‘Still?’
‘Yes, still. I love you, Darcy, nothing can ever change that.’
Her hand closed over his own. He took it gratefully and returned her pressure.
‘But you are not eating,’ he said.
It was true. She had finished her savoury plate of meat and vegetables, and it lay empty before her. He stood up and went over to the wall where he pulled a bell rope then returned to the table.
‘You have not finished your meal,’ she said, looking at his plate.
He hesitated.
‘No,’ he said.
‘Do you eat? Or do you eat… other things?’ she asked with a shudder.
‘No, never that,’ he said, reading her mind. ‘We have a choice of what we eat. There are those who prey on humans but Georgiana and I have never done so; we slake our thirsts in other ways.’
Something Elizabeth had heard in Venice came back to her. She remembered Sophia saying, ‘The glory, it has passed, the great days, they have gone. There is no place in the world now for our kind, not unless we will take it, and take it with much blood. There are those who will do so, but me, I find I love my fellow man too much and I cannot end his life, not even to restore what has been lost. But without great ruthlessness, glory fades and strength is gone.’
She had thought that Sophia was talking about the fall of Venice and the plotting of a few to overthrow the French with bloodshed, but now she understood.
‘Sophia was a vampyre,’ she said, ‘wasn’t she?’
‘Yes,’ said Darcy.
‘And the other people I met in Venice?’
‘Many of them, yes.’
‘So that is why they wanted to hold a costume ball; it reminded them of their own pasts—and their own youth?’
‘Yes.’
Elizabeth thought of the beautiful clothes. They had not been handed down through the generations as she had supposed; they had been kept by their original owners.
‘And that is how you knew the steps to the galliard,’ she said. ‘You had danced it before. And Sophia, like you, chose not to hunt humans.’
‘All my friends, all my vampyre friends, have made the same choice. Only those who choose to turn for evil purposes, or those who are turned by a malignant vampyre against their will, hunt humans,’ he said.
‘Malignant vampyres,’ said Elizabeth with a shudder as she remembered her ordeal. ‘Who was the vampyre in the forest?’
‘As to who he is, no one knows. He is one of the oldest of us, an Ancient, but how he was made we do not know.’
‘Do you think he will find us here?’
‘I hope not. We are well hidden, and he does not know I own this lodge. Besides, he has been hurt. He will go underground now to recover and will likely not emerge for many years.’
‘So long?’
‘To a vampyre, a year is nothing,’ he said.
The door opened and the servants returned. Their soft footfalls were almost silent on the thick carpet as they cleared the plates.
‘Some fruit and cheese,’ said Darcy to them, ‘and anything else you have which might tempt my wife.’
They soon returned with a platter of bread and cheese and several bunches of grapes. They set the food close to Elizabeth and with it a clean plate, moving respectfully all the while. She took one of the grapes, pulling it from the bunch and putting it into her mouth.
‘And the people at Pemberley? Do they know?’ she asked.
‘Some of the servants, yes.’
‘Mrs Reynolds? She said she had known you since you were four years old.’
‘She was our nurse. She was waiting for us when we returned to our estate, where Lady Catherine—for it was she who turned us—took us in her carriage, after she had made us vampyres. The plague had spread there too, and the other servants had fled, but Mrs Reynolds had remained. When she saw us she told us to stay away, thinking she would infect us, but Lady Catherine offered her the same choice she had offered us, and Mrs Reynolds joined us.’
Elizabeth nodded. She took a knife and cut a piece of cheese, eating it with some of the rustic bread and following it with more of the grapes.
‘If you were alive in 1665, then you must be 150 years old,’ said Elizabeth wonderingly. ‘And in all this time you have never married. There has never been a Mrs Darcy?’
‘No, never once,’ he said.
‘Because of the curse,’ she said.
‘No,’ he said simply. ‘Because I never met you.’
He stroked his fingers over the back of her hand and stroked his thumb across her palm, then lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it lovingly.
‘Is there nothing we can do?’ she asked him. ‘No way of changing things? Of undoing what has been done?’
‘No,’ he said with a look of profound sadness. ‘None.’
The servants stirred.
‘Have you finished your meal?’ he asked Elizabeth.
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Then let us move into the drawing room and leave the servants to clear.’
‘I wish…’ said Elizabeth, as they did as he had suggested.
‘Yes?’
‘I wish we could forget all this, just for a day or two.’
‘Then we will, for a few days at least,’ he said with a smile. ‘Let us be simply Mr and Mrs Darcy as we were meant to be.’
Chapter 15
Ensconced in the hunting lodge, away from the world, Elizabeth was happier than she had been since her wedding day. She and Darcy took refuge from the problems facing them and wandered through the gardens in the early morning when the dew was on the grass and the air was fresh and clear. They delighted in the flowers which, although less vigorous than they had been earlier in the season, were still putting forth their blooms. They talked of many things, of their childhoods and their families, and like other newlyweds, they talked of their hopes and dreams. All subjects save one they discussed, and that subject, for the time being, they avoided.
