Vampire Darcy's Desire

by Regina Jeffers

  Finally, she took both of them into her hand and tried to determine which was written first. Noticing one letter was marked as being missent elsewhere, Elizabeth was not surprised, because her sister wrote the direction remarkably ill.The one missent must be first attended to. The beginning contained an account of all their little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded, but the latter half, written in evident agitation, gave more important intelligence.

  Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you—be assured we are all well.What I have to say relates to poor Lydia.An express came from our Uncle Gardiner at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed.

  Against his original inclination, Papa agreed to allow Lydia to accompany the Forsters to London for a military ball and other festivities. Lydia traveled with our aunt and uncle to Cheapside. Uncle Gardiner reports the colonel retrieved Lydia from his residence the day after Christmas, and all seemed well.

  However, the next day, he and Aunt Merry meant to take Lydia and Mrs. Forster shopping, but when he called upon the hotel, the Forsters had just arrived, and there was no Lydia. In fact, the colonel denies having even approached my father about the possibility of Lydia accompanying him and his wife, and as they had just arrived in London—although Uncle swears the man’s appearance to be uncannily like the colonel’s—the colonel could not have been the one who rode away with Lydia in his coach.

  Uncle Gardiner ascertained the direction the coach took, but found no trace of Lydia at the posting inns. Because the carriage departed along the North Road out of London, we assume this is some sort of elaborate hoax—an elopement.Yet with whom, we do not know. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect him here soon. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know what I have written.

  Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing what she felt, Elizabeth, on finishing this letter, instantly seized the other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows. It was written a day later than the conclusion of the first.

  By this time, my dearest sister, you received my hurried letter; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered I cannot answer for being coherent.The mystery of Lydia’s flight increases. I know not what to think.After making every possible inquiry on that side of London, Colonel F. came on into Hertfordshire.With the kindest concern he came on to Longbourn and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs. F., but no one can throw any blame on them.

  This is what we do know.A man presented himself to Papa as Colonel Forster. He convinced Papa to allow Lydia to attend the military entertainment in London.That same man repeated his performance at our uncle’s home. Because of the colonel’s superb reputation, neither our father nor our uncle doubted the act. Compound this with two other unexplained occurrences, and we are at a loss as to how to approach this break with propriety on Lydia’s part. Following on the colonel’s return to Hertfordshire, a constable came seeking the colonel.The constable held a summons for Mr. Denny; he is charged with the murder of a bar maid near Limehouse.The constable produced a drawing based on witnesses’ accounts of the man with whom the woman left the Black Ghost, where she worked.The thing is, the colonel sent Mr. Denny to Dublin nearly a fortnight ago on military business; he heard regularly from Mr. Denny and is sure that there is a grievous mistake. Mr. Denny could not have been in London at the time of the woman’s death. However, Charlotte Lucas reports talking to him shortly before the incident occurred. Mr. Denny allegedly accompanied her and Maria one day in Meryton, but this was after Mr. Denny’s first report arrived from Ireland—so it would be impossible. Upon questioning Charlotte, she commented on the man having grey eyes, rather than Mr. Denny’s brown ones; Maria confirms her sister’s assertions.

  What we fear, Lizzy, is improbable; but we have no other solutions. Our sister has, of late, been the exclusive recipient of Mr. Wickham’s attentions.

  Elizabeth’s heart leapt to her throat. Wickham? She and Darcy had assumed he had left the Hertfordshire area after they encountered Wickham in London.Why had he returned to the village—to the shire? Her eyes returned to the page.

