Dracula's Secret

One

21 February, 1891

The wind was especially strong that winter night, the snow falling thick at a fast speed making it almost impossible for the coachman and his horses to see. "Sir it's getting almost too hard to see, do you want to me press further on?" the coachman yelled from the cold while deep inside the coach a particular man sits in the dark. 

"Yes, keep pressing forward it's not too much further." his voice was deep, memorizing almost to anyone who listened. But most times they did. The coachman nodded and they pressed forward. The brisk air made the man press further into his seat trying to prevent the air from hitting his rather pale skin.

Looking through the darkness with eyes no normal human being could see, he could make out the familiar trees that led to his home so deep in the forest, away from the people. He could see the deer running away from the carriage, the few leaves still on the branches that blew in the wind. He could make out the odd birth mark on the coachman's neck, almost shaped like a pear. The each single strand of graying hair that stuck out from underneath the mans cap. He could see everything. 

Closing his eyes he listened to the world around him, the leaves, the air, the heart beat of the man and the horses, the sound of the wheels hitting the gravel on the cold ground. But most importantly he heard a cry in the night. "Stop!" the man yelled from his seat. 

Yanking back on the ropes to the horses, they neighed and stomped their hooves as the man was slightly flung forward. "What is it sir?" the man turned around fixing his cap, his wrinkled face looking with concern. "Shh" the man hopped from the carriage and listened closely to the sound, a crying sound. 

Whereas most men wouldn't be able to see in the darkness he was able to see everything around him as he moved around bushes and leaves. The crying got louder. It sounded like a child. Why would a child be out in this cold? Frantically searching he finally found the small thing crying only wrapped in a ratty cloth. If he had a pulse it would have been quick as he reached for the small child. "Why hello there small child, what are you doing out in this?" the child's crying slowed and turned to small hiccups. Smiling the man held the child who only appeared to be a few weeks old "come let us take you to my home sweet child" cradling the child he wrapped the small thing in his coat holding the child close to his chest, and even though he had no heartbeat he knew the child would be far warmer inside his coat then out and about. 

Walking back to his coachman he listened and felt the child's small heartbeat, each beat was an almost warming to his tortured soul. If his heart worked, he would have sworn it skipped beats of joy holding the small bundle of joy so close to him. He always loved children and wanted a family of his own but that was taken from him at a young age. "Sir what is that?" the coachman asked with wondered eyes "A child abandoned, now let us hurry back to my home. I need to tend to this child at once" his coachman nodded and tipped his hat letting the man take his seat in the coach. 

As the coach moved forward he could hear the child cooing and making noises beneath his coat and being the curious man he was he snuck a peak at the  child. A set of beautiful brown eyes starred up at him through the peek of his  coat, a set of long eye lashes to match the beautiful set of eyes. The child continued to coo underneath his coat as the man smiled down at the small child. A sense of pride forming inside himself, he would be the best father he could be to this small child. No matter what. 

Once reaching his home, a beautiful palace of stone, he nodded to his coachman and entered his candle lit home. "Hello Sir Dracula" a maid greeted him, a homely woman who had been living with him for the past year. "Hello Darla please go get a room ready for this child, I will be needing a cradle and have some of the maids prepare a warm bottle of milk for the child. I will be in my study finding out the gender of the child to give a proper name for them. I'll call for you when I'm ready" she nodded and rushed off to speak to the other maidens. 

Pulling out the child from underneath his coat he noticed the small child starring up at him again with wonder in their eyes. With each step the man took up his marvelous staircase he admired the child brushing back what little hair the child had, such dark hair for such a small child. "Now sweet child what are you? What shall I name you? For that name will be remembered and loved throughout my home not only by myself but my maidens and servers as well. And with such beauty in your eyes I can only imagine what gifts you will have as you age." 

Turning down the corridor to his study he fixed the small cloth around the child, grabbing onto its small hand he observed its tiny precious fingers as if they were prized jewels. The child not crying continued to admire the man holding them. In his study he sits in his red velvet chair of a throne and places the child on the desk, the child kicking its legs underneath the worn cloth. Watching the child's legs kick he chuckles and leans back in his seat, curious to find out what gender the precious child was before him was and figuring since it probably been awhile since the child had been changed he opened the worn cloth and undid the cloth pinned around the child's bottom. A fowl smell came before him and he had to hold his breath as he tossed the nasty, soiled fabric away. "Marge! I need a fresh cloth and old cloths!" the man yelled, Marge an older woman came running in with what he acquired and smiled down at the small child. "It's a girl! What a beautiful being, where did you find her Sir?" handing him the cloth he smiles down at the sweet girl and spoke "she was left, abandoned in the forest. Probably left to be eaten by the wolves." a gasp came from the old Marge and frowned, "who could ever leave  such a sweet precious gift like her?" shaking his head he cleaned the child before him up, she holding still for him starring up at Marge with wonder. 

"What will you be naming her Sir? Are you keeping her?" Marge asked, always full of questions "Why of course my sweet Marge, however, I haven't thought of it yet, but it will be beautiful and unique like she is." Marge could see the passion in her masters eyes, the love of a father. "I'll leave you to it Sir" curtsying she leaves her master behind with a child of love and wonder. 

Wrapping his adopted daughter up in the worn cloth she had been found in he cradles her in his arm once more and rocks her gently, watching her with admiration and love. "My sweet child, what shall I call you. You are going to be as beautiful as any woman ever will be, with such sweet fair skin and rose colored cheeks, your beautiful brown eyes will capture the hearts of many men, your dark hair will be the envy of women around you. You will be so beautiful and graceful my sweet adopted daughter." gently stroking his daughters cheeks he thought of a unique enough name for his new daughter "Cressida Amelia Rose Dracula, your nickname will be Cressi. What do you think my sweet Cressi?" kissing his daughter forehead she yawned and blinked underneath her fathers stare. "Now, now sweet Cressi you must feed before you sleep" sticking his finger across his daughters small lips she began to suck on his finger. "Darla dear! the milk!" he called to sweet Darla and she came in with a bottle of sorts of warmed milk and a towel to burp the small child "thank you sweet Darla, you may leave" she nodded and left. The man had only seen it so many times but understood the purpose of the bottle and how to hold it, placing the nipple on her lips she opened willingly and began to suck the warm milk. Now rocking his sweet Cressi as she drank her meal he stared at her heavy eyes that began to close underneath the comfort of a full stomach and a warm home. 

"Sweet child, you will be loved more than any child ever will. You, my Cressida, will be the light of my forever days. Rest now sweet child, your future has only just begun". 

And with those words she fell asleep, milk drizzling from the corners of her small mouth, a proud father watching his daughter sleep with the thought that morning will soon become and he, himself will be asleep while his daughter awake and breathing under the love and care of his maids. 

"Sleep tight my sweet Cressi, sleep tight my love, my gift, my child."