Miss Austen's Vampire

by Monica Knightley

  Leaning close to him to avoid being overheard by the driver and footman, Jane said, “So, Gabriel, there is no more avoiding it. We must have that promised talk now.” She gazed up at him with a coquettish fluttering of her eyelashes.

  “Yes, we do, but, my dear, I fear you will not like what I must say.” He glowered at her sternly, eyes intense, brow furrowed.

  Gabriel could hear her heart begin to race. She was not happy with this beginning.

  Looking away from his intense glare, Jane muttered, “So, what is it you must say, pray tell?”

  “We cannot, my dear, be lovers. Ever. To do so would be wrong. You deserve much better than to share a bed with a monster.”

  “And do I not have a say as to whom I wish to make love?”

  “Normally yes, of course. In this case though, no, you do not. Lovely women do not get to be with monsters.”

  “Gabriel, there are many aspects of what you are saying that are simply wrong headed, and with which I cannot agree. If you will bear with me, I would very much like to address these points.” Her words were clipped, her voice strident. And now she returned the glare with her own eyes narrowed.

  “You may address them. They will not change anything.”

  “Insufferable man!” In the moonlight, Gabriel could see her face color.

  He tilted his head and peered at her. Gesturing with his hand for her to continue, he said, “Please. Let us hear what you must say.”

  “Thank you,” she spat. After a deep, slow breath, she said, “First, you must cease referring to yourself as a monster. You are not a monster and I can tell you this because I would not fall in love with a monster.”

  Gabriel stiffened at the words.

  “Yes, I did say that I love you. I suspected such feelings when we were at Dartfourd, even before you kissed me. Actually it was at the dinner party when you confessed to committing to memory some of my work. I have never met a man anything like you, Gabriel Augustine. You are intelligent, unafraid to admit to reading popular novels—something few men do—you are gentle and kindly, exceedingly handsome”—her voice nervously broke on those last words—“and a thoughtful, generous lover. From the little I have heard of such matters, it is my understanding that few men care to please a woman in the bed, rather it is all for themselves. How, given all these attributes, could you imagine me immune to falling in love with you?”

  When Gabriel tried to answer, she placed a finger on his lips, silencing him.

  “Second, do you think that I, a gentlewoman, would want to have sexual relations with a man I do not love? Do you think me a tart? I would not ask to share another night like the one in May if I did not love you, Gabriel!”

  He studied her face, taking in each feature in turn. His eyes lingered on her lips before he finally found his voice.

  “Jane, dear Jane. Do you know what you are saying? I am a killer.” Seeing her flinch at the words, he quickly continued, “Yes, I have killed. Many times since my change. I kill, and thus I am a monster. You cannot love a killer.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. “I did not realize,” she whispered.

  “Did not realize I kill? How do you suppose I get sustenance? No, I was not spinning a child’s fairytale when I told you I am a monster. It is a simple truth that I am.”

  Jane sat in stunned silence. Gabriel took this to mean his message had been received and he leaned to speak to the driver, “Hans Place now, we can . . .”

  “No,” she said in full voice. “No, do not take us back yet. I am not ready.”

  After directing the driver to continue on the loop around the park, he turned to Jane and asked, “Why ever not?”

  “We are not finished with this.” She said each word through gritted teeth.

  He sat back, folded his arms over his chest, and sighed.

  “Fine. What else is there?”

  “I know you are simply trying to protect me. I know that. But you did say we could spend time together while I’m in London, correct?” When he nodded, she continued. “Well, then you cannot believe yourself a complete monster if you were willing to spend innocent time with me.”

  “I can spend time with a woman I find interesting without killing her, Jane. But I refuse to believe that a lady such as you would want to be intimate with a killer.”

  “May I ask one more question?” she asked, ignoring his comment.

  He nodded without looking at her.

  “Do you feel anything for me, other than friendship? Oh, and lust, that you are now so obviously fighting. Do you feel anything more profound, Gabriel?”

  He raised his eyes to her face and delighted in it for several long moments. She was lovely. Soft and innocent, bright and amusing, humorous and flirtatious. While he endured the pain of being separated from her for all these months, he never allowed himself to wonder why he felt such pain.

  “We need to get you home before your brother returns.”

  “No, Gabriel, do not do that. Please, look at me, and answer my question. I know it is not the role of the woman to ask such questions, but I think we are not working within the normal societal constraints, are we? I have confessed my love for you. Yes, yes, I know you are a killer, but I am still trying to fully understand that and how it relates to your nature, so for now I am putting that aside. I do love you. I love you, Gabriel. And now I must ask, unladylike though it may be, do you love me?”

  Until this moment he had not known the answer to that question. But thinking back over the past months, especially the time at Dartfourd, he knew the answer now. He knew why thinking of her brought him joy. Why, since she fled that night, he had felt so much pain that he had ended up overindulging in his appetites. Why his entire body and mind had rejoiced when he saw her in the street just days ago.

  He was indeed in love with her. He was in love with Miss Austen. Jane.