  When the colonel met with Papa, the only indication that something was amiss was that the man had an unusual marking on his hand; but this was easily explained away at the time. But this marking on the man’s hand pretending to be the colonel was the crown found on Wickham’s hand. Mr. Denny has brown eyes, while Mr. Wickham has grey ones.As such, we conclude that somehow—somehow!—Mr.Wickham disguised himself as both the colonel and as Mr. Denny. At first, as bad as it seems, we assumed it was so they could go off to Scotland to marry. So imprudent a match on both sides! But could Mr.Wickham have more nefarious motives? The

  My poor mother is really ill and keeps to her room. It was her encouragement by which Papa let Lydia leave. Could she exert herself it would be better; but this is not to be expected; and as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected. I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that you were spared something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your return? Circumstances are such I cannot help earnestly begging you all to come here as soon as possible. My father is going to London with Colonel Forster instantly, to try to discover Lydia’s trail.What he means to do, I am sure I know not, but excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any measure in the best and safest way.As the colonel has obligations, my father and uncle will carry on without him.

  Elizabeth darted from her seat, in all eagerness to be with her family at once. Without losing a moment of time so precious, she reached the door, but Darcy opened it instead. Her pale face and impetuous manner told him instantly that something was amiss. “Good God! What is the matter?” he cried.

  “I must go!” She started past him, but Darcy caught her arm to stay her retreat.

  “Go where?” he demanded.

  Still in a state of shock, she mumbled, “Longbourn…home… Wickham has Lydia.” Elizabeth hesitated, her knees trembling

  “Wickham has abducted your sister?” He said the words without believing their truth.

  Elizabeth shoved the letters into his hands as she pushed away from him, needing distance from the man she loved.“She is probably dead…or worse, poor, innocent, silly Lydia is one of Wickham’s minions by now!” Her voice rose in volume and in shrillness as acknowledgment of the situation settled in.

  Darcy started forward, but her hand stopped him in midstride. He searched Elizabeth’s face to detect her emotional state and then tried to scan the letter for information.“We will leave at once.” He moved to the bell cord to summon a servant.

  “No!”The word resonated throughout the room.

  Darcy turned to her, hoping to reason with his obviously distraught wife. “We should return to Longbourn; your family needs us.”

  “We are the reason for their anguish.”The words hung in the air between them. “What would we do at Longbourn, Fitzwilliam? Set up armed guards around the estate? Talk all my family into wearing cloves of garlic around their necks for protection? We did this to them—you and I. We defied the Fates by thinking we could find love and end the curse simply by being together.”

  “I am…so sorry, Elizabeth. So very sorry.”

  “Sorry is not meaningful, Fitzwilliam. Wickham did this to take revenge on you. I chose to be with you because I thought we would make a difference, but all we did was destroy my family. First, Georgiana. Now, Lydia. Who is next? Will it be Jane or Kitty or Aunt Merry? How many more before it stops?” She wrapped her arms around herself, closing off any contact with him.

  “We will find a way…we will make this right, Elizabeth.” He wanted desperately to hold her—to feel her closeness.

  “I do not want t
o find a way to fix this! I simply want to go home. I want this to end!”

  Her words frightened him. Did Elizabeth want to end the curse their marriage to end? “I will send Morris and your maid to pack our things.”

  Her chin rose in defiance.“You are not coming with me.”

  “Elizabeth, this is madness.You are my wife; I will help you find your sister.” He edged forward, hoping to bring her into his embrace, where he might convince her.

  “And what will you do, Fitzwilliam, when you find Lydia? Take an ax to her head like you did the others? Free her soul?” Her voice quivered with rage.

  Darcy flinched from the accusation.“I will do whatever is necessary to end your sister’s wanderings.” He tried to stay calm—tried to make Elizabeth understand.

  “Do not dare to take that self-righteous attitude! If we had pursued Wickham, as I wished…” she charged. Her eyes burned with resolve, and he watched the color rush to her cheeks.

  “It would have made no difference,” he countered. “The letter says he came for Lydia the day after Christmas. We had not even discussed whether to continue our pursuit at that time.”

  Elizabeth shook her head.“It lacks significance; I cannot do this any longer!”

  The words hit him harder than any blow he had ever taken from an opponent. Cautiously, he asked,“Cannot do what any longer?”

