AllFreeNovel
Share Us
AS THE DOOR CLOSED behind Gideon and the count, I stepped back.
“Do, pray, be seated,” said Lord Brompton, indicating one of the delicate chairs. Rakoczy’s lips twisted. Was that meant to be a smile? If so, he needed to give it more practice in front of the mirror.
“No, thank you. I’d rather stand.” Another step back, until I almost collided with a naked stone Cupid standing on a plinth to the right of the doorway. The more distance I could put between myself and those black eyes, the safer I felt.
“And you really claim to come from the twenty-first century?”
There was no claiming about it. But I nodded.
Lord Brompton rubbed his hands. “Well, then—what king rules England in the twenty-first century?”
“We have a prime minister who does the actual ruling,” I said, faltering slightly. “The Queen just looks after the big state occasions.”
“Queen?”
“Queen Elizabeth II. She’s lovely. She came to our multiethnic schools party last year. We sang the national anthem in seven different languages and Gordon Gelderman got her autograph in his English textbook and sold it for eighty pounds on eBay. But, er, of course that won’t mean anything much to you. So anyway, we have a prime minister and a cabinet, and everyone eighteen and over in the country votes for members of Parliament.”
Lord Brompton laughed appreciatively. “What a quaint idea, don’t you think, Rakoczy? Our friend the count invents the most amusing stories. And how do matters stand with France in the twenty-first century?”
“I think they have a prime minister in France too. No king, not even for state occasions. Well, they got rid of the aristocracy in the French Revolution, you see, and the king along with him. Poor Marie-Antoinette had her head chopped off by the guillotine. Isn’t that terrible?”
“Oh, yes, surely!” laughed his lordship. “Terrible folk, the French. We Englishmen can never get along with them. So now, do tell me: what country are we at war with in the twenty-first century?”
“Well, no country,” I said, rather unsure of my ground here. “Not really, anyway. We just send troops here and there to help out. In the Middle East and so on. But to be honest, I don’t know a lot about politics. Why not ask me something about … about refrigerators? Not how they work—I don’t know how they work, really. I just know they do work, and every home in London has a fridge, and you can keep cheese and milk in it for days, and they don’t go bad.”
Lord Brompton did not look as if he was particularly interested in fridges either. Rakoczy stretched in his chair like a cat. I hoped he wouldn’t think it was a good idea to stand up.
“Or you can ask me about telephones,” I added quickly. “Not that I can explain how they work either.” If I’d sized up Lord Brompton accurately, telephones were something else he wouldn’t understand. To be honest, he didn’t look as if he could take in even the principle of the incandescent lightbulb. I tried to think of something else that might interest him.
“And then, er … well, then there’s this tunnel running underneath the English Channel between Dover and Calais.”
This seemed to be the funniest thing Lord Brompton had ever heard. He slapped his huge thigh as he shook with laughter. “Wonderful! Wonderful!”
I was just beginning to relax a little when Rakoczy spoke—in English with a harsh accent. “And Transylvania?”
“Transylvania?” The home of Count Dracula? Did he mean it seriously? I avoided looking into those black eyes. Maybe he was Count Dracula. His pale complexion would suit the part, anyway.
“My native land in the beautiful Carpathians. The principality of Transylvania. What is happening in Transylvania in the twenty-first century?” His voice sounded a little hoarse, and there was definitely a note of nostalgia in it. “And what has become of the Kuruc people?”
The what people? Kuruc? I’d never heard of them.
“Er, well, things are pretty quiet in Transylvania in our time,” I said cautiously. To be honest, I didn’t even know where the place was. But I’m sure these Kuruc people really did live there.
“Who rules Transylvania in the twenty-first century?” Rakoczy went on. He looked very much on the alert, as if he might leap up from his chair at any moment if my answer was unsatisfactory.
Hm, yes. Who did rule Transylvania? That was a really good question. Did it belong to Bulgaria? Or Romania? Or Hungary?
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “It’s so far away. I’ll have to ask Mrs. Counter—she’s our geography teacher.”
Rakoczy looked disappointed. Maybe I’d have done better to tell a few lies. Transylvania has been ruled by Prince Dracula for the last two hundred years. It’s a nature reserve for bat species that would otherwise have died out. The Kurucs are the happiest people in Europe. He’d probably have liked that better.
“And how are our colonies doing in the twenty-first century?” asked Lord Brompton.
To my relief, I saw that Rakoczy was leaning back again. And he didn’t crumble to dust when the sun broke through the clouds and bathed the room in bright, clear light.
For a while we talked in an almost relaxed way about America and Jamaica and some islands that I have to admit I’d never heard of. Lord Brompton seemed very upset to think that all these places now ruled themselves. (Well, I assumed they did. I wasn’t absolutely certain.) Of course he didn’t believe a word I said. Rakoczy took no more part in the conversation. He just looked alternately at his long, clawlike fingernails and the wallpaper, throwing an occasional glance my way.
“How sad to think that you are only an actress,” sighed Lord Brompton. “Such a pity. I would like so much to believe you.”
