Trapped with a Way Out

by Jeffery Martinez

  While William appreciated his words, she could not ignore the nagging feeling that he was not as guiltless as he pretended to be.

  "Since this 'Social Season' of High Society London is about acquiring as many charming dinner guests to converse with, which my ward has as little interest in obtaining as she has ability to speak with, and seeking a husband or wife in this famous marriage market, which my ward shall find no suitable match in since your high society gentlemen see a mute girl not as a potential wife, but something lesser, my ward shall not be formally introduced into society."

  "More's the pity," the church girl said.

  William wondered what she could mean, but Walter then entered the room to announce that dinner was served.

  William sat to the left of the Count during dinner, while he sat at the head of the table as the host. But since he busied himself playing the role of the charming host by making small talk with everyone sitting nearby, William had no one to engage with and so fell to staring at her food. The people around her talked of trivial things, and none them ventured to address her directly. It was a very boring and lonely experience.

  After dinner, the men retired into one parlor to smoke and chat. Since her master went with them, William was left with all these strange women that she barely knew. Feeling no desire to listen to them, William gave up and went back upstairs, not caring that it was poor manners. She did not even wait for the servants to help her undress. With her leg hurting, she went to bed.

  The first week of William' life out in London was very trying. Simply moving from the small, dark, warm, and musty flat into the bright, cold, windy, wide London streets was trying enough, but she had never been used to large city life. The noise, the hurry, the crowds of horses, carts, and carriages that she had to make her way through whenever they went to travel during the daylight hours, made her feel anxious and harassed. Over time, she realized she and her master were not moving back to the country, and then she made herself easy and got used to it.]

  If only she could get used to the smog and the cough. William hated the big city air, the factory emissions, the thick wet London fog. She missed the beautiful castle by the sea, with its delicious salty sea air, the wind blowing in her face, and the open fields and forests all around. She missed the sweet-smelling wood that she and her master used to ride through, the flowers in the castle garden and courtyard, and the smell of fresh grass out on her master's lawn.

  William' curiosity of being in a human city was satisfied, and now she found she did not really like it. The excursion was interesting when she was in the city for only an afternoon, like when she went with her master into town, or even a few days to see and enjoy many things. After a week of this, William found the city had long worn out it's charm, and she was ready to go back to the country.

  William recovered from the last of her broken leg over the next two to three weeks. Walter said that this was after about five to six weeks of being laid out in bed after they arrived in London. Around two months, by his estimate; and William had been around eight months before that. He was only saying that, of course, because the anniversary of when they found her was coming up. William' eyes widened when he told her so.

  "It's hard to believe you've been with us for almost year, Miss Hanna," he said.

  'Has it really been that long?' William thought, and turned her head away. Time just flew.

  She supposed it should not have been too surprising. The months just sailed by when she first arrived on land, as she had had such a wonderful time getting aquainted with human culture; of learning of the human world, and of living beside her beloved Count. Of course, William' heart took a sad turn at the thought. Time had gone by so quickly when they lived in that beautiful castle by the sea, then came to a grinding halt when they came to London. Now she looked back and cursed the time. Months and months whipping through her hair as it did when she rode her horse, until the day her Old Grey died and her leg broke and they came to this horrible place. Months and months of trying to win the Count, only for him to turn away to pursue some church hussy the second she inclined her head. Months and months of joy carelessly tossed out the window like a handful of papers in the wind.

  It was all very depressing for William, who was still in a bad place and often stretched lethargically in bed or on the windowsill, lost to the world.

  It seemed pointless to think about time. She always thought so. She had always let the days wash over her like the waves over a rock, not caring to count the crashes of waves, the sways of the time, the changing of the days days, nor even moons. She found it as pointless as counting the tide every time it swayed. Most mermaids did. They waited with baited breath to turn fifteen, then time faded for the next three hundred or so years of their lives. Then again, William was poor with time even by mermaid standards. She had not even known when her own birthday was. Harkonnen had to tell her that it was to be the next day when she thought it was several.

  Presently, William looked forlornly out the window, sadly reminiscing about when she first saw the Count. It seemed like an eternity ago that she had turned fifteen and thought herself such a grownup girl, joyfully darting for the surface for the first time. How giddily she had risen to the surface, feeling as light as a bubble. How she had raced for the surface and taken her first lungful of air, as fresh as the first breath of life. How she had seen the beautiful armada, with their great ships. How she had seen the dazzling fireworks, and from their light how she had seen him from the bulwarks of his ship, and felt the buried light in her soul come out like the sun from heavy storm clouds.

  She had been fifteen... she had felt so grown up at the time, but now she looked back and felt herself just a child.

  So much had changed since then. So much had happened.

