08: DUBLIN AND STOKER

 By August, Jonathan heard that Stoker had made it to Vienna, conducted all his business there, and had returned to Dublin.

He had been made aware of this through a contact in Ireland. The Honourable Chester Harwood had been shuffled back in a realignment of the Whig parliamentary members a month earlier to the back rows of the House, where he almost felt like a member of Her Majesty's loyal Opposition. He was also removed from his seat on the committees. This turn of events favoured Evelyn as her father was not so particular nor troubled about finding her a suitable partner.

In late 1847, the British parliament passed the Prevention of Crime (Ireland) Act. It received Royal assent just before Christmas. It allowed the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland to enact martial law, seize weapons, and remove any real or perceived threat from Irish nationalism with whatever force was required. 

At that time, Johnathan and Evelyn were married in London and then spent a month in the lake region at the Harwood estate. To live in London, Jonathan purchased a new home for them in Fitzrovia, just south of Regent Park.

Autumn turned to winter, and winter to spring. In the Spring of 1848, revolutions, rebellions, and civil and social unrest bloomed across Europe like flowers.

Two events within England would trouble the Crown: the Anglo-Sikh war in Ceylon and India and, much closer to home, the Young Irelanders Rebellion.

Jonathan and Evelyn's life in Fitzrovia became routine for much of the following year. She had grown accustomed to his particular habits of often visiting hospitals and the wakes and funerals of persons he was barely acquainted with or, in some instances, that he did not even know.

He accounted for this as a characteristic of his charitable nature. He wanted to see if he could assist the bereaved and offer support.

At first, she found it odd that, unlike most men she knew, her father, cousins, and uncles, Jonathan never seemed to need to shave. It appeared that he very slowly grew any facial hair, although he bore a full coverage upon his pate; his chin and face were almost always naturally denuded. Equally as strange was the fact if he ever cut or scratched his hands or arms, the marks of such wounds seemed to disappear almost overnight. He was always reticent, even to debate the topic of someday having children.

In the summer of 1848, he was surprised to receive an invitation from Abraham Stoker to visit Dublin with Evelyn. The purpose of this visit was to acknowledge that Sultan Khaleefah Abdul-Majid I had secretly sent five ships full of food for the Irish populace. This despite the English courts' attempts to block the ships, the food arrived in Drogheda harbour and was left there by Ottoman sailors.

This was done in secret because Sultan Majid I wished to donate £10,000 to the relief effort. It was refused, as Queen Victoria had only donated £2,000. She advised the Sultan to send only £1,000. A donation greater than that the Queen granted from any other source would insult the Crown.

The invitation was extended to Jonathan as a courtesy for informing Stoker of the diplomatic manners of the Ottomans before his trip to Vienna. The Sultan’s representative proposed offering aid to Ireland.

The trip to Dublin would consist of a rail passage to Manchester, through Birmingham, then a rail change to Liverpool, and a ferry ride from that city to the Irish provisional capital. The trip would be ten hours by train and perhaps another twelve hours by ferry. The rail trip was almost 250 miles, and the voyage across the North Sea would be just less than 150 miles. To travel 400 miles in less than a day by rail and sea was a technological feat that no other country could rival. The sea trip from London to Dublin would have been three and a half days.

The Stokers had modest accommodations on Marino Cresent, number 15 in Dublin, the city’s only Georgian Cresent.

Stoker’s wife, Charlotte, was a pleasant young woman whom St Croix estimated to be twenty years junior to her husband. A year earlier, she had given birth to their third child, whom they had named ‘Bram’ after his father. 

Two days later, after recovering from the trip, the St Croixs and the Stokers rode to Dawson Street for a function held by the Lord Mayor to tacitly thank an emissary from the Ottoman Empire.

After the afternoon's event, elements of the Young Irelanders, hoping to publicly disclose the Sultan’s gift to discredit the Crown and exploit England's indifference, were met by forces of the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and a minor scuffle erupted. This event would forever alter the lives of Johnathan and Evelyn.

Back on the beach in the rising sun, Jonathan held Eve; looking at her, he imagined that a tear had run down his face. “As our party of four were leaving the mayor’s residence, that was the moment that I knew I truly loved you and knew I could not ever live without you. It was as if the gods offered me a new lease on my pitiful life. I had no right to do what I did, to change you. I stole your life, your natural life, and laid out before you… well, what you see here. Death.