  That he had been able to convince himself otherwise for so long was ludicrous. It was as if each time the thought had begun to niggle at the back of his mind he shoved it away by telling himself what a horrendous monster he was. And needing to acknowledge and prove the reality of the monster, he had killed and killed again. Now, with the amazing woman sitting beside him confessing her love for him, the demons could be banished. For she was right. She couldn’t love a monster. And a monster could not love.

  And he was in love.

  Taking both her hands in his, he looked deeply into her teary eyes and admitted, “Yes, Jane, I do indeed, absolutely, unconditionally love you.” He began to laugh softly. “I surprise myself, Jane! Not only did I think I could not love as the demon I believed myself to be, I never loved as a human. I have never been in love until now, until you, Jane. Never. Oh my!” As he laughed, he leaned to her and softly pressed his lips against hers. Her arms wrapped behind his neck and she kissed him back. Her tears, unleashed now, ran down both their faces.

  Between tearful hiccups, she said, “You love me. You actually do love me. Oh, Gabriel!”

  With the moonlight flooding into the carriage, they kissed and laughed and cried. For the first time since his change, Gabriel felt pure happiness and joy.

  So why, he asked himself, do I feel this overwhelming sense of foreboding?

  Chapter 10

  Gabriel, fully awake, lay with his body wrapped around Jane’s as she slept, hand gently resting on her breast. He was thinking back over the past two hours and was surprised by what an eager and energetic lover she was. Why this surprised him, he wasn’t sure, but considering the very proper novels she wrote he might have been expecting something different altogether. But her enthusiasm delighted him. His face was buried in her hair, and he smiled and kissed her head.

  Listening to her soft breaths he considered the monstrous life he’d been living during their separation and knew it could never, would never happen again. In love with this magnificent woman there would be no more killing. To do so would dishonor their love. And make him something he abhorred.

  An hour later, Jane
began to stir and made cooing sounds of contentment. The sounds warmed Gabriel’s dead heart and he sat up to watch her as she returned from the dream world. When she finally opened her eyes, it was his face they sought out, and as soon as they found his eyes she smiled, wide and dreamy.

  “My love,” she whispered.

  He answered her with a soft kiss on her lips.

  “I have one regret, Gabriel,” she said, and his heart clenched. “No, no, no, unknit your brow. It isn’t the kind of regret you are imagining.” She softly chuckled. “No, my regret is that I did not know you when I was younger, and that I wasted so many years not knowing this supreme pleasure.” She gave him a lopsided grin.

  “I’m afraid you would not have liked the younger me. I was even more self-centered than I am now.” He ran a finger up and down her arm, admiring the fair, smooth skin.

  “Perhaps, but did you know all you do now about pleasing a woman? For if you did, I might not have minded your self-centeredness.” Now she laughed aloud.

  “I only knew how to please myself. The woman’s pleasure was never a concern of mine. Not until now, with you. Now it is all that matters to me, making sure you are pleasured.”

  “Well, I am, Mr. Augustine.” She leaned up to kiss him, a lingering, warm kiss.

  When they parted, she said, “However, I do have one question. You did not bite me this time. Why?”

  He stiffened and moved a few inches away from her, making sure no part of his body was in contact with any part of hers.

  “Is it not obvious? I don’t want you to be with a monster.” His words were clipped.

  “What if I enjoyed it? Wanted it?” She was peering at him from under her lashes, striking a coquettish pose like a character from one of her books might do.

  “You want to be with a monster?” There was no mistaking the anger in his voice.

  “No, not a monster, just the man I love, as he truly is. His true nature. I have told you I could not love a monster, so you are not a monster.” Now she lowered her eyes, and he saw a blush crawl up her neck to her cheeks. “And, well, the effect . . . of the bite, well . . . it was most enjoyable.”

  The vampire bite both anesthetized the bite area and delivered a potent chemical to the donor, which greatly heightened the sexual experience for the donor. It was this intense pleasure Jane was asking about—and requesting.

  Jane raised her eyes to him as Gabriel’s took her in. She was so lovely and his love for her meant he could deny her nothing. He knew this monstrous request should be denied, that losing blood could not be good for her. But he also knew he wouldn’t deny her. If it was what she wanted, what gave her pleasure, how could he say no?

  “I will consider it. Maybe next time.”

  Sitting up suddenly, she pushed him down and sat across his hips. “Well, let’s make that next time now. I love you, Gabriel, so very much”—she ran her fingers from his temple to his chin— “and want to feel everything this time.”

  He knew it was apparent to her that he was ready for another time, his very visible erection betraying him. And he couldn’t deny that he was already aching to have her again.

  Sometime later, when he bit her and drank from her, the subsequent orgasm that seized her made her scream out. The servants would surely hear. And neither of the lovers cared. At that moment all that mattered was the exquisite physical delight they were sharing.

  Before it was over, Jane had experienced that delight many times over, as if an unquenchable hunger had overcome her.

  A hunger that would be her undoing.

