especially to you,” I said and related exactly how I remembered the incident. “So it was your glass that he took,” I concluded.
For a while Nicholas said nothing. Then he sighed. “It’s rather sobering, isn’t it? One lives with the threat of assassination, I suppose, but it’s still a shock when it comes close to home. Then it’s obviously some infernal anarchist. Probably did as Patrascue suggested and paid one of the servants to do his dirty work.”
“You can’t think of anyone else who might want you dead?” I asked. “Nobody here who bears you animosity?”
Nicholas gave a wry smile. “I’ve always thought of myself as a likeable sort of chap,” he said. “Not the kind that makes enemies.”
“But if it was a political assassination, why not aim for your father rather than you?”
“I can think of a couple of answers to that one: My father wasn’t there on the night in question. His entourage had been held up by the avalanche on the pass, remember. If the whole thing had been planned for that night, maybe they decided I was the next best thing and went for it. And the second answer is that maybe it didn’t matter which of us they got. Remember the archduke in Sarajevo? He was a minor player in the Hapsburg dynasty and yet the incident still started a world war.”
I shuddered. “It’s horrible. How can you live when you never feel safe?”
“I suppose one has no choice,” he said. “One likes to think that we bring stability and culture to a region, but it’s always been a hotbed of intrigue and violence. They’ve been killing each other around here since day one. And none more violent than the family that used to own this place. Vlad the Impaler and his descendants. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. What a bunch they were. Talk about cruel and ruthless. I’ve read some of the books in this library. Some of their vile deeds would turn your stomach. And of course the books and the local inhabitants claim that Vlad became Dracula and still lives on.”
And he laughed.
“There you are at last, you wicked one.” Matty came into the room and bent to kiss his forehead. “I was worried about you. And you still have snow on your head.”
I decided to be tactful and leave them alone. I went back up to my room and looked out of the window. Snow was now falling fast—great fat flakes whirling and swirling around the turrets. And my thoughts went instantly to Darcy, somewhere up on that pass. I hoped he’d be sensible enough to take refuge at the inn up there. In fact I just wished this whole thing were over.
It did cross my mind to wonder where Queenie was. I presumed she was still in the kitchen, stuffing her face on cake. If she came back to London with me, she’d desert me as soon as she found out that I lived on baked beans and toast. I wondered whether to go and seek her out, but I couldn’t get the disturbing image out of my mind of Matty with blood running down her chin. I didn’t want to believe in vampires, but I know what I saw quite clearly. If she really was a vampire, then I had no intention of being next on her menu.
I paced the room. Soon I’d need to start dressing for dinner and it was almost impossible to get into an evening dress alone. I thought of going down to Mummy and seeing if her maid could do my hair for me, as promised. It would be interesting to see what I looked like, properly coiffured. Still no Queenie. I opened my wardrobe, cautiously, as I wasn’t sure what might be lurking inside something of that girth, and took out my one presentable dinner dress. I couldn’t wear it for a third night in a row, yet neither could I wear the one with the scorch marks. Too bad that my mother was such a tiny little person, I thought. I know she’d travel with oodles of delicious clothes. Suddenly I had a brain wave. Knowing Belinda, she would have come with a trunkful of fashionable dresses. Maybe she’d let me wear one of her dresses tonight.
I hurried down the first flight of stairs and along the hallway to where I thought Belinda’s room was. As I passed a door I heard voices—a man’s voice, low and calm, and a woman’s