Disclaimer: If there is a goddess of fanfiction, I imagine she probably giggles a lot, is somewhat perverted and has a rather odd wardrobe. She also, alone, knows how many copyrights I have infringed with this story. I suspect the ones on some of the older books have expired by now, but nevertheless here is a list of authors/mangaka I know I have ripped off:
Hirano Kouta
Abram Stoker
Howard P Lovecraft
Lord Byron and John Polidori (for the mention)
Alan Moore (for that ridiculous March of the Sinister Ducks' song)
Thomas Preskett Prest
Kim Newman
George MacDonald Fraser
Which means I am in good company as both Fraser and I are guilty of the same to:
Thomas Hughes (he probably deserves it)
Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle (he doesn't)
Both constructive and destructive reviews are welcome.
-----------------------------------
'Dear Mr Morrison,
Having read with great interest the publications of the memoirs of your esteemed ancestor, the Hon Sir Harry Paget Flashman, Brigadier-General V.C. K.C.B., K.C.I.E. I now find myself writing to you regarding a similar discovery in my own household.
My name is Dr David Moran, and my second name is undoubtedly familiar to you, for reasons you can undoubtedly guess. I hope, however, we can put aside any enmity born of past insults between our two houses, and in token of my sincerity I am sending you these photocopies. No, I have not uncovered the memoirs of my infamous ancestor (I wish!), but rather a collection of letters belonging to his wife that quite frequently mention both Sir Harry and Lady Elspeth, as well as telling an interesting tale of their own. I have sent photocopies both to you and the editor of the Flashman papers in the fond hope that they may be of some use to you.
Kindest regards,
David Moran, M.D.'
-----------------------------------
52 Westmoreland Rd
Barnes
London SW
Dec 16th, 1899
"My Dear Jack,
I hope you are well and that you are experiencing success in your ministrations to the unfortunates of the East End. Since I saw you last, I have interesting news to report, and since I do remember your asking that I should keep you updated in the affairs of society whilst you are busy tending to the poor, I have decided to 'pen an epistle', as it were. I would have come to visit you myself, but your father absolutely forbid it. He is most vexing, as I am sure you remember. Ah well, que sera!
London is all abuzz at the approach of the new century, which everyone is sure will bring more amazing new advances in science and suchlike. There are plans for all sorts of celebrations, possibly even to match the maginficence of our beloved Queen's golden jubilee. My dear friend Elspeth has absolutely insisted that I come to her New Year Celebration. She plans to have a proper Hogmanay! Gracious, I hope there will not be bagpipes. Indeed, the party season is already in full swing. Which brings me on to the interesting occurrences, regarding which I would welcome your opinion.
I am almost certain there is some connection between what I am about to relate and that dreadful business two years ago of which you refused to tell me all the details. The matter involves our friend Dr Van Helsing, which is what suggested this to me. I had thought him in the Netherlands attending to his wife, but indeed no, where should we see him but at the Royal Medical and Chirurgical Society Ball! (I hear rumour they are thinking of shortening the name of the society, by the way, and a welcome change it shall be, I'm sure, for it is quite a mouthful(1)). I wondered if perhaps he was to give another of his fascinating lectures, but it seemed he was merely a guest.
The doctor does not look at all well. He seemed quite pale and harassed. I wonder if perhaps his wife's illness is sapping his reserves of strength. However, it was his companion more than the good doctor himself who intrigued me. He was a most singular fellow, a foreigner I am certain, and tall as your father, easily. He was dressed sensibly enough, a brown suit, a burgundy waistcoat, but I was quite astonished to see such a tangle of thick black hair as I am sure had never seen a comb or brush for a month or more! From what little I saw of his face, he was as pale as the good doctor and as I live and breathe, his eyes were the most startling orange-red! I have seen anything resembling such a colour only once, and that was at the presentation before the Society of an albino man from Albania. Even that poor white-haired creature's eyes were merely a dark pinkish colour, and held not the hellish fires of the doctor's companion. I found myself quite disconcerted, but fascinated nonetheless, and went at once to speak to Dr Van Helsing.