Over the hot noontide hours they retreated indoors and sat on the shady veranda, eating olives and other tasty delicacies. Then, when the heat began to dissipate, they wandered further afield, smelling the sweet scent of herbs, and walked by the side of streams or strolled in the shade of the Lombardy poplars which stood like sentinels on guard in the fields.
‘We will take a picnic with us tomorrow. There is a place I want to show you,’ said Darcy.
They set off before the heat of the day and wandered down a country lane and onto a track which led to a cliff top overlooking the ocean. There was a small copse of trees, their spreading branches forming an umbrella of shade. Dappled light danced over the ground as the wind stirred the leaves, creating ever-changing patterns on the grassy floor beneath it. Nearby a stream trickled over rocks, the sound of it cooling and refreshing.
Darcy spread out the rug and they sat down, unpacking good, homely fare: bread, cheese, and cold meats, with small cakes, bunches of grapes, and glasses of sweet wine. They ate leisurely, enjoying the view and the novelty of eating in the open. When they had finished, Elizabeth lay back with her head in Darcy’s lap and he stroked her hair and kissed her with soft, gentle kisses, and they talked of their plans for Pemberley.
‘When we return to England, I would like to have your portrait painted. I have been thinking about it for a long time, ever since the time you walked to Netherfield when Jane was ill. It was Caroline who suggested the idea, although she did so to ridicule me. She was aware that I was interested in you, and she wanted to tease me out of my preference. After telling me to hang a portrait of your aunt and uncle Phillips in the gallery next to my great uncle the judge, she said that I must not attempt to have your portrait painted for what painter could do justice to your eyes? I had offended her by saying that your eyes were very fine,’ he explained.
Elizabeth smiled at the compliment and, as her eyes looked lovelier than ever, Darcy was prompted to kiss her again.
‘Ever since then I have been thinki
ng how well your portrait would look at Pemberley. I mean to hang it in the hall,’ said Darcy.
‘No,’ said Elizabeth, ‘not in the hall. It must go next to your portrait in the gallery, the one I saw when I visited Pemberley with my aunt and uncle for the first time. The artist had caught your likeness very well. There was a smile about your lips, and I remembered I had seen the same smile on your face when you had looked at me. It made me regret all my foolish prejudices, which had made it so difficult for me to like you and to see your worth, and had instead encouraged me to cling to my first impression of you.’
‘Which was not very favourable.’
‘No. Nor was your first impression favourable of me.’
‘How could I not have seen your beauty?’ he asked. ‘I look at you now and I see you in all your loveliness and I can barely stop myself from…’
He fell silent as he approached dangerous ground.
‘We must have a family gathering at Christmas,’ he said, changing the subject.
‘Yes,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘We must invite Mama and Papa and the girls, and Jane and Bingley, and Charlotte and Mr Collins.’
Darcy stopped stroking Lizzy’s hair as she mentioned the Collinses.
‘Must we have them?’ he asked.
‘Not if you don’t want to, but I would like to have them, or at least, I would like to have Charlotte.’
‘She might prefer to go to Lucas Lodge to visit her family,’ said Darcy with hope in his voice.
‘That is true, but I think I must ask her, all the same. I cannot admire her for marrying Mr Collins; indeed, I am very disappointed in her taste and her judgement, but she was right when she said that we were not alike, and I have no right to judge her for her decision. Although I perhaps cannot feel such perfect friendship for her as I once did, she is still my friend and I would like to see her again.’
‘Then invite her,’ said Darcy. ‘Your Aunt and Uncle Gardiner must come, of course. Without them we might never have met again.’
‘If we hadn’t come to Pemberley, would you have been content to leave things as they were?’ asked Elizabeth, turning to look at him. ‘Would you have gone your way and left me to go mine?’
‘No,’ he confessed. ‘I couldn’t forget you, no matter how hard I tried, and no matter how great the barriers between us. I think I would have gone to Netherfield again with Bingley whatever had occurred. I knew I had to tell him about Jane, that she had been in London and that I had kept it from him, and once I told him, I knew he would go back to Netherfield. I am sure I would not have been able to resist seeing you again and so I would have gone too.’
‘And everything would have been the same.’
‘Yes, it would. We were destined to be together, you and I, Lizzy.’
‘Yes, I think so too. Although—’
‘Yes?’
‘I did wonder why it took you so long to propose. You came to Longbourn again with Bingley but then you did not speak to me for weeks. Was it because of your curse?’ she asked.
‘Yes, it was. I kept telling myself that it was impossible, but in the end, I loved you too much to live without you. I had tried to forget you and failed, and the more I knew of you, the more I knew I had to be with you.’
‘Did you not think I would notice that you never grew old?’ she asked. ‘Or were you going to say that your family was naturally blessed with long life?’ she added mischievously.
He laughed.
‘I knew you would notice eventually, but I thought I would have perhaps fifteen years with you before you became suspicious. That is more than five thousand days, over a hundred thousand hours, greater than two million minutes, and every one of them precious. But it was selfish of me.’
‘Not at all. I am flattered you wanted me so much,’ she said happily.
He kissed her softly on the lips.
‘Then I cannot regret it,’ he said. ‘I cannot regret anything, because everything in my life has led to this perfect moment with you.’
