Only once, had there truly been a serious incident, a most unfortunate one, and the memory of it would burn in Will’s mind greater than any other horror. An accident, to be sure, he had not done anything to cause the death of the young man. A fall from his horse during a typical hunting party. It was only when Will had discovered the youth that something inside him snapped. No more than sixteen, John Mason had been the son of the village baker. His neck had been neatly broken from the fall, but for some reason, he still lived. Unable to speak, his eyes shown with the tears of one who knows that death is near. Dismounting from his horse, Will’s first thought was to render any aid he could to the dying lad. However, as he drew closer, the sound of the boy’s heartbeat drummed in his ears. It was as if he could feel the blood rushing in and out of the pulsing chambers. Unable to fight the irresistible urge, he sunk his teeth into the throbbing vein at the base of his throat, drinking deeply and without care. If not for the sounds of hoof beats approaching, he would have drained him completely. Pulling away with disgust at his actions, Will wiped his face on the boy’s torn shirt, erasing all signs of his deeds. When the rest of the party arrived, it was a true scene of sorrow as Will cradled the dead boy’s head in his lap. Tears streamed down his face, but it was not for the child, it was for himself. What sort of monster was he? Later, when the local women laid out the body for burial, it was noticed that even for a corpse, he was unnaturally pale. No fluids had drained from the body as expected, nor had the strange bite mark gone unseen. However, what proof had they of any unnatural events? No one would dare speak out against the generous Sir William D’Arcy. But, rumors did spread. Many an eligible young lady was turned away by the fanciful images of being bled dry on her wedding night to satisfy the appetite of her new husband. These rumors had only grown over the years, reaching the ears of the D’Arcy household with dismay.
Once, when his mother dared approach the issue with him, he flew into such a rage that she did not speak of it again. He locked himself away for near two weeks before emerging from the library, filthy and thin. Now, any mention of his odd habits was forbidden, calling it an unfortunate result of war. However, Will knew different, it was the demands of the woman who haunted him that made him feed. She ordered it, she needed it, and he would obey, for the thought of being without her presence frightened him. He needed her just as much as she needed him. Now, it seemed that the spectre of Lilith was in some sort of collusion with his mother. Both were insisting that he marry.
*****
Eleanor D’Arcy had been pleased when her son had agreed to opening the house for the Christmas season. It had been a tradition in the area for each great home to host a party for the local population, commoner and aristocrat equally welcome. For some time, Polwys had declined to join in this festivity, but this year would be different. Many hours had been spent in preparation, almost as many people would attend. Most were wanting to satisfy their curiosity, having never been inside the old fortress. Only a few were actually invited to stay. Some distant relatives from as far away as London were to make the journey and required accommodation. One such family was that of Emmaline and Arthur Sommersby. Emmaline Sommersby and Eleanor D’Arcy had been childhood friends back in Derbyshire. Eleanor had not seen them in years. They, along with their daughter would make a merry party. It was with these happy thoughts that Eleanor and Will stood, ready to meet the approaching carriage. It had been far too easy to convince him to host the gathering. She wondered if he had finally found sense, or perhaps some other agenda had prompted his agreement. Shrugging, she did not really care, it was past time to cancel. Even if no one from the village attended, the Sommersby’s were here, it would be enough.
Stepping down the damp stone steps, Will offered his arm to support his mother as she smiled in anticipation of her old friends. When the footman opened the door, an aging couple that first emerged, followed by a woman whose unusual coloring matched his own. Had his mother been aware of this? Eleanor showed no reaction beyond that of a woman pleased to greet her guests. Masking surprise, Will offered words of welcome and waited for an introduction, but was cut off by the stranger.
“My name is Glenna… you must be William”, she offered in a voice that felt like velvet touching his skin. Her eyes, catching his stare, returned an equally piercing perusal.
“Has the cat caught your tongue?” she teased.
How could this be? The question ripped through his mind, yet instead of fear, intense curiosity filled him. What event had befallen this lady to make her just as he? If she was indeed his match, how could he make her stay? Winking at her question, he offered his arm before replying.
“Maybe not a cat… maybe something else altogether,” he countered and they followed their parents inside. It would be a Christmas to remember.
