by Mary Balogh
He didn’t wait for me to begin asking questions. He became very serious again. “What I tell you now must remain between the two of us.”
“Of course,” I said. “No one would believe me, anyway.”
He didn’t fall for my attempt at lightness. “First, you must know that we are not undead, as the stories claim. Conversion is not a mythical curse, but a biological process. We are every bit as alive as any mortal. We can eat and drink. Our hearts beat just as yours do.”
That was a relief. “But you said you’re virtually immortal.”
“Yes. It requires that we occasionally disappear in order to avoid dangerous questions. I have been many men in many times, though I always return to the name with which I was born.”
I could see the difficulty in such a life. “How often do you have to drink blood?”
“Regularly. But, as I said, donors are seldom unwilling.”
“They know what’s happening? How can you be sure they won’t tell?”
“As you said, no one would believe them. And most have no desire to expose us.”
Even if they did, I thought with a shiver, a man faster and stronger than any “mortal” could easily stop them.
George brooded over his coffee. “You wanted to know how I became the way I am,” he said.
“Darcy,” I murmured.
“Indeed. We grew up together, he and I.”
I hadn’t believed the night could hold any more surprises for me. “You’re kidding.”
“Unfortunately, I am not. We were both born in Derbyshire, in the northern part of England, in the late eighteenth century.”
I managed to get my natural skepticism under control, since it was pretty useless at this point. “And he did this against your will.”
His lips twisted. “Generally, converts seek the transformation. Darcy, like those of his ilk, offers no such choice. This is why I have dedicated my life to opposing such evildoers, that cohort of strigoi who treat humans as prey and are not above using violence.”
He went on to tell a story about growing up as a steward’s son on a large estate, loved by Darcy’s aristocratic father and granted an education equal to the younger Mr. Darcy’s. Fitzwilliam had been jealous enough to wish George ill from childhood. He’d seen to it that George had lost the inheritance intended for him by the former Mr. Darcy, and when they had grown to manhood and George had fallen in love with a woman “above his station,” Darcy had plotted his rival’s downfall. “He separated me from my betrothed, and then set about destroying my life, financially and physically.”
“Was he already a vampire?” I asked, obliviously gulping my cold coffee.
“He was converted by his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, at his own request. He has been driven by greed from childhood; he wanted even more power than his fortune and position already gave him. His ambition was, and is, limitless. He has accumulated vast wealth over the decades by the most ruthless tactics, including blackmail and forcible conversion. For Darcy, power and cruelty are the greatest aphrodisiacs.”
All the vampire legends I’d ever heard filled my head with visions of bloodless corpses and mouths gaping in silent screams. “Would he…has he killed anyone?”
“Most strigoi recognize the dangers of murder, but I would put nothing past Darcy.”
I shivered again and went back over everything I’d heard Darcy say since I’d met him, every conversation I’d been party to or overheard. He hadn’t sounded like a killer. And Caroline Bingley had known about conversion and what it entailed. She’d said she’d wanted it…
A sudden and alarming thought brought the coffee back up the wrong way. I coughed until tears spilled over my face.
“Is Charles a vampire, too?” I choked out.
George shook his head. “He is not, though he might as well be. You see, a man once converted becomes the virtual property of his patron, bound to his will.”
“But you…” Another terrible thought came into my head. “You aren’t—”
“No. I was one of the fortunate few able to escape that fate through a trick of the conversion process.”
“And Darcy…is he controlled by his aunt?”
“That I do not know.” He reached out to cover my hand with his. “I only know what I must do since I am free, which is to thwart Darcy’s plots whenever I can.”
“Did you join Mason and Associates to fight him?”
“That was a large factor in my seeking the position.” He touched my cheek. “I tell you all this to warn you, Elizabeth. Be wary. Never turn your back on Darcy.”
“But why is he so eager to get Bennet Labs?”
“He doubtless has some nefarious purpose. It seems unlikely that he will take the risk of exposing himself, and will first attempt to get his way by the usual means.”
“What about Charles? He knows Darcy’s a vampire, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“But he’s in love with Jane!”
“That will protect you, as well, since Darcy is unlikely to alienate Charles by openly forbidding such a relationship. Charles is a tool to be used, and a very useful one.”
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to convert him?”
“As a human, Bingley can move in places Darcy cannot. That is a benefit.”
“But what does Charles get out of this…‘friendship’ with Darcy? Does Darcy drink Charles’s blood? Does he…do they—”
“I do not believe so. Darcy’s advice has doubtless helped Charles increase his own fortune. And he can make most humans greatly desire his goodwill. But Charles is not entirely ruled by him. Yet.”
I was beginning to develop a splitting headache. “Where does Darcy get his blood?”
“In the usual way. I have no doubt that he takes from the unwilling, but he also has a harem of women who are flattered by his attentions and hope to become his protégées.”
“Uh…does he…does he do other things with them? I mean—”
“Vampires can have sex,” Charles said with the ghost of a smile.
