Elizabeth’s expression was nothing short of terrified as she attempted to snatch her hand away, but Darcy held fast to her, refusing to release her so easily. To his surprise, Elizabeth relented and allowed it.
“Jennings,” he muttered darkly, his eyes fixed upon the woman before him as he struggled to regain his composure. “I shall deal with you later. Right now I desire a private audience with Miss Bennet.”
†
“Your hands, madam,” Darcy said as he looked pointedly into her eyes, “are freezing. You must warm yourself by the fire before you catch your death.”
Elizabeth released a tremulous breath. “I believe we both know a fire will do little to warm me. As for catching my death, it is kind of you to worry, but you should concern yourself with your own health. There is very little you, or anyone else, can do about the state of mine.” She bowed her head. “I feel deeply for your dear sister, though. To become…what she is, and at so young an age, cannot be a happy thing for either of you.”
“Indeed,” he muttered. The physical distance between them was far closer than what was considered proper in any circumstance, but at the moment even a few inches seemed too great a divide, even after such a startling revelation. Darcy tugged firmly on her hand, effectively pulling her onto the bed to sit beside him. After all was said and done, the fact that Elizabeth was a vampyre inspired no fear or abhorrence in him, but the outrage he felt on her behalf for the atrocities he imagined she’d endured before and during her transformation was another matter.
Though he’d watched, alarmed as she threatened his only-too-human valet the night before, seeing her as she was now—her gaze soft, almost sorrowful—only confirmed what Darcy had always believed in his heart: that it wasn’t in Elizabeth’s nature to willfully inflict harm on anyone for any reason, least of all someone for whom she cared. In fact, she’d not only listened to Jennings, but allowed him to persuade her to nurse Darcy back to health in a most unconventional and improper manner, and at great personal risk—not only to her reputation, but to her family’s as well. Darcy knew no one so generous, or so good, save perhaps for Georgiana. Yes. The woman at his side was still his Elizabeth in every way that mattered. To Darcy, she could never—would never—be anything else.
Elizabeth spoke then, and the softness of her voice soothed him, even though her words had the opposite effect. “May I inquire as to how your sister became…like me?”
Unconsciously, Darcy tightened his grip on her hand. It was a story he’d much rather forget, but for Elizabeth he’d do anything, even relive the most painful day of his life.
“She was taken from school,” he began, “to Ramsgate, where an establishment was procured for her. Her companion, a Mrs. Young, in whose character we were grievously deceived, resided there with her. Rather than act as chaperone to Georgiana, she neglected her and carelessly granted her liberties she should not have been permitted, such as walking to the seaside without so much as a maid to accompany her. One day, while wandering through the village, Georgiana was approached by a man. She was then but fifteen.”
Darcy shut his eyes, his pain as fresh as the day he’d arrived and discovered them. “I believe his main object was her dowry of £30,000, and that in order to obtain it he intended to seduce her, then convince her to elope with him; but, unwilling to grieve a brother more than ten years her senior, Georgiana wrote to me and I joined them unexpectedly, before he’d been able to succeed with his seduction or obtain her consent.
“I’d spoilt his carefully laid plans, and his anger and resentment was such that he meant to punish me for my interference by killing her. He told me so just before he sank his teeth into her neck. By the grace of God, I was able to tear her away from him before he could do his worst. His bite was not fatal and any injuries she’d sustained were healed during her transformation.
“I need not tell you the life Georgiana leads now is not the life she knew before. She was spared from true death, only to be condemned to another fate no less grievous, and every bit as final.”
“Does the hateful one who bit Miss Darcy still walk this earth?” she asked.
“No. My cousin Richard, with whom I share guardianship of Georgiana, is a colonel in Her Majesty’s Army. He aided me in my revenge. The villain may be no more, but my sweet, innocent sister must forever suffer his curse.”
“I am sorry for all of you,” Elizabeth whispered feelingly. “It is a dreadful infliction; one I would not wish upon my worst enemy, never mind one as undeserving of such unsolicited horror as your young sister undoubtedly was.”