  “This!” She threw her hands up in a gesture of frustration. “This…us!”The silence deflated her spirits.“Us,” she whispered.“I cannot do us any longer.” Tears filled her eyes, and Elizabeth’s bottom lip began to tremble. “If I had not allowed myself to be seduced by the idea of helping you, my family would be safe from danger.…I would be back at Longbourn, listening to Lydia rattle on about the latest militia officer to catch her eye. Instead, she is probably calling George Wickham my lord. I cannot forgive myself for my weakness. I want to go home, but how will I ever face my parents with the knowledge that my arrogance cost them their youngest child? How will they ever forgive me? How can I explain without being disloyal to you? My keeping your secret allowed Wickham the opportunity to exact his revenge.”

  “I cannot let you go alone.” Darcy was clutching at a straw. He knew, deep in his soul, that she meant to leave him forever.

  Elizabeth turned on him, eyes ablaze. “How will you stop me from going alone, Fitzwilliam? Will you keep me under lock and key? Will you follow me and drag me back here against my will? If you do, I will escape again and again, and one of those times I will make it to London, and I will find a solicitor who will take my case; and although I, as a woman, cannot seek a divorce from you, I will let it be known that we never consummated our marriage.The ton will shun you, thinking you perverted in your tastes.” Elizabeth did not know why she said such awful things; she would never purposely hurt Darcy. Even with Lydia’s abduction, she, truthfully, did not blame Darcy as much as she did herself. She had let down her guard, and Wickham had swept in for the kill.

  Darcy stepped away from the door, resigned. Elizabeth would never forgive him. He had lost her—lost the only woman he would ever love. “I will not stop you,” he muttered, “and not because of your threat, but because I will not see you hurt by me any longer. Send word where you choose to go, and I will have my man provide for you.Whatever you need—tell him; I will not deny you.” He stepped purposefully behind the desk, as if negotiating a business arrangement. “If you wish to leave today, I shall have the coach readied.” Deflated by his loss, Darcy sat down heavily.

  Elizabeth nodded before moving to the door; yet she paused with her hand on the knob. Her voice trembled. “I am sorry, Fitzwilliam,” she said softly, as if offering a caress, but she did not turn around.Tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

  “I will think otherwise,” he said from somewhere behind her. Elizabeth heard the emotion in his voice. “I will never be sorry for loving you, Elizabeth. Even with everything that happened, I do not regret one moment I held you in my arms. I only regret that I brought you pain. It was not a fair exchange for the joy you gave me.”

  Imagining the danger in which she placed her family by being with Darcy, Elizabeth forced herself to turn the handle—made

  The tap on his study door was insistent, but Darcy made no move to respond. Elizabeth had departed more than two hours earlier. He had watched her board the coach—watched as she left, never to return again. Even if he had not seen her leave, Darcy intuitively would have known Elizabeth was gone forever. The house was a crypt; all the sunlight that had filled it for the past few weeks had departed on the back of the carriage that took her away from him. He now stood leaning against his forearm, looking deeply into a fully engaged fireplace, but feeling the chill of an empty heart.

  “Fitzwilliam?” Georgiana knocked again and tried the knob before pounding with her fist. “Fitzwilliam, open the door! Elizabeth left, Fitzwilliam.Will you not go after her?”

  Georgiana waited for an answer, but Darcy did not move. He had locked the door when Elizabeth walked out of it two hours and thirteen minutes earlier. He counted it off in five-minute intervals, wondering how long it would be before he died of a broken heart. How long could he survive without breathing? What had he done before Elizabeth? Was there anything prior to when Elizabeth Bennet had danced into his life?

  His sister’s voice came again, but this time it was softer and more pleading.“Fitzwilliam, please. Brother, we need her.We need Elizabeth.”

  “Go away, Georgiana,” he called over his shoulder.“There is no more Elizabeth.”

  “But, Fitzwilliam…”She jiggled the door handle again.

  “Damn it, Georgiana; I said there is no more Elizabeth!”

  His sister heard the glass shatter as it hit the door and felt the wood vibrate from the impact.That was followed quickly by three thuds in close succession and then an inhuman cry of pain emanating It is so cold.Why is it so cold? before he closed his eyes and let the blackness overcome him.