I enquired after his health and the health of his poor wife, and he informed me that he had been somewhat under the weather recently, and his wife was showing no signs of recovery. At this, to my astonishment, his companion gave a small chuckle. I carefully ignored this display of sheer rudeness, wished Dr Van Hellsing a speedy recovery and politely asked for an introduction. Before Dr Van Helsing could reply, the fellow had swept a deep bow and informed me in deep and accent-laced tones that he was Mr Alucard and that he was delighted to meet me.
From his foreign vowels and his regal manner, I wondered if he was perhaps some Eastern European prince, visiting England incognito, as I hear they are wont to do, marvelling at the fascinations of our advanced society. But I determined not to press the matter, as such persons undoubtedly value their privacy. Besides that, his manners clearly left much to be desired, and it is up to us to give example and make a good show of it, is it not? Before I was able to think of a suitable topic for further conversation, Dr Van Helsing was accosted by several unruly medical students, and I became quite excluded from the conversation, much to my chagrin and was forced to leave.
I would have thought nothing more of the matter, had I not later once again found myself in the company of the aforementioned pair. Oh, you will think me a silly old woman when I tell you this, but I have been lately finding myself going to séances. They are all the fashion among the society, a little "innocent fun". Besides, my friends will have me come with them. Apparently I quite spruce up the evenings, as I tend to point out when the ectoplasm is clearly a length of muslin and the "medium" is using foot pedals to control his frightening winds and noises. I am not really sceptic, but it is such wonderful fun to expose the frauds.
The night in question, having been invited to the house of a well known man in such circles, Dr William Wynn Wescott,(2) we were to be shown an interesting technique known as psychometry, which as I am sure you know, is a means of divining information about an object and the circumstances around it psychically, simply by holding it in one's hand. It is quite fascinating, and my friends and I were all eager to witness the spectacle.
Imagine my surprise at seeing Dr Van Helsing and his foreign companion at one of these events! Obviously there were a few gentlemen and ladies who had been at the ball the previous night present at the séance, so many of our circle are of an enquiring mind, but I thought Dr Van Helsing of too serious a disposition. Were the events of two years ago so paranormal as to cause such a change in him, you think? I would welcome your opinion. Myself, I remain open minded. After all, mankind has made great leaps and bounds in discovery this century, and for all we know there may be quite a logical explanation behind the planchette and suchlike, most likely something to do with psychology or somesuch. Though Dr Van Helsing was seated in the audience, I noted that his friend seemed to remain mostly on the edges of the room and often quite close to the front, and though he must have moved around a good deal, I declare I never saw him do so. He seemed almost a part of the shadows. One assumes he was invited by whatever guest brought him to the society ball, undoubtedly some friend of his, with perhaps a wife fond of the séances.
To continue with the story, you may remember so years ago, your father and I attended the funeral in Thorpe-Le-Soken of a family friend, Sir William Gull?(3) His was a sad loss not only to your father to whom he was very dear, but to the Royal Household, to whom he had served faithfully as Royal Physician for many years. HHe and I often discussed the role of women in medicine. Some time after the funeral, I received a package from his son, Cameron. Contained within was a rather handsome mahogany box containing the tools of his trade, which he had apparently left to me in his will. Of course, I was absolutely flattered and sent back that I could not possibly accept them, but dear Cameron insisted, and I did not wish to press the matter further in such a delicate situation. Why he left these effects to me has always been something of a mystery.
We were each asked to bring an object of personal significance, and so I thought it possible it would be both entertaining and enlightening if I were to bring an item from the box. I selected the scalpel (unwisely, as I later found) as I assumed it would have been handled most frequently and with most care and attention.
And indeed, as it happened, I was called upon to present my object, which I did (there was no small amount of muttering and talk when I presented a scalpel, explaining the circumstances though mentioning no names). The medium graciously took it from me and began to focus on it. All at once, his head began to loll and he began to speak in dread tones, of death and horror and evil done by the wielder of the object. Of women torn open and wombs torn out with child still in them. Some of the more delicate ladies in the audience quite fainted away and others had to be reassured that it was all a show by their husbands.