Darcy merely inclined his head. “And what of you, Miss Bennet?” he asked sedately. “How is it that you have come to be in a similar state as my sister?”
“Oh no,” she responded with a frown. “I’m afraid the story of my immortality isn’t half as sinister as poor Miss Darcy’s. As a matter of fact, it’s rather insignificant in comparison.”
“Nothing about you is insignificant, but if speaking of it distresses you, then you need not relate the particulars to me. In fact, I will never ask you again.”
The barest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “You flatter me, Mr. Darcy,” she said, taking a deep breath as she tucked a long, glossy curl behind her ear. “Very well. As you might already know, my father’s estate is entailed away from the female line, requiring him to sire a son to succeed him and to ensure my mother and any unmarried children may remain at Longbourn after his death. Since he and my mother failed to produce a male heir, Longbourn will pass to a distant cousin in Kent.
“Though we are comfortable, we are hardly rich. My sisters and I have no dowries to speak of, so my father, in his desperation to provide for us, traveled several years ago to the darkest corner of London. He’d heard mention of a gentleman who, for a price, would assist him in taking very specific measures to ensure he’d remain master of Longbourn, always.”
Darcy could hardly credit what he was hearing. “You cannot mean…” he whispered, horror-struck at the lengths to which Mr. Bennet would go in order to keep his legacy within his family.
Elizabeth turned aside her head. “Yes,” she quietly confirmed. “My father shall live forever, and I am to be his companion.”
Seven
“What of your mother and sisters?” Darcy inquired. He’d always thought Elizabeth favoured her father while her sisters resembled their mother, but it was now evident that Mr. Bennet’s second daughter had far more in common with her father than mere physical appearance.
Elizabeth shook her head. “They are human, though Jane knows precisely what we are and why. She has kept our secret and always shall, but I fear it’s been very hard on her. She is constantly worried for us, as you must also worry for your sister.”
“Of course,” he agreed absently, running his hand over his mouth, deep in thought. While he could relate to Mr. Bennet’s desire—and even his desperation—to provide for his family using whatever means were within his grasp, after seeing Georgiana through the agony of her transformation and the harried, emotional months that followed, the master of Pemberley disagreed with the elder man’s solution, especially when Mr. Bennet’s decision ultimately sentenced Elizabeth, a favourite child, to such a difficult and dangerous existence.
“Your father made a conscious choice, did he not, to become what he is?” he asked.
“He did. Though I’ve often questioned his sanity, I’ve never questioned his devotion. He cares for us, and paid the ultimate price in order to assure our future at Longbourn.”
Darcy resisted the urge to snort derisively. In his opinion, Mr. Bennet would have done far better to save and invest his income so his wife could purchase another home after his demise, or grow their daughters’ meager dowries, but that was a moot point at this juncture. The damage done was tragic and irreversible for all parties, whether some were aware of the sacrifices made or not.
The master of Pemberley struggled to keep his temper in check and exhaled roughly. “Your father had
no right to contemplate such an act of selfish defiance, never mind commit one. He’d no right to condemn you to a fate no sane person would ever choose for himself or his family. Forgive me, but if he desired a companion he ought to have bestowed such an honour upon your mother, yet he did not. He forced it upon you instead.”
To his surprise, a wry smile tugged at her lips. “You’ve been in company with my mother on many occasions, sir. As dear as she is to me, the soul of discretion she is not; nor does she practice economy, or exercise restraint of any kind. I fear she’d make a poor vampyre.”
“You can joke about such a thing?” he asked, his tone incredulous.
“I must,” was her matter-of-fact reply, “or else the regret—the knowledge that I'll never have a husband, or children—would consume me. I believe you are well enough acquainted with me to know I wasn’t formed for melancholy. I’ve simply chosen to carry on as though nothing has changed. Trust me when I say it’s far better this way, for all of us.”
