Mr. Bennet exhaled roughly and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Does Elizabeth know anything of your sister and cousin?”
“I’ve spoken to her about my sister, yes, but I wasn’t aware of Richard’s transformation until after I returned to Pemberley last November. When I’d left Derbyshire for Netherfield Georgiana was still relatively…unreliable, if you will, although neither Richard nor I realized the true extent of the risk she posed at the time. All things considered, they’ve both adjusted remarkably well since then, Richard especially. His outlook is much like your daughter’s, as is his sense of humour. Through it all, he’s retained his ability to tease.”
“I can well imagine your frustration, then,” Mr. Bennet said dryly, linking his fingers over his stomach as he relaxed his posture and reclined in his chair.
Darcy bowed his head and leaned forward to rest his elbows upon his knees. “I assure you that you cannot,” he said quietly. “I daresay no one can. The three people I’d come to cherish most in the world were vampyres. Out of the three, only two wanted anything to do with me so long as I remained human. Miss Elizabeth would not consider changing me and, so long as I was in health, neither was I willing to be changed. Not by her, my sister, or my cousin, though I knew Georgiana and Richard were more than willing to assist in that quarter. Your daughter and I were at a stalemate.”
“You’ve come to court her, then. Even after the inhospitable way I treated you last autumn. I have to say, I’m impressed.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Bennet, your impression of me is of little import to me at this juncture. Your ill-treatment of me last autumn was beyond inhospitable. Rather than bothering to get to know me, you chose instead to treat me with contempt, which not only injured me, but your daughter, who, out of the goodness of her heart, did nothing more than offer me her friendship.” Darcy exhaled roughly and ran his hand over his mouth. “To be perfectly honest, I’ve little interest in courting Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Bennet removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “If you had a beautiful, young daughter who happened to be a vampyre, Mr. Darcy,” he said tightly, “who was knowingly entangling herself with a human male—a mortal—who not only had no idea what she was, but what sort of danger she posed to him, perhaps then you’d better comprehend my reluctance to place my trust in either of you so freely.”
Darcy’s temper flared and, before he could check himself, said hotly, “My sister is more than ten years my junior. In my absence last summer she was transformed from an innocent, carefree human girl into a veritable monster by the worst kind of fortune-hunter. In an instant her hopes—nay, her entire future and mine—were dashed to hell, so believe me when I say I’m well aware of the potential threats posed by a persistent suitor!” He leapt from his chair and strode to the opposite side of the room.
It was then that the drawing room door was opened with a quiet click of its brass handle. Instinctively, Darcy turned toward the sound, his breath catching almost painfully in his throat as Elizabeth entered amongst a flurry of dark curls and pale, pink silk. She looked as beautiful as ever as her fiery gaze settled, not on her father, but directly upon him. Darcy swallowed thickly and willed himself to remain where he was rather than crossing the room to drop to his knees at her feet. Her name was on the tip of his tongue but, to his consternation, Mr. Bennet’s voice preceded his.
“Elizabeth, what on earth do you think you’re doing, child?” Mr. Bennet demanded, rising from his chair.
“I’d like to speak with Mr. Darcy, Father, regarding a matter most urgent.”
Twelve
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” Mr. Bennet replied, striding toward his daughter and taking her hand in his. “Why don’t you return above stairs, my dear, and leave the two of us to our discussion. You and I can talk later, after Mr. Darcy has gone.”
But Elizabeth refused to be summarily dismissed. She retracted her hand from his grasp and spoke firmly. “I’m sorry, Papa, but what I have to say to Mr. Darcy cannot be put off until later. It must be said now.”
“Elizabeth,” her father said lowly, “you will do as I say. You must.”
“Have I not always done what you’ve asked of me, regardless of whether your decisions have brought me happiness or disappointment,” she inquired, looking him determinedly in the eye, “regardless of whether your requests were something I wished to comply with or not?”
“You have,” he conceded, “but—”
“I would like to speak with Mr. Darcy, sir.”
“Lizzy—”
“No, Papa. I deserve to know happiness! I deserve it just as much as Jane, for I have as much soul as she, and full as much heart. It may no longer beat within my breast, but I assure you it is there, and it aches.”
Though a flash of compassion appeared in Mr. Bennet’s eyes, his countenance remained grim. “Elizabeth, we cannot give our neighbours any reason to suspect what we are. You know this, yet you insist upon arguing with me. It is very much out of character for you to defy me, especially when the safety of our family is at stake.”
“Our neighbours,” Elizabeth repeated bitterly. “I’ve grown tired of always considering our neighbours. You know as well as I that our neighbours will always find something to talk about so far as our family is concerned. Forgive me, but Mamma has seen to that many times, as have my younger sisters, yet it’s never their behavior you see fit to check, but my own. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Of course you haven’t my dear,” her father chided, reaching once more for her hand, “but your mother’s and sisters’ antics are quite effective in drawing attention away from both of us. You know that, and we must therefore use it to our advantage.”
Elizabeth snatched her hand away and folded her arms across her breasts. “No, sir, I know no such thing. If anything, their unchecked behaviour invites scrutiny and gossip, and always will. Do you honestly think our neighbours failed to notice the differences in my appearance since I was injured nearly four years ago? Do you think they don’t speculate about that or your own alterations—or lack thereof—even now? That they would have been so busy observing Jane with Mr. Bingley and the foolishness of Mary, Kitty, and Lydia last autumn that we would have gone unobserved ourselves? You know that we would not have. You know that we would have been watched just as closely, perhaps more so owing to our penchant for restraint.”
