Regina Jeffers - Vampire Darcys Desire
A cry of alarm filled the air as the being now controlling Wickham’s body covered his face with his hands.The smell of burning flesh filled the air as the colonel lunged to bring Wickham directly in front of him. The shrieks continued, but, undaunted, Damon placed the short muzzle of the gun to Wickham’s chest and pulled the trigger.
The sound of the gun momentarily drowned out the shrieks, and then total silence reigned. Gunpowder mixed with the stench of death surrounded them, and this time when he fell, none doubted that Wickham would not stand again. His body shriveled to skin and bones. No one spoke. Darcy, Elizabeth, and the colonel stood transfixed by the sight of the rotted corpse of the creature who had plagued them and theirs for two hundred years.
“Mr. Darcy?” the softly accented speech of Ellender D’Arcy shocked them all.“Is he gone forever?”
Darcy found his voice first. “Seorais Winchcombe is no more, Lady Ellender.”
“I am not sorry to hear it. It is time. I should never have traded Seorais’s life for Arawn’s, but I knew of no other way to save the man I loved.Yet nothing was the same after that. It affected my dear Arawn in ways to which I cannot put words.” Pure sadness crossed her face.
Elizabeth edged forward and spoke to Ellender as though she were a troubled child.“Lady Ellender, it is nearly dawn; you should return to your bed.”
Ellender looked about her, seeing the first streaks of light in the sky. “I wish to never spend another night without Arawn.You will see to that, Mr. Darcy?”
“I am your servant, Lady Benning.” Darcy offered a pain-ridden bow.
Ellender D’Arcy pivoted to return to the open vault.“I will follow her,” Elizabeth said as she handed Damon the bandages she held.
“Lady Ellender is still a vampire,” Damon warned under his breath.“Take the sword.”
Elizabeth nodded her head in understanding and then followed the apparition to the center of the cemetery, keeping a proper distance in case of a surprise attack.
At the crypt, Ellender D’Arcy turned to Elizabeth before entering. “Mrs. Darcy, what is your husband’s relationship to my family?”
Caught unawares by the question, Elizabeth stammered, “I—I am unsure, Lady Benning. We have been married for so short a time.You are at least ten generations apart.Yet it is uncanny how much Mr. Darcy’s sister looks like you.”
“Does your husband suffer from the curse?” The lilting roll of her accent softened the evilness of the word.
“Mr. Darcy was told that he does. He exhibits some of the powers.”
Ellender D’Arcy shook her head with concern. “He has not infected you?”
“My husband does the honorable thing and protects me.”
“Once Seorais took his revenge, I refused Lord Benning. I would not take the chance that in a moment of passion that I would destroy the one thing I most cherished. I could not bring myself to hurt him any more than I already had.” She straightened the bodice of her gown.
“Did you ever love Seorais, Lady Benning?”
Ellender looked off, as if remembering. “Seorais Winchcombe’s father served as an overseer on the D’Arcy land. My father would never have tolerated such an alliance. I found him most pleasing in his demeanor, but from the first moment I saw Arawn Benning, I could consider no other. Surely you understand, Mrs. Darcy. Two men fight for your favor.”
Elizabeth looked around to make sure no one would hear her respond.“I love the colonel, but I am in love with my husband. If I never knew Mr. Darcy, I could live a comfortable, loving life with the colonel, but I do know Mr. Darcy. Fitzwilliam is my reason to go on living; I cannot breathe without him.”
Ellender smiled and looked lovingly at the Benning crypt.“It is as I suspected.Arawn will be pleased when I join him in heaven and when I convey how our families are joined again.” Ellender turned and entered the vault. Elizabeth closed the inner door of the tomb and then closed the iron gate. The lock was not important. Lady Ellender would go nowhere; she was ready to know peace.
The three of them sat in the church, waiting for the first of the workers whom Gordy had promised to take to the graveyard. Damon and Elizabeth had concocted elaborate plans as to what would happen that day. By count, one and twenty graves needed to be addressed. From each, the coffin would be exhumed and opened; a coin would be placed under the deceased’s tongue and a stake driven through the heart. Darcy and the colonel would see to that personally, trying to shield the town’s folk from experiencing the mutilation of a loved one’s corpse. And then the coffin would be replaced.Although highly unusual, the local priests agreed to last rites and to consecrating the land again, as those needing to be reburied were counterfeit in that manner.
