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So sudden and unexpected was Flora’s cry that it momentarily paralyzed Charles. He stood, petrified, as his mind struggled to process what was happening. His eyes darted toward the door of the summer-house, where a tall, thin man stood, elegantly dressed and bearing a striking resemblance to the portrait on the panel. The stranger’s appearance was so uncanny that it sent a chill through Charles’s spine.

The man stood at the threshold, caught between the decision to advance or retreat. Before Charles could find his voice or disentangle himself from Flora’s frantic grip, the stranger made a low, courtly bow and spoke in smooth, persuasive tones.

“I fear I am intruding,” he said. “Please accept my apologies. I had no idea anyone was in the arbor. The rain began to fall, and I sought shelter here.”

His words, delivered with such charm, seemed more suited to a grand drawing-room than this eerie encounter. Flora, her eyes wide with terror, clung to Charles and whispered frantically, “The vampire! The vampire!”

The stranger continued, his tone unwavering. “I fear I have caused alarm.”

“Release me,” Charles whispered urgently to Flora. “I will follow him.”

“No, don’t leave me,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “The vampire... the dreadful vampire!”

“But, Flora—”

“Hush! It speaks again,” she interrupted, her voice a desperate whisper.

“Perhaps I should explain my presence,” the stranger added. “I came to visit Mr. Henry Bennett and, finding the garden gate open, entered without troubling the servants. I regret any distress caused. Madam, please accept my apologies.”

“In the name of God, who are you?” Charles demanded, his voice a mixture of curiosity and defiance.

“My name is Lazarus.”

“Yes, you are Sir Ferdinand Lazarus, who resides nearby and bears a striking resemblance to—”

“Pray, continue,” Sir Ferdinand prompted, his eyes gleaming with interest.

“To a portrait here,” Charles finished, his voice faltering.

“Ah, yes,” Sir Ferdinand said, his tone reflective. “Mr. Henry Bennett mentioned something about that. A most singular coincidence.”

The sound of hurried footsteps grew louder, and soon Henry, George, and Mr. O’Hara appeared. Their expressions showed they had rushed to the scene.

“We heard a cry of alarm,” Henry said breathlessly.

“You did,” Charles confirmed. “Do you know this gentleman?”

“It is Sir Ferdinand Lazarus,” Henry replied, a note of recognition in his voice.

“Indeed!” Charles echoed, the mystery deepening with every passing moment.

Lazarus bowed gracefully to the newcomers, his composure a stark contrast to the tension filling the air. Even Charles Holland found it nearly impossible to confront such a polished, gentlemanly figure with accusations of vampirism.

“I can’t do it,” he thought. “But I will keep a close eye on him.”

“Take me away,” Flora whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s him—it’s him. Oh, take me away, Charles.”

“Hush, Flora, hush. You must be mistaken. An accidental resemblance shouldn’t make us rude to this gentleman.”

“The vampire! It is the vampire!” she insisted, her eyes wide with fear.

“Are you sure, Flora?”

“Do I know your features, my own, my brother’s? Do not ask me to doubt—I cannot. I am quite certain. Take me from his hideous presence, Charles.”

“The young lady seems very much indisposed,” remarked Sir Ferdinand Lazarus sympathetically. “If she will take my arm, I would consider it an honor.”

“No—no—no! God, no,” cried Flora, recoiling.

“Madam, I will not press you,” he replied, bowing courteously.

Charles led Flora from the summer-house toward the hall, the oppressive atmosphere weighing heavily on them. “Flora,” he said, his voice low and urgent, “I am bewildered—I don’t know what to think. That man certainly resembles the portrait on the panel in the room you used to occupy. Either he was fashioned after it, or it was painted from him.”

“He is my midnight visitor!” Flora exclaimed. “He is the vampire. This Sir Ferdinand Lazarus is the vampire.”

“Good God! What can we do?”

“I don’t know. I am nearly mad with fear.”

“Be calm, Flora. If this man is truly what you believe, we now know where the danger comes from. That’s a step forward. We will keep a close watch on him.”

