A Christmas Homecoming - Anne Perry [10]
“I don’t think that’s strong enough,” Vincent commented. “He sounds as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
“He doesn’t, yet,” Joshua argued.
“Yes, he does,” Vincent answered immediately. “He’s a genius and he’s made a life study of vampires. He has to be powerful. After all, he destroys Dracula, the greatest vampire of all.” He sat back a little in his chair, smiling.
“That’s at the end,” Joshua said with markedly less patience. “If we know all that about him at the beginning, then there is no story.”
“Everybody knows the end anyway,” Vincent argued. “Most people have either read the damn book or they’ve heard people talking about it.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “Vincent, you’re an actor. Pretend you don’t know, for heaven’s sake, or we’ll be here all day and go nowhere.”
Vincent turned to her. “And where exactly is it that you think we are going, my dear?” he asked sarcastically.
“I have no idea,” Lydia replied. “Any more than you have.”
“I know I’m going quietly mad!” Mercy put in very distinctly.
“That won’t be a very long journey,” Caroline muttered. She was embarrassed when she realized Alice had heard her, until she saw the sudden smile on Alice’s face.
“You said ‘quietly,’ ” Joshua said, looking at Mercy. “Make that a promise, will you!”
She glared at him.
“Page thirty-nine, from the top,” Joshua resumed. “Van Helsing to Harker.”
“We really need another character here,” Vincent pointed out. “It doesn’t make sense like this. Harker’s an idiot, completely ineffectual. Van Helsing would neither turn to him nor try to use him.”
“He’ll use what he has,” Joshua snapped. “And at the moment he has no one else. Just read it; we’ll make what amendments we need to later.”
With elaborate patience Vincent did as he was told. It sounded ridiculous, just as he had intended it to.
hey stopped at lunchtime, after having read through the entire hour-long script twice. The meal was awkward, everyone concentrating on their food, which again was plentiful and excellent. They spoke of trivial things: places they had traveled to at one time or another; books they had read; even the weather—although that last subject became less trivial as the wind increased and the snow that had been falling intermittently became heavier. It was clear from the almost horizontal angle at which it was streaming past the windows, and the thrashing of the trees beyond, that the storm was increasing in violence.
“It makes me think of those at sea,” Eliza said unhappily, staring at the snow-coated glass. “I feel almost guilty to be so safe.”
“I can’t imagine why anyone wants to go to sea, especially in the winter,” James observed.
“They probably don’t.” Vincent looked at him witheringly. “Poor devils have little choice. We can’t all be actors.”
“Indeed we can’t,” Joshua retorted. “Not even all those of us who try.”
Lydia laughed, then winced as apparently someone kicked her under the table.
Douglas Paterson looked at her with quick appreciation, then straightened his face again and pretended he was not amused.
After the meal Joshua asked if he and Caroline might speak with Netheridge. He showed them into his study, a large, extremely comfortable room with leather-covered armchairs and a fire burning briskly in the hearth. A huge oak desk was littered with the implements of writing: pens, papers, two inkwells, a sand tray, sticks of sealing wax in various shades of red, matches and tapers, and several penknives and paper knives. The walls were lined with books, set by subject rather than size, as if they were there for use.
Caroline wondered why Joshua had asked her to accompany him.
“I can’t help,” she had said, meaning it as an apology, not an excuse.
“Yes, you can,” he had told her with a tiny, twisted smile. “If you are there at least he will hesitate to lose his temper. So will I.”
Unfortunately Douglas Paterson had also decided to join them. Since he was Alice’s fiancé it was difficult to protest his presence.
Netheridge stood in front of the fire. Joshua accepted the invitation to be seated, even though it placed