*****
Six months later…
The marriage of William D’Arcy and Glenna Sommersby took place on midsummer’s eve. It was indeed a time of celebration. The couple were the epitome of a perfect match and were often seen riding the countryside together. Their mutual tastes for hunting and other blood sports had not gone unnoticed, but the locals only shrugged it off as the eccentricities of the aristocracy. No one suspected that the need for such went well beyond that of the norm. Glenna was the ideal mistress of Polwys Tor, as evidenced when Will first found her alone in his library. She had gone in on the premise of discussing some improvements to be made to the house when she froze suddenly. The realization of not being alone was intense, as was the penetrating stare from the shadows, inspecting the intruder. Spinning about, Glenna D’Arcy voiced a challenge to her unseen observer.
“Show yourself! I fear no one and no thing, man or spirit!” she demanded.
Amused by the fierceness of her voice, Lilith shimmered slightly, allowing an outline of her form to be seen in the dim afternoon sunlight.
“I see he has chosen well.”
Completely still, Glenna did not show any sign of fright as the image materialized into a more solid form. To an observer, it appeared as if two ladies were simply discussing nothing more than a change of décor.
“Indeed, we are well suited… to whom am I speaking and what business is it of yours as to my actions?
“I am she who made him….Lilith. Who was your maker?”
“God was my maker… what is this nonsense you speak?”
“You are as we are… again, who was your maker? How old are you?”
“No one… I was born this way. It is my natural state, and it is not polite to ask a lady’s age.”
Lilith raised an eyebrow and said no more, her gaze traveled past Glenna to the open door where Will now stood. He had overheard everything and felt a lump forming somewhere deep inside, this was not how he wanted Glenna to find out about his situation. Turning to see what had caught Lilith’s attention, Glenna confronted her husband.
“When were you planning on telling me any of this? I had thought that you had been like this your entire life. I will not live here with secrets between us.”
Will looked from his wife to the fading shape of the one he had come to see as a sort of guardian. He had realized long ago that Lilith had felt some sort of protective obligation in his regard. As a mother would a child. He was at a loss as to what to do. Lilith’s image glided to a spot between the couple and reached out her hands to them.
“My responsibility to you is now finished. You will need the strength of each other to survive as creatures who are not completely of this world. Your children, and those who come after must learn to embrace what they are, and conceal it from those who would do them harm, for this is your legacy.”
Once she finished speaking, the aura of light around her shape began to fade and within moments had vanished. Glenna, having taken in the events without any evidence of distress, took Will’s hand.
“I believe you have a story to tell.”
“Yes… I suppose I do…”
~Six~
Pemberley 1820
“Kitty! Mary! I expect a full account of your dance partners on the morrow!” Mrs. Bennet practically shouted as she dragged her husband out of the dining room.
Lizzie anxiously scanned the room for any reaction to her parents’ behavior. Fortunately, most people were preoccupied with their own conversations, but she did not miss the sneering eye roll of one Caroline Bingley as she clung possessively to the arm of Ewan Devlin. Instructing Mr. Stephens, the Pemberley butler to ring the gong, Lizzie rose to take her husband’s arm and begin the opening dance. Leading the way into the grand ballroom, the Pemberley Autumn celebration was officially begun.
*****
The great hall clock had just struck three in the morning when Kitty and Mary Bennet finally sought their beds. With Pemberley overstuffed with guests, Georgiana Darcy had graciously offered to share her bedchamber with the two people she now considered the dearest of friends. Ever since her brother’s marriage to Lizzie, Georgiana’s circle of family had greatly expanded, much to her delight. While she admitted that Mrs. Bennet could be difficult at times, Georgiana believed she meant well and the elder woman always treated her as if she were another of her own daughters. Often lonely as a child, this level of companionship was enjoyed greatly. Once the girls had donned their nightshifts, all three climbed into Georgiana’s great four poster bed. Giggling between yawns, they recounted the night’s events.
“My feet are positively killing me! Those new slippers pinched something awful, but how could I resist?” sighed Kitty as she rubbed the offending members.
“Oh you did not seem so pained that you could refuse a third dance with Ewan Devlin. It was noticed by more than one gossipy biddy, especially Caroline Bingley. She positively turned green each time he led you out onto the floor,” remarked Mary smugly.
“And you, Georgie…. How many times did you dance with a certain Gareth Devlin? Was it four or five times? It appeared that you were keeping him all to yourself,” teased Kitty to a blushing Georgiana.
“Actually, it was only three dances, but we seem to have so much in common. Did you realize that he is not yet thirty? He told me so, when I asked why he had not yet married. Ewan is just two years younger. I wondered why he seemed so taken with Caroline as she is nearly a decade older.”
“Caroline always wants the most handsome men for herself. That is, until they find out how mean she is! It was no wonder he soon sought me out. There is something so mysterious about him.”
