Thinking the churchyard a better choice for his approach, he tried to appear casual as he strolled through the graveyard, pausing periodically to read epitaphs: Make WisdomYour Provision for the Journey fromYouth to Old Age and Ye Shall Know the Truth and True Nobility Is Exempt from Fear were mixed with The Music of My Life, Matthew Horace and Charles McDane, Loving Father and Behold the Child, Mary Adams. Circling the perimeter of the cemetery, he stumbled across the Winchcombe headstones of Mairte Rosin and Domhnall Neill. He suspected them to be those of Wickham’s parents, because they were the last ones before one exited the rear of the neighborhood’s churchyard. He would not find Wickham’s grave here. The great evil associated with George Wickham prohibited his inclusion in consecrated land. More than likely, Wickham’s house was designed to embrace his own grave.
Then his eyes fell upon the dual crypts dominating the center of the site. Without reading the engraving, Darcy knew to whom they belonged.These two faced in towards the center of the cemetery, as if they stood staring into each other’s eyes for eternity. Darcy could see them in his mind’s eye—Lady Ellender D’Arcy and Lord Arawn Benning, circling each other on the dance floor… preparing to rush into each other’s arms in a moment of passion… arguing heatedly over some domestic matter.
Slowly and methodically, Darcy made his way around different mounds until he stood reverently before the locked gate of the memorial to the woman who had begun this madness with her beauty: Ellender D’Arcy Benning. “Would you do it all again?” Darcy murmured, but he knew the answer—she would. Ellender D’Arcy did what she did for the love of a man, the one person who completed her—the way Elizabeth completed him. Darcy had no doubts that he would risk it all for his Elizabeth. He turned to stare at the other crypt, the one belonging to Elizabeth’s ancestor. The irony of how Fate brought him to this moment and to loving Elizabeth could not ignored.
Sighing, Darcy strode away from the all-too-raw memories of his wife. He worked his way down the well-worn path leading
Finally satisfying his need for information, he retreated to the inn.Tonight, while the village slept, he would return to find Wickham and to finish their battle, one way or the other.
Near midnight, dressed all in black except for a loose-fitting shirt he had bought in the village store, Darcy made his way through the graveyard once more. Instead of hiding behind headstones and staying in the shadows of the hedgerow, he strode proudly through the center of the land of the dead, crossing the point where the crypts might touch. He carried a silver sword and wore the iron crucifix, but his true weapon, he told himself, was his determination. He had come to end the plague on his family, and, one way or the other, Darcy would know peace at last. Two hundred years of demonic hatred and fear would end with this confrontation.
Edging his way down the steep slope, his boots loosened pebbles, which cascaded in a rain of dirt down to the bottom. He cared not whether someone might hear. The living were safe in their beds, and Darcy was sure Wickham knew that eventually he would come.
He slowed his steps as he emerged from the woods. Only fifteen paces away, a dim light reflected off the windows of the central room. Darcy moved more cautiously now—weaving his way to where he might see what the room offered. Plastering himself against the grey stone of an exterior wall, the cold shale caused a shiver to run the length of his spine.The shutters were slanted outward, but the openings between the slats provided a clear enough view of the interior.Wickham sat at the end of an expansive table, facing the window. As if on cue, he raised his hand in a salute, the way he always did in farewell; and then Wickham’s lackeys, who had materialized out of the mist creeping along the ground, surrounded Darcy.
Darcy smiled, despite the danger. After all, this was why he had
Boldly reciting “The Lord’s Prayer” as he stepped now to the left, Darcy swung the crucifix he carried from its chain, keeping the next set of attackers at a healthy distance. A parry and a basic thrust through the heart sent another soul to heaven.The crucifix smacked an abandoned spirit, and a repugnant somnambulist screamed out, as if burned, and then followed the fate of those struck by Darcy’s blade.
Inflamed now with success, Darcy attacked more diligently, striking first with the sword and then with the holy relic, but with each release, two more dusky fiends took its place. “It is too late, Darcy,” a cold breath whispered in his ear, but still he fought on. He tried desperately to stave off the encroaching army, but a vaporous stench surrounded and smothered him, and one final blow to the back of his head—one snapping his neck violently forward—sent him first to his knees and then into a complete darkness.
