Hi Houdini and Doyle fandom. I was hit hard by inspiration after the "Strigoi" episode.

Paul Ritter was an amazing Bram Stoker, really loved his heartfelt portrayal. They were very accurate in a lot of things during the episode, even the details. For this fiction, I took as a fact that :

Doyle and Stoker had a very close friendship and frequent meetings as suggested in the beginning of the episode. As such, I have lot of doubts that after knowing the truth he would just left and don't worry about his friend anymore.

We glimpsed a softer side of the eccentric man both during his jail scene and the final one's. More human, less cold and detached. I will eventually explore that is this work.

I also researched the disease, Syphilis. What I found left me feeling more aware for the risks, no doubt about it. In the time of the action, it was probably a very scary, much feared illness for any man or woman. And it surely left you out of society.

I've watched the episode several times to correct any possible error related to environment or the house plant/ disposition of furniture. I wanted to write as accurately as possible this time as an exercise to my own writing. My book remains stuck in my desk waiting for me to find the right way to go on with it. Maybe this exercise will indeed help.

Nothing here is mine except Marianne, the words and overall idea. The characters belong to the amazing team of writers and the oh so amazing actors that gave life to this episode. I've managed to share some words with "Houdini" and he is so accessible as a person I was stunned.

I would also like to say to Dacre Stoker, if he ever reads this: Sorry if this isn't the perfect portrayal of your ancestor. I based it on the tv show character and some research. It may not be accurate. But my respect for you is unwavering.

Bram's Point of View

"Dearest friend

Congratulations on the release of you book.

I find myself unable to join you for the time being due to matters out of my control. If you check the papers you will probably find out all about it.

Meanwhile and after our latest adventure together, I've found myself worried about you being all by yourself. In your condition you shouldn't have to worry about blackmailing from a servant and after taking some time to think about it I reached for a contact done years ago.

She will be an asset for you, I'm sure of it. Be so kind as to receive her and proceed to a full interview to see if she can meet your standards.

She is called Marianne Coatlane and already worked under special circumstances before. Rest assured that whatever you choose to talk with her will not leave your house walls. Her conduct code is nothing short of impeccable.

Your friend forever,

Arthur Conan Doyle"

Such was the content of the letter received at Bram Stoker's house in a morning, less than a week after his almost fatal adventure with Arthur and his other friends.

He had scarcely left the house since unless to visit his publisher or run errands. The invitations for parties, dinners and other sorts of events and receptions had been piling on top of a table. Anything and everything seemed to be a good excuse to send him an invitation.

Meanwhile it had indeed crossed his mind the thought about hiring a new maid several times. Glynnis however had never left his mind as a terrible example of what could happen if someone was to know about his problem. Especially after the official release of his book, when every newspaper would pay in gold to have gossip real or not about his person. The recent events had been dangerous enough to his name and career not to mention his life.

Bram Stoker considered himself a very private man in all senses, to the point that to any outsider it sounded like pure eccentricity. He had his habits, his schedules and they gave him a sense of security, even if only him could understand that. They were the constant in his uncertain life. They were tangible even when he struggled to get out of the bed in the morning due to his health.

Of course he had seen the reaction of Mr. Houdini and Constable Stratton to him. They couldn't understand. Even Arthur sometimes had dismissed his behaviour as plain eccentricity, friends as they were.

He distrusted people, to put it plainly. Now more than ever. Professor Havensling had been the last drop and he had found himself in a battle of life and death from which he had escaped by pure miracle of God's will.

Nevertheless he found himself agreeing that his old friend was indeed right. He shouldn't have to be constantly worrying about the secrecy of whoever worked for him. And he needed a maid. That or his house will soon become a total mess which was against his very nature.

Even if Bram found his brow furrowing with the well-intentioned intromission, Arthur mentioned that this woman's conduct was impeccable and that coming from Arthur was enough to serenade some of his fears. His friend was one of the few people that had never betrayed him and even when his life had been in immediate danger he had gone in his rescue.

It was then with some tension that he listened to a loud knock on his front door sometime in the afternoon. He swallowed loudly and spent a moment at the mirror checking if his makeup was still in place, before reaching for the door. He opened just a little crack of it.

A woman in her mid thirties dressed in dark hues had her hand in the air as if preparing to knock once more.

"Yes? May I help you?" He asked in a nonchalant voice giving nothing of his thoughts away.

"I've come to meet with Mr. Bram Stoker." Her tone was polite and respectful, her eyes holding his inquisitive glare. "Mr. Doyle sent me here this very morning. He told me he had already written a note announcing me?"