I was quite horrified, myself. Either the medium was making up some silliness to make a good spectacle of it, or, another horrifying possibility! At some point our dear friend's scalpel had been stolen by some criminal, perhaps in one of the institutions in which he served over the years and used for such dreadful deeds, or perhaps even most unethical experiments!
However, it was then that Mr Alucard appeared, quite out of no-where and relieved the medium of the scalpel, at which he immediately stared at him, muttered something about 'evil' and fainted dead away, poor fellow. I swear I saw Mr Alucard examine the scalpel and then lick it! And his tongue...! I have not seen the like since I went to the museum and saw a preserved camel's tongue in formaldehyde. I wondered if perhaps it is some hereditary deformity. One hears all sorts of stories about inbreeding and other strange and disturbing practises in far flung places. 'Definitely a woman..no, several women.' He said, in that curious low voice of his, and I am sure I was the only one who heard, the medium being incapacitated. 'And yes, pregnant. Even this old, I can tell.' He turned to me and offered the scalpel, handle first. I took it, doing my best to appear unafraid, and thanked him. He bowed and walked away, seeming to melt into the shadows.
By now, the poor medium was being attended to by several persons, and no-one seemed to have paid Mr Alucard and I much attention at all. It seemed that would be all for the evening. I returned to my seat and replaced the scalpel, with the full intention of cleaning it most carefully when I reached home.
Well, that is all I can relate of that most intriguing story. Perhaps you have some details which can shed further light on the proceedings, if you are not still unable or unwilling to talk of such things, but do not feel pressed, I am fond of a good mystery.
I remain as ever, your loving aunt,
Miss Anna Seward"
-----------------------------------
Royal London Hospital
Whitechapel Road
London E
Dec 18th 1899
"Dearest Aunt Anna,
Your news disturbs me greatly and has given me cause to send this to you by the fastest possible courier! I fear I must give you advice that will sound most improper from a nephew to his aunt, but as I have undoubted faith you are still a virgin, I suggest you marry at once! In this manner, you will cease to be of interest to the Count (whom you know as 'Mr Alucard') for it can only be he. My dearest aunt, my blood runs cold to think of you or any member of my family anywhere near that monster! We had thought him quite dead, but it seems he has done something terrible to poor Dr Van Helsing. Please, I beg of you, do not go anywhere near either of them if you can possibly avoid it. Allow Arthur, Jonathan and I to deal with the matter, we are more experienced and I fear for you should the Count ever show more than a passing interest in you.
With fervent wishes for your safety, I remain yours,
Dr John Seward'
-----------------------------------
52 Westmoreland Rd
Barnes
London SW
Dec 21st, 1899
'Dearest Jack,
With luck I shall have avoided making this part of the Christmas post and it will reach you quickly. Your last letter worried me greatly, even to the point of contemplating putting aside my distastes regarding the state of matrimony and your father's obsession with my entering it. However, I do not seriously think the Count, or whatever his name is, would be interested in an old woman like me.
Since my last letter, I have found occasion to read John Polidori's macabre tale (or Lord Byron's, whomever chooses to claim it(4)) and have glanced at Penny Dreadfuls, Jack and I now am fully aware than such as the Count prefers young women, like poor dear Miss Westenra and Mrs Harker. I do not fear for my life, nor my sanguine humour, and I am sure now that you are quite overreacting, though I am touched that you care for me enough to engage such an expensive courier. However, I am deeply concerned for Dr Van Helsing, even to the point where I disregarded your orders and sought him out. My enquiries were met with the response that he has returned to Holland to visit his poor wife, and undoubtedly the Count with him. He is quite out of the reach of any of us, even Lord Godalming, as no-one has an address to contact him. It is vexing indeed, but I have faith in Dr Van Helsing, and I do not believe he would be allowing the Count to walk around freely unless he had some great hold over the fiend.
