A Christmas Homecoming by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online

Mercy shivered, glancing toward the rich red curtains drawn across the windows.
    “ ‘Listen to them, the children of the night’,” Vincent quoted from the book, a line Alice had kept in the play.
    Mercy gave another, even more convulsive shiver.
    “You’re not onstage now!” Lydia said sharply. “There are no bats or wolves out there. This is Yorkshire.”
    “Dracula came to Yorkshire,” Mercy retorted instantly. “This is exactly where it all happened! Didn’t you read the book, for heaven’s sake?”
    “I read it,” Lydia said with a sigh. “I don’t believe it. It’s my job to believe it onstage, not at the dinner table.”
    “It’s only the wind,” James said to no one in particular. “The whole thing is an excellent horror story, but there’s nothing real to be frightened of.”
    “Bravo,” Vincent observed sarcastically. “That’s perfectly in character. Harker didn’t believe in vampires until Dracula had already taken Lucy and turned her into one.”
    Alice looked from one to the other of them. Her eyes were bright, and there was a slight flush on her cheeks, although it was impossible to tell if it was embarrassment or excitement. Perhaps a little of each.
    Douglas Paterson regarded Alice’s face with a distress that was close to exasperation. “Really—,” he began.
    Alice cut him off, looking toward Ballin. “Can we make you believe in vampires, just for a season?” she asked him.
    “Alice!” Netheridge protested.
    Ballin held up his long-fingered, powerful hand, moving with uncommon grace. “Please! It is a game we must all play, the suspension of disbelief, just for awhile. Surely Christmas is the season in which to believe in miracles? The Son of God came to earth as a little child, helpless and dependent, just as we all are, even when we least think so. Does it not follow that the creatures of evil must also be knocking at the door, waiting for someone to allow them in?”
    Mercy gave a little gasp.
    Lydia rolled her eyes and glanced momentarily to Douglas before turning away again.
    Alice was looking at Ballin intently, her expression keen with interest. “I’ve never heard anyone say something like that before,” she said.
    “Of course you haven’t,” Douglas responded. “It’s nonsense.”
    “No, it isn’t!” Caroline said quickly. “Haven’t you seen Holman Hunt’s painting of Christ,
The Light of the World?
He is standing at the door, but the handle is on the inside. If we do not open it ourselves, then he cannot come in, either. So maybe the final choice is always ours?”
    “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 appreciationfor the very real safety and comfort that we have. Don’t spoil the entertainment by sounding so