"Oh, yes. He did. I was expecting you. Please, do come in."

Marianne's Point of View

Marianne took a good look around while walking through the streets between Dr. Doyle's house and the address that he had left for her. Answering the call of the doctor, she had arrived London that very morning.

The capital hadn't changed that much since her last visit months prior, she decided. Dirty kids still walked past her, pale and famished looking people too. London had always been a city of contrasts, where you could find very rich or very poor people.

In the Doyle's house she had been received by a departing Dr. Doyle and his household with great sympathy. They hadn't talked much, all that was more necessary already been said by correspondence beforehand. Marianne had eaten her breakfast and rested for a few hours, after almost two days of traveling non stop. Her last patient had been buried just a few weeks prior. Poor Mr. Belstrade, God may show mercy of his poor soul. Since then, she had returned to her own house after more than a year away. Dr. Doyle's telegram couldn't have arrived at a more propitious moment. He had asked her if she was perhaps unemployed at the moment, for he had someone in need of her services.

"Thank you my God." She had thought very pleased with another calling so soon after the lose of her anterior protegee.

Marianne had packed as soon as a new cable arrived came in two days later, explaining details and she had sent a new one back to inform when she was to be expected.

Now, she found herself in front of a door, knocking.

It took so much time for it to open at all that Marianne was already prepared to knock again when the door opened slightly, just a sliver. She could see what seemed like a half aged man in the semi darkness of an hall. He was wearing some very interesting glasses. Sunglasses. And it seemed like the only light getting inside that part of the house was entering through the shred of door open.

"Yes? May I help you?" The man asked in a nonchalant voice

"I've come to meet with Mr. Bram Stoker." Her tone was polite and respectful, her eyes holding his inquisitive glare. Doing enemies among the servants wouldn't do at all. "Mr. Doyle sent me here this very morning. He told me he had already written a note announcing me?"

"Oh, yes. He did. I was expecting you. Please, do come in."

The man opened the door enough to allow her entrance and she took the last steps needed to enter the main door. As soon as she found herself in a corridor, the door was rapidly closed and they were left in almost total darkness. Marianne had to fight the urge not to swallow audibly.

"Is Mr. Stoker home?" She voiced, now clearly more unsure than before.

"Forgive me, I was rude before." The man's voice sounded still where the door had been closed. " I'm Mr. Stoker. Now please, do follow me to my office. We will talk more comfortably there."

"Easy said than done." Marianne couldn't help herself but thinking, in the obscurity of the house. As he passed beside her, she felt his body very close to her and got the perfect notion that we shouldn't be much taller than her. He may actually be around the same height. He also wore a very… Noticeable lotion. Or at least she thought it to be the lotion.

She followed closely the sound of his footsteps only bumping once with something and wincing under her breath. Yet, in the silence of that house he seemed to hear her anyway.

"I do apologize for the lighting. I personally prefer a more dark environment." He offered as some sort of entered in a sun filled hall and she would swear she had listened to him hissing under his breath. Immediately after he opened a door in front of her to an equally dark room and disappeared inside holding the door open for her. "Here, we have arrived."

Marianne found herself in a study room lighted with candles. The surrounding walls seemed to be in golden or brown hues and the windows were all covered with seemingly thick drapes that avoided almost every ray of the sunlight into the room.

He quickly gestured for her to take a seat in the only chair available in front of the desk but remained standing, leaning lightly on a very cluttered desk. He also kept his odd sunglasses. Sunglasses that Marianne recognised now as a very special kind. The missing light in the house made all the more sense to her then.

"So…" He started stiffly. "My friend, Dr. Doyle, sent you to work here."

"Yes. That was his hope, I imagine."

"And now that you are here, safely inside and away of peering ears…" He spoke slowly, with purpose and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Was he trying to scare her off? " I must ask you the fatal question: Has he mentioned my condition to you?"

"Superficially." Marianne decided that she wouldn't submit to his intimidation. "He told me that you showcased diverse… Eccentricities?" She offered casually.

That gained her some sort of low rumble from him. A disguised chuckle?

"Are those his words or yours?"

"Mine. I prefer to call some things for eccentricities than outwardly label them as symptoms or… Worst."

"So you do know my problem." He concluded, his body language strange. It was like if… He needed the support of the wood desk but his curiosity was pulling him towards her at the same time.

