I know, you're in Romania nursing dear Jonathan back to health, and by now you've probably married him too. (Was it by some quaint peasant custom? No doubt.) Well, I have news for you, lots of news. Firstly, Jonathan's a wuss. You're about a million times brighter than he is, you are more resilient and braver, and I can't believe you plumped for him when you used to sleep with Lucy, even if it was in an 1870s sisterly kind of way.
Secondly, thanks to your superior attitude to Lucy ever since you got engaged to J, she's gone and got herself engaged within the space of approximately three days. But wait, there's more! Last you saw her, she was all girlish and flushed and excited about her suitors (remember how she wished she could marry all three of them? didn't that set any alarm bells ringing?)--well, now she's all flushed and excited because a certain someone who is not altogether unknown to dear Jonathan is having his way with her, or more specifically with her neck. And her rejected suitors, under the guidance of a somewhat manic "foreign expert," have been pumping her full of their blood every time they find her underdressed and oversucked on the bed. If that's not in need of investigation by a medical malpractice panel, I don't know what is.
Mina, they are going to punish her for not giving them what they want, or rather, for giving Dracula what they want. I'd just like you to know that, because when you get back it's going to be all tears and declarations of (posthumous) adoration, and then they are going to fixate on you next. Keep records of everything, and for goodness sake don't let old Van Helsing get you alone. For a man of science he's entirely too fond of charging into ladies' boudoirs brandishing his holy wafer.
With oceans of love and a deep incomprehension as to what you ever saw in Jonathan Harker,
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Bram Stoker | Dracula | 1897