Vampire Darcy's Desire

by Regina Jeffers

  “Was there anything else in the books we should note?” Darcy leaned over the desk, as caught up in the possibility as she.

  “I do not know,” Elizabeth confessed. “I sent the majority of them to Pemberley.We will have more time to study them there.”

  “Fewer prying eyes.” Darcy recognized the sensibility of her action. “Right now, we should spend our time making lists of what we know of the ballad—of the curse—of Wickham’s habits. Then we can compare them with the folklore. Perhaps a pattern will appear.”

  “Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth interrupted, “who was that woman today?” Although it pained her to recall her part in the woman’s demise, Elizabeth had to know why she had the sense that Darcy was acquainted with the woman.

  He glanced quickly at his sister.“It was Mrs.Younge.”

  “Mrs.Younge?” Georgiana was on her feet also. “Are you sure, Fitzwilliam?”

  “Who is Mrs.Younge?” Elizabeth demanded.

  “Yes, Georgiana, I am positive the woman I fought today was Mrs.Younge.”The girl gasped in disbelief and sank into the nearest chair. Darcy returned his attention to Elizabeth. “Mrs.Younge was once Georgiana’s governess. I believe it was through her that Wickham was able to exact his revenge on my sister.”

  Georgiana’s head snapped up in attention.“You told her?”

  “Elizabeth is my wife, Georgiana.” Darcy understood his sister’s embarrassment, but he had no time for such propriety. “If she knows of Wickham, how could I keep anything from her? I trust her with my secrets and with my life.”

  “What do we know of Mrs.Younge since Wickham’s attack at Ramsgate?”

  “She lets lodgings in a less-than-desirable area of London,” he impulsively blurted out, before adding quickly, “I had her investigated after Georgiana’s attack. I thought Wickham might follow the woman to London, so I hired