He did not know how long he remained unconscious, but when he opened his eyes, greyish blue ones, only inches from his face, stared back at him. It took several blinks of his lids before the reality of his situation became evident. He was not dead, but he was Wickham’s prisoner. His arms ached from the battle, and Darcy tried in vain to move them, only to find them presently lodged behind him. Wickham’s face withdrew, and Darcy struggled to right himself.
“That was a fine display, Darcy.” Wickham found his enemy’s grappling to be amusing. “You took more than a dozen of my favorites with that exhibition of your swordsmanship.”
Darcy licked his lips, tasting his own bloody inner jaw.“I would have preferred twice that many.” Darcy forced himself to return Wickham’s smirk.“I hoped you would be among them,Wickham.”
“I am sorry I could not accommodate you.”Wickham sat down in an ornate chair, leaned back in it, and crossed his legs at his ankles.
Darcy looked about him, trying to assess the depth of his situation. “Where am I?”
“In the house’s root cellar.”Wickham gestured at the bare walls. “I am afraid that I entertain so very little, and my lack of hospitality must be evident.”
Darcy tried to look over his shoulder to see what bound him. He shook his hands and heard the rattle of chains.“And why am I so restricted? Do you fear me so,Wickham?”
“Your power increases, Darcy, since your alliance with Mrs. Darcy.Your once-latent interest in your abilities blossomed with the appearance of Elizabeth Bennet in your life.”Wickham appeared to be amused again.“Unfortunately for you, and I suppose fortunately for me, you chose not to refine those innate skills.” He gestured towards the chains binding Darcy to the wall.“I took note of your ability to manipulate time and space. I also noted that to do so, you must extend your arms to the sides; therefore, your current bonds.”
Darcy nodded in a respectful acknowledgment of his opponent’s intelligence.“How long will I be here?”
“I am not sure exactly, Darcy. I suppose it will be, at least, until your lovely wife and maybe your sister make an appearance. Someone is sure to try to save you. I will wait until I capture the whole lot.Then you will receive the pleasure of witnessing my repeatedly taking the two of them and claiming your loved ones as my own.” Wickham paused suddenly and looked off wistfully. “I wonder, Darcy, if you know how much your sister resembles Ellender?” He seemed momentarily sad, but then he returned to his threat. “You will beg me to let you die, seeing Mrs. Darcy and the innocent
Staring absently at the void between them, Darcy looked off, seeing something Wickham would never recognize: the love of a fine woman. He returned his gaze to his opponent.“Elizabeth will not come. She left me,Wickham.You will be satisfied to know your maneuverings were quite successful. When Elizabeth discovered you had taken Lydia and would continue to torment those she loved because of me, she turned on me. She could not love a man who had brought such evil into her life.”
Wickham allowed his eyes to betray his true pleasure. “But it was I who brought the evil.”
“Because you hated Ellender D’Arcy for what she did to you,” Darcy retorted.“My family brought on Elizabeth’s grief.”
“Actually, it was as much your wife’s family as it was your own. Arawn Benning took everything I wanted, and then, because of his treachery, I was sacrificed. It was no
t bad enough that he had won Ellender; he took away my chance of finding someone else and caused the death of my parents.”
“The village?” Darcy probed.
Wickham’s eyes flashed. “I came back to Stanwick because I wanted retribution against the descendants of those who had turned on my parents and sent them to a fiery grave.”
“An avenging angel?”
Wickham offered an honest smile.“I like that, Darcy—an apropos signature. I believe I may steal it from you.You will not mind, will you, as you will be dead by then?” He gestured at the ceiling. “Those sounds you hear above are my pupils dancing a waltz of sorts about the main hall. They gather there nightly, these henchmen of mine—many of them descendants of those original villagers. I have my revenge, you see.They took my parents, and, just as with your family, I choose among them. I studiously avoid the families who moved here after my parents’ death. It is often a purulence, because I hunger for some of the more delectable morsels, shall we say, but it is an indiscretion I do not allow myself.”