Mr. Bennet’s ire grew. “Elizabeth, your attention to Mr. Darcy and his to you put us at serious risk—”
“No. My friendship with Mr. Darcy might have turned a few heads and incited some idle talk, but only of the usual variety. You were afraid, Papa. You recognized his admiration for me, and shortly after that, mine for him.
“At first you were afraid I would end up harming him—or worse—but once you began to realise Mr. Darcy was in no danger from me you became frightened; frightened I might wish to leave with him rather than remain at Longbourn with you, and that eventually you would be alone.”
Silence followed, and Mr. Bennet paced stiffly to the window, where he remained for many minutes, staring at the same view of the park Darcy had earlier. Eventually, Elizabeth went to him. The words they exchanged were quiet now; too quiet for even Darcy’s keen ears to discern.
At last Mr. Bennet sighed tiredly. “The last thing I wanted was to cause you unhappiness, Lizzy, but it appears I have. I thought at first…” but the elder man’s voice trailed off as he shook his head sadly. He glanced at Darcy, his eyes suspiciously moist, and cleared his throat. “You may do what you will,” he said quietly, “both of you.” He inclined his head to Darcy and, without another word, strode from the room, leaving the door ajar behind him.
Elizabeth remained at the window, her head bowed and her hands clasped in front of her. Darcy took a fortifying breath and joined her, standing so close that he could smell her scent. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. She was exactly as he remembered her—in every way—and she was finally close enough to touch. Against his
better judgment he leaned forward, fully intending to throw caution to the wind and finally place his lips upon her neck, but she turned before he had the chance.
“You are like me,” she whispered, her eyes intent upon his face.
“I am,” he replied as he struggled to rein in his desire to kiss her.
She lifted her hand, as though to touch him, then hesitated and let it drop to her side. “Did you do this for me?”
The corner of Darcy’s mouth lifted as he grasped her hand with his own and placed it upon his chest, over his dormant heart and held it there. “I did not; although, I confess I might have given my cousin leave to do with me what he would should I ever find myself in a life-threatening predicament. In the end, however, it was Georgiana who took matters into her own hands.” They regarded each other for a long moment until Darcy could no longer bear her silence. “Are you disappointed?” he whispered anxiously.
Elizabeth dipped her head and closed her eyes. Her dark lashes were so long they brushed her cheeks, and Darcy could not but admire the contrast; the inky blackness of her lashes against the paleness of her flesh. As if she wasn’t appealing enough, one lone curl escaped the confines of her jewelled comb to gently caress the column of her neck. Darcy exhaled shakily.
“No,” she replied, gazing at him through her lashes, “quite the opposite. I’m a selfish being, though. I wished often for a solution so that we might finally be together, but I never wished harm to come to you. I never wanted you to be in any danger.”
Darcy drew her closer and, to his great delight, Elizabeth allowed him to hold her in his arms. He laid his cheek upon the top of her head and closed his eyes. “I know,” he breathed, “but in the end perhaps my desire to be with you was simply too great.”
She inhaled sharply and attempted to pull away, but Darcy tightened his hold upon her and buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I fear I am selfish as well. Though I didn’t mean to be, I’d grown increasingly reckless whenever I went out riding, and chose horses from my stable well known for their spirited temperaments. At the time, I attributed my increasingly foul moods to my restlessness, and to my ever-constant state of discontent. I lived with my sister and cousin, both of whom are vampyres—immortal, like you. I saw them every day, spent time with them, spoke with them, yet I’d never felt so alone in my entire life. How I missed you!” he whispered fiercely. “Though I lived and breathed, I felt dead inside. Nothing I did, save for racing across Pemberley’s grounds at break-neck speeds, made me feel alive. How I wanted you, Elizabeth!”
“And I you,” she whispered, her words catching in her throat. “I hoped you’d come for me when I went to London—I prayed that you would—but you did not. I told myself it was for the best, but I burned for you, every single day.”
“I realize that now,” he said. “If I’d have known for certain I would have walked there—crawled there on my hands and knees from Derbyshire—but you’d already refused me and told me not to follow you.” He shook his head. “I should have followed my heart instead. I should have gone to London and declared myself again, and again, and again, until you either accepted me or sent me away forever.”
“You’re here now.”
“Yes,” he said, “and so I shall remain. As long as we exist I’ll stay by your side. I swear it.”
To Darcy’s dismay, Elizabeth suddenly released him, but any alarm he felt lasted no longer than an instant as her fingertips traced the line of his jaw with such tenderness Darcy thought he might burst from happiness. The look in her eyes as she gazed at him was one of undeniable adoration and love.
With a smile, he tucked an errant curl behind her ear and turned his cheek, gently kissing her palm. “Elizabeth,” he sighed, irrevocably and incandescently happy at last. “Dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth!”
Several tears escaped from beneath her lashes and Elizabeth bit her lip, closing her eyes as she exhaled unsteadily.
Darcy dipped his head and kissed them tenderly from her cheeks.
She swallowed convulsively. “My dearest sir,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
His lips were swift as they descended upon hers, and suffice it to say, Darcy knew.
About the Author
Susan Adriani has been an admirer of Jane Austen and her beloved characters for over twenty years. Originally from New England, she attended a small fine arts college, where she majored in Illustration. In 2007, after contemplating the unexplored possibilities in one of Jane Austen’s most celebrated novels, Pride and Prejudice, Ms. Adriani laid aside her paintbrush and began to write her first novel-length story, The Truth About Mr. Darcy. With encouragement from fellow Austen enthusiasts she continued. Ms. Adriani currently resides in Connecticut with her husband, daughter, and a very impertinent cat.
Darkness Falls Upon Pemberley Page 7