Nevertheless, I will be looking into the matter of a husband directly, which should please your father immensely.
We shall see about that.
With love and best wishes I remain your loving aunt,
Miss Anna Seward'
Hirano Kouta
Abram Stoker
Howard P Lovecraft
Lord Byron and John Polidori (for the mention)
Alan Moore (for that ridiculous March of the Sinister Ducks' song)
Thomas Preskett Prest
Kim Newman
George MacDonald Fraser
Which means I am in good company as both Fraser and I are guilty of the same to:
Thomas Hughes (he probably deserves it)
Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle (he doesn't)
Both constructive and destructive reviews are welcome.
-----------------------------------
'Dear Mr Morrison,
Having read with great interest the publications of the memoirs of your esteemed ancestor, the Hon Sir Harry Paget Flashman, Brigadier-General V.C. K.C.B., K.C.I.E. I now find myself writing to you regarding a similar discovery in my own household.
My name is Dr David Moran, and my second name is undoubtedly familiar to you, for reasons you can undoubtedly guess. I hope, however, we can put aside any enmity born of past insults between our two houses, and in token of my sincerity I am sending you these photocopies. No, I have not uncovered the memoirs of my infamous ancestor (I wish!), but rather a collection of letters belonging to his wife that quite frequently mention both Sir Harry and Lady Elspeth, as well as telling an interesting tale of their own. I have sent photocopies both to you and the editor of the Flashman papers in the fond hope that they may be of some use to you.
Kindest regards,
David Moran, M.D.'
-----------------------------------
52 Westmoreland Rd
Barnes
London SW
Dec 16th, 1899
"My Dear Jack,
I hope you are well and that you are experiencing success in your ministrations to the unfortunates of the East End. Since I saw you last, I have interesting news to report, and since I do remember your asking that I should keep you updated in the affairs of society whilst you are busy tending to the poor, I have decided to 'pen an epistle', as it were. I would have come to visit you myself, but your father absolutely forbid it. He is most vexing, as I am sure you remember. Ah well, que sera!
London is all abuzz at the approach of the new century, which everyone is sure will bring more amazing new advances in science and suchlike. There are plans for all sorts of celebrations, possibly even to match the maginficence of our beloved Queen's golden jubilee. My dear friend Elspeth has absolutely insisted that I come to her New Year Celebration. She plans to have a proper Hogmanay! Gracious, I hope there will not be bagpipes. Indeed, the party season is already in full swing. Which brings me on to the interesting occurrences, regarding which I would welcome your opinion.
I am almost certain there is some connection between what I am about to relate and that dreadful business two years ago of which you refused to tell me all the details. The matter involves our friend Dr Van Helsing, which is what suggested this to me. I had thought him in the Netherlands attending to his wife, but indeed no, where should we see him but at the Royal Medical and Chirurgical Society Ball! (I hear rumour they are thinking of shortening the name of the society, by the way, and a welcome change it shall be, I'm sure, for it is quite a mouthful(1)). I wondered if perhaps he was to give another of his fascinating lectures, but it seemed he was merely a guest.
The doctor does not look at all well. He seemed quite pale and harassed. I wonder if perhaps his wife's illness is sapping his reserves of strength. However, it was his companion more than the good doctor himself who intrigued me. He was a most singular fellow, a foreigner I am certain, and tall as your father, easily. He was dressed sensibly enough, a brown suit, a burgundy waistcoat, but I was quite astonished to see such a tangle of thick black hair as I am sure had never seen a comb or brush for a month or more! From what little I saw of his face, he was as pale as the good doctor and as I live and breathe, his eyes were the most startling orange-red! I have seen anything resembling such a colour only once, and that was at the presentation before the Society of an albino man from Albania. Even that poor white-haired creature's eyes were merely a dark pinkish colour, and held not the hellish fires of the doctor's companion. I found myself quite disconcerted, but fascinated nonetheless, and went at once to speak to Dr Van Helsing.
