Mr. Darcy Vampyre (21 page)

‘Then tell me!' she cried, jumping up. ‘That is what men and women do when they are in love. They talk to each other. They share their thoughts and feelings. They share their problems. They share their secrets, they share everything.' She stopped and sighed, making an effort to master her overwhelming emotion, and then she continued in a calmer manner. ‘Will you not tell me what is worrying you? We are married, Darcy. We took an oath to love each other for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health. Those words mean something. They mean that we stand together in times of trial and we share our burdens as well as our joys. There is nothing so terrible that we cannot face it if we do so together.'

His face was ashen.

‘I can't share this with you,' he said.

‘Why not? Don't you trust me?' she asked.

‘It's not that—'

‘Then what is it?' she cried.

He shook his head as though he were being goaded beyond endurance and said, ‘It is for your own good.'

‘How can it be for my own good?' she cried in astonishment. ‘Whatever your secret, it cannot be more terrible than the pain I am feeling at this moment.'

He started, but then he let out a cry and he said, ‘If I tell you, then there will no going back. Once you have the knowledge you will never be rid of it, and if you decide you were happier without it, it will be too late.'

‘Then if you won't tell me, there is no hope for us,' she said with a droop of her shoulders.

‘Don't say that.'

‘What else is there to be said?'

She saw his expression change slightly and she thought that he was weakening. She held out her hand to him and he moved as if he was going to take it. His fingers reached out to her but then he drew them back.

‘No! I can't. But I can't go on like this either,' he said in agony. ‘I have to think.'

He sprang towards the door.

She had a sudden and terrible fear that if she let him leave the room she would never see him again.

‘Darcy!' she called, but it was too late, for he had already gone.

Annie soon returned with a bowl of fresh water and sponged Elizabeth's brow. Elizabeth felt nothing except the emptiness of her own heart. When Annie had finished sponging her brow, Elizabeth got up and went over to her writing desk and finished her letter to Jane.

I can conceal from you no longer the true state of affairs, for I can no longer conceal them from myself. My husband does not love me. I have fought against it but I can deny it no longer. I never thought, when I married my beloved Darcy, that I would return home a few months after my wedding, alone, but I can see no other choice. I cannot live with him and be with him when he constantly rejects me. I don't know what I will tell Papa, and with Mama it will be even worse. I believe that being the mistress of Pemberley is my only claim to her affection, and without it, I fear she will not welcome me home. I dread her constant admonishments, but with you, dear Jane, I know there will be solace. I shall visit you at Netherfield everyday. Or, at least, not everyday, I shall give you and Bingley some time alone. How wonderful it must be to be loved by your husband! Write to me, Jane, I have not had a letter since leaving England, and although it might not find me as I travel home, what bliss if it does. To hear the sound of your voice, even in a letter, will be a comfort to me. And I need comfort, I fear. How am I to live without him? And will I even be allowed to try? It is scandalous for a married woman to leave her husband, and yet to live with him is beyond my strength. I am in need of love and comfort and sound advice and I am longing to be at home, where you and my Aunt Gardiner will help me.

Your loving sister,

Elizabeth

When she had finished the letter, she handed it to Annie, saying, ‘Give it to one of the footmen at once, I want to make sure it goes to the post today.'

‘Very good,' said Annie.

Elizabeth looked out of the window and saw that the weather had improved. The sky had lightened and the storm had blown over. From the window came a fresh breeze, luring her out of doors. There was a collection of people by the door, laughing and talking, but further along the house, by the French window leading out of the morning room, there was no one. Being disinclined for company, she decided to make her way out of the villa through this route.

As she entered the morning room its opulence both attracted and repelled her. The gilded mirrors, marble-topped tables, and damasked chairs were beautiful but soulless. They were perfect, with no signs of age or wear, unlike the furniture at Longbourn which was scuffed and worn with years of family living. There was something unnatural about the villa, as though it had been artificially preserved, caught in time and unable to age. It was like a museum, not a living, breathing home.

There was a soft footfall behind her and Elizabeth's heart leapt, but it was only the Prince. His closeness startled her, for she had not known he was there. Even though she was standing by a mirror, which gave her a clear view of the door, she had not seen his reflection.

She turned round to see him bowing before her. Although he was handsome and courteous and dressed in the finest clothes, she had a longing for friends and family, people she had known all her life, for what did she know of the Prince, after all?

‘You have not been well, I hear?' he said in concern. ‘I am sorry for it. So much beauty should never be distressed. You have everything you need, I hope?'