Darcy pursed his lips, furious that she’d had so much taken from her, and all because her father was both foolhardy and self-serving enough to devise and carry out such a damning subterfuge!
As though she’d sensed the bent of his thoughts, Elizabeth placed her hand upon his arm and shook her head sadly. “My father may have chosen this path for himself, but he certainly didn’t choose to make me his image on a whim. You must believe me when I tell you it was out of necessity; nothing more, nothing less.”
“There can be no necessity so urgent as to sentence one’s own child to such a fate,” he replied harshly. “No truly loving parent would ever resort to such an option.”
“Mr. Darcy, tell me you would simply do nothing if your daughter lay dying. Tell me, if you had the means to save her—the child you cherished most in the world—you would choose differently. After being thrown from my horse three years ago, my injuries were so severe there was no hope for recovery. I was also in great pain, which in turn pained my family.”
For a long moment he regarded her in silence, his eyes taking in every detail of her person, searching for any sign of former injury; but, as with Georgiana, he could see no blemish, could detect no flaw. He lowered his eyes. “Would you have returned the favour last night? Would you have acted similarly yourself if the chill of your body failed to drive the fever from my own?”
Elizabeth swallowed thickly and looked away. “We were not speaking of you and I, but of my father and myself.”
“That's true,” he conceded, “but you must understand—by now you must know it’s you who I've come to cherish more than any other, yet I cannot imagine making the same choice in such a case without first obtaining your consent.”
“Then it appears we are of one mind,” she responded heatedly, “but know this, sir: if I were to ever again find myself faced with the prospect of your imminent death—of poor Miss Darcy being left entirely alone in the world to shift for herself—I would be forced to consider it, and perhaps even act upon it, but only as a last resort. This is not an easy existence, Mr. Darcy, as you and your sister are well aware. Unless your need last night was not most dire, I never would have wanted you to know it.”
He shook his head emphatically. “But I do know it. I knew it before through Georgiana, and now, because of you. As you can see, there’s little point in trying to protect me, my dear. It’s far too late for that.”
An affectionate smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he imagined the two women he loved most in the world—Elizabeth and Georgiana—together at Pemberley. The prospect of the two someday becoming sisters pleased Darcy beyond measure, and he was suddenly impatient, not only to give voice to his fantasy, but to make that fantasy a reality.
“You will do her a world of good, you know. Your friendship, along with your inherent kindness and affectionate nature, will bring Georgiana unparalleled joy.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them reverently. “You can offer her so much, Elizabeth, and I have no doubt it will be your guidance and perseverance that will enable my sister to forge her own path to happiness and contentment. She’ll admire and love you straight away; in time, perhaps even as much as I do.”
Elizabeth tugged her hands from his grasp and rose from the bed. Darcy stared at her, startled and disconcerted by her sudden withdrawal.
“I would be honoured to be a friend to Miss Darcy, sir, as I am honoured to be yours, but to more than that I cannot consent.”
Darcy felt the colour drain from his face. “I was under the impression that our fellowship had transcended the bonds of mere friendship some time ago. Surely, after everything we confided in each other tonight—after the astounding intimacy we’ve shared—you can be in no doubt of my intentions toward you.”
“Mr. Darcy, pray do not—”
“No, Miss Bennet,” he said thickly. “I must, indeed I must. I love you, most ardently, and I beg you to end my suffering and consent to be my wife.”
Elizabeth shut her eyes tightly and covered her mouth with her hand.
“Elizabeth,” he said gently, and extended his hand to her. “Come here, dear heart.” But Elizabeth remained where she was, silent and still as she struggled to keep her composure.
When she finally found her voice, it was solemn and subdued, rather than emotive and warm, and Darcy’s heart sank as he listened to her say, “As flattered and moved as I am by your declaration, Mr. Darcy, and, despite the fervency of my own feelings regarding the matter, I must ask you to never speak such words to me again. You must surely know, dear sir, no matter how much I desire it, that I can never consent to become your wife.”