It was way past time for embarrassment. “Jane was staying at Charles’s estate,” I said, my voice rising high enough to attract the attention of the slacker sprawled on the couch against the opposite wall. “What if Darcy drank her blood?”
Get yourself under control, woman. I swallowed and spoke more softly, though I couldn’t keep my voice from shaking. “Could he have converted her?”
George gazed at me with gentle sympathy. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very clear. A strigoi may take blood from any donor he chooses, but conversion is a matter of deliberate will. You would see if she had changed.”
Oh, my God. “Would he go that far to keep her and Charles apart?” I asked in a deadly monotone.
“He certainly would disapprove of any relationship between them for any number of reasons.”
That was it. “I’ve got to get home right away.”
“Of course. But there’s something else I’d like you to see first.”
I was pretty sure he’d have let me go if I’d insisted on it. But I had to know everything I could about my enemy. And I had few doubts by now that Darcy was the enemy. The more I learned about vampires, the better equipped I’d be to stop him from hurting my family to get his way.
I pulled on my coat and charged out of the coffee bar, only a little surprised to find George at the door ahead of me.
“You must stay behind me at all times,” he said.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
I had come to realize that George could move faster than I could think, but he kept an easy pace to accommodate my heels. I chewed my lip to a pulp while we rode the subway back to the East Village. The streets were still alive with casual strollers and partygoers enjoying the unseasonably warm late October night; I noticed that they tended to step out of George’s way without seeming to realize they were doing it.
Did they sense that George wasn’t quite “normal”? I’d felt that about Darcy from our first meeting w
ithout understanding why, but George had done a very good job of blending in. In a way, that was as scary a thought as any I’d had since we’d left the club.
After we’d gone about four blocks from the station and turned several corners, we reached a narrow side street so dimly lit that I could barely discern the people congregating around the door halfway down the alley.
“Where are we?” I demanded, pulling my coat more tightly around my shoulders.
George took my arm and pushed me behind him. “Do you see those people?” he asked.
My vision had begun to adjust and I could finally make out the individual figures in the clump: three young, very pretty women and an equally handsome young man, all dressed to the nines.
“Are they vampires?” I whispered.
“The male is,” George said in an equally low tone. “The women are his—shall we say, his ‘groupies.’ They enjoy exchanging their blood for the sexual pleasure his bite—and other skills—gives them.”
Normally I wouldn’t care how consenting adults got their kicks, as long as it didn’t hurt anybody. But the idea of willingly becoming a vampire’s sex slave…
“Just inside that alley is a club frequented by strigoi and their human adherents,” George said. “Any mortal may enter Rosings, at his or her own risk. Darcy is a frequent guest.”
“You said he has a…a ‘harem.’”
“As he is among the most powerful strigoi in Manhattan, he draws many admirers.”
“And how many…how many besides you…has he converted?”
“Who can say? He believes himself to be discreet, and would keep his protégées under strict control.”
“Do you think we should go in?” I asked in a small voice.
He smiled, lips closed. “Ah, my brave Elizabeth. I would not subject you to such an ordeal. I will see you back to the apartment to collect your things, and then—”
His sudden silence grabbed my attention, and I followed his stare. A man was looking back at him: tall, dark, his features unmistakable and unforgettable. A trio of women were clustered around him, and in the dim light I thought I could see the darkness of blood on his mouth.
I wanted to run. Instead, I yanked George’s arm and pulled him to safety. “Are you all right?” I gasped.
“I’m fine.” He frowned. “I do not know if he saw you, Elizabeth. Be very careful.”
Neither of us spoke as we took the subway back to Washington Heights. Only when we were nearly to Lydia’s apartment did George speak again.
“Darcy would kill me if he could,” he said.
I tried, and failed, to imagine what a fight between two vampires would be like. “He wouldn’t dare attack you openly,” I said. “Would he?”
He took my hand in both of his and gazed into my eyes. “Don’t worry. I shall carry on the fight regardless of what he threatens to do to me.”
His words not only increased my admiration for him, but also gave me the feeling that even I could stand up to Darcy. Elizabeth Bennet, Fearless Vampire Hunter.
Until I remembered Darcy lurking outside the window of my bookshop, gliding away into the darkness before I could confront him.
What had he wanted from me? Was it really possible that he did want to convert me? In heaven’s name, why? Was it another way to get hold of BL? Was the “admiration” he’d expressed for me strong enough to make him want to drink my blood…or worse?
Maybe Jane wasn’t the only one in danger.
I ran up the stairs and let myself into Lydia’s apartment. She and Kitty were asleep, so I grabbed my things and called a taxi to take me to the train station. George saw me off, and I turned to watch him recede into the distance, thinking about how much had changed in just a few hours.
I was still looking over my shoulder when I arrived at my apartment door.
CHAPTER 6
I TRIED TO TELL JANE. I REALLY DID.
I caught her at BL during her break the very next morning and locked us into the small meeting room, where we could talk in private. But as soon as we sat down, Jane started in on Charles.
“You can’t believe how happy I am, Lizzy,” she said, taking my hands. “It’s like a miracle!”