They lay there in companionable silence until the sun went behind a cloud, then they gathered up the picnic things and they returned arm in arm to the hunting lodge. Elizabeth played the piano. It was an old instrument and out of tune, but she found the familiar activity pleasurable and Darcy liked to listen to her.
Afterwards they settled down to write letters, Elizabeth to Jane, and Darcy to Georgiana. But as Elizabeth took up her quill she remembered something she had forgotten and turned to him in consternation.
‘When I was in the Prince’s carriage, I wrote a letter to Jane and threw it out of the window in the hope that one of the local people would see that it was sent. It said that I was being abducted and begged Jane to ask my father to enquire after me.’
‘Only you could have thought of such a thing at such a time!’ said Darcy with admiration.
‘If the letter arrives, my family will worry,’ said Elizabeth in some perturbation of spirits.
‘I will send the servants to look for it at once. Where was it?’
Elizabeth told him as well as she could.
‘If it has already been posted…?’ she began.
‘We will worry about that later. But for now, we will see if it can be found.’
He walked across the room to the fireplace and pulled the blue bell rope that hung next to it. The familiar jangling noise reached them from far off and soon one of the lodge servants appeared, quiet and respectful.
‘Mrs Darcy dropped a letter in the forest,’ Darcy said, giving the man directions. ‘Find it, if it is to be found. If not, make enquiries in the village. Bring it to me as soon as it has been discovered.’
‘Yes, Old One,’ he said with a bow, and departed.
‘Old One?’ said Elizabeth, her eyes widening. She put down her quill in surprise. ‘Then they know you for what you are?’
‘Yes, they do.’
‘But they don’t mind,’ said Lizzy wonderingly.
‘No,’ said Darcy. He walked over to the desk and took a seat beside her, sitting down on the battered but comfortable chair. ‘I did them a service once, long ago, when I saved the life of the head man of their village. He was travelling between two villages, arranging a marriage, when he was set upon and attacked by bandits. I drove them off and then saw him safely back to his village. He thanked me for my actions and invited me to make a home here, and when I accepted, he set his people to serve me. For many years I lived here and protected the village from attack. The hills and forests hereabouts are mostly safe now, but they were riddled with bandits at the time.’
‘There is so much about you I don’t know,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You are not the man I thought you were.’
‘I wish I was. I would like nothing better than to take you to Pemberley and for us to live out our lives as you wanted, as you expected… as you had every right to expect.’
The mood had become more sombre. The subject they had so carefully avoided had risen despite their best efforts to keep it down and now it would not be denied.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Elizabeth, looking at him sadly.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I only know that I want us to be together.’
‘You no longer want me to go away?’
‘No, I could not bear it if you did. But you, what do you want? Do you still want to come home to Pemberley?’ His voice was controlled but she could hear the emotion underneath. ‘I will release you from our marriage if that is your wish. You did not know what you were marrying in the church all those months ago in Meryton.’
‘The church,’ said Elizabeth, remembering. ‘How were you able to enter it? And how are you able to wear the cross I gave you?’
‘It is not my weakness,’ he said. ‘Every vampyre family has a different weakness. For some, it is garlic, for my uncle the Count, it is that he has no reflection. My family’s weakness is that we cannot be out of doors during sunrise or sunset. At those times of day, we become translucent and so we cannot pass amongst h
umans unnoticed, and if we remain out of doors at those times for too often, then a part of our solidity fades, never to return. And so, as it is not my weakness, I can enter a church and wear a cross, though it chafes me. But you have not answered my question. Do you want to be free of the marriage? A way can be found for a man of my wealth.’
There was something so vulnerable about him as he looked at her that she reached out her hand to him and he took it fervently.
‘No,’ she said. ‘We are meant to be together. I would like us to return to Pemberley, as we planned. But can we truly live there? Won’t your neighbours in Derbyshire notice you never age?’
‘I have ways of disguising it. Just before my neighbours begin to notice that something is amiss I leave Pemberley, and a few months later, it is given out that I have met with an accident or succumbed to an illness. Later still, I return to Pemberley as the new heir, sometimes apparently the nephew of my previous self, or the cousin. This time I was the son.’
‘Did no one wonder why they had never seen you as a child?’
‘One of my Fitzwilliam cousins had a little boy of the right age and so he visited me from time. The servants and neighbours accepted him as Master Darcy, who had been born abroad and whose mother had sadly died in childbirth. His frequent absences were explained by extended visits to relatives, attendance at school, and then at university.’
‘Did no one notice you were the same man?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘The similarity has always been put down to a family resemblance and nothing more, particularly as the prevailing fashions have helped me to disguise my appearance. It has been usual for men to wear wigs until very recently, and a man in a dark wig that tumbles to his waist in a mass of curls will always look different to a man in a short powdered wig. And recently the fashion has been for no wig at all.’
‘I suppose a similar ruse is used to hide Georgiana’s agelessness?’ asked Elizabeth. ‘How difficult your life must have been,’ she said in sympathy.
‘It was not the greatest of my difficulties,’ he remarked. He glanced at her sheet of paper, which was as yet empty. ‘Will you tell Jane?’ he asked.
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