“Well, unfortunately, Wickham, you will need to be satisfied with my death only. Elizabeth has exiled herself from her family and from me. And like me, she would gladly die to end the curse.” Now it was Darcy’s turn to laugh. “Have you considered, Wickham, what happens to you when I die? The curse involves all of us. Even if you were to capture Elizabeth, she would, as I am doing, sacrifice herself. Then there would be no more bonding of the D’Arcy and Benning families. The curse on the D’Arcy family exists only as long as we produce first born sons. I am the last of the male line, and I refused to allow my wife to produce another.There will be no more, and soon no more villagers.Then what happens to you? If two sides of the triangle are broken, the third collapses into nothingness. It has taken two hundred years to eradicate you, but the evil will stop.”
Wickham feigned nonchalance. “I thought of all this, Darcy.” He stood quickly to make his departure. “I will do a little reconnoitering this evening—see if you lie about your wife’s presence in the area. I am sorry to say I must lock you in. Some of my imitators might consider you an appealing meal.You are quite the delicacy. As the majority of them were brought up with Christian beliefs, I will hang your trusty crucifix on the door to dissuade them of any overwhelming desires they might have to feed on mixed blood.” He hooked the chain on the latch.“Rest now, Darcy. It shall not be much longer.”
Darcy leaned his chair against the wall to relax the tension on his arms. His shoulder joints throbbed from overextending the arms for so long. At this moment, he was happy Elizabeth had deserted him. She would not witness his death nor would she be in danger. He would die by Wickham’s hand or by the strategy of one of those who rhythmically danced to an unknown tune above him; or he would die by his own devices. It was not likely Wickham would think to feed him, so he might starve or die of thirst or smother in his own waste, but Darcy would die, and there would be no more first born sons to carry on the curse.The thought satisfied him, and
Wickham moved through the inn like a cold breeze let in through an open window. One of the women who Darcy had dispatched during the night once resided here and had foolishly invited him in. Now, he checked each of the rooms, finding no signs of Elizabeth Darcy, only the remnants of Darcy’s toilette. In some ways it pleased him to know his subterfuge had played out so well, but he also regretted the possibility of meeting the formidable Mrs. Darcy again. The most recent time they met, her incantation had sent him slamming into the back wall of a bookshop, and while he recovered, Elizabeth Darcy had set Amelia Younge free with a powerful thrust of Darcy’s sword. The woman was no wilting violet, that was for sure; in fact, she was a briar rose, just like the one in the accursed ballad about the love between Fair Ellender and Lord Thomas.
Satisfied for the moment, he returned to the house. He would check again tomorrow before he would believe Darcy completely. Wickham had witnessed the love Elizabeth Darcy tried to conceal even before the man married her—as far back as those initial meetings in Hertfordshire and definitely when she followed him to the Netherfield Manor House. She did not fear Wickham, even then, because the woman knew Fitzwilliam Darcy would protect her. Darcy had given her that damnable crucifix, and Elizabeth Bennet put her trust in the symbol of her God and in the man she adored. Wickham avoided touching the necklace that day because of the love associated with it. Darcy had never…never…succumbed to any of the women who threw themselves at his feet, but a saucy maid from a country estate had brought the man to his knees. Originally,Wickham had thought she would be a weapon he could use to defeat Darcy. Little had he known at the time, the reverse was true: Elizabeth Bennet Darcy would give her husband the strength to bring about closure for all of them.
Wickham took up his favorite chair and observed the ritual
Elizabeth hurried from the room she shared with the colonel. She had put away all the bedding had managed to get the various maids to bring her, knowing that her husband’s cousin had spent the past five nights sleeping on hard floors. She was thankful for the man’s intrusion, but tonight she wanted to sleep in her husband’s arms and feel his breath on the back of her neck.
The colonel met her in the open dining room, took her hand, and pulled her towards the private one. “Is something amiss?” she whispered when the door closed behind them.
“The carriage has a problem. A mail coach lost a wheel, and it struck our livery, breaking some of the spokes. It will take several hours to repair.” He still held her hand, expecting Elizabeth to respond impulsively.
