Regina Jeffers - Vampire Darcys Desire
But tonight, Darcy wanted none of that. “If you do not mind, Elizabeth, I would like a holiday from thinking of George Wickham or the curse. Could we not today just be the Darcys of Pemberley?”
“Certainly, Fitzwilliam. I would enjoy that also.” Impulsively, she sat up and turned where she might reach him. Recognizing his pensive mood, Elizabeth wound her arms around his neck before meeting his lips with hers.“I believe that the Darcys of Pemberley have a great love.What do you think, Sir?”
Darcy tightened his hold on her. “The Darcys of Pemberley could be one of the great love stories.”
Appearing in the Longbourn foyer the day after Christmas, Wickham, as Colonel Forster, asked to speak to Mr. Bennet. After waiting a few minutes, Mrs. Hill ushered him into Mr. Bennet’s study.
Mr. Bennet came to his feet as the man entered the room. “Colonel Forster,” he said, “I am happy to see you again, Sir.” Bennet offered his hand and then motioned to a nearby chair. “How may I help you, Colonel?”
Wickham settled himself comfortably in the wing chair, placing his gloves in his hat and then resting it on his knees.“I will get right to the crux of my visit, Mr. Bennet; I come on behalf of my wife, Mrs. Forster. My Anna has become very fond of your youngest daughter, Miss Lydia. Mrs. Forster hopes that you will allow Miss Lydia to accompany my wife and me to London for the annual Festive Ball.”
“When is the ball?”
“The day after tomorrow, Sir. We leave today and return the morning after the New Year’s. We shall take rooms at the Whitmore, a hotel only two streets from the hall. Of course, Miss Lydia will be staying with Mrs. Forster, as is only proper.”
Mr. Bennet paused for a long moment before stating,“You will forgive my prudence, Sir, in wishing to keep my daughters close.
“We had the three attacks within a few days, but for a fortnight there has been nothing.” Wickham toyed with his gloves. “The magistrate and I believe the perpetrator was someone passing through the area, probably committing other crimes along the way.”
Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair, weighing what the colonel had said. “As a man I respect, you will understand if I insist that Lydia not go anywhere without you or Mrs. Forster.”
“Of course, Mr. Bennet; I would expect nothing less. Miss Lydia is so young. I guarantee that your daughter will never leave my sight.” Wickham relished making such statements—they were perfectly true, but not the way the hearer presumed.
“I would never consider this, Colonel, if not for your impeccable reputation, and if not for the fact that I would not hear the end of it from Mrs. Bennet if I denied Lydia a chance to meet an eligible young officer. Mrs. Bennet reminds me every day of our duty to find husbands for all our daughters, as my estate is entailed upon a distant cousin. However, Lydia shall travel to London with my wife’s brother. Then you and Mrs. Forster may retrieve her from her uncle’s home.That way, you will not have to bear my youngest daughter’s silliness for your entire journey.” He took out a piece of paper and began scrawling the Gardiners’ address. “And my brother Gardiner plans to leave within a few hours.”
Wickham had not anticipated such a turn of events. He tried to figure out how to explain the absence of Mrs. Forster when he returned for Lydia in a carriage. “How fortunate,” he interjected, “to have relatives in London.Then my wife and I will call for Miss Lydia this evening and take her with us. I wish to reach London before nightfall today.” Wickham picked up his hat, needing to make his leave as quickly as possible, having felt the image beginning
Bennet rose to his feet also. “I will give you time to escape the house, Colonel, before I tell Lydia,” he said with amusement. “It will save your ears the shrill of happiness to which we shall be subjected.” He took Wickham’s hand in farewell.Turning the hand, he commented,“That is odd, Colonel.You have the same marking on your wrist as the one I noticed on Mr.Wickham’s.”
Wickham laughed nervously; apparently the shapeshift had lost some of its originality.“Mr.Wickham is one of many soldiers who chose to display their loyalty to the Crown with this symbol; it is our pledge to defeat French tyranny.”
“How interesting,” Mr. Bennet mused. “I thought Mr. Wickham’s to be a birthmark.”
Wickham shifted his stance and headed towards the door, pulling on his gloves as he walked.“More than likely, Mr. Wickham earned his as I did—a few too many drinks and an Indian Punjab skilled in the art of tattoos.”
