Vampire Darcy's Desire (51 page)

Wickham patiently watched at the village inn throughout the day, but there was no sign of reinforcements on Darcy’s behalf. Darkness had surrounded the village for at least two hours, and no one any longer traveled the roads. Feeling more secure, he sauntered off towards his house. Evidently, Darcy had told the truth about Elizabeth Bennet’s withdrawal of her affection. Wickham had once thought that impossible, and had even considered how he might kill the two of them together. Now his only problem was how to dispose of Fitzwilliam Darcy. Wickham did not want to allow Darcy to become a vampire, because Wickham did not want to continue the struggle between them. He preferred to rule
the kingdom
alone.That meant killing Darcy the traditional way, without the benefit of feeding. Of course, that also meant he must keep the others away from his prisoner.

A little after nine o’clock, the Darcy carriage rolled into the courtyard of the Blue Dragon in Stanwick.With the stops and the darkness, the seven or eight hours they had estimated had turned into nearly ten.“I will see to the room,” Colonel Fitzwilliam muttered as he helped the rumpled-looking Elizabeth from the coach.

“If Fitzwilliam has a room, I will be staying with my husband.” The colonel recoiled, as if slapped.

As they had on several occasions during this trip, they both pretended not to notice the exchange. “Ah, I no longer need to sleep on a pallet.”

Elizabeth blushed, although with the darkness, no one saw. Impulsively, she caressed his cheek. “I am sorry, Damon. I will forever be grateful for your interference and your gentlemanly concern. Although it was a bit awkward the first evening, I truly took comfort in knowing you were so close. I will never be able to repay you for your kindness.”

Damon Fitzwilliam fought the urge to turn his head and kiss Elizabeth’s palm. She was
Darcy’s
wife, but for the past few days, he
had found himself wishing she were not.
She is phenomenal
, he thought. “I could not let you travel halfway across England alone. The Earl of Matlock would disown me for sure, and as I am a second son, I cannot afford to be in his disfavor.” He tried to cover his growing feelings with a jest.

“Let us go inside and see what we can learn of my husband.” Elizabeth took the colonel’s arm as they entered the inn.

Just as with all the other places they had frequented over the past few days, the innkeeper greeted them at the door and jumped to meet their needs. They had decided prior to leaving the coach that the colonel would ask discreet questions. “My cousin and I were to meet in Stanwick,” he began a bit aristocratically. “I escorted his wife, so that they might enjoy a holiday in Edinburgh. Would you tell me, Sir, if Fitzwilliam Darcy is a guest at this inn?”

The innkeeper glanced at the registry. “Let me see. We have a Mr. D’Arcy.” He turned the registry so the colonel could see the name.“He registered yesterday. Be that whom you seek, Sir?”

Damon was momentarily flustered, but he recovered quickly. “That appears to be him.”

“Very good, Sir. I be afraid no one saw Mr. D’Arcy today.The maid reports his bed remains unused.Yet Mr. D’Arcy’s belongings be still in the room. He paid for three days, so I kept the gentleman’s personal things intact.”

The colonel could feel Elizabeth’s fingers tighten on his arm, and he brought his free hand to rest on hers.“Did my cousin speak to anyone whom you noted?”

“The gentleman, he walked ’bout the village upon his arrival. He sat for some time with Mr. Bruce. Bruce be pro’bly the most knowledgeable man in the area, lived here forever he has.” The man puffed up with importance. “We be thinkin’ Mr. D’Arcy be attendin’ the St. Cuthbert dance last night at the assembly, but old Bruce say he not there.You not be thinkin’ somethin’ bad happen, do ye, Sir?”

The colonel smiled with confidence. “Of course not. My cousin is a learned man—very interested in history—more than
likely, he found himself in conversation and forgot where he was. I am sure he will return later with tales of the Highlands and border wars with which to regale us all.”

