4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Days Later…

J onathan stood in his bedroom, methodically packing his luggage for the journey. Lucy perched on the edge of his bed, absently scratching behind the ears of Béla, the Doberman puppy Jonathan had rescued on that fateful rainy night. The dog’s tail thumped happily against the plush bedding, oblivious to the tension in the room.

“Don’t worry about this little fellow,” Lucy reassured Jonathan, her voice warm with affection. She really didn’t think she’d take to the pup, but she just couldn’t help herself. ‘Maybe I just enjoy taking in strays.’ She thought as she began to rub his belly. “I’ll look after him as if he were my own.”

Jonathan paused in his packing, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched Lucy with the pup. “Thank you. I appreciate it more than you know.”

Lucy tilted her head curiously and looked at the puppy. “Béla... it’s an unusual name. Where did you unearth that from?”

Jonathan’s brow furrowed, his hands stilling over the half-packed suitcase. “I’m not sure,” he admitted, his voice trailing. “It’s just been... stuck in my head since I was a child, I suppose.”

A fleeting look of discomfort passed over his dark features as if the name stirred some long-buried memory he couldn’t quite place. But as quickly as it came, the moment passed, and Jonathan shrugged it off as he stroked Béla’s soft fur.

As Jonathan closed his suitcase with a final snap, he turned to Lucy with concern. “Are you certain you’ll be alright while I’m gone? I hate to leave you unsupervised for so long.”

Lucy’s laughter rang out, bright and carefree. “Oh, Jonathan, you sweet, naive man. Need I remind you that our engagement is mere cover? A sham to allow me my lovers while protecting your... secret predilections?” Her eyebrow arched suggestively. “This trip may be just what you need to finally explore your... desires. I hear Paris is far freer than most places.” She punctuated her statement with a salacious wink that made Jonathan flush to the roots of his hair.

“Lucy!” he sputtered, but his tone had no real admonishment. Deep down, a part of him thrilled at the possibility she hinted at, even as another part recoiled in shame.

With the help of the servants, Jonathan’s luggage was loaded into the waiting carriage. He stood on the front steps of the Westenra estate, taking in the familiar sight of the manicured gardens and stately facade. Lucy stood beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

“Good luck!” she said softly, her usual mischievous tone replaced by genuine warmth. “Do be careful, won’t you?”

Jonathan nodded, squeezing her hand gently before climbing into the carriage. As it pulled away from the curb, he leaned out the window, waving to Lucy until she was no more than a speck in the distance.

As the carriage rattled through the streets of London, Jonathan couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him. He felt watched, observed by unseen eyes that seemed to follow his every move. Pulling back the curtain, he peered out into the bustling street.

His gaze was drawn to an old woman standing stock-still amidst the crowd. Her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the carriage. As they passed, Jonathan could have sworn he heard her whisper, “ He’s in the carriage now, Master .”

Unable to resist, Jonathan poked his head further out the window, straining to get a better look at the woman. She continued to whisper, her lips moving in an endless stream of inaudible words as the carriage rolled by.

Unnerved, Jonathan pulled back into the carriage, closing the curtains with shaky hands. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. ‘It’s nothing,’ he told himself sternly. ‘Just your imagination running wild after all those ridiculous stories.’ But try as he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

The journey to Dover passed in a blur of anxious thoughts and half-formed worries. Before he knew it, Jonathan was boarding the ferry to cross the English Channel. The brisk and salty sea air helped clear his head, and by the time they docked in Calais, he felt more like himself again.

The train to Paris was a marvel of modern engineering, all polished wood and gleaming brass. Jonathan settled into his compartment, watching the French countryside roll by in a patchwork of greens and golds. As the miles fell away beneath the train’s wheels, so too did Jonathan’s lingering fears, replaced by a growing sense of excitement for the adventure ahead.

Jonathan’s breath caught in his throat as the train pulled into the Gare du Nord. Paris, the City of Light, sprawled out before him in all its glory. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, casting a warm glow over the city’s iconic skyline.

Stepping onto the platform, Jonathan was immediately enveloped by the city’s vibrant energy. The air was thick with the mingled scents of fresh-baked bread, rich coffee, and the faint, sweet perfume of flowers from a nearby vendor’s cart. The musical cadence of French filled his ears, punctuated by the occasional whistle of a departing train.

Jonathan hailed a cab, his rudimentary French just enough to convey his destination - a small hotel in the heart of the Marais district. As the carriage clattered through the streets, he was captivated by the city unfolding around him.

The wide boulevards of Baron Haussmann’s grand redesign stretched elegantly, lined with uniform cream-colored buildings adorned with wrought-iron balconies. Trees, their leaves just beginning to turn with the approach of autumn, provided welcome splashes of green amidst the urban landscape.

They passed the looming bulk of Notre-Dame Cathedral, its twin towers reaching skyward, gargoyles keeping their eternal watch over the city. The Seine flowed lazily, its waters reflecting the last light of day and the first twinkling stars.

In the distance, the skeletal form of the Eiffel Tower rose above the cityscape, a monument to human ingenuity and the promise of the coming century. Though barely five years old, it had already become the defining symbol of Paris, drawing the eye and the imagination in equal measure.

As they entered the Marais, the streets narrowed, and Jonathan found himself transported back in time. Here, medieval half-timbered houses stood shoulder to shoulder with grand Renaissance mansions, their facades telling the story of Paris’s long and varied history.

The cab stopped before a charming hotel, its facade adorned with window boxes spilling with vibrant geraniums. Jonathan paid the driver and inhaled deeply. The scent of garlic and herbs wafted from a nearby restaurant, making his stomach growl in anticipation.

Jonathan felt a sense of peace settle over him as he checked into his room. The worries and fears that had plagued him in London seemed distant now, washed away by the beauty and vitality of Paris. He would continue his journey eastward towards the unknown that awaited him in Transylvania tomorrow. But tonight, he would allow himself to be seduced by the charms of the City of Light.

From his room’s small balcony, Jonathan looked out over the rooftops of Paris, a sea of chimney pots and slate tiles stretching as far as the eye could see. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower stood illuminated against the night sky.