  PART II

  THE UNDOING

  Chapter 11

  September 4, 1815

  London

  My Dearest Jane,

  Your return to Chawton has left me quite bereft. London is a dismal place when it is not afforded your loveliness. And I am made a dismal man.

  Were I to have the gift of words that Lord Byron possesses, I would tell you in the most beautiful ways how much I love, adore, and miss you. For I love you, Jane, I do.

  While I hope your time at home with your family is most pleasant, I secretly hope you will soon find yourself back here in London where we may once again be together.

  Most affectionately,

  Gabriel

  October 23, 1815

  23 Hans Place

  London

  Dearest Gabriel,

  I hope my daily missives have not been too much for you to bear. It seems that I cannot sit down to work on my writing without first pouring out all my feelings, frustrations, and love to you.

  But today it is delightful news I send. Well, delightful for you and me, less so for my ailing brother, Henry. I am back in London! Sadly, it is to care for Henry, but I will certainly be able to leave the house for a few hours at a time, at least a few times a week. I wonder however I will spend those free hours. Perhaps you have a suggestion, Gabriel?

  Affectionately yours,

  Jane

  Postscriptum: I would like very much to share my latest writing with you. The Elliots is fast becoming one of my favorite creations. I hope you will love Anne Elliot as much as I do.

  Chapter 12

  November 2, 1815

  Hans Place, London

  My Dear Cassandra,

  It is with immense relief that I may finally report that my brother, Henry, is improving. After weeks of the fever, he finally mends. I first had reason to hope that he would soon improve when a new doctor was brought in for another opinion. This doctor, Dr. Baillie, is trying a new course of treatment. He also happens to be the Prince Regent’s physician, but Cassandra I assure you I am not holding this against him. He seems to be a fine physician, despite his other associations.

  I would be amiss not to tell you that due to Dr. Baillie’s infamous acquaintance I am to make a visit to Carlton House on the 13th of this month. I have told no one of this yet, no one, and beg you to keep this in confidence. It seems that the prince is an admirer, or claims to be an admirer, of my books. As you can imagine I am not anxious for this honor. I fear I know to whom I will be obligated to dedicate Emma.

  My dear sister, while I do write to tell you of Henry’s improving health, and my coming visit to Carlton House, it is for another reason that I write today. For several months I have longed to share this with you, but as you will soon see, I felt that to do so would be most imprudent. I still am of this belief, but I can no longer keep it to myself. But I do not wish to worry you, I assure you I am quite well. What I have to tell you is of a most intimate nature, and as my beloved sister I must reveal to you my closely held secret.

  I am in love. Yes, at my greatly advanced age, I have fallen in love. Do not be angry with me for not sharing this with you before now. You will see that there are good reasons why I could not. But first, let me tell you about the man who has entranced me. Yes, entranced, for no other word will do. Gabriel is everything Mr. Darcy is, and more that Mr. Darcy could only wish to be. Mr. Darcy should wish to be so handsome. Mr. Darcy should wish to be so amusing, intelligent, kind, thoughtful, gentle, and devoted. Gabriel is every good man I have ever written, altogether in one. I love him dearly.

  But sadly I must tell you that my relationship with Gabriel must never become known. You must tell no one. I know I should not be telling you, but it has become impossible to keep such an important part of my life from you. Gabriel and I will never marry. No, he is not married. I would never become involved with another woman’s husband. He is not a felon. But more than this I cannot tell you. Just please believe that we have sufficient reasons for keeping our love secret. Trust me and the Christian woman I have always been that I am not making a sinful mistake.

  My heart has been so full of joy since Gabriel came into my life. And now my dearest sister knows of my joy, and this, too, brings me happiness.

  I must return to Henry now. He will be wishing to go out to the garden for his air.

  Please burn this letter after you have read it through several times. Fo
r I know you will be so incredulous that you will require many readings.

  I am very affectionately yours,

  Jane

  Chapter 13

  December 15, 1815

  Hans Place, London

  My Dearest Gabriel,

  This line I wrote for The Elliots has great personal meaning for me, as you and what you have brought into my life inspired its writing. The heroine of the book shares some characteristics with me, and this line is to do with her. And as you will see, it is mine as well. It is as follows:

  “She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older: the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning.”

  Do you not think it is as much about me, and my finding love so late in life? Finding you.

  I do truly believe that romance at my age is the sweetest of all.

  I am most affectionately yours,

  J.

  Chapter 14

  February 4, 1816

  Chawton

  My Love,

  To finally be so close to you. It is true bliss to know you are not two miles away. This cottage has already brought me such joy! If only I could be here always, and never be taken back to town by odious business. But to see you more often! Oh, Jane. Are we not fortunate to be able to meet again? I do love you so.

  Dearest Jane, your enthusiasm for our activities last night impressed me. Greatly impressed me. Each time we partake in that activity, I am surprised by how much you seem to so thoroughly enjoy it. I wish you could see the smile on my wicked face as I write these words!