‘Yes, thank you, I have.'

‘And you are feeling better?' He looked at her searchingly. ‘Forgive me, but you still seem very pale.'

‘I am much better, thank you.'

‘It is this heat; it is beautiful, certainly, but it is overpowering sometimes. There is a cool breeze in the garden. I think it will do you good. Will you walk with me there? We will not go in the sunshine but will walk along the shady paths and rest, if you will, in the summer house.'

She was still feeling somewhat unsteady on her legs and she thought she might have need of his arm, and so she said, ‘Yes. Thank you.'

They went through the French doors and into the garden. They were soon walking down an avenue at the back of the house where the shadow of the tall trees made the way pleasant, and the breeze was as refreshing as she had hoped it would be. The Prince seemed to sense her mood for he was not demanding company. He talked to her gently of the vistas, stopping here and there to show her some delightful view, but he did not expect her to answer him and she felt herself begin to relax.

Halfway down the avenue, they came to a fountain and Elizabeth, feeling in need of a rest, sat on its brim.

He sat beside her and then, taking her hand, looked at her kindly.

‘There is something that makes you unhappy, I think,' he said. ‘No, do not trouble to say it is not so, I can see it. In English society it is not always polite to discuss affairs of the heart but here, in Italy we think differently. You have no one to confide in here, but I am an experienced gentleman and you are a young lady a long way from home, and as your host, and your friend, too, I hope you will confide in me.' His voice was soft and soothing, and it was balm to her troubled spirit. ‘It is Darcy, is it not?' he asked.

‘Yes,' she admitted reluctantly, and then she could hold the words back no longer and they came out in a torrent, pouring out of her like long pent-up waters breaking through a dam. ‘I don't know what's happened to him—to us. I thought we were in love… we
were
in love… When we were newly engaged, it was settled between us that we were to be the happiest couple in the world!' she said, smiling suddenly at the remembrance. Then her smile faded. ‘But once we were married, everything changed.'

‘When did you notice it, this change in him?' asked the Prince gently.

‘It's difficult to say,' she said, trailing her hand in the fountain and letting the cool water slip through her fingers. ‘Although no, perhaps not. It started on our wedding day. It was just after the ceremony. We were returning home from the church when I caught sight of his face in the carriage window and I saw that he looked tormented. I thought I must have been imagining it at the time and so I dismissed it, but now I think differently. I am sure that was when it began. I wondered if he had read something that troubled him but now I think that was not the case.'

‘Ah.' He paused, thinking. ‘It was love at first sight, your affair?' he asked.

‘No, far from it,' she said. ‘In fact, when we first met each other we took an instant dislike to each other.'

‘No one could dislike you, I think,' said the Prince.

‘Well, perhaps he did not dislike me, for it is true that at that point, he did not know me and so he could scarcely have any opinion regarding me, or at least regarding my character, but he thought me not handsome enough to dance with: “only tolerable”,' said Lizzy, with a laugh, and then her laughter faded as she thought that, perhaps, he had returned to his first opinion.

‘And you were intrigued by this, yes? And challenged by it. So you tried to win his favour. I see how it must have happened. He is a rich and powerful man and you did not like to be dismissed by him, so you set out to charm him and win his favour.'

‘Quite the opposite,' said Elizabeth. ‘I had no interest in him, and I certainly had no interest in charming him. What was he to me?'

‘A man with a large estate and a handsome income, and you ask, “What was he to me?”' he said in surprise.

‘He was not my friend or my neighbour, and as for having a large estate and a handsome income, what of it?' said Elizabeth. ‘How can it matter, when set beside rudeness and arrogance and disdain for the feeling of others?'

‘And did you tell him that he was rude and arrogant and disdainful?' asked the Prince.

‘Yes, I did,' admitted Elizabeth with a rueful smile.

‘I see,' he said, becoming thoughtful.

Elizabeth turned enquiring eyes towards him.

‘What do you see?' she asked.

‘I see how it happened,' he said, looking at her with sympathy. ‘With some men it is so. They do not want the easy conquest; they want the challenge. That challenge is hard to find for a man like Darcy. Women seek him out. They flatter him and praise him, they throw themselves in his path. I see you smile. You have seen it, no?'

‘Yes,' said Elizabeth. ‘I have. There was a woman in England, the sister of his best friend; she was always trying to attract his attention and win his approbation, and in Paris there were women like that too.'