"I do believe I know one of your problems now." She answered in kind, gesturing to him and the room around her. "Your glasses, the darkness that envelops the house… They are nice clues, Mr. Stoker." She spoke in a leisure like tone, deliberately slow. "Dr. Doyle mentioned some random problems to me and also that it was dangerous but not so dangerous that I would be in risk of contracting it. He was truthful in his words, but I believe he choose to avoid naming it before by fear of scaring me off or disrespecting your friendship."

"And… Are you scared?" He asked, seeming very calm. His hands however were shaking slightly in front of her eyes. Other may have not noticed it at all. Marianne however had been trained to notice.

"No." She told him plainly. It was true. Although she had never been assistant to someone with syphilis before, she knew the illness, causes and effects. She had seen some patients with it before, in hospitals. It was bad, yes. But one could live a very long live still with it and with some quality. That she imagined was the doctor's plan. Meanwhile, Mr. Stoker must have noticed his own shaking because he closed and opened his hands a few times to regain control.

"He mentioned that this is not your first job under special circumstances."

"It's not. I've worked always to somewhat special employers. It's a sort of… A quirk for me."She couldn't avoid smirking at her choice of word. It was true all the same.

"Do you have any references besides Doctor Doyle?"

"I may find you some, if you do require them. I would have to reach for the families of my former employers however."

"The families?" She saw him frowning a brow in confusion.

"Oh… I see that Doctor Doyle didn't mention to you what special conditions mine are. I work with people with some sort of terminal illness, Sir. People that aren't so sick yet that they need a nurse's constant care but can use some help and support in the everyday life. Most of the time I do maid or governess tasks to my employers. Whatever they should require. I keep an eye on their health and assist them whenever and however needed."

"So what should I call you? A nurse or a maid?"

"Most called me assistant. Neither a nurse nor a maid, but doing tasks from both."

"From your previous answers I suppose your past employers are all…"

"Yes, most of them are." Marianne nodded, accepting what he was implying. She was a caregiver, not a miracle worker after all. "Some ended up in an asylum. I help to a certain point, but whenever things start going really out of the tracks I'm the first one to call for assistance."

"May I ask you what do you consider being 'out of the tracks'?"

"Physical aggression, mostly. As you can see for yourself, I'm just of average height and structure. If a grown man decides to hurt me I can do little to nothing to avoid it."

"Knowing my condition you do know that there is a chance of that happening here, don't you Miss Coatlane?" He sighed audibly, as if the thought alone caused him physical pain.

"Mrs. Coatlane." She corrected. "My husband passed away some years ago."

"I'm sorry for your loss, I didn't knew that."

"You couldn't. And yes, I do know that dementia may very well be one of the possible evolutions for your condition. But I'm not worried about that right now. You're still being civil after all." Marianne noted, her gaze on him, unwavering in its resolution.

"Do you know how to care for an entire household on your own? I'm out of servants right now and if I'm to have you I would prefer to remain like this. As you may know, I'm a very public figure at the moment and any secret about my person getting out would be… Disastrous."

"I fully understand your concerns, Mr. Stoker. Doctor Doyle expressed similar ones when he contacted me. I can assure you that my work depended more than once on my discretion. Whatever happens in these walls will remain in these walls, either you decide to employ me or not."

"My… Friends, know me as a peculiar man. An eccentric as you prefer to call it. I rarely entertain and almost never invite people in. I scarcely go out except to take care of business questions. My work is my life and I'm very methodic about it. Do you think you can accommodate that?"

"I think so. Of course, I would be thankful for a more detailed list of your peculiarities later so I can be prepared for them in advance, Sir."

"You may indeed see very peculiar things in this house."

"Believe it or not, I've already seen a fair amount of peculiar things in my life, Mr. Stoker. If you employ me, I will care for you and your home at the best of my possibilities so you can focus on your work alone. That will be my compromise."

Bram's Point of View

He had already tried his best to dissuade the cheeky woman sitting in front of him from taking the job. He knew he had. Perhaps Arthur was right and she was indeed the person he needed, for she had showed no signs of changing her mind. Any other woman would have already left, knowing what this woman knew.

She seemed right enough. Experienced enough to know what she was dealing with but not bossy, as so many nurses he had met already in his life. He couldn't imagine her being of the whining or whimpering type either, which was a relief. At the very least, he could give her a trial period.

Making up his mind, he left his safe place by his desk and got closer to her.

"Would you accept a trial period?"

"I don't see why not. I've already my luggage here with me anyway, at Doctor Doyle's house."

"Then the matter is settled. You may stay. For now."

"Will you not ask about payment values?" She inquired, frowning a bit at the missing questions.