I enquired after his health and the health of his poor wife, and he informed me that he had been somewhat under the weather recently, and his wife was showing no signs of recovery. At this, to my astonishment, his companion gave a small chuckle. I carefully ignored this display of sheer rudeness, wished Dr Van Hellsing a speedy recovery and politely asked for an introduction. Before Dr Van Helsing could reply, the fellow had swept a deep bow and informed me in deep and accent-laced tones that he was Mr Alucard and that he was delighted to meet me.
From his foreign vowels and his regal manner, I wondered if he was perhaps some Eastern European prince, visiting England incognito, as I hear they are wont to do, marvelling at the fascinations of our advanced society. But I determined not to press the matter, as such persons undoubtedly value their privacy. Besides that, his manners clearly left much to be desired, and it is up to us to give example and make a good show of it, is it not? Before I was able to think of a suitable topic for further conversation, Dr Van Helsing was accosted by several unruly medical students, and I became quite excluded from the conversation, much to my chagrin and was forced to leave.
I would have thought nothing more of the matter, had I not later once again found myself in the company of the aforementioned pair. Oh, you will think me a silly old woman when I tell you this, but I have been lately finding myself going to séances. They are all the fashion among the society, a little "innocent fun". Besides, my friends will have me come with them. Apparently I quite spruce up the evenings, as I tend to point out when the ectoplasm is clearly a length of muslin and the "medium" is using foot pedals to control his frightening winds and noises. I am not really sceptic, but it is such wonderful fun to expose the frauds.
The night in question, having been invited to the house of a well known man in such circles, Dr William Wynn Wescott,(2) we were to be shown an interesting technique known as psychometry, which as I am sure you know, is a means of divining information about an object and the circumstances around it psychically, simply by holding it in one's hand. It is quite fascinating, and my friends and I were all eager to witness the spectacle.
Imagine my surprise at seeing Dr Van Helsing and his foreign companion at one of these events! Obviously there were a few gentlemen and ladies who had been at the ball the previous night present at the séance, so many of our circle are of an enquiring mind, but I thought Dr Van Helsing of too serious a disposition. Were the events of two years ago so paranormal as to cause such a change in him, you think? I would welcome your opinion. Myself, I remain open minded. After all, mankind has made great leaps and bounds in discovery this century, and for all we know there may be quite a logical explanation behind the planchette and suchlike, most likely something to do with psychology or somesuch. Though Dr Van Helsing was seated in the audience, I noted that his friend seemed to remain mostly on the edges of the room and often quite close to the front, and though he must have moved around a good deal, I declare I never saw him do so. He seemed almost a part of the shadows. One assumes he was invited by whatever guest brought him to the society ball, undoubtedly some friend of his, with perhaps a wife fond of the séances.
To continue with the story, you may remember so years ago, your father and I attended the funeral in Thorpe-Le-Soken of a family friend, Sir William Gull?(3) His was a sad loss not only to your father to whom he was very dear, but to the Royal Household, to whom he had served faithfully as Royal Physician for many years. HHe and I often discussed the role of women in medicine. Some time after the funeral, I received a package from his son, Cameron. Contained within was a rather handsome mahogany box containing the tools of his trade, which he had apparently left to me in his will. Of course, I was absolutely flattered and sent back that I could not possibly accept them, but dear Cameron insisted, and I did not wish to press the matter further in such a delicate situation. Why he left these effects to me has always been something of a mystery.
We were each asked to bring an object of personal significance, and so I thought it possible it would be both entertaining and enlightening if I were to bring an item from the box. I selected the scalpel (unwisely, as I later found) as I assumed it would have been handled most frequently and with most care and attention.
And indeed, as it happened, I was called upon to present my object, which I did (there was no small amount of muttering and talk when I presented a scalpel, explaining the circumstances though mentioning no names). The medium graciously took it from me and began to focus on it. All at once, his head began to loll and he began to speak in dread tones, of death and horror and evil done by the wielder of the object. Of women torn open and wombs torn out with child still in them. Some of the more delicate ladies in the audience quite fainted away and others had to be reassured that it was all a show by their husbands.
