Miss Austen's Vampire

by Monica Knightley

  She couldn’t turn her eyes away from him, and just gaped at him while she tried to make sense of his words.

  “I have rendered you speechless, dear Jane. I am profoundly sorry I have to share such horrifying truths as to my nature, but you must know. I should never have used you so, knowing that we could never have more than this one night. And you, good woman, deserve more than one night. And you never deserve to be with a monster.”

  Finding her voice, she said, “But . . . it cannot be. This is a myth, a legend, the stuff of stories we scare one another with as children. Vampires, blood drinkers, do not exist.”

  “They do, and that mark on your neck is proof of it.” He started to reach for the place where his teeth had penetrated her skin, then quickly retracted his hand before making contact.

  A tear welled up first in one eye, then the other before escaping and finding their way down her cheeks. Gabriel reached into his vest pocket, took out a crisp handkerchief, and laid it on her lap. Without taking her eyes from him, she picked it up and absentmindedly dabbed at her tears. She could only focus on the face that seemed to her so angelic. First looking into his dark eyes, then down his nose to his lips, over his jawline and back up to his eyes, she searched for some sign of a monster and could find none. But . . . not human? Vampire?

  Shaking her head violently back and forth, Jane stood, still staring at Gabriel, then turned and ran from the room. Just as she reached the threshold, she stumbled, but managed to recover and kept running away from the man who claimed he was a monster.

  “Agatha, your breakfast table appears to be down one guest. Where is Miss Austen this morning?” Gabriel tried to affect a casual tone as he helped himself to coffee.

  “Oh, poor thing. She wasn’t feeling well when she woke this morning, and despite my protests that she should stay until she felt better, she insisted on returning home. I had one of my carriages take her. I must confess, her wit will be missed here.”

  “Indeed,” was all he could say, and he clenched his teeth and sighed.

  “Are you not going to eat this morning?”

  “Perhaps after my coffee.” Distracted by his own dark thoughts, he ignored the cheerful conversations taking place at the table. He was sure Agatha was angry with his unsociable behavior, but his mind was filled with thoughts of Jane as she ran away from him, tears running down her face. To spend hours making love to her, taking her virginity, only to destroy any happiness she may have felt by disclosing his monstrous truth. What must she be thinking this morning? Certainly, that she was used most horribly. Even worse, he feared she would feel tainted by his evil. Such a lovely woman should never feel anything but joy, and felicity, and true contentment. To be introduced to the dark world of a demon . . .

  Without excusing himself he stood abruptly and stomped out of the dining room. Minutes later, he found himself at the stables and hollered orders to a stable hand to saddle up Greystone. Normally this was a task he would insist on doing himself, but the animal would have sensed his tension, making saddling impossible.

  Gabriel rode the stallion hard, for miles around the countryside. Greystone loved when he could use his endless energy, and seemed to revel in his master’s demands as they went to the far ends of the county. For Gabriel it was a feeble attempt at reducing his anxiety over his mistreatment of Miss Austen. Again and again, he kicked the stallion’s flank, urging him on ever faster.

  Chapter 8

  August 1815

  London

  Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, Gabriel counted. He paused a moment, feeling he had missed one or two along the way. It was of little consequence how many people he had killed that summer, but keeping track of the numbers allowed him to cultivate an illusion of caring. That the situation was far out of control was a truth he preferred to ignore. Fulfilling his most base urges was all that mattered to him.

  In June, when he first gave in fully to his appetites, he promised himself that come autumn he would work to regain control over himself. Summer would be for decadence, and for forgetting. Forgetting the woman. The author. Blood and sex seemed the best road to forgetting. So he indulged. But it had to end in the fall.

  Even as he had the thought, he knew it would not be. His appetites would just continue to grow and spiral out of control, and more innocents would fall at his feet.

  At first he did make an earnest attempt to keep them alive, at least the women. But when that proved impossible, he had to rethink the type of women he would use to slake his appetites. They could not be women who would be missed, which ruled out all but the poorest, most desperate of the street women. Women who did not have the protection of a brothel and madam. So he took his search to the most undesirable areas of London, areas no respectable man or woman would dare to enter. And as long as he took the time to make sure the body wasn’t left where it would be discovered, he was able to quench his appetites and keep the monster from being revealed.

  None of these women were desirable, but that no longer mattered, as his needs took over all his better senses. Filth, open sores, missing teeth, lice-ridden hair, none of it mattered. And as he was dead, there was no putrid disease he could catch from the poor women. He just had to keep his eyes shut.

  After coming out of his Savile Row tailors, where he had just been fitted for new breeches and tailcoat, Gabriel merged into the crowds of people hurrying along the newly constructed sidewalk. While the few sidewalks in the city did afford some protection from the muck of the street, it did force the masses to fight for space along the walkway. Bumping against the people around him, Gabriel felt the familiar urges and tried to fight them off. He knew he had no true need, having partaken in an all-too-willing young woman just hours earlier, and this sudden desire simply sprang from the bustling mass of people. His unusual height allowed him to peer over the heads of those around him, and keeping his eyes on a point in the distance, he was able to disregard the humans pressing against him.