“Oh, it’s terrible to meet him here.”

“And he is so eager to possess the Hall.”

“Yes, he is.”

“The whole affair is suspicious. But, Flora, be assured of one thing: your safety.”

“Can I be sure of that?”

“Most certainly. Go to your mother now. We’re inside, see? Go to your mother and stay calm. I will return to this mysterious man with a clearer mind.”

“You will watch him, Charles?”

“I will, indeed.”

“And you won’t let him approach the house alone?”

“I will not.”

“Oh, that the Almighty should allow such beings to haunt the earth!”

“Hush, Flora, hush! We cannot judge His all-wise purposes.”

“It’s hard that the innocent should suffer from his presence.”

Charles bowed his head in somber agreement. “Is it not very, very dreadful?”

“Hush—hush! Calm yourself, dearest, calm yourself. Remember, all we have to go on is a resemblance, which might be coincidental. Leave everything to me, and rest assured that now I have clues, I will not lose sight of this matter, nor of Sir Ferdinand Lazarus.”

With these words, Charles handed Flora over to their mother and hurried back to the summer-house. However, he soon encountered the entire party returning to the Hall, the rain intensifying by the minute.

“We are returning,” remarked Sir Ferdinand Lazarus with a half bow and a smile to Charles.

“Allow me,” said Henry, “to introduce you, Mr. Holland, to our neighbor, Sir Ferdinand Lazarus.”

Charles forced a polite smile, his mind racing with suspicion and determination.

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Charles found himself in a delicate position, torn between courtesy and suspicion toward Lazarus. Responding with anything less than politeness felt alien to his nature, yet his mind churned with doubts and fears about the man before him.

“I must keep a close eye on him,” Charles resolved. “Observation is my only recourse.”

Sir Ferdinand Lazarus, despite Flora’s earlier accusations, displayed a remarkable breadth of knowledge and conversational skill. He navigated various topics effortlessly, leaving no room for inquiry about the unsettling incident Flora had described.

His silence on such a critical matter spoke volumes to Charles, fueling his inner turmoil. “Could he be a vampire?” Charles questioned himself. “Do such creatures exist, and could this refined, cultured man be one?” The mere thought was chilling.

“You have a delightful setting here,” remarked Lazarus as they approached the hall door, admiring the view from the elevated steps.

“The beauty of the scenery has long been admired,” Henry replied.

“And rightfully so. I trust the young lady is feeling better?” Lazarus inquired, turning to Charles.

“She is, sir,” Charles answered, maintaining a guarded demeanor.

“I regret not being properly introduced,” Lazarus continued.

“That was an oversight on my part,” Henry admitted. “Allow me to introduce you to my sister.”

“That was your sister?” Lazarus’s gaze lingered thoughtfully. “Rumors of her beauty are not unfounded. Although she appears a bit pale. Is her health not robust?”

“She enjoys excellent health,” Charles affirmed.

“Is it possible that the recent unsettling rumors in the neighborhood have affected her spirits?” Lazarus probed, his gaze meeting Charles’s.

“You refer to the supposed visit of a vampire here?” Charles countered, studying Lazarus intently.

“Yes, precisely. The alleged appearance of a vampire in this household,” Lazarus responded, meeting Charles’s gaze with unwavering confidence, a sign that he was accustomed to such scrutiny.

“He’s not easily intimidated,” Charles noted inwardly. “He’s adept at handling inquiries like this.”

Henry, suddenly realizing his earlier comments at Lazarus’s residence might have deterred him from visiting, interjected, “We didn’t anticipate your visit, Sir Ferdinand Lazarus.”

“Oh, my dear sir, curiosity got the better of me. You mentioned a portrait resembling me here,” Lazarus explained smoothly.

“Did I?” Henry’s tone hinted at surprise.

“Certainly. I was curious to see the extent of the resemblance,” Lazarus added.

“Did you hear about my sister’s reaction to the likeness?” Henry inquired.

“No, I wasn’t aware.”

“Please, come inside, and we can discuss this matter further,” Henry invited.

