'Don't you start,' Vlad warned. 'Agnes is a... very interesting girl. I feel there is a lot in her.'
'A lot of her,' said Lacrimosa. 'Are you saving her for later?'
'Now, now,' said the Count. 'Your own dear mother wasn't a vampire when I met her-'
'Yes, yes, you've told us a million times,' said Lacrimosa, rolling her eyes with the impatience of someone who'd been a teenager for eighty years. 'The balcony, the nightdress, you in your cloak, she screamed-'
'Things were simpler then,' said the Count. 'And also very, very stupid.' He sighed. 'Where the hell's Igor?'
'Ahem. I've been meaning to talk to you about him, dear,' said the Countess. 'I think he'll have to go.,
'That's right!' snapped Lacrimosa. 'Honestly, even my friends laugh at him!'
'I find his more-gothic-than-thou attitude extremely irritating,' said the Countess. 'That stupid accent... and do you know what I found him doing in the old dungeons last week?'
'I'm sure I couldn't guess,' said the Count.
'He had a box of spiders and a whip! He was forcing them to make webs all over the place.'
'I wondered why there were always so many, I must admit,' said the Count.
'I agree, Father,' said Vlad. 'He's all right for Uberwald, but you'd hardly want something like him opening the door in polite society, would you?'
'And he smells,' said the Countess.
'Of course, parts of him have been in the family for centuries,' said the Count. 'But I must admit he's getting beyond a joke.' He yanked the bellpull again.
'Yeth, marthter?' said Igor, behind him.
The Count spun round. 'I told you not to do that!'
'Not to do what, marthter?'
'Turn up behind me like that!'
'It'th the only way I know how to turn up, marthter.'
'Go and fetch King Verence, will you? He's joining us for a light meal.'
'Yeth, marthter.'
They watched the servant limp off. The Count shook his head.
'He'll never retire,' said Vlad. 'He'll never take a hint.'
'And it's so old fashioned having a servant called Igor,' said the Countess. 'He really is too much.'
'Look, it's simple,' said Lacrimosa. 'Just take him down to the cellars, slam him in the Iron Maiden, stretch him on the rack over a fire for a day or two, and then slice him thinly from the feet upwards, so he can watch. You'll be doing him a kindness, really.'
'I suppose it's the best way,' said the Count sadly.
'I remember when you told me to put my cat out of its misery,' said Lacrimosa.
'I really meant you to stop what you were doing to it,' said the Count. 'But... yes, you are right, he'll have to go-'
Igor ushered in King Verence, who stood there with the mildly bemused expression of someone in the presence of the Count.
'Ah, your majesty' said the Countess, advancing. 'Do join us in a light meal.'