry that was exquisite. I wish I could have been at your side.

Your gift of the dress is far too extravagant, and I would argue against it, however, I know it would do me no good. Therefore, I will extend my gratitude and thanks knowing that whatever you have chosen it will be lovely. Perhaps when you return, should you be feeling well enough, we could host an afternoon of tea.

Later
today, we are to meet with Father Geneonovo to finalize the last details of Janessa’s wedding. I admit I am not looking forward to attending. He is so stern and serious.

Your letter made my heart soar when I did so need it. I do miss you Claudia. Please write as soon as you are able and keep me apprised of Dr.
Seward’s research and his associates at Cambridge. I will pray for their success.

I should also mention before closing that Geoffrey inquired about you and when it would be that you would be returning. It appears he is smitten with you. I promised him I would write you of his inquiry. Perhaps if the fancy strikes you, you may want to correspond with Geoffrey as well.

He would not be a bad match, Claudia. His family is affluent and well respected. I know you fear marrying and the possible complications of childbirth given what happened to your beloved mother, but Claudia, do not allow love to slip through your fingers. Perhaps some strange twist of fate unseen would allow this to be what cures you. I know it sounds fanciful and maybe it is but a dream, but I do so want you to be happy. Promise me when you return you will at least entertain the idea of having Geoffrey for tea.

It is getting late. I must make ready for church and Janessa’s final preparations. Write as soon as you can. I love you and miss you.

Your dearest friend,

Amelia.

18 August 1893

At the wishes of my father, I am now in the constant company of Dr. Seward’s associate Dr. Thaddeus Littleton, both day and night, as my father attends to poor Miss Lucy
. How heartbreaking it is that there is nothing to ease her suffering. I can sympathize, even without knowing the true nature of her condition. How frail the human condition that so many anomalies can be present without diagnosis. I keep Miss Lucy in my thoughts and prayers hoping she will recover. Given the conversations overheard between father and Dr. Seward, I fear there is little hope.

Dr. Littleton is to escort me to the opera this evening. I am filled with anticipation at the mere prospect
. Father was kind enough to purchase a pair of opera glasses, so that I might be able to see more clearly, if we will be attending in one of the upper levels, some distance from the stage. I can hardly wait to leave.