A Question Of Time by Fred Saberhagen (best electronic book reader TXT) 📗

years of the nineteenth century it had been the home of Charles Darwin, and on most days of the late twentieth century it was open as a museum. Tourists came with some regularity to Darwin’s house, a comparatively small number of them who were interested enough to make the effort to find the place. At midnight, naturally, there were no other tourists and even the caretakers had long since retired to their own homes and beds.

      For almost an hour the moderately tall figure of the sole nocturnal occupant had been standing, virtually motionless, in the great scientist’s study. Shortly after the stroke of midnight he moved at last, lightly touched with his fingertips some of the shelved books, drew a deliberate breath to smell the furniture polish of the museum-like preservation in which the house lay bound. Standing close to the tall, dark case of Darwin’s great old clock, he listened carefully to the heavy soft voice of the mechanism within. The silent visitor’s investigatory methods, honed through centuries, were older than those of modern science, and in certain matters even more successful.

      At almost three minutes after midnight the tall man turned his head sharply—his ears had caught a sound, just outside the house. Someone was trying to get in. Smiling, he murmured a soft invitation, confident that ears as keen as his own, out there in the winter night, would hear.

      Presently there came a gentle shimmering in the dark air of the study, followed by the quiet appearance of a soft but solid feminine form, brown-haired and youthful in appearance, dressed in the English fashion of a century ago.

      Offering the newcomer a courtly bow in the style of a bygone age, the foreign visitor exchanged with her a few words of private tenderness.

      Then he said: “I am sure you are aware, dear Mina, that this year marks the centennial of my first visit to England—and, of course, of our first meeting?”

      The youthful-looking lady smiled. “Perfectly aware, dear Vlad. I was wondering if the entire year would pass before you commented on the fact.” Her voice was as undeniably English as her dress.

      “I have been busy,” her companion said abstractedly. For a moment he stood with hands folded in front of him, looking almost like a vicar.

      “Of course you have. And with important matters. I did not mean to chide.” Graceful and poised, Mina patted the visitor to Britain on the arm.

      “So.” He drew a deep breath—an occasional habit of his which still persisted—and looked about him. “So, this is Darwin’s house.”

      “No doubt about that, there’s a sign outside.” Mina was practical as always. “He lived and worked in this building for most of his life—I take it this is not your first visit?”

      “A natural assumption on your part, my dear, because I entered the building without any recent invitation—but the truth is that I have never entered this house before. Once, however, almost a century ago, I was invited in. That was on my second—or was it perhaps my third?—visit to England. After a hundred years many such details escape me.”

      Mina laughed softly, an almost breathless sound. “To be sure. No doubt your invitation came from some maiden, the revelation of whose name you would still deem inadmissibly ungentlemanly … Vlad Drakulya, do you still suppose me jealous of the breathing kisses you received so long ago? For that matter, of those that, I am sure, you continue to receive?”

      Her companion acknowledged the comment with a blink and a faint smile. “Kisses? Yes, indeed, kisses there were, to be sure … by the way, my dear, I have spoken with several of your countrymen since my arrival in Britain yesterday. I have even consulted at some length with one man in particular, who somehow—I confess I do not know how—knew that I was coming.”

      Even practical Mina appeared to be impressed. “An elder counselor, perhaps?”

      “You may say so. One whom I have, for the past few years, been privileged to call friend. He was almost a thousand years of age when I was born. I will not speak his name…”

      “I understand.” The power of some names was not to be taken lightly “And from this ancient and venerable Briton you have learned something that will be of help to you in your current difficulties across the sea?”

      “I have learned several things.” Drakulya spread out his arms. “To begin with, a man named Edgar Tyrrell once stood in this very room…”

      The visitor spent the next minute or two telling his beloved Mina something about Tyrrell.

      Frowning, she asked: “And was your mysterious Tyrrell one of us, nosferatu, before he left England?”

      “I cannot be sure, but it seems likely. Darwin died in 1882, nine years before I first visited Britain. And Tyrrell, so interested in Darwin’s work, did not appear in Arizona until almost fifty years later. That would argue a long life for a mere breather.”

* * *

      Presently, having absorbed as many useful impressions as he thought he might on this his first visit to Darwin’s house—having at least temporarily sated his curiosity as to what might be discoverable in the dim study—the investigating vampire, with his vampire lady friend beside him, approached a tall window giving on the garden, and passed outside into the dank wintry English night. Both gentleman and lady traversed the locked window without disturbing either glass or wood, having no more difficulty than they had experienced with their entrance.

      Pacing the frosted garden, with crisp grass crunching under his boots, Vlad Drakulya took note in passing of a helpful little sign intended to explain some details of the grounds to tourists. Moments later he and his companion, following an arrow on the sign, had entered on Darwin’s looping rustic footpath, used by the great breathing scientist for both exercise and meditation.

      The footpath led them across a winter-quiet field, and through a little wood. Along this way the vampires stalked thoughtfully, speaking seldom, communing in silence with each other and with their surroundings. The man in particular