  She turned her head from the window to listen half-heartedly as the servants gossiped. All these humans seemed to know so much about the world; they knew their ways, their customs, and their manners far better than she could. All these months she had studied and trained tirelessly on the ways of humans, and she realized presently that she still knew so little of it compared to them. She still felt helpless and dependent without them to show her the proper way to stand, to sit, to bow, to eat. They all seemed to know so much, and she knew so little. She was thought a little savage in the Sea King's palace, and she was thought a little savage here. William realized with a pang that she had never truly belonged anywhere. She had been a wretched little stray in the sea, and little more than a pet here on land, as sure as some lady's lap cat or her master's hunting dogs.

  It was enough to make her want to cry.

  Over time, William became invited out to more and more events. She ate breakfast with her master again, except when he got invited out to some gathering or other. Thankfully Londoners tended to eat dinner at home, she came to find, so she got to have at least that with him. She also attended tea and dinner, at least when they had guests over. More often than not though, her master ate out.

  How busy London nobles were. William came to find that wealthy people slept in till late, since they usually stayed up very late at a ball or dinner party till 3 o'clock AM the night before. Certainly, breakfast didn't start in her master's household until 10 o'clock AM, which was fine with William because she didn't like getting up too early. Her servants didn't like it any better. While they themselves were up as early as four in the morning to get the house up and running for when their master and little foundling woke up (preparing breakfast, stoking the fires, going to market, and so on), dragging her out of bed was as easy as dragging a dead body. It was never fun for them to find her in the morning sprawled out on her stomach, with her face pressed into one of her countless throw pillows with all the rest piled on top of her, and try to pull her up by her arm only for her go limp as a rag doll, flop back down like one, and keep sleeping. She could flop as many as five or six times, each one in even more of a haphazardous position than the last, and sometimes fall to the floor with a muffled TH
UMP! and stay there. One servant finally had enough one day and draped a blanket over her on the floor and went out to complete her chores.

  Now that William' leg was healed though, she was glad to finally be out of bed and wandering the house, which she now realized was not a very large house at all. It was a "flat," a small apartment in a big city. While she could pass over a dozen rooms in the castle before coming back to the one she started in and still feel hopelessly lost, in this flat she only passed about four or five rooms before coming back to the one she started in. They had only one staircase that went down to the kitchen, dining room, and drawing rooms, and that was it. Her master and her bedrooms and wash rooms were upstairs.

  The flat was small, but nicely decorated. While the castle had been Gothic and gloomy, this one was much more homey. The paint on the flat walls were a lot more cheery than the grey stone walls, there were windows with white and beige lace curtains in every room, and the stuff humans used to decorate their homes were of gold and chrystal. It was not quite as old, melancholic, and dignified as her master's Gothic castle (in fact, it did not seem to suit him at all), but she liked.

  However, not too long after William recovered fully, she started going out into society with her master. By the second week, part of her wished she still had a broken leg so she could stay in their charming little flat. Now that they spent the majority of each afternoon "calling on" other nobles, attending teas, luncheons, plays, operas, and dinner parties, and being called on in return to host teas, luncheons, and other functions in return, she could see why her master hated it.

  Didn't rich people ever get tired of meeting each other?

  There was always somewhere to go, or something to do. Someone was always throwing some meal or party or social gathering and asking people to come, and her master was always obliged to come. Everyone smiled and simpered and made pleasantries over the most trivial things; discussing the weather or what they had to wear or who they had seen in what function. By God (as many of the men would exclaim), these people talked more about the people they had seen at other events than they talked to the people they were seeing right now at this current function. Not that they ever had anything interesting to say, anyway; it was always about clothes, jewelry, or charity with the women, and "business," "investments," "races," or other even more incomprehensible stuff with the men.

  William always felt bored stupid at social events. All people did was talk, and since she couldn't talk, she had nothing to do. Since she was not interested in anything that anyone had to say, she had nothing to listen to. She often pouted or sulked with her head resting in her hand, with her elbow resting on her knee, daydreaming of better times.

  Her master was always a charming guest or gracious host at social parties, but William quickly learned better than anyone how false it was. Almost as soon as guests were out of sight, his smile would drop and his lips would curl into a most hateful scowl or a mocking sneer. As soon as they were out of earshot, he would go off to William how perfectly droll, dull, boring, stuffy, overbearing, boorish, pompous, or incompetent so-and-so was. It was not all bad though. Often, in the middle of social events, his eyes would find William' (whether she was across the room or seated beside him at the table), give one of his little smirks, and make subtle faces or gesture with his head toward some insufferable person to whom he had just been speaking as soon as they looked away. Often, William would also smile or make faces right back, to let him know she understood or shared his opinion.

  It became something of a private joke for them, to silently commiserate with each other over how ridiculous they felt London's society to be.

  It made William feel giddy to be sharing in this little secret, and also a little proud that she was helping her master cope with such insufferable parties.

  It also made her confused as to why her master insisted on torturing himself this way.

  "Why, to pursue my little church girl, of course," he answered as they rode a carriage home from a party one night.

  William' heart sank, and she lowered her journal.