They promised each of the twenty workers a month’s pay if all the work was completed in one day. It would be hard, back-breaking work in the frozen soil of January, but the pay assured their diligence.
The physician arrived early. Each of the three of them anticipated the need for one. Both Elizabeth and the colonel insisted he attend to Darcy first. The back wound, as they expected, was the worst; but miraculously, no internal damage seemed apparent. Bandaged and cleaned by the doctor and Elizabeth, Darcy looked very much the perfect country gentleman when they finished.
Elizabeth bathed in the small bowl provided by the priest and donned a simple day dress. She would not shock the locals by appearing in men’s breeches.A bruise shadowed her cheek, and the
The colonel, too, showed wear and tear.The concussion he had suffered was of most concern. Exhaustion—the natural letdown after such a battle—slowed his step, but his mind still raced.“Darcy, what do we do with Wickham’s remains? Obviously, he cannot be buried anywhere around here.”
“I think I have just the place.”
Elizabeth joined the two of them in the front pews. “Of what do we discuss?”
Darcy took her hand; Elizabeth leaned over the back of the pew upon which he rested.The physician had ordered him not to move for fear of opening the back wound again. “What to do with Wickham.”
“And?”
“There is an island less than two miles out called Lindisfarne. Have you heard of it?”
“The one from Scott’s poem?” Damon seemed surprised by the reference. “It curled not Tweed alone, that breeze/ For, far upon Northumbrian seas/ It freshly blew, and strong/ Where from high Whitby’s cloistered pile/ Bound to St. Cuthbert’s holy isle/ It bore a barque along.”1 Elizabeth repeated the lines. “I never made the connection with how close we are to Berwick on Tweed.”
Sitting up to address them, Darcy continued his reasoning.“The island is nearly deserted, and is called the Holy Isle as it was the base of Christian evangelizing in northern England and southern Scotland. About the time that this madness started, the parliamentarians took the castle on the island for the king during the Civil Wars. For me, though, the monastery and the holy relics associated with Lindisfarne will serve as a deterrent for this evil to ever resurface. Plus, an island serves another purpose. A vampire cannot cross running water. We can put Wickham by one of the springs or even by the lake.”
“This is absolutely amazing,” the colonel fumed as he paced across the front of the church. “You burn Wickham’s house to the god, throw holy water on him, and shoot him through the heart with a silver bullet. How many ways will you protect yourself from this madness? Let us simply take him to the woods and burn what is left of Wickham’s body!”
“Damon, you have not lived with this fear night and day for the past twelve years! I have!You will excuse me if I am overcautious!”
The two men stared at each other in a battle of wills. Finally, the colonel gave way.“Then I will do it.You cannot make a round trip by boat, trek across an island, and bury a corpse.Your injury will not allow it. Can you take care of this; I mean, get up and down in the graves and drive the stake through the heart of each of those Elizabeth and I vanquished?”
“I will help Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth added innocently.
“No!” Both men ordered in unison. Darcy continued while the colonel looked away. “You will not do this, Elizabeth. It is too gruesome.”
“But, Fitzwilliam—” she began; however, when he raised his hand, she fell silent. Although she disagreed with his assessment of her “delicate nature,” for once Elizabeth allowed Darcy his moment. She could only challenge his masculinity so many times without destroying it completely.
“If you must do something, take some of the village women who came out to help their husbands to the house. Gather the ashes from the fire and spread them about in the woods and on the hill. Wickham’s coffin is buried among those ashes; we want no chance of his ever finding peace there again.”
Elizabeth knew not to argue when her husband used that tone. “Yes, Fitzwilliam. May I, at least, join you when you address Lady Ellender?”
Darcy paused, considering her request.“If you wish.”
“Gordy is here, Darcy. I just heard the wagon. I will take one of the horses into the village and make arrangements to take Wickham’s remains to the coast. Possibly, someone in town knows of a
“Thank you, Damon.” Darcy stood to put on his own coat. “Elizabeth, if you will assist me.”
“I will return soon and help with the graves until the wagon is ready to take away the remains.” With that, the colonel left the church and headed for Stanwick.
Darcy watched him go. “He does not understand how this haunts me.” He turned to his wife.“Am I being unreasonable?”
Elizabeth helped him into the coat. His injuries made each of his movements stiff and restrained.“Probably.Yet if it gives you your own serenity, then celebrate it. Additional safeguards cannot be called foolish in that case.”