“With pleasure. Life in the countryside lacks the excitement of courtly affairs. Since we’re neighbors, there’s no reason we can’t be amicable and share the pleasures of company, especially in rural solitude,” Lazarus suggested genially.

Henry struggled to feign enthusiasm but managed a courteous response, “Of course, certainly. Though our social engagements are limited, we appreciate your kindness.”

“That’s a pity,” Lazarus remarked. “The company of women, in particular, adds a charming dimension to life. I admire youth and vitality, the rosy cheeks, and the vivacity they bring.”

Charles couldn’t help but recoil slightly, the word “Demon” escaping his lips in a moment of involuntary dread.

Sir Ferdinand carried on with the conversation, seemingly unfazed by any hint of suspicion, maintaining an air of amiability that contrasted sharply with the tense atmosphere.

“Shall we proceed directly to the chamber with the portrait, or would you prefer some refreshment first?” Henry inquired, trying to maintain civility.

“No need for refreshment now,” Lazarus replied smoothly. “At this time of day, I never indulge in such things.”

“Nor at any other,” Henry couldn’t help but think.

They all made their way to the chamber where Charles had endured a night of unease. As they reached the portrait on the panel, Henry gestured towards it, stating, “This, Sir Ferdinand Lazarus, is the likeness in question.”

Lazarus approached the portrait, muttering almost to himself, “Remarkably alike.”

“It is indeed,” Charles agreed.

“Allow me to stand beside it,” Lazarus suggested, positioning himself to compare the faces. The lighting now cast the same shadows and highlights as in the painting, causing everyone to take a step back in surprise.

“Some artists,” Lazarus remarked casually, “consider the placement of a portrait before painting, ensuring the light mimics that falling on the subject.”

“I must inquire further,” Charles told Henry urgently, stepping forward.

“Be cautious, Charles,” Henry cautioned. “We have only suspicions.”

“I will not insult him,” Charles assured.

Confronting Lazarus once more, Charles said earnestly, “Miss Bennett claims the vampire she saw resembles this portrait exactly.”

“Is that so?” Lazarus responded calmly.

“It is.”

“That may explain her mistaken belief that I am the vampire, given the resemblance,” Lazarus mused.

“It’s quite peculiar,” Charles remarked.

“Odd indeed. Yet amusing. The notion of being a vampire! Ha! If I attend a masquerade, I might consider it for entertainment,” Lazarus chuckled.

“You would excel at it,” Charles remarked, playing along.

“I might create quite a spectacle,” Lazarus agreed. “Do you not think so, gentlemen? I could portray a vampire with such conviction that one might believe me to be one.”

“Bravo,” Lazarus applauded himself lightly. “I appreciate youthful enthusiasm for the dramatic. Bravo.”

Charles seethed inwardly at the audacity but felt powerless against Lazarus’s brazen demeanor. Meanwhile, the others remained silent, eager to hear more from Lazarus while not wanting to undermine Charles’s efforts.

Charles eventually turned away, gazing out the window with a resigned air. It wasn’t defeat he felt but a strategic retreat, biding his time for a more opportune moment.

Lazarus then addressed Henry, “I assume our earlier discussion during your visit is no secret here?”

Sir Ferdinand Lazarus’s presence hung heavy in the room, casting an eerie yet captivating aura. His smooth voice resonated with an air of mystery and concealed intentions.

“I have no plans yet,” Henry replied, trying to maintain composure amidst the tension.

“Do take your time, my dear sir. I regret any intrusion,” Lazarus said, his words dripping with polite formality.

Mr. O’Hara spoke up, addressing Lazarus directly, “You seem quite eager about acquiring the Hall.”

“I am indeed,” Lazarus confirmed without hesitation.

“Is this area familiar to you?” Charles inquired, his tone direct and probing.

“In my youth, Bennett Hall held a certain significance,” Lazarus replied cryptically.

“And how long ago would that be?” Charles pressed further.

“The passage of time is a haze, my young friend,” Lazarus evaded, his eyes betraying a hint of amusement. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” Charles replied tersely.