  Deciding exercise would do him good, Gabriel walked toward Green Park, hoping to get out of the hordes and be able to enjoy a brisk walk. The air wasn’t fresh, a bit of late-summer, stagnant, smoky London air, but it did not concern him. What he breathed was of no consequence. For that matter, he had no need to breathe at all, doing so was more of a habit than anything else.

  Emerging on the other side of the park, he continued on to the edge of the Chelsea area. Hardly fashionable, there was little worry of bumping into any of his acquaintances, something he wanted to avoid today. He was in no mood to make mindless small talk with vapid men, or worse yet women, from his own social circle. For they were, to a man, insipid people.

  Just as he turned to head toward the river, his dead heart began to beat wildly. Surely it could not be.

  He hurried his step to catch up with the woman who had just emerged from a solicitor’s office. It couldn’t possibly be the woman his heart was hoping for, but his curiosity had to be satisfied. Keeping a safe distance, he followed her for three blocks before she paused briefly to look in the window of a teashop. Now his heart ceased beating as he took in the profile of the woman who had been tormenting him for months.

  Miss Jane Austen.

  He stopped, fearing she would see him, and soon she was again on her way down the street. Gabriel allowed himself to get closer, now only one hundred feet separated them, when Jane suddenly stopped and turned around to head back the way she had just come. There was nothing for him to do but turn around and hurry in the opposite direction and hope she did not see him.

  When he reached the teashop, he quickly stepped inside, and stood near the corner of the window allowing him to see without being seen and watched for her to walk past.

  The door directly in front of him opened, ringing the bell above it, and in stepped Miss Austen. He stood rigid and stared into the eyes that had haunted his dreams for weeks. Shock showed in her face and she let out a little sound of alarm. Together they stood there, like statues, unable to move, unable to stop staring at on
e another. He watched as the color drained from her face, and glancing over his shoulder he shouted out to the girl standing behind the counter, “Is it possible to get a cup of tea here? This woman is unwell.”

  “In good time, in good time. I ‘ave me hands full ‘ere.”

  “The woman is unwell. Now, please.”

  This time Gabriel made eye contact with the girl, and whatever she saw in his face sent her scurrying to get the tea.

  Indicating an empty chair near where they stood, Gabriel tried to get Jane to sit. She appeared to be considering her options, looking from the chair, to Gabriel, and back again, and finally chose to sit. He pulled out the chair opposite and lowered himself into it just as the tea arrived. The girl poured two cups for them and curtsied before returning to her place at the counter.

  “Take a sip, Jane.” He tried to sound soothing, but heard the gruffness in his voice. Seeing the annoyed expression on her face, he added in a whisper, “Please.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him and without breaking the eye contact picked up the cup, brought it to her lips, and took a sip.

  “Would you like something to eat with that, a bun perhaps?”

  Jane shook her head and kept her eyes on the tablecloth.

  He surveyed her up and down, both to assure himself that she would not faint, and to fill his mind with images of her that he could call upon when he was again alone and wishing for her company. Never had a woman touched his heart as this one had. Never had he cared one way or the other about a woman with whom he had shared a bed. Never had he found himself daydreaming of a woman, or remembering witty and delightful comments she had made. Not until there was Miss Jane Austen.

  Since that night at Dartfourd Gabriel had read Pride and Prejudice twice more, Sense and Sensibility three times, and her most recent publication, Mansfield Park twice. Reading her words made him feel close to her, when he knew he would never see her again. It had become obsessive.

  When he couldn’t bear the silence any longer, he said, “You have been in town. What brings you here?”

  Gazing into her teacup, Jane answered in a soft voice, “I am visiting my brother Henry. He has a home here in Chelsea.”

  “I’m sure it must be a nice change for you to visit London.”

  “I am here to visit my brother.” He heard the steel in her voice.

  “Of course. How long have you been here?”

  “Most of this month.”

  Silence fell again. Gabriel continued to ignore his tea, and watched as Jane sipped hers.

  “I really must get back now,” she said abruptly, and sat her cup down.

  “Of course. May I walk you back to where you are staying?”

  Her eyes narrowed at him again, and she chewed her lower lip. He quickly looked away from the lip and into the scowling, undecided eyes.

  “You may.”

  After leaving far more coins than the tea could possibly have cost, Gabriel led Jane out the door, careful not to touch her.

  For two blocks they walked without talking. Just as Gabriel decided she would never break the silence, Jane, eyes cast downward, said, “I know it is wrong, very wrong, perhaps even evil, but I have missed you Gabr— Mr. Augustine.”

  He stopped in the street. Jane continued on for several steps, clearly unaware that he had stopped, before pausing, and turning around. As she walked back to him he could only stare at her.

  “Jane, dear Jane. I believe this must be one of my dreams, for it cannot be true. I am standing with you and you are telling me that you have missed me.” The people passing on each side of them were invisible to him. He saw only Jane.

  She smiled wanly.