"After my last maid's salary anything will be a bargain. Especially with your curriculum, Madam." Bram snorted, thinking bitterly about Glynnis once again.

The woman raised from the chair and not for the first time Bram noticed they shared more or less the same height. She extend her hand in his direction, offering it to shake and close the deal. Oddly enough, Bram found his arm reaching out against his habit. But as quickly as his hand had gone forward to meet hers, it closed and dropped to his side in a fist. He lowered his eyes.

"I… I don't do hand shakes, I'm afraid." He excused himself, biting the insides of his mouth in tension.

"Condition or eccentricity?" The woman called Marianne asked softly.

He raised his eyes to meet hers, unsure of what he would find.

"Perhaps both?" He offered shakily.

She was smiling in a shy way, like if she was unsure about how to proceed too.

"If your hands are clean from sores…" She prompted gently. "Then the condition shouldn't be a problem, Sir."

"Are you certain?"

"Very much." Marianne nodded.

His fist opened and closed a few times beside him.

"Sorry… I really can't. Not now, at least."

"No matter." She quickly dismissed the whole situation, lowering her hand and rubbing her dress as if to clean away any possible wrinkles. "We may try again later. Maybe… Maybe when we get to be more familiar to each other. I'm a total stranger after all."

"Maybe." Bram found himself allowing.

Seeing as their meeting had been successful, Bram decided that the best way to proceed would be to show his new employee his house so Marianne could become acquainted with it. It was unnerving for him but necessary. First things first, he showed Marianne her soon to be room on the first floor.

"My last maid used to sleep in another room, but it is yet to be cleaned off her things. No family as come yet to collect them. Maybe you could care for that?"

The woman analysed the room he was offering her before answering.

"Sure. No problem."

"Aren't you curious about her?"

"Not at all. I've read the papers"

"Of course, the papers…" He reminded himself, feeling foolish for not thinking about that sooner.

Bram saw Marianne walking to the nearby window and prepare to pull the drape away, but as she gripped the fabric in her fingers she stopped and turned to seek him.

"May I ask something that may be very important?"

"Ask away." He was curious to know whatever had stilled her hand on such perfect timing.

"The sunlight… I've read that people with your condition are sensible to it, but I would like to know to which measure. I would hate to hurt you by mistake, Sir."

"I am sensible to it. Direct sunlight hurts my skin and specially my eyes. That's the reason behind the glasses."

"I imagined as much by the rest of the house. But, if I open a drape in a room…"

"I would prefer if you avoid doing that in a room when I'm present." It was becoming worse each time he found himself in that situation. The shock of the light flooding suddenly a previous dark room… The memory sent chills down his back. It felt like needles all over, penetrating his pale skin. In small and controlled doses he could however manage some sunlight. It had become most of an instinct to avoid it by principle, just that.

"Okay… Then, if I want to let some light and fresh air to your study for example…"

"In that case you must be so kind as to inform me so I can retire to my room. Unless it's already dark outside."

She nodded and finally let go of her grip on the drapes.

"I imagine that you must do most of your life at night time, am I wrong?"

"Not at all, actually is quite is easier that way."

"Would you prefer if I changed my schedule to meet yours? I'm an early riser and if I am to take care of the house and also be available to you when you're awake…"

"You are free to do whatever you find that works better for both of us." He cut her short. "My expectations from you are simple: The house must be in order and whenever I should need something from the street you are to go out to fetch it. My meals will be served depending on the hours that I rise and sleep. Any problem so far?"

"None, Sir."

"Perfect. May I show you now the rest of the house?"

Once again she simply nodded and meet him by the door. He showed her the rest of the floor and which one was the door to his room.

"You may enter whenever you find necessary but please refrain from touching too much or changing the organisation of the room. I'm very methodical when it comes to personal things. Also don't ever enter without knocking and having an answer if you know I'm inside." He warned her before moving down once more.

There, he showed her the kitchen, the drawing room and the dining room.

"I will give you a few days so you can find the right places of each thing. I can't very much tell you where to find anything that my last maid used. I keep mostly to my office and room."

"As it is usual to any man, don't worry. I'm sure I will find everything sooner or later."

"Now, I don't know exactly the time but must be a little late. Wouldn't it be better if you collected your luggage from Dr. Doyle's house?"

"Yes, probably that's the wisest thing to do."

"I will give you money for a cab. I wouldn't want you carrying everything by hand, there is no need for that."

She seemed truly surprised by his offer.

"That's… Very kind, Sir. Thank you very much."

"No matter. Just… Try to return as soon as you can."