“This cannot be!” she protested, breaking for the door before the colonel tightened his hold. She spun back on him. “We have to go today! Fitzwilliam is there, and we both know what danger he is in!”
With his thumbs the colonel wiped away the tears now streaming down her face.“What other choice do we have? My cousin is a strong man; he will not do anything rash.We will make it to Stanwick today, but it will be later than we anticipated. Luckily, we are on the eastern side of the shire, traveling along the coastal way,
Elizabeth strode away from him in agitation. “Why do we not take the horses? I can ride.”
“We have but one saddle, the one from my horse, and even if we could find another, it certainly would not be designed for a lady.” He moved to where she now stood looking out the window. He was absolutely certain she was terrified by what she could not control.“Be reasonable, Elizabeth.We are seven to eight hours away in the carriage. That translates to around six hours in the saddle. Even an experienced rider has difficulty maintaining such a pace.”
Elizabeth now bit her bottom lip, considering all possible scenarios. Finally, she made her decision. “I will give it two hours. If the coach is not repaired by then, I am hiking these skirts to my knees, and I am riding off on the best horse I can acquire.You may join me or choose to wait for the coach, Colonel.”
He laughed at the stubbornness he heard in Elizabeth’s voice. “Two hours, Mrs. Darcy,” he repeated. Then he took two steps towards the door. “Elizabeth,” he said to her back, “my cousin is wealthy in more ways than one.”
Elizabeth heard the door close behind her. Darcy’s cousin was an exemplary man, someone to whom she would always be grateful, but he did not understand. When a person loved as she loved Darcy, a life without that love was impossible. How could she explain that she could not breathe without Darcy? Could not exist without him? He was her other half. Elizabeth’s whole heart belonged to Fitzwilliam Darcy.
CHAPTER 25
“Yes, Ma’am.” The innkeeper bowed to Elizabeth upon her entrance. “May I be of assistance?”
“I am looking for my husband, Sir.” She demanded immediate attention with her tone.
The innkeeper gave her a critical look, thinking her a spurned wife seeking to catch her husband in the mix of a dalliance. “I assure you, Madam, I do not tolerate such use of my establishment.”
Elizabeth looked momentarily confused, and then she flushed with color, recognizin
g the innuendo.“You misunderstand, Sir; my husband is not that type of man.We were to meet him here.This is his cousin.” She gestured to Colonel Fitzwilliam as he stepped up beside her.
“Of course, Madam.”The man bowed once again to guarantee he offered no offense. He took up a position behind the registration book.“Your husband’s name, Ma’am?”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
The man ran his finger down the page to find Darcy’s name. “Yes, Ma’am. Mr. Darcy is a guest. Might you wish to join him?”
“Naturally,” Elizabeth said, “and my cousin will also require quarters.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam took control. “Please see that the lady’s luggage is placed in Mr. Darcy’s room, and that our carriage and coachman receive proper care.”
“Immediately, Sir.”
“Is my husband in his room?” Elizabeth now felt the anticipation of finding Darcy and of assuring herself that he was well.
The man looked about for a servant to retrieve their baggage.“I do not believe so, Ma’am. Mr. Darcy walked through the village earlier today, and then he took a light meal in the private dining Anglo-Saxon Chronicles as the site that saw the beginning of the Viking Age. We take our heritage very seriously. St. Cuthbert’s body was once entombed on Lindisfarne Island, and we do not forget it.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked amused. He turned his head to the side to whisper in her ear, “Did he just use the words enjoy and assembly hall in the same sentence with Darcy’s name?”
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “They seem incongruous terms,” she said without moving her lips.
“It appears, Cousin, that we will be attending an assembly in the good village of Stanwick.”The colonel brought her gloved hand to his lips. “I hope, my dear, that we have something appropriate to wear. I will meet you here as soon as you freshen your clothing.”
“I suppose we will simply have to attend the dance ourselves to determine my husband’s motives.” Elizabeth reached for his arm.
Vampire Darcy's Desire Page 34