I was quite horrified, myself. Either the medium was making up some silliness to make a good spectacle of it, or, another horrifying possibility! At some point our dear friend's scalpel had been stolen by some criminal, perhaps in one of the institutions in which he served over the years and used for such dreadful deeds, or perhaps even most unethical experiments!
However, it was then that Mr Alucard appeared, quite out of no-where and relieved the medium of the scalpel, at which he immediately stared at him, muttered something about 'evil' and fainted dead away, poor fellow. I swear I saw Mr Alucard examine the scalpel and then lick it! And his tongue...! I have not seen the like since I went to the museum and saw a preserved camel's tongue in formaldehyde. I wondered if perhaps it is some hereditary deformity. One hears all sorts of stories about inbreeding and other strange and disturbing practises in far flung places. 'Definitely a woman..no, several women.' He said, in that curious low voice of his, and I am sure I was the only one who heard, the medium being incapacitated. 'And yes, pregnant. Even this old, I can tell.' He turned to me and offered the scalpel, handle first. I took it, doing my best to appear unafraid, and thanked him. He bowed and walked away, seeming to melt into the shadows.
By now, the poor medium was being attended to by several persons, and no-one seemed to have paid Mr Alucard and I much attention at all. It seemed that would be all for the evening. I returned to my seat and replaced the scalpel, with the full intention of cleaning it most carefully when I reached home.
Well, that is all I can relate of that most intriguing story. Perhaps you have some details which can shed further light on the proceedings, if you are not still unable or unwilling to talk of such things, but do not feel pressed, I am fond of a good mystery.
I remain as ever, your loving aunt,
Miss Anna Seward"
-----------------------------------
Royal London Hospital
Whitechapel Road
London E
Dec 18th 1899
"Dearest Aunt Anna,
Your news disturbs me greatly and has given me cause to send this to you by the fastest possible courier! I fear I must give you advice that will sound most improper from a nephew to his aunt, but as I have undoubted faith you are still a virgin, I suggest you marry at once! In this manner, you will cease to be of interest to the Count (whom you know as 'Mr Alucard') for it can only be he. My dearest aunt, my blood runs cold to think of you or any member of my family anywhere near that monster! We had thought him quite dead, but it seems he has done something terrible to poor Dr Van Helsing. Please, I beg of you, do not go anywhere near either of them if you can possibly avoid it. Allow Arthur, Jonathan and I to deal with the matter, we are more experienced and I fear for you should the Count ever show more than a passing interest in you.
With fervent wishes for your safety, I remain yours,
Dr John Seward'
-----------------------------------
52 Westmoreland Rd
Barnes
London SW
Dec 21st, 1899
'Dearest Jack,
With luck I shall have avoided making this part of the Christmas post and it will reach you quickly. Your last letter worried me greatly, even to the point of contemplating putting aside my distastes regarding the state of matrimony and your father's obsession with my entering it. However, I do not seriously think the Count, or whatever his name is, would be interested in an old woman like me.
Since my last letter, I have found occasion to read John Polidori's macabre tale (or Lord Byron's, whomever chooses to claim it(4)) and have glanced at Penny Dreadfuls, Jack and I now am fully aware than such as the Count prefers young women, like poor dear Miss Westenra and Mrs Harker. I do not fear for my life, nor my sanguine humour, and I am sure now that you are quite overreacting, though I am touched that you care for me enough to engage such an expensive courier. However, I am deeply concerned for Dr Van Helsing, even to the point where I disregarded your orders and sought him out. My enquiries were met with the response that he has returned to Holland to visit his poor wife, and undoubtedly the Count with him. He is quite out of the reach of any of us, even Lord Godalming, as no-one has an address to contact him. It is vexing indeed, but I have faith in Dr Van Helsing, and I do not believe he would be allowing the Count to walk around freely unless he had some great hold over the fiend.
Nevertheless, I will be looking into the matter of a husband directly, which should please your father immensely.
We shall see about that.
With love and best wishes I remain your loving aunt,
Miss Anna Seward'
