Red Moon Over Meryton

by Emma Osborne

  Red Moon Over Meryton

  Deadly Crescent (Book 1)

  Kathryn Campbell

  Emma Osborne

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Also From Blue Flowers Press

  Copyright © 2017 by Kathryn Campbell and Emma Osborne

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  The musicians had just taken up their instruments for a popular country tune, and the crowded hall was filled with people. It was loud, brash, joyous… everything that could be desired of a spirited summer assembly. As expected, Charlotte Lucas’ birthday celebration had been thrown with reckless disregard for expense by her father, Sir William. Charlotte was no shy young woman of eighteen, and Elizabeth Bennet was happy to see her friend attracting all of the attention of the young officers in attendance. Being the center of attention was a position that Charlotte often avoided, but on a day such as this, it was hardly acceptable to hide behind the banquet table. Elizabeth smiled broadly as another young officer, who seemed more handsome than the last, if that were even possible, spun Charlotte once more on to the dance floor.

  “I do not remember your one and twentieth birthday being half so grand at this, Lizzy!” A breathless Lydia wrapped her arms around her elder sister’s waist and Elizabeth patted her grasping hands absently.

  “Indeed not, Lydia. Nor would I have wanted it to be so grand as this!” Lydia looked up at her with a shocked expression.

  “How dull you are, Lizzy! When I reach my eighteenth birthday I will demand that Papa give me a ball just as fine as this.” Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and tried not to smile as she tweaked Lydia’s upturned nose.

  “Well, then for Papa’s sake, I do hope that you marry some rich, silly young man who can afford to spoil you in such a way.” Lydia squealed and squirmed away.

  “I shall have to!” With a peal of gay laughter, Lydia ran off to find Kitty and pull her sister away from the tower of sweets on one of the groaning banquet tables. Elizabeth shook her head as she watched them sucking on their sticky fingers and giggling together. Jane was watching her younger sisters with a similar expression, and Elizabeth joined her at the edge of the dance floor as the musicians picked up the tempo and the dancers clapped their enthusiasm for the change.

  “Charlotte seems to be having a wonderful time.” Elizabeth smiled in agreement and linked her arm through Jane’s before leaning against her shoulder.

  “I cannot help but think that there is something else behind this party, Jane. It is not often that one celebrates the arrival of such a birthday.” Jane nodded solemnly.

  “I fear that it may sound petty, but I believe that I agree with you, Lizzy, but do you think that he is hoping that a proposal might come from this ball?” Elizabeth sighed, but she did not disagree with her sister.

  “If it does, then Charlotte is now of an age to not be swayed by her father’s opinions. I confess that I may be envious of her position. To be beyond the clutches of your mother’s matchmaking schemes…” the sisters both looked meaningfully in Mrs. Bennet’s direction. Their mother was caught up in animated conversation with Charlotte’s mother. A dejected looking Maria Lucas stood nearby and judging by the look on her face, her unmarried state was no doubt the current topic of discussion. Mrs. Bennet always had more than enough words of encouragement for other society mothers who were overburdened with unmarried daughters. Although none of her own schemes had yielded the ultimate result – a handsome, well-positioned husband of good family and decent prospects – she was very sure that it could happen at any time, and would hear no word against it, especially Mr. Bennet’s.

  “While I do feel badly for Charlotte’s… situation, I would think it could be something of a relief. I suppose there is the problem of being a burden on your family, but Sir William does not seem to mind.” Jane was trying to be positive, but Elizabeth did not presume that Sir William, as wonderful a man as he was, had no anxieties about his eldest daughter’s prospects. It was one thing to be unmarried at two and twenty, especially here in the country where eligible bachelors who met the exacting standards of Mrs. Bennet’s matchmaking requirements were not easily found.

  “Charlotte is a practical sort of girl. I am sure that she will find her way.” Elizabeth concentrated on the dance floor. Charlotte would be just fine, she was sure of it. While she was closer in age to Jane, and could be rather stern at times, Elizabeth had found that she and Charlotte shared a similar way of seeing the world and Elizabeth cherished their friendship as an escape from the noise of Longbourn. Charlotte deserved happiness, and Elizabeth hoped that she found it… perhaps even on her own terms.

  The dark of the forest rushed around him, and his horse seemed to sense his panic, lengthening its strides before he could dig in his heels to ask for the speed. The air was thick and hot, even in the trees, but his head and back were slick with a chill sweat. His uniform stuck to him, but he could not stop. Not even for an instant.

  He was sure that the beasts had been trailing him for a few miles now. Perhaps since just outside London. But he could not be sure. The horse’s hide was streaked with foam, and the creature quivered under him as it ran, and he crouched low, standing up his stirrups to urge it on. His head whipped back and forth, but he could hear nothing over the thunder of hoof beats on the trail, and he could see nothing but the black trunks of the trees. The full moon rode high in the sky above, but its cold light did nothing to comfort him.

  If he had not been standing in his stirrups, the branch might have missed him. But as he turned to look behind, it struck him square in the chest, and knocked him from horse and all the air from his lungs.