“I imagine so, Colonel,” Mr. Bennet said wryly as he followed Wickham to the door.“I wish you a safe journey, Sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bennet.We will see you on the New Year’s.” Wickham left quickly, striding from the house and mounting the horse without looking back. Before he could reach the outer rim of the property, his disguise gave way to his own face and body. “That was close,” he mumbled to himself.“Would that I could predict the shape change. It must have something to do with Darcy’s attack at Netherfield. I had no problem before that time. Maybe Amelia did not get out the entire silver shaft.”
Leaving Longbourn, Wickham turned his horse towards London. He held the address of Lydia Bennet’s uncle in Cheapside and the means with which to destroy Elizabeth Darcy, and, ultimately, Fitzwilliam Darcy. In two hundred years—since Ellender D’Arcy and Lord Benning—no one had challenged him as these two did.
CHAPTER 21
Late in the afternoon, once more shifted into the image of Colonel Forster, Wickham released the knocker on the Gardiners’ town house door, and a maid admitted him immediately.“Ah, Colonel,” Mr. Gardiner extended a greeting as Wickham stepped into the drawing room. “Prompt, as predicted. Have a seat, Sir. May I offer you something to drink or some other refreshment?”
“Thank you, Mr. Gardiner. Although I do not wish to offend your hospitality, if you do not object, I would retrieve your niece and be on my way. I left Mrs. Forster at the hotel to freshen herself for dinner, and I am eager to do the same, as I am sure will Miss Lydia. I brought a carriage for your niece, and I will ride beside it for protection.”
“Of course, Colonel. Let me send for Lydia.We did not unpack my niece’s trunks in anticipation of your arrival.” Mr. Gardiner rose from his seat to ring for a servant.
Wickham remained standing, anxious to be gone.“As I hired a coach, and one has no idea about the true abilities of such workers, I will take my leave of you, Sir, and oversee the securing of Miss Lydia’s belongings. I prefer things done properly the first time.” He made his way to the door, bowed, and stepped into the hallway.
Assuming the man’s abruptness was a result of Colonel Forster’s military efficiency, Mr. Gardiner simply followed him into the foyer.“Lydia will be out in a moment, Sir.” Mr. Gardiner shook hands with him once again and disappeared into the recesses of the house.
Meanwhile,Wickham instructed the servants in storing Lydia’s baggage.When the girl in question appeared, along with her aunt and uncle,Wickham helped her into the back of the hired carriage before mounting his horse. Lydia waved farewell to her family and giggled with the prospect of balls and parties and fawning soldiers.
“Colonel!” Mr. Gardiner called as the coach began to edge into traffic, and Wickham reined in the animal to hear the man’s parting words. “Mrs. Gardiner and I plan to take our niece shopping tomorrow.We will come by the Whitmore at noon. Please tell Mrs. Forster we would be pleased if she could join us.”
“I am sure my wife would take great delight in relieving me of my purse, Mr. Gardiner. I will inform Mrs. Forster of your plans.” With a tap of his crop to his hat as a parting salute, Wickham nudged the steed forward in an obvious need to be gone, and then he galloped away to catch the rapidly vanishing coach.
When she peered out the coach’s window, finding George Wickham riding beside it surprised Lydia. “Mr. Wickham!” she exclaimed after moving the drape aside and lowering the window. “What on earth are you doing here? And where is the colonel?”
Wickham offered up his most seductive smile.“Colonel Forster wanted to find a special gift for his wife before returning to the hotel. I believe the good colonel plans to woo his lovely bride this evening.” He edged the horse closer to the coach.“I assured him I would happily see you to your destination.”
Lydia dropped her eyes, blushing. “That is most kind of you, Lieutenant.”
Wickham paused, increasing the drama. “It is not so kind, Miss Lydia; I did it for very selfish reasons.”
“What type of selfish reasons, Mr.Wickham?”
“If you allow me to ride with you, Miss Lydia, I would express my deepest regard to a beautiful woman.”To emphasize his sincerity, he touched the window where her hand rested upon the opening.
“That would be a great break with propriety, Sir.”Although she was young, Lydia Bennet was well schooled in how to tempt a man and then withdraw. Unfortunately, with Wickham, her wiles on a man were worthless. He would get what he wanted, whether she chose to offer it or not.
“I promise I have only the highest opinion of you, Miss Lydia. I would wish to express my plans for my future and my ardent admiration for one of God’s most beautiful creatures.” Such niceties never failed to make a woman let down her guard, whether she be a working-class bar maid or a lady of the realm.
Lydia bit her bottom lip, debating the sensibility of allowing a man to share her carriage. She believed she had good reason to hope for a proposal of marriage from Mr. Wickham. So she said, “As you wish, Mr.Wickham.”