  That blasted church girl. William' insides still writhed with jealousy, and she couldn't stand knowing that they were going out and about, enduring all this torturous socializing, just to pursue that girl. She wasn't even in half the parties and gatherings they went to, but the times she was she was always engrossed in some conversation with another group of ladies or gentlemen, rarely gracing the count with a casual glance, let alone a cordial nod. Never mind a civil greeting!

  William hated the girl; she could not understand why they were going to so much trouble to woo her, when William herself was right here and so sick in love with the count she could barely stand it, and he didn't even notice her smiles or loving devotion

  Worst yet, because they had spent so much time pursuing the church girl, they inevitably encountered her father and grandfather, the latter of whom always made William uneasy.

  He came to talk to her one day when William sat alone at a little round tea table at a tea party; one with yellow cloth and white lace doilies. She overheard the hostess of the party brag that the tea cups had "hand-painted" flower designs in them and gold edges from so-and-so, but William thought that hardly mattered since all tea cups looked like that. And William hated tea from drinking it three times a day during the two months she was down with a broken leg. If her corset wasn't strung so tight, she would have slouched against the table and stared closely at the bouquet of flowers as she did at home. Since she couldn't, she sat up straight with her hands in her lap and her head down, as usual.

  As if the gathering could not get enjoyable enough, the church girl's father soon joined her at the table. William instinctively flinched.

  "None, none, dear child," he said, "There is no need for that. You have no fear of me. I mean you no harm."

  'You are her grandfather,' William thought venomously, 'And you say such nasty things of my count. I want nothing to do with you!'

  But she felt too shy and timid to get up, since the entire room was filled with people she didn't know. She used to get up and walk wherever she pleased without caring what others thought, but being reprimanded and whispered about for her poor manners often enough wore away at even William' sensibilities. She didn't want to get up if just not to hear people react to her.

  "Please, little girl, I wish you no harm but to ask how you fare this gathering? Are you happy?

  What strange questions! What did he care?

  But William had no one else to talk to, so she got out her journal and answered his strange questions as best she could.

  "Ah, gut, gut," he said.

  There was something suspicious about the way he asked questions. They were friendly and cordial enough, but they were also very simple and trivial in nature. ("Do you enjoy attend parties with count?" "Are you happy in London?") The great emphasis he placed on seemingly meaningless questions made her suspicious, and also as though he were leading up to an unpleasant topic.

  "Tell me, dear child, how does Count treat you?"

  William frowned. "What do you mean?" she wrote.

  "Ah, not to alarm you, not to alarm. I simply ask to know, is he good to you? He has not been... untoward?"

  William pointed again at "What do you mean?"

  "Has he not..." the old doctor placed his large, warm hands over hers. William flinched, and shrunk under his gaze. His grip was like a vice, and both his hands and eyes burned with suppressed fire. "How he treat you, child? As a wife? As a way only man treat his wife? He not... touch you in way only man touch his wife?"

  William' heart sank. She could only wish. She would love to be treated as a wife; someone precious and beloved. She thought of those few times over the many months she knew him when he caressed her cheek with his large hand, but it was always with his gloves on, and his hand always felt cold.

  With a heavy heart, William took out her journal and wrote, "No, the count only treats me like a child."

  "Ah, I see," the do
ctor paused.

  He looked as though he were about to say something else, when his son joined them.

  "Ah, cozying up to the little ward, eh, old sport?"

  Another good thing came of the gatherings though. William learned what her master's history with London and the van Helsing family's grudge against him.

  Through eavesdropping on various conversations over the next few weeks (Walter, the maids, house guests, party guests, and even the van Helsin gentlemen themselves), William learned that Count Ramos had been born and raised in Transylvania-some land far east from here. (Considered backwards, superstitious, and melancholic compared to jolly old England. William privately thought "No wonder Master looks so dark and mysterious, and loves to surround himself with dark and mysterious things... to be from a country like that!") He had lived there as one of the highest forms of aristocracy from one of the oldest, proudest, and wealthiest families, until years before when he grew bored of his privileged upbringing and decided to move to London.

  'But why?!" William wrote in her journal to Walter.

  "Why?" Walter asked, "Why did Caesar conquer all lands beyond Rome? Because there was no challenge otherwise."

  William didn't even know who Caesar was!

  Though her master had studied England's language, history, culture, geography, laws, and so forth extensively, he still did not feel confident enough to mingle among London's "teeming millions." He felt his accent and mannerisms would give him away as a "funny foreigner," and so he enlisted the help of a solicitor who came to help him go over the final paperwork. When Jonathan Harker agreed to stay longer than planned to help tutor the Count in English and local London customs and geography, the Count eventually happened to spy a picture of his fiance, Wilhelmina Murray. The Count fell in love with her almost from first sight, and asked questions about her. Since Jonathan Harker loved her immensely, he could not help praising her highly. This turned out not to be a wise move, as the Count eventually fell in love with her description as well as her face, and felt that he had known her for years.