  He lay on his back in the damp grass, gasping for breath, staring up at the moon high above him. A fiery pain lanced up his side and he was sure that his ribs were broken. The frightened hoof beats of his horse echoed in the dark and he spluttered a curse as he struggled to his knees. The forest seemed to close in around him, and as he fought the fear that crept up the back of his neck, he heard something move in the inky brush. Something large.

  A scream of pain echoed in the night and he stood up, too fast, wincing as pain shot through his torso. His horse. He had thought there might have been a chance that he could have coaxed the terrified beast back to his side, but as he listened to its screams in the dark, he knew that hope was gone.

  His hand crept to his hip, and as his fingers gripped the hilt of his father’s hunting knife, he felt a little bolder… but as the silence of the forest fell around him once more, his newfound bravery left him.

  The stillness was oppressive and it invaded his senses so that he doubted everything around him. The moonlight caused the trees to shiver, and the grass to undulate beneath his feet, and he could feel his breath coming faster. Each inhalation was laced with pain and a cold sweat painted his brow. He had been headed for Meryton. For the garrison. Riding ahead of his cohort. It had been a mistake. A terrible mistake.

  The bushes to his left crackled and moved in the moonlight, but he did not stay to see what emerged, running headlong down the path in the direction his horse had taken. Surely, Meryton lay ahead, and he would be able to find safety and shelter somewhere. Somewhere to hide until morning.

>   Fear propelled him, but he did not know what he was running from, and his mind tried to rationalize what he had heard and seen. What he had heard could have been anything. A rabbit. Nothing sinister about a rabbit. The thought was calming, but did not chase the unease from his mind. If his cadre had been around them, they would have laughed at his foolishness. But they were not here, and he was frightened again.

  An opening in the trees forced him to the left, and his foot caught in an upraised root, sending him sprawling face down in the mud. He groaned as the pain in his ribs flared sharply again, and he tried to push himself upright, his hand slipping in the wet.

  But it had been a dry day… the only dampness on the grass was the dew, and he looked down at his hands, black in the moonlight, and as his eyes slowly focused on the shape before him, he realized at once what it was.

  The tattered remains of his horse lay upon the grass, its blood staining the ground in great black pools that shimmered with cold moonlight. Any confidence that might have crept back into his mind disappeared in a flash as his horrified eyes drank in the scene. The wind in the boughs above his head was soft, and it tousled the hair across his brow almost playfully and the sensation send chills running up and down his spine.

  The crack of a branch breaking echoed through the trees, followed by more, and he covered his ears as the noise became deafening. He fell to his knees on the muddy, bloody, ground, his hands pressed tightly to the sides of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying silently that the noise would cease.

  As though the Almighty had heard him, the woods were suddenly quiet. His body shuddering with fright, he dared to open one eye, peering into the darkness, but he saw only dark tree trunks painted silver by the errant moon.

  There. In the bush, staring at him steadily, eyes that shone in the pale light. Deep pools of moonlight that chilled him to the bone. Another pair of eyes, and then another, no doubt drawn by the scent of the blood that was soaking deeper into the grass.

  His mouth was dry, and with a shaking hand, he drew the dagger from its sheath on his hip, holding it out before him. The moonlight glinted on the blade, but the eyes in the dark did not seem threatened by his show of bravado, and they glared unblinkingly as his teeth began to chatter. The only sound to escape his throat was a thin scream of terror as the eyes lunged from the darkness and the black shapes that had been following him all night swept forward and overwhelmed him.

  A knot of officers stood outside the assembly rooms, taking the night air and discussing the fair young ladies they had danced with over the course of the evening. The Meryton garrison was known for being ready to attend any revelries in the area at a moment’s notice, and they were a pleasant group of young men. True, they were overfond of drink and playing cards, but they knew every dance the musicians played, and they were always more than generous with their time when it came to their dancing partners.

  Elizabeth watched them through the window as she fetched a fresh glass of wine. She was not as naive as her sisters were when it came to the militia officers. Many of them were the forgotten sons of wealthy families who were seeking their fortune away from family responsibility, and others were scoundrels who likely had their fair share of bad debts and scandalous secrets to hide. Dancing with officers was a pleasing distraction, but Elizabeth did not fancy herself a soldier’s wife, nor did she suspect Jane, and even Charlotte were inclined to that way to thinking. However, the younger Bennet girls were of an age where sharp uniforms and the semblance of military precision made their young hearts flutter.

  Charlotte appeared at her elbow, her cheeks lightly flushed with the exertion of the dancefloor and Elizabeth smiled and raised her glass in a toast. “Happiest of birthdays to you, my dear, Charlotte.” Her friend smiled and bobbed a quick curtsey before raising her own glass to meet Elizabeth’s.

  “I am so happy that you are here, Lizzy. I fear that my father has overstepped himself with this affair, but I confess that in spite of all of the fuss and extravagance… I am enjoying myself.” Elizabeth laughed and squeezed her friend’s hand. Charlotte could be such a stern presence, and it was good to see her smile and be flattered as she was this evening.