You told me often, so often as the struggles progressed, whenever I doubted my actions and my choices, that you thought my choice was right, and you never once spoke ill of me or that choice.”

“Love,” Evelyn hoarsely whispered as she squeezed Johnathan’s hand. “Love.”

“Love, you say, but look what it has wrought upon us. We are here, we are alone, we have nothing left.” 

She squeezed his hand again and spoke two more words, “Love, forever.” And then, raising her head slightly, “Tell me more.”

The Stokers stepped into their Hanson cab, and just as Jonathon reached out to assist Evelyn, four ill-dressed ruffians charged towards the steps and entrance of the residence. The horses harnessed to draw the carriage reared up and bolted. Evelyn’s foot slipped off the carriage step, falling forward toward the rear wheel. Her head first hit the iron rim surrounding the wheel's felly. The force of that action caused her head to snap back, and with her body continuing to fall forward, her head pulled forward again and, this time, struck the large iron hub. 

A splay of crimson blood shot forth from the side of her head as a loud and sharp crack cut through the air. The bolts on the hub of the wheel tore through the flesh of her face just below the eye, and the hub itself smashed broadside into her nose, shattering the fragile bone and flattening it to the opposite side of her face.

Jonathon stood back in horror, and as he dropped to his knees, he yelled out to the horses what some thought of as some curse in a foreign language. And to curse the beasts, he would have had every right. But the horses calmed immediately and stood silently, even as the Lord Lieutenant’s militia confronted the Irish national interlopers and laid upon them with truncheons and batons.   

Jonathan picked up his wife as if she had the mere weight of a doll and leapt into the carriage.

“To Mr Stoker’s house on Marino Cresent and waste not a moment driver. Waste not a moment.”

Charlotte and Abraham implored St Croix to attempt to go to the Rotunda Hospital, up Westmoreland Street, and then to Sackville. The ride would be just about one mile.  Although the Rotunda was a birthing hospital, it would be the closest, but St Croix kept saying no to them and insisted on a return to their home, although that would be a ride of more than four miles.

Arriving at 15 Marino Cresent, Jonathon carried Evelyn into the home with the same ease that he had placed her in the wagon. He shouted orders to the Stokers for a small private space with a door, two large pots of water, one boiling and one fresh, for towels and linens and a small, sharp knife.

Placing her on the floor, he cursed, waiting for the water and bandages to arrive. Once there, he demanded that neither of the Stokers go for help and that they not disturb him in the room until he was ready to leave. He handed Charlotte five £5 notes, instructing her to be willing to buy anything that he may ask for over the next few days.

Flabbergasted, she agreed, and that sum was near enough to the yearly wages of a common labourer of the day and nearly a quarter of Abraham’s annual allotment.

St Croix also gave the woman a letter to be delivered promptly to the London offices of Solicitor Sir Percy Tyrol. The message was of the gravest matter, and when received at that office, Sir Percy would forward £100 further to this home. 

Abraham began to doubt the nature and actions of St Croix, but those were allayed when his wife showed him the money and told him of the letter.  Yet he still wondered about his house guests, how and why a man, even a gold merchant, would carry around such a small fortune. And that led him to recall St Croix’s words when he asked him about how he knew so much of so many things, including Ottoman diplomatic practices and that St Croix replied, “That my fine man, Mr Abraham Stoker, this is because I am both well-travelled and may not be as youthful as I appear.”

Stoker then recalled his reply, “You are quite an enigma Mr St Croix, quite an enigma.”

Over the next three days, twice a mayor's representative arrived to enquire about Madame St Croix’s condition. As instructed, Charlotte and Abraham stated that Jonathan had taken his injured wife back to England. All the while, St Croix remained hidden behind the door of the small room, only opening it to receive the items he had requested. More water, plaster, raw cotton bunting, linen clothes, a plain brown or lightly patterned dress, undergarments, stockings, gloves, boots and overcoat for Evelyn.

He added a wide-brimmed hat with a heavy lace veil as an afterthought. 

On the fourth day, he requested a Hanson be called, one with draped windows and a driver with a certain amount of discretion that could be ensured with an adequate sum. He also requested that the driver have sufficient time, effort, and supplies for the thirty-mile trip down to Wicklow. Finally, he asked that half a hundred pounds of flour and half a stone of sugar be added to the carriage. Reminding his hosts that the carriage should have the strength for such a journey. He said he would like to be notified when the carriage arrived.