Something Dangerous (Spoils of Time 02) by Penny Vincenzi Read Free Book Online Page A

luck, all the children are waiting for it; plus a few hundred new ones.’
    ‘Of course. But I worry about the old ones these days,’ said Oliver, ‘that they will begin to grow out of the books.’
    ‘I too. But if the reviewers are to be believed, and indeed our own letters, then they will not. Children as old as sixty-five read the Meridians. So perhaps we can assume that our first generation reaching double figures, or even their twenties, should not be deterred either.’
    ‘Let us hope so,’ said Oliver, reaching out, touching the table quickly. He was oddly superstitious.
    ‘Indeed,’ said Celia. ‘But of course one cannot take these things for granted. Fashions come and go in publishing as in everything else. These new books of A. A. Milne’s are extremely popular.’
    ‘My dear, I hardly think some rather whimsical stories and poems about a toy bear can compete with Sebastian’s elaborate time fantasies,’ said Oliver mildly, ‘angst-ridden publisher as I am.’
    Celia looked first at him, then at Sebastian, her dark eyes unreadable. Then she said, ‘Mr Dickens has swum in and out of fashion more than once already, I might remind you. And complacency is an unattractive quality.’
    ‘We are not being complacent, Celia,’ said Sebastian, ‘merely cautiously optimistic. Now then, I would like to apologise again for my late arrival. And—’
    ‘Oh, my dear chap, don’t mention it,’ said Oliver, ‘you were after all working. Extremely hard, I’m sure.’
    ‘I – was. Yes,’ said Sebastian. ‘But—’ He stood up suddenly, walked to the sideboard, picked up the decanter of port. ‘May I?’
    ‘Of course. Shall we go into the drawing room?’
    ‘No,’ said Sebastian, ‘no, let’s stay here. I – well, I have something to tell you both. I – I hope you will be pleased for me.’
    ‘If it’s good news, then of course we will,’ said Oliver.
    There was a silence. Sebastian sat down again, then stood up, walked round the table; they watched him, unsurprised. Such behaviour was not unusual; Sebastian’s restlessness was famous. He was incapable of sitting through a meal, a play, a train journey without several interruptions. He blamed an old war injury to his leg; in fact, it was far more directly attributable to his emotional and mental over-activity.
    ‘I – well yes, of course it is good news. Very good news. For me.’ He sat down again abruptly, drained his glass of port. ‘I – well, the fact of the matter is, I have – that is, I would like to tell you about someone. Someone I have met.’
    ‘Someone?’ said Oliver, smiling at him gently. ‘A female someone, are we to presume?’
    ‘Indeed. Yes. A female someone. Someone very special, very – very – well, someone who has become very important to me.’
    ‘This is rather sudden,’ said Celia. Her voice was very quiet. She had become quite still, an absolute contrast to Sebastian; not only was her body totally motionless, but her face as well, quite expressionless, her eyes blank. ‘Do tell us more.’
    ‘I will. And yes, it is rather – sudden. I have only known her for – well, for a month. Altogether. I met her at another reading I gave. She works for the Bodleian.’
    ‘Indeed?’ said Celia.
    ‘Yes. She is a librarian there.’
    ‘A librarian!’ said Celia. Her tone implied that prostitution might have been preferable.
    ‘Yes.’
    There was a long silence. Then Oliver said, ‘Well, do go on, my dear old chap. Are we to know a little more about her, her name perhaps?’
    ‘Her name is Pandora. Pandora Harvey. She lives alone, in Oxford, in a small house—’
    ‘I imagine she would not require a large one,’ said Oliver, clearly anxious to leaven the mood. Sebastian looked at him gratefully, and smiled.
    ‘Indeed. I mean, indeed not. She is thirty-one,’ he added, eager now to give as much information as possible, ‘and very charming, and, of course, beautiful. I would have told you about her