  Elizabeth looked back out the window at the officers gathered there just in time to see them react to something that had approached from out of the darkness. She could not see what was happening, but she could hear the shouts of the officers as they moved down the stairs of the assembly rooms. Charlotte had also noticed the commotion, and she moved closer to the window.

  “Lizzy, can you see what is happening? Should we alert Colonel Forster?” Elizabeth looked around for the Colonel, but one of the officers ran into the room through the great double doors, the heels of his boots striking the floor loudly out of time with the music. A few people turned their heads in his direction, and one of the musicians faltered briefly. Elizabeth watched as Colonel Forster’s expression turned from one of irritation to one of brief panic before he waved the young man away and turned back to his conversation. The musicians played on, but Elizabeth could hear the shouts getting louder.

  All at once, the doors to the assembly room flew open, causing a few of the ladies to shriek in surprise. The musicians halted their playing, bows scratching over the strings as a group of officers burst into the room. They held back the assembled crowd and Elizabeth pushed forward to see what was causing all of the commotion. Gasps and shocked cries peppered the air and Elizabeth was able to catch a glimpse of a figure in tattered uniform lurching over the polished floor as a series of unintelligible groans escaped his lips.

  With an audible gasp, Elizabeth realized that the man was bleeding from many wounds. Mud, blood, grass and leaves clung to his body, and his face was pale and harrowing to behold. His boots slipped in the muck he had dragged in with him, and he lurched towards one of the officers, but his reach was short and the man fell heavily to his knees, disappearing from Elizabeth’s view.

  Another woman screamed, and the assembly room was overwhelmed by a cacophony of shouts and exclamations from the guests. Charlotte’s hands were cold on her arm, and Elizabeth was startled by her friend’s touch.

  “What happened, Lizzy? Is he…” Charlotte pressed her lips together, unwilling to utter the words, but Elizabeth shook her head by way of reply, there was no way to know for sure as the crowd jostled forward.

  “Now, now, ladies… gentlemen. There is no cause for alarm. Let us allow these fine officers to do their duty and remove this young man. He is in need of a doctor and nip of whisky no doubt. He must have fallen from his horse!” A ripple of laughter followed Colonel Forster’s pronouncement, and the room visibly relaxed, although the officers closest to the prone young man did not seem convinced.

  Elizabeth took the opportunity to move closer, peering over one of the officer’s shoulders to see the young man clearly. He did not look as though he had fallen from a horse… he looked as though he had crawled through the mud and brush to escape something. His eyes were wild and unseeing as he shivered on the polished floor, and his wounds bled with a ferocity that frightened her. The man was mumbling to himself, and a group of officers bent to lift him to his feet, but as their hands touched his mangled body, the man opened his mouth and let out a horrified scream.

  The officers backed away, looking with nervous expressions at Colonel Forster who cleared his throat and tugged at his coat, not knowing quite what to do. Meanwhile, the man’s blood curdling screams continued. Charlotte’s grip on Elizabeth’s arm was growing tighter and tighter with each shriek, and Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she saw a trickle of blood begin to flow from the corner of the man’s mouth.

  All at once, his screams died away and were replaced by a thick bubbling gurgle. The man reached towards the officer nearest to him, his hand gripping the leg of the young man’s breeches tightly as he pulled himself forward. The officer skidded backwards across the floor in an attempt to escape the man’s grasp, but the wounded man was stronger than he appeared and the o
fficer was forced to kick the man sharply in the shoulder with his highly polished boots to get free of his desperate grasp.

  The man gurgled loudly, choking on something, and then he coughed, and a gout of bright red blood erupted from his mouth to splash over the officer’s boots. As the ladies screamed and fainted and the gentlemen yelled, the mysterious young man collapsed into the puddle of his own ruby blood, his sightless eyes fixed on the pale face of the officer before him.

  Chapter 2

  To say that Charlotte Lucas’ birthday celebrations had been ruined would be a gross understatement, and Elizabeth Bennet did not know how best to console her friend. However, Charlotte’s distress was not solely focused on the disruption of her party. The young man’s death had thrown a pall over the entirety of the town, and Elizabeth found it difficult to go anywhere without hearing someone mention the event. This was decidedly not the best way to remember one’s birthday, or to have strangers recall you in conversation.

  Mrs. Bennet would not be satisfied by any attempts at reason, and since that night, she had not yet come down from her rooms, claiming that her nerves were too much aggrieved to face the family, or Mr. Bennet’s perpetually furrowed brow.

  Mrs. Forster had been a frequent visitor to Longbourn during the weeks following the incident, and she was a wellspring of information that should more than likely have remained back in Meryton. Lydia was an unabashed gossip, and Mrs. Forster seemed keen to answer any question that was put to her. Elizabeth and Jane had sat quietly, taking in all that the Colonel’s young wife had to say. There was a reason that she was one of Lydia’s especial friends, and Elizabeth kept a wary eye on the young woman, concerned at what kind of influence she might have upon someone as impressionable and wild as her youngest sister.