  As the carriage pulled away from the steps of Pemberley, Elizabeth hoped Darcy would stop her. All along the lane, she imagined his riding up like a highwayman, stopping his coach, and demanding that she return to him. Before she left, she had tried the door to his study, but found it locked. Is he behind the door? Does he not care enough to even say his farewells? Secretly, she regretted her impetuous stand in his study; she should not have accused him of causing her family’s grief. Assuredly, he had played a part in it, but so had she, and so had Lydia, and—most important—so had Mr. Wickham. It was no more Darcy’s fault than it was Lord Thomas’s fault for catching Leána’s eye two centuries earlier. Possibly Ellender D’Arcy shared some of the blame for her decision to trade Seorais Winchcombe for Arawn Benning, but as a woman in love she could easily visualize that she would go to such extremes to save Darcy’s life if faced with a similar situation.

  Now, as the carriage rolled towards London, Elizabeth urgently wanted to order it to turn around.Yet how could she admit she was wrong? And how could she be sure that Darcy would welcome her return? Elizabeth wanted what he wanted—a family, even if they adopted them, and the estate, and lying in each other’s arms, legs entangled and bodies touching. She groaned in acknowledgment of her stupidity.

  Where will I stay? When she left Pemberley, she had planned to return to Longbourn, but upon reflection, Elizabeth did not see how she could do so. She certainly could not share with anyone what she knew of Darcy and of Wickham. And what other reason

  So where else was there? She could not stay with her aunt and uncle.Wickham might choose to strike their household also. Elizabeth would never risk the lives of her niece and nephews by returning there.

  Overton House? At least, there her presence would not place a loved one in danger. Her father could stay with her while he looked for Lydia.Although Elizabeth knew his search would prove fruitless, her father would know all the comforts that Darcy’s money could provide. Plus, if he was with her at Overton, she could tend to her dear Papa and ease his pain.


  Afterwards, she would go far away—a just punishment for her conceit—for being the source of so much pain—and as a way to forget Darcy, as if she ever could. It would be like trying to forget how to breathe. Being at Overton would be a constant reminder of the man who had haunted her every thought for months now. She let the misery of missing him break over her. She would have to learn to play on the safe side in the future.

  Darkness crept into the carriage. Elizabeth knew that making it to London in one day was impossible, but she hated the idea of staying anywhere alone.

  The coachman opened the slot in order to speak to her. “Mrs. Darcy?” he said.

  “Yes, Peter?”

  “There be a storm stirrin’ up the leaves. Might be best if ’n we stop at the next inn.You can seek shelter there.”

  Elizabeth could hear the wind whistling through the opening. “I trust your judgment, Peter.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. We should be there in a quarter hour or so.” He

  Elizabeth felt the coach lunge forward with the effort. She would spend the night without Darcy—her first since they had wed. It seemed unnatural somehow, but she would learn to control her thoughts of him. She had no choice. She brushed a tear from her cheek, only to find another one to replace the one she had wiped away. Another and another followed that one. Why bother? she thought.There was no controlling how many tears she would shed over Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  A little after midnight, Darcy emerged from his study.The household had slept for at least two hours. He wanted to see no one.Taking a single candle from one of those left burning in the entrance foyer, he made his way to his chambers, the ones connected to hers—to Elizabeth’s. She had been gone twelve hours and forty minutes, and unbelievably, his heart still beat and his mind still remembered. Elizabeth had left him. He had known from the first moment he desired her that this was inevitable, but he had succumbed to the hope that the outcome would be different.Yet how could he expect otherwise? He was an aberration, and he had brought evil into her life. Elizabeth was the perfection that he had held in his hands for a few precious moments. She deserved the best, and he had foolishly thought he could buy her things…and that would be enough. He had never considered the fact that Elizabeth’s goodness—her loyalty—her empathy—all those intangibles she offered in return—were priceless abstracts.