Eight
In shock he stared at her, unable to completely credit what he’d heard. “Why ever not?” he demanded, his voice harsher than he’d intended.
Elizabeth blinked back tears. “You know very well why not.”
“No. I possess no such answer. I see nothing wrong with wanting to have a life with you; nothing wrong with wanting to make you my wife. I’m in love with you for God’s sake, and judging by your actions throughout the entirety of our acquaintance, I’m certain you care deeply for me as well. Does that count for nothing?”
“It’s true,” she conceded. “I do love you, but what you’re asking of me is not only unrealistic, but dangerous! You are a man, I am a monster,” she said fiercely, swiping at the moisture upon her cheeks, “and that makes any connection between us not only reprehensible, but unspeakable. A union between us would be considered an abomination in every respect, so pray do not make this any more difficult than it already is by speaking of impossibilities.”
“But it need not be so,” he countered. “No one beyond you and I would ever know. My household staff is loyal and trustworthy, the very soul of discretion. Your secret will be as well guarded at Pemberley as it is at Longbourn.”
“My father will know. Miss Darcy and Jane will know, and I daresay none of them would approve, and rightly so. I’m no longer human. My body will never be able to receive yours the way a wife is meant to receive her husband. The risk to your life is far too great. I’ll never be able to give you children, or warm your bed on a cold night. My flesh will always feel like ice to your touch. Should I ever forget myself in a moment of ardency, my kisses could cause your death. I may be innocent, Mr. Darcy, but I’m not so naïve as to believe any man would desire to share his marital bed with a corpse any more than he’d desire to become one himself.”
Darcy clenched his jaw. The illicit references Elizabeth made to husbands and wives and marital beds agitated the master of Pemberley every bit as much as did her bitterness and despair. He would never dream of dismissing any of her concerns, for they were entirely real and valid, but at the moment his mind was so overrun by provocative images that he found it difficult to focus on anything other than the prospect of tasting her lips as they shared a searing kiss, his hands on her body as he loved her in his bed, and her back arching in pleasure as he made her his in every possible way.
&n
bsp; Flushed with desire, he held her dark gaze until she finally lowered her eyes and turned away. Her breathing was uneven—as uneven, he noted, as his own harsh breaths. Seeing her thus did little to quell his need for her, and Darcy watched, transfixed, as she padded to the hearth and stood with her back to him. The soft glow of the fire illuminated her form from behind, affording him a scandalous glimpse of her silhouette through the translucent layers of her dressing gown and nightshift.
Darcy swallowed audibly and ran slightly shaking fingers through his hair. He’d be a complete fool to think a union between Elizabeth and he could ever be anything but dangerous. The intensity of their connection was far too powerful to be ignored. The flame of their attraction burned too bright to be extinguished by even the fiercest tempest. Surely, despite their differences, they’d be able to find some sort of common ground, though—a way to be intimate with each other physically; one that wouldn’t result in his demise. Perhaps, given time and familiarity…Darcy mused, completely enthralled by the contour of Elizabeth’s legs, the swell of her hips, and the gentle dip of her waist beneath the gossamer folds of her gown.
The mantle clock struck four, its delicate chimes resounding almost sharply in the charged silence of the room. With some effort, Darcy wrenched his eyes from Elizabeth’s person and trained them instead on the window across from his bed, breathing deeply as he struggled to get his emotions in hand.
The sky, as seen through a narrow gap in the curtains, resembled a canvas of inky black; the very darkest hour before dawn. Darcy rubbed his eyes tiredly with the pads of his fingers, coughing as he exhaled roughly. His spasms subsided quickly enough, but the urge to abandon his sickbed and go to the woman across the room, wrap her in his embrace, and assure her all would somehow be well was consuming. Before he could do much more than toss the counterpane aside, however, Elizabeth was at his side, easing him back upon the pillows, reminding him of his weakened health, and urging him to lay still.
Darkness Falls Upon Pemberley Page 4