A Christmas Homecoming - Anne Perry [16]
“What about Halloween?” Mercy asked. “Aren’t demons supposed to be abroad then? Can’t they come in?”
“Fairy stories,” Netheridge said briskly. “Anyway, demons are not the same thing as vampires. The Church might have a reasonable argument for the devil, but vampires are strictly Bram Stoker’s imagination. Damned good story, but that’s all.”
“If you will forgive me saying so, Mr. Netheridge, vampires are a lot older than Mr. Stoker, vivid as his imagination is,” Ballin said apologetically. “And they are not demons, which are essentially inhuman. Vampires are the ‘undead,’ who were once as human and mortal as you or I, but who have lost the blessings of death and the resurrection to eternal life. They are damned, in the sense that they can never move on.”
“What the devil are you talking about?” Douglas demanded hotly. “You are speaking as if they were something more than the creation of some opportunistic writer with a desire to make a name and a fortune for himself by trading on the unhealthy fears of a part of society who have time on their hands, and overheated imaginations.”
Netheridge gave him a heavily disapproving look. “Nonsense,” he said tartly. “You are making far too much of it, Douglas. A little fear sharpens our appreciation for the very real safety and comfort that we have. Don’t spoil the entertainment by sounding so self-righteous.”
Douglas blushed deep red, but said nothing at all.
Eliza looked uncomfortable.
Joshua drew in his breath, but found that he had nothing to say, either.
It was Ballin who spoke. “You give Mr. Stoker too much credit, and too much blame, Mr. Paterson. His work is very fine. He has created a story that will no doubt entertain readers for decades to come, but he is far from the first to use the ancient figure of the vampire as a literary device. But perhaps Stoker’s novel will be even more successful than John Polidori’s The Vampyre, published eighty years ago. Polidori’s vampire, Lord Ruthven, was actually based upon his illustrious patient, Lord Byron.”
“I think we very safely presume there is no truth in that,” Joshua put in.
Ballin smiled at him. “I agree, unequivocally. However, the history of the vampire, real or imagined, goes back even beyond the ancient Greek to the Hebrew, and the blood-drinking Lilith. The pedigree is not perhaps respectable, but it is certainly rooted in mankind’s knowledge of good and evil, and what may become of a human soul when darkness is chosen over light.”
Alice was fascinated. The color in her cheeks had heightened, and her eyes were brilliant.
“You know!” she whispered. “You understand. The evil is real.” She turned to Joshua. “You are right, Mr. Fielding: We haven’t caught the essence of the novel yet. I am so grateful to you for not humoring me and letting me go ahead with something so much less than good, let alone true. We must work harder. Perhaps Mr. Ballin will help us?”
Lydia looked at Alice, then at Douglas, and her face registered a gamut of emotions. Caroline thought she saw in it more compassion than anything else. Was it for Douglas, or for Alice? Or had she misread it altogether? Perhaps it was only fear, and a degree of embarrassment?
“If I may be of assistance, without intruding, then I would be honored,” Ballin replied, first to Alice, then to Joshua.
Caroline watched Joshua, uncertain of what she read in his eyes. Was it amusement, desperation, or awareness of his own inadequacy to mend a situation that had run away from him like a bolting horse?
“Have you any experience in stagecraft, Mr. Ballin?” he asked.
Ballin hesitated, for the first time Caroline had seen since he had stepped through the front door out of the storm and into the light and the warmth.
“I think I should leave that to you, Mr. Fielding.” He bowed his black head very slightly. “I can speak only of the legend of the vampire, and what it says of mankind.”
“Legend is just what it is,” Netheridge agreed. “Like all that Greek nonsense about gods and goddesses always squabbling with each other, and changing shape into animals, and whatever.