“Mr. D’Arcy be findin’ plenty of those.”The innkeeper chuckled as he made arrangements for their baggage. “I be puttin’ the lady’s things in her mister’s room.You be needin’ one of yer own, Sir?”

“That would be excellent. A comfortable bed would take care of all my travel woes.”

“Ye be starvin’, too, I ’magine.”

Elizabeth looked about her.“If it would not be too much trouble, something hot would be most appreciated.”

“Ye and the lady take yerselves into that there room. Me wife find ye some meat pies and some tea. She be happy to serve ye there.”

“Thank you, Sir,” the colonel responded. “Ask your kind lady to make my tea into ale, if you would.” He maneuvered Elizabeth towards the private room.“And our coachman needs provisions, as well as our cattle.”

“No problem, Sir. All be seen to.”The man moved away to do their bidding.

When they were seated in the private dining room, they were able to drop the pretense. Elizabeth released her breath. “At least, we know Fitzwilliam is here. I was surprised that he used the old spelling of the family name.”

“Very astute of Darcy, in reality—he can blend in better.”

Elizabeth looked anxious.“I suppose so.”

“It seems I will be spending time in the taproom after we eat.A few rounds of drinks should loosen the local tongues.”

“Where do you suppose Fitzwilliam is now?” She spoke softly, although they were the only two in the room.

The colonel took her hand in his. “I doubt if Darcy waited for long before he approached Wickham’s coverture. Knowing your husband, he went through the front door,
guns blazing,
like one of those tales of the Archibald Montgomerie and the 77th Regiment of Foot.”

“How would you handle it, Colonel?” she half teased.

“Years in the military would make me a
Cherokee,
not one of the Royal Scots. I would wait and watch and choose the right moment.” He laughed at himself. “I suppose Darcy’s way is the more honorable one.”

“But not necessarily the more prudent one.” Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “No one who ever met you, Colonel, would think you anything less than honorable.”

The innkeeper’s wife interrupted their conversation. “Hopin’ the meat pies serve ye,” she said as she placed the tea service on the table next to the colonel’s tankard.

“They smell delicious, Ma’am.Thank you for all your trouble.” The colonel and Elizabeth were ravenous, immediately attacking their fare.

The coachman appeared at the door, and Elizabeth motioned him forward.“Yes, Peter?”

“Mrs. Darcy, I be takin’ note, as ye asked.The Master’s horse is in the stable.”

“Trident?” Her excitement rose.

“Yes, Ma’am.Trident glad to see me—gave him a randy apple, likin’ I always do.”

“Watch Trident for us, Peter. Let me know if anyone goes near him.”The servant looked pleased with the new responsibility. “We will be staying here for a few days, so use the time to make whatever repairs are needed.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He bowed out of the room.

The colonel had already consumed a goodly portion of his meal. “You get some rest tonight, Elizabeth, and I will find where Wickham is and how we might best approach him.”

“You will be careful, Colonel?”

“I have not my cousin’s powers. Like you, my dear, I am very much a human, and I must depend on my wits to survive.Trust me, I will not do anything foolish. As soon as I know something, we will act.”

“Make it soon, Colonel. I fear Fitzwilliam needs our help.”

The colonel nursed his drink as two men shared their stories of how each night those foolish enough to be out after midnight took the chance of meeting what these men simply called “bloodsuckers.” He also learned that the whole neighborhood “knew” the source of these diseased creatures to be the master of Wickford Manor.

“He be the family of Seorais Winchcombe,” the one called Gordy told him, “the one who be lovin’ Lady Ellender. The lady and Lord Benning be buried up in the cemetery with all them others. It be odd the man came here.”

“How far is it to Wickford Manor?” the colonel asked casually.

“Half ’n mile back towards the church.Wickford Manor is not much by London standards, but it got some land.The thing is, it sit right on the back of the line where be the church’s graveyard. Like Wickford Manor takin’ in them souls.”