“And creepy… he tends to stare at a person as if he can see through them. It gives me the shivers. They are well suited if you ask me,” added Mary.
“Not if I can help it… I have hated her for some time. Selfish, snobby bitch!”
“Oh Kitty, we must feel sorry for her. It is not easy being in her position. So many men only show interest in you because of your fortune. It is a rare thing to find actual love, but I do find myself strongly attracted to Gareth… I have promised to take him on a tour of Pemberley this week.”
“Unchaperoned?” Mary asked with a raised eye.
“Of course not! … Actually, I had not given that much thought. It is unlikely for anyone to be truly alone with so many people staying in the house. But, you are right as always. Perhaps you and that charming Matthew Morrigan would like to accompany us?”
It was now Mary’s turn to redden. She too had been having an excellent time. Darcy had introduced the young man to Mary just after the ball had started. He was in his final year studying medicine. A quiet and reserved person, he had clung to the shadows, forced to attend the celebration by his parents, old friends of the Darcy family. He had found it refreshing to meet a woman who shared his interests and did not babble on about fashion. They had spent the rest of the evening discussing various medicinal plants.
“I… er… He had offered to show me the Pemberley gardens. His knowledge of horticulture is extensive, but I suppose we could accompany you.”
“Tour of the gardens? Is this the same Mary Bennet who lives at Longbourn with me? I should hardly know her…. Imagine… going walking with a young man… What will Mama think?” Kitty provoked.
“Don’t you dare say a word to her! She spoils everything!” Mary threatened.
“I won’t if you promise to make excuses when I meet Ewan….tell her that I was with you both if she inquires.”
“Don’t do anything foolish… we cannot risk another Lydia situation,” Mary cautioned.
“What do you think of me?” Kitty cried with indignation.
“Only the highest regard…” interceded Georgiana. “But I do agree with Mary. There is something a bit unnerving about Ewan. Although he and Gareth are almost identical in appearance, that is where the similarity ends. Ewan frightens me a bit.”
“Oh you’ve only just met both. It is rather early to judge don’t you agree?” Kitty argued practically.
“I suppose….”
“That is why I plan to get to know him better…. Much better!”
Georgiana reached over and put out the lamp. It would not do for any of them to appear tired the next morning when they wished to make an impression. It was settled that Kitty should have her privacy this one time. Hopefully, only good would come of their new associations. As each girl drifted off to sleep, different images of charming young men filled their dreams.
******
Gareth Devlin did not so easily find sleep. He needed sustenance…and badly. It had been almost a week since he was able to properly satisfy his particular hunger. Ever since he had become aware of his unusual nature, his parents had taken care to educate him on the necessity of discretion. Right now, the imperative to eat was threatening to override his sensibilities. Rarely, had he actually tasted human blood, preferring to attend to his needs with an animal. They had been careful to select only those who already lay near death. Somehow, it justified the killing.
“It is a mercy that we provide. Why prolong someone’s agony when with one simple act it can be over,” his mother explained, but it still filled him with a sense of guilt. Only once, had he violated this practice, and he still regretted his actions to this day.
He and Ewan had barely been in their teens when it happened. Going out at night to hunt, they had not stuck to their regular routes, but crossed onto a neighboring wood. Owned by another local family, it was a place known for its fine game, especially pheasant. This reputation had also made the area a popular spot for poaching. On this particular evening, the thin sliver of a moon shone dimly as they joked about what they’d soon feast upon when they heard the voices. In a small clearing, surrounding
a banked fire, was a group of boys they knew from the village. Rifles leaned abandoned against tree stumps as they poked at a rabbit roasting over the fire. Having had a private tutor, Gareth and Ewan only knew the boys by the cruel remarks they had suffered over the years. Standing on the perimeter, hoping to remain unseen, they watched with envy at the jovial companionship the boys shared, one in which they’d never be a part. After a moment of observation, the Devlin boys turned to go when Gareth stepped heavily upon a twig. The loud snap alerted the group to their presence.
“Who’s out there!” demanded a particularly large boy of about fifteen.
Gareth froze where he stood, hoping that they would soon go back to their devices, but Ewan was never one to stand down a challenge. Stepping forward, he pushed the closest boy hard in the chest, knocking him down. Instead of provoking a fight, the boy laughed where he lay.
“Look here... it’s the ghost boy… at least one of them. Don’t your mama let you out in the sunlight?” he taunted.
The Transformation of Georgiana Darcy Page 4