Less than an hour later, Damon returned with the wagon and a makeshift coffin. He and Peter wrapped Wickham’s remains in two blankets and loaded them into the box. Nailing it shut, they prepared to leave.“It is an hour to the shore and more than an hour to the island. I sent a man ahead to arrange for a boat of which he knew. I am afraid it will be near dark when I return.” Damon pulled Darcy to the side, where they might speak privately.“I asked the innkeeper to provide meals for everyone throughout the day. He was happy for the extra business. That way, the men will not have to waste time returning to the village to eat.Will you be able to handle things here?”
Darcy glanced back at the men working diligently behind them.“Elizabeth and I decided I should stake the bodies when we sent the others in to meals. It is a ghastly business, Damon.”
“Could you not use the coins?”
“As with Wickham’s skeleton, I wish to safeguard against the possibility of this happening again. It is not of my nature to second guess if I did all I could to stop this madness.”
Damon touched Darcy’s shoulder.“Then see it through, Cousin. Are you in need of my services in dealing with Lady Ellender?”
“I am not sure I have the stomach.” Darcy stared off into the cloudy sky. “I railed against the heavens because of her, and now I am asked to deliver her to a forgiving God. How may I mete out my own forgiveness?”
“Would you not, Darcy, make such a decision to save Elizabeth? I dare say she would for you.Anyone with half an eye could see that.”
“Do you truly believe as such, Damon?”
It was now Damon’s turn to look for something not there. “Darcy, you are the golden child—the heir to one of the most beautiful estates in all England, massive wealth, a handsome countenance, wit and intelligence, acceptance by society—however, I never was jealous of you in any matter until now. What man in England would not give up all his worldly goods for such a love? I cannot imagine such a one exists; and yet you continue to doubt, first, that you deserve it, and second, that Elizabeth can give it.Yours is a great love story, Cousin, if you would simply open your whole heart to it.” Damon gave Darcy a level look. “Change your fate, Cousin. Conclude the story of Lady Ellender and Lord Thomas’s love, and begin the one between you and Elizabeth.”
Darcy’s sky blue eyes softened. “How did you become so wise, Cousin?”
“I must excel over you in at least one way, Darcy.” Damon smiled as the ease between them returned. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a prior engagement with an island.” Damon strode away to the waiting wagon.
Darcy blessed the heavens for placing his cousin on the London Road at the same time as Elizabeth left Pemberley. Without the colonel’s help, this excursion would have had a disastrous conclusion; from delivering the final blow to Wickham to protecting Elizabeth, the results would have been quite different.
Reluctantly, Darcy returned to the task at hand. The men opened five graves. It was time for Darcy to go to work. “Gentlemen,” he called out to the workers,“the colonel brought us breakfast. If you care to enter the church, my wife has everything laid out in the rectory.”
The men immediately dropped the shovels and the pickaxes they had brought for the job.They good-naturedly made their way to the back of the church, thankful for the food and the break from such morbid work. None of them understood the logic of digging up a grave simply to fill it back in, but for a month’s wages for a day’s work, they would take orders from the Devil himself.
While the workers were busy sharing stories and food, Darcy took what he needed to address the bodies already exposed: six stakes, six coins, a bar to leverage each coffin lid, and a small hammer. Reaching the first of the exposed openings, he took off his coat and placed it on one of the nearby benches, and then he climbed down into the grave, the earth banked on either side of him. Finding a narrow foothold beside the wooden box, he wedged the lever between the sealed wood. Tapping with the hammer, he popped one of the nails, giving him the opening he needed.Then it was only a matter of moments before he lifted the lid on the resting place of the girl who had been the first to attack Damon during the early morning hours of the new day.
The girl in her white coming-out dress rested, as if in sleep. Her appearance shocked Darcy, for he had half expected a decomposed skeleton. Instead, before him lay a body in repose. Her full face appeared flushed, as if in permanent blush; her only apparent imperfection was badly scraped knuckles and fingernails. Automatically, Darcy looked at the inside of the coffin lid. Frighteningly, scratch marks, signs of the struggle to be set free, crisscrossed the closure.
Pulling back the supple lips, Darcy pried the girl’s mouth open.The soft fullness of her mouth gave way to elongated teeth protruding from pink gums. He wedged a finger between the teeth and slipped the coin in.Then he readjusted the girl’s mouth into a smile.
“You are a beautiful child,” he mused. “You will forgive me, I pray.” He placed the stake above her heart. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”Then he struck the blunted end of the ashen wood with the hammer, driving in deep into her