  “When you left, I—”

  “Do not talk of the way it ended, please. I fear I acted terribly.” When he started to disagree, she put up a finger. “No, Gabriel, I was awful. I have had plenty of time to consider everything that occurred that night, and everything that was said, and I acted abominably.” He took a half-step closer to her, and looked down into her face. “You had given me the most glorious night of my life, and when you had confessed your nature, which you cannot do anything about I might add, I judged you harshly and fled. I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me.” He saw she was fighting tears.

  A large carriage and its four horses came past them, very near where they were standing, flinging mud and muck their way. Gabriel placed his hand gingerly on her elbow saying, “Let’s get out of the street and find a place where we might talk without fearing for our lives.”

  Minutes later, they stood sheltered in a mews that opened onto the street. Shops lined the mews and the shoppers hurried past them as they stood in front of a bakery.

  “I know this is most presumptuous of me, but I must ask regardless. Jane, may I see you while you are in town?”

  At her stricken expression, he quickly added, “My intentions are only good, you need not fear a repeat of May. I was thinking perhaps we could attend the theatre one evening, or take a stroll through Hyde Park, or share a meal.” He reached out to smooth back a wayward lock of her hair, and at his touch he heard the quick intake of breath.

  He knew that to ask her to accompany him unchaperoned was inappropriate, but knowing her feelings about some conventions he didn’t think she would be too concerned about propriety in this situation. She was, after all, no longer a woman in her twenties.

  “All of those activities sound delightful. You know, of course, I should invite my brother to join us, to make it proper. But, and I hope you will not take this wrong and be offended, I would prefer to keep our friendship private. No one need know I am seeing a gentleman friend whilst in town.” She cocked her head and raised one brow, a flirty smirk on her lips.

  That she would not feel bound to play by the rules was no surprise. He took her gloved hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it, all the while keeping his eyes on hers.

  “No one need know that we are spending time together, Jane. After all, you are not likely to encounter many people of your acquaintance while in town. I can go days without seeing anyone I know, and I live here.”

  Standing so close to her, close enough to smell her perfume, hearing that she was still interested in having a friendship, that she had for all intents and purposes forgiven him, all made him want to take her in his arms and kiss her smiling lips. But to do so would frighten her away again, and their friendship would be over before it began. No, he would have to hold himself in check. He took a step back.

  “May I take you to the theatre this Friday evening?”

  “Oh, I do love the theatre! That would be delightful. In fact, I will be able to slip out undetected that evening, as Henry will be with associates of his at his club.” She looked up at him, smiling.

  “Then it is set, as long as you first tell me one thing, Jane.”

  “Yes?” The smile was gone.

  “My, uh . . . nature. It does not frighten you? Disgust you? Repulse you?”

  She grabbed his arm and peered at him anxiously. “Gabriel, I would lie if I were to say it did not disturb me greatly when I first learned the truth. It was like a scary childhood tale, unreal and otherworldly. But that feeling lasted only a short time. Then I remembered all the fine qualities, human qualities, that you possess, that first drew me to you, and I concluded that what you are does not matter as much as who you are.” She paused, fixing her eyes on his. “And you are a fine gentleman.”

  While he sighed out of relief, he could see she still had something to say, but was thinking better of it.

  “What is it Jane?” He feared the answer.

  She removed her hand from his arm, and began to wring her hands while staring at the ground. He took two fingers, and placing them under her chin gently, he lifted her face. A tear was coursing down one cheek.

  His brow furrowed with concern, he said, “Jane, please. What has you so distressed all of a sudden?”

  She tried to blink away the tears, and looking in the area of his chin, not
his eyes, she said, “I . . . enjoyed . . . everything . . . about that night. I want it again, Gabriel. I very much want to . . .” She glanced around as if to make sure she could not be heard, before whispering, “. . . share your bed again.”

  Gabriel was astounded. This, he did not expect. And he could not, under any circumstances, let it happen.

  As much as he may have wanted it to happen.

  He took a deep breath before saying, “Let’s have that conversation later, not here.” Then he took her hand. “My barouche shall be at your door at half past six on Friday if you will please give me your brother’s address.”

  “Number twenty-three, Hans Place. And I look forward to our conversation.” She gave him a sidelong smile in parting.

  No, my love, you will not like our conversation, not at all, he thought as he watched and admired her lovely figure as she walked out to the street.

  Chapter 9

  Warm, summer-night air greeted Gabriel and Jane following the theatre performance and it was decided a carriage ride through Hyde Park would not only be enjoyable but would give them an opportunity for the discussion Jane wanted to have, and Gabriel dreaded having to have.

  A breeze had come up, clearing the smoky London air and making the bright full moon clearly visible. Gabriel knew the warm, caressing, clean air and the full moon would only add to Jane’s growing desire. Throughout the evening she had taken every opportunity to touch his arm, lean into him, whisper in his ear. Each moment of contact inflamed his own desires, making for a painful time in the theatre seat and nearly undoing his resolve. They needed to have their discussion and get her safely delivered back to Hans Place before any harm could come to her.