Wickham called up to the coachman and reined in his horse. Dismounting, he tied the animal to the back of the coach and climbed in, seating himself across from her. Lydia settled back into the cheap seats of the letted coach. She smoothed the creases of her dress and tried to look prepared for what she hoped would happen.
Once the coach rolled again, Wickham leaned forward and took Lydia’s hand in his.As he made small circles with his fingertips along her wrists, he beckoned her to look at him. His gaze would solidify his control over the girl.“Miss Lydia,” he said slowly, giving himself time to enthrall her,“I wish to keep you with me through eternity. I would give you a love no one else can. I would welcome you into my arms nightly; we would be partners in the oldest game known to man.”With what ability to think she still possessed, Lydia envisioned balls and kisses and wedding dresses. “Instead of the Forsters, please say you will let me take you to Scotland, where we may join forever. I have a home of which you will be mistress in your own right.”
Lydia Bennet simply nodded her agreement. His eyes held her, and she could no longer generate an independent thought.Wickham enjoyed this moment, the one when his whims became his victim’s actions.Whatever he wanted would occur. He could manipulate Lydia Bennet as he chose. Wickham knew better than anyone how all humanity fed on the power of one another. Every minute of every day, people tried to best their neighbors—to suck the life from those less fortunate, leaving the weakest drained and ruined.
Darkness filled the windows as Wickham moved to the seat
When he sank his teeth into the spot, she flinched but then relaxed into his arms.This moment always amazed him, because as the victim’s life became his to use as he saw fit—as the fluid flowed into his innards—the stranger’s life moved through him—all their memories were now his. Lydia left him with stolen kisses behind the stable from a knock-kneed storekeeper, with games of hide-and-seek with her sisters, with the frustrations of useless music lessons, and with boisterous laughter to hide her own insecurities.
He did not drink enough to kill her outright, just enough to change Lydia Bennet forever. He did not break her neck but instead gently released her, laying the girl back along the seat. He lifted Lydia’s feet onto his lap and removed her slippers; then he absentmindedly stroked her leg from ankle to knee. Being given such liberties would sexually arouse a man, but Wickham was more interested in the texture of her skin, making sure it retained its softness. He would exchange fluids with her several more times over the next couple of days on their way to Northumberland. The lights of London faded into the distance.The coach isolated them from the outside world; he no longer heard the click and the clack of the wheels on the roadway. He sprinkled some of his home earth on the opposite seat and settled in for a long rest.The coachman was one of his followers.There would be no need to stop for food or drink. Changing horses would be the only delays. They would return to his home and wait for what Fitzwilliam Darcy would do next. By noon tomorrow, when her aunt and uncle discovered that Lydia was gone, there would be no turning back. He had instigated a last stand—a final battle with Darcy—one from which only one of them could walk away.
“What does it say, Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth watched him as he read the latest report from one of the many investigators he had hired to find Wickham. It was two days after Christmas, and by silent agreement, they had not discussed Wickham or the curse since his declaration on Christmas day of wanting time away from the obsession.
He tossed the paper on the desk with disgust.The information brought his reprieve to a close. For those few hours, he had enjoyed being simply the master of Pemberley, overseeing his properties, scouring the newspapers for political pieces that would affect his tenants or his business holdings, treating Georgiana in an attentive way, and stealing romantic moments with his wife. This could be his life if not for an ancient hex, and Darcy did not want it to end. “We have news from one of Bramwell’s agents. He located Wickham’s home.”
Elizabeth moved quickly to grab the letter. “Where?” Her eyes searched the words for the answer.
“Near Chillingham.” Darcy crossed the room, putting space between him and the damnable missive. Hands resting on the sill, he took up a sentry position at the window overlooking the south lawn, where he had wrestled in the snow with Elizabeth only a week earlier.
Recognizing his foul mood, Elizabeth first put the offending letter in her pocket so that she might read it more closely later. Then she encircled his waist with her arms and rested her head against the lean, strong muscles of Darcy’s back.“What causes your grief, my Husband?” Elizabeth knew the letter to be related to his discontent, but she knew not the exact reason.“Did not Bramwell’s men do a thorough job?”
Darcy sighed.“On the contrary; they were very professional.”
“Then I do not understand.Are you not happy to know where we might find Wickham?”
Darcy held her to him, clasping her hands tightly. He did not answer for several moments, choosing instead to keep up his vigil and to enjoy the warmth of Elizabeth’s body along his back. “I