“You carry yourself with remarkable poise for your age,” Lazarus remarked, a hint of irony tainting his words.

Charles held his tongue, unable to discern if Lazarus’s compliment was genuine or a subtle jab.

Henry interjected, attempting to ease the tension, “As it’s your first visit, Sir Ferdinand Lazarus, do join us for a drink.”

“A cup of wine would be most welcome,” Lazarus accepted graciously.

They adjourned to a smaller parlor, richly adorned with intricate carvings that spoke of refined taste.

As wine was served, Charles whispered to Henry, “Observe if he drinks.”

“I will,” Henry affirmed.

“Do you see the mark under his coat, where Flora’s bullet struck him at the church?” Charles pointed discreetly.

“Hush, Charles! Control yourself,” Henry urged, his voice tinged with concern.

“We must follow this clue,” Charles insisted, his determination palpable.

Lazarus’s voice broke through their conversation, melodious yet carrying an enigmatic weight, “Gentlemen, let us toast to future gatherings and camaraderie.”

He lifted the wine glass to his lips, feigning a sip before placing it back on the table. Charles, keenly observing, noted the untouched glass.

“You haven’t drunk, Sir Ferdinand,” Charles pointed out.

“Forgive me, young sir,” Lazarus replied smoothly. “I prefer to drink at my own pace and inclination.”

“Your glass remains full,” Charles persisted.

“And what of it?” Lazarus challenged, his gaze locking with Charles’s.

“Would you not drink what you’ve poured?” Charles probed further.

“I choose when and how to enjoy my wine,” Lazarus countered, his tone tinged with subtle defiance.

“Your glass is full,” Charles reiterated.

“And why should that concern you?” Lazarus’s tone turned slightly mocking. “I would gladly drink in the presence of the fair Miss Flora Bennett, a delightful company indeed.”

“Enough, sir!” Charles exclaimed, his voice echoing with a mixture of desperation and determination. “We have encountered damning evidence of vampyres within these walls.”

“A jest in such dire matters?” Lazarus retorted, a smirk playing on his lips. “Pray, continue with your tale.”

“We believe, with all due caution, that a vampyre has visited this place,” Charles pressed on, his words weighted with conviction.

“Ah, the supernatural always intrigues,” Lazarus mused, tapping his temple lightly. “Pray, enlighten me further.”

“We suspect,” Charles continued, his gaze unwavering, “that you are linked to these dark occurrences.”

Lazarus glanced at Henry, feigning concern. “Such accusations! Is your friend quite well in the mind, Mr. Bennett?”

“This won’t suffice, Lazarus,” Charles interjected fiercely. “I challenge you. Your true nature as a cowardly demon is exposed.”

Sir Ferdinand Lazarus stood tall, his demeanor shifting subtly. “Gentlemen, let us reason calmly. Is your friend of sound mind, Mr. Bennett?”

“He is,” Henry confirmed firmly.

“Then, in the spirit of fairness -- ” Lazarus began.

“Hold, sir!” Charles’s voice rang out. “I challenge you on behalf of my sister and in the name of justice.”

Lazarus, despite his composed facade, showed a flicker of emotion. “Enough of this insult. If there must be a confrontation, let it be swift.”

“My friends, let us not rush into folly,” Mr. O’Hara intervened, attempting to diffuse the tension.

“No interference is needed,” Lazarus snapped, his calm demeanor giving way to anger. “If a fight is sought, it shall be to the end.”

“And I say it shall not,” Mr. O’Hara countered firmly, guiding Henry away from the escalating conflict.

Lazarus’s smile turned sinister. “As you wish. There will be time for reckoning.”

With calculated composure, Lazarus exited the room, leaving a charged atmosphere in his wake.

“Stay here,” Mr. O’Hara instructed. “I will ensure he departs.”

As Mr. O’Hara left, the young men watched from the window as Sir Ferdinand strolled away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the garden.

Amidst this tense scene, a loud ringing at the gate went unnoticed, consumed as they were by the unfolding drama.