‘But you were different. You were not charmed by his name or his fortune, you demanded something more from him, some proof of his worth as a man. His interest, it was aroused. There are men like this. Once their interest is caught they will pursue a woman with passion and dedication, they will do anything to win her, they will make friends with her friends, they will make friends with her family, they will offer them help—ah! You start!'

‘He helped my sister,' said Elizabeth. ‘And he made friends with my aunt and uncle, even though at first he had dismissed them as being beneath his notice.'

‘So will a determined man proceed. He will stop at nothing to win the object of his interest. But once he has her, then what will you?' he asked with a shrug. ‘It is the chase that matters. They are hunters, these men, predators. To claim a woman, it challenges them, and to succeed in their quest, it brings them to life. But once they have gained their object, once they have caught their prey, then their interest, it wanes, until it is no more.'

Elizabeth took her hand out of the fountain and rested it on the warm stone of the rim.

‘And is that what you think has happened to Darcy?'

‘I can think of no other reason for him to neglect you.'

‘He says there is a reason, but that he cannot tell me what it is.'

‘Ah,' said the Prince.

That one word spoke volumes.

‘You think that, if he had a reason, he would tell me,' she said.

‘I think nothing.'

‘Perhaps not. But I do.'

He looked at her with compassion.

‘You are very young,' he said. ‘You are a novice in these matters. He has wounded an innocent and that was very wrong of him.'

‘He didn't mean to hurt me.'

‘No?' He sounded disbelieving, but then said, ‘Perhaps it is as you say. But you have been hurt all the same and if you stay with him, you will be hurt again and again. Will you listen to some advice?'

‘Perhaps,' she said cautiously.

‘Then I advise you to go away from here, right away. You are not alone; you have friends and a family who care about you. Go to them. Go back to England. Tell Darcy you have made a mistake. If he knows you are truly unhappy with him, he will let you go. You will live again and love again—'

‘No!'

‘Ah,' he said delicately. ‘Well, perhaps not. But perhaps—who knows? You are very young and time, it is a great healer. But whatever the future holds, one thing is certain: there is nothing for you here, only unhappiness, rejection. and loss.'

‘I know,' she admitted.

It was the same conclusion she had come to herself no more than an hour before, and with the Prince's advice leading in the same direction, she had nothing to lift her out of her low thoughts.

‘It is difficult, I know, but it is for the best,' he said. ‘Once the break is made, you can start to live again.'

She thought how pleasant it would be to sit by the fountain forever. The thought of moving even a step, let alone going into the villa and giving the orders for packing, as well as dealing with the hundred and one arrangements that would be attendant on her return to England, was wearisome. But she knew it must be done. Making an effort, she stood up. She shook her hand, sending droplets of water sparkling through the air, and as she moved her hand to and fro her wedding ring caught the light. It had been a symbol of all her hopes and dreams, but now it seemed to mock her, and yet she could not bring herself to take it off.

The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel aroused her from her reverie and looking up she saw that Annie was hurrying towards her.

‘Ma'am—' Annie began breathlessly.

‘What is it?' asked Elizabeth.

‘Yes, why do you disturb your mistress?' asked the Prince, standing also and resting a hand protectively on Elizabeth's shoulder. ‘Is it a matter of urgency?'

Annie looked awkward and she said, ‘No, not really.'

‘Then do not disturb your mistress now,' said the Prince.

Annie hesitated then bobbed a curtsey and turned back to the villa, but then she turned again to Elizabeth and said, ‘I just came to tell you that I've finished hemming the new handkerchiefs as you asked, Ma'am, and I've put them in your valise.'

‘Thank you,' said Elizabeth absentmindedly.

The Prince waved Annie away with an imperious gesture and Annie departed, but Elizabeth still lingered.

‘Do it now,' said the Prince. ‘You will not have the strength if you wait, and there can be nothing for you here, only pain. Do it whilst your husband is not here. He has taken his horse and gone riding. Write him a note and I will see that he gets it. My coach is at your disposal. I will have word sent ahead to the inns along your route so that they will be expecting you, and I will send a courier with you to guard you on your journey and to make all the necessary arrangements for you as you travel.'

‘You are very kind.'

‘It is nothing,' he said. ‘I could do no less for beauty in distress. Take heart, you will recover. You think not, but a few weeks in the warmth of your family will do much to ease your pain.'

‘Yes,' she said, ‘my family.'

She thought of Jane and her Aunt Gardiner and she longed to be at home.

‘You need only to see that your things are packed and you may leave the rest to me,' he said.

The Prince offered her his arm and he escorted her back to the villa, talking to her gently of inconsequential matters until they reached the door.