His partner offered his own insights. “Some be sayin’ them bloodsuckers dance in the hall every night. I nary believe it, but everyone be sayin’ it so.”

Finally, having all the information he needed, the colonel bid the two farewell. “It is near eleven, gentlemen. I shall not detain you any longer. I thank you for sharing your local legends.” Damon Fitzwilliam knew he should go and share what he had discovered with Elizabeth, but if what these men said was true, he needed to act now, before the “dance” began.

 

A quarter hour later, he stood before the church’s graveyard. Everything still seemed quiet, but after the past hour of listening to two grown men excitedly share what they knew of the grave sites looming before him, Damon Fitzwilliam had to steel his nerves before proceeding. As rambunctious children, he and Darcy had often played soldiers, hiding behind family headstones in a pretend battle; and in the military, he had spent more time than he cared to remember with the dead. Yet this was different, and the colonel sensed it. In this cemetery, death
lived.

He chastised himself for his fear and quickly crossed the mounds to exit through the hedge shrub outlining the graves. A
glance over his shoulder showed him a low, creeping fog spreading across the granite memorials.

His drunken informants had told him the house was behind the cemetery; they had forgotten to mention the hill and the wooded field. Luckily, light streamed from the house’s windows, serving as a beacon for him as he took unsteady steps on the hill, and the colonel made his way stealthily through the forested area to come out where the steps led to the kitchen. In the back of his mind, Damon reasoned how country homes would never be lit up as such at that time of night, but this was no ordinary household. Armed with cloves of garlic and a crucifix purchased in one of the small villages through which he and Elizabeth had passed, he edged the kitchen door open and slipped into a perfectly clean room. At first, its pristineness shocked him, but then he remembered Elizabeth had told him that Wickham never ate regular food.The pots and pans and kettle were purely for show—Wickham’s playing at being the master of his small estate.

Leaving the kitchen behind, Damon followed a staircase leading to the private living quarters, but again these offered no insights into how to defeat Wickham, because they stood unused—sparsely furnished—a mausoleum to an unemployed life. Only one room was locked, and although he wished to force his way into it and see what it might hold, a pulsating cadence caused him to curtail his search and find his way towards the center of the house. Drawn by the unusual sound, he felt compelled to find its source. Creeping on all fours, Damon edged forward to where the upper floors overhung the center hall. He glued himself to the wall, crouched so he might respond if necessary, and looked for what he could not explain.The sound increased as he peered between the slats of the railing to the room below. He feared his presence might affect the show, but nothing stopped the accentuated movements as one after another shadowy eidolon entered a spiritual gambol.They turned and twisted and oscillated to an undulating rhythm. Periodically, one pasty form would hazard a challenge to another, and the room
would fill with squeals of despair and of yearning before returning to the murmured chants.

Then a creature as pale as the colonel had ever seen got out of his grotesquely adorned chair. He held out his hand to a pretty sort of girl with curls pinned tightly to her head.Then, horror of horrors, the image the colonel assumed to be George Wickham looked on in infinite sadness as the girl slid into his embrace.Wickham brought her closer still, swaying with her in a primitive invitation to passion. His hands searched her body, and then wordless voices rose in exultation as Wickham lowered his head and drank the girl’s blood. Damon bit back a cry of dark, piercingly pure contempt for the display. He shuddered in anguish at his inability to change what was happening to the girl.With a despairing gesture, he withdrew to the servants’ stairs. He had to escape before the surging call of the coven pulled
him
in.

Slipping cautiously down the passageway, he rested a split second with his fingers on a door’s handle, before a muffled sound on the other side sent his heart racing. Damon froze with fear, unable to move, and prayed that what was on the other side would not find him. He pressed his ear to the door, listening with all his senses, but he heard only a soft wind.A mysterious presence moved through the closed portal, and the colonel could feel it so exactly, it was as if he saw through the door. He knew the moment it moved on, and he eased the handle to the right, sliding the door aside only far enough to fit his body through before silently resettling it.