While I’d been away in New York, Charles had called on Jane twice, once with Caroline and once by himself. He’d taken Jane on a picnic at East Rock Park, had dinner with Mom and Dad and sent a half-dozen bouquets of roses to Jane’s apartment just before he returned to Westchester. The latest negotiations had gone spectacularly well, and it appeared that a deal was about to be struck…a deal outstandingly favorable for BL.
“It’s so wonderful,” Jane said, her eyes tearing up. “To think that everything is working out so well for our family—I feel as if I’m living in a dream.”
You are, I thought. I smiled and gave her a long, hard hug, examining her neck for any signs of bite marks.
Nothing, not even a freckle. How was I supposed to explain to Jane that I was afraid she might be in danger…that the man she loved, who seemed to love her so passionately, might be in the thrall of a two-hundred-year-old vampire?
Or was he? George had said that that Charles wasn’t entirely “ruled by Darcy. Yet.” If Bingley Pharma had offered such favorable terms, didn’t that mean that Charles was getting his way?
Was it possible that Darcy had some respect for Charles’s obviously genuine feelings? Could he have changed his mind so quickly about Bennet Labs if he was as ruthless—as evil—as George had made him out to be?
No. I’d seen and heard enough of Darcy to believe that he wouldn’t give up control once he had it. Maybe it was all some sort of game, letting Charles have a little freedom and then yanking back on the chain. Maybe he’d convert Jane and use her like a puppet to force Charles to—
I dropped my head into my hands and groaned. If I hadn’t thought I was going crazy before, now I was sure of it.
“What’s wrong, Lizzy?” Jane asked.
This was my chance. Jane would believe me. She tended to trust everyone anyway, and she’d never suspect me of—
“Is it Darcy?”
She’d always known me far too well. “Why should you think that?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes it almost seems as if he likes you.”
I laughed. “I don’t think so.” I recognized the note of hysteria in my voice and deliberately softened it. “I’ve been talking to George Wickham.”
“Really?” She leaned toward me. “He is nice, isn’t he? Do you like him, Lizzy?”
Like was a loaded word. “He’s pretty likable.”
“And handsome,” she said with a sly smile.
“But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” I took a deep breath. “Did you know that George and Darcy used to know each other when they were kids?”
“You’re kidding!”
“I wish I were. According to George, Darcy isn’t a very nice guy. In fact, he’s a lot worse than we suspected.”
“But Lizzy, I never thought—”
“All right, worse than I expected.”
“In what way?”
She was really listening now, her eyes serious and her expression thoughtful. I forged ahead, explaining about their mutual past, Darcy’s jealousy and his malicious interference in George’s life without mentioning how long ago the events had taken place…or that the principals weren’t human.
“This is very hard to believe,” Jane said, leaning back.
“If you’d heard George talk about it, you wouldn’t be so skeptical.”
Jane digested all this in silence, rubbing her hands over her arms as if she’d taken a sudden chill. “It doesn’t seem as if George would lie about something so important. But isn’t it just as likely that there’s been some kind of misunderstanding?”
“The truth doesn’t always lie in the middle, Jane. It’s a lot more likely that Charles has been fooled than that George made it all up.”
“Still…”
This was the moment when I should ha
ve told Jane about vampires. But my throat clogged up, and I couldn’t get the words out.
I had to have proof, though I had no idea how I was going to get it. I reached for her hands and held them tightly.
“Promise me that you’ll stay away from Darcy,” I said.
“You can’t really think he’d bother me, Lizzy! We barely know each other!”
“He’s a control freak. If he thinks you have more influence over Charles than he does…”
“Even if Darcy is as bad as George says, he’d never see someone like me as any kind of threat.”
I knew then that nothing was going to convince her. Nothing short of the truth.
“Okay. Then promise me that you’ll keep an eye out, and try not to be alone with him.”
“Oh, Lizzy.” She hugged me, drew back and looked into my eyes. “You’ve always had such a vivid imagination.” She pushed a stray strand of hair away from my forehead. “You’ll be seeing Darcy as soon as I will, anyway. The Halloween party, remember?”
Oh God. I had forgotten about it. Halloween was this Saturday, and everyone in my family, and from the office, had been invited to Netherfield.
“You’re white as ghost, Lizzy!” Jane exclaimed. “Are you that worried about seeing Darcy again?”
“I’m not worried.” I grinned crookedly. “I just haven’t figured out what to wear.”
AS IT HAPPENED, I FOUND the ideal costume at a local community theater. When I walked into Netherfield’s “grand salon” with Jane, Mom, Dad, Lydia, Kitty and Mary, we found it festooned with garlands of autumn leaves and lavishly supplied with crystal vases of orange and yellow chrysanthemums, dahlias and zinnias, all very tastefully arranged. Not a hinged paper skeleton, plastic pumpkin or animated ghost in sight.
Immediately, I looked for Darcy, but he wasn’t to be found. I was pretty sure that George had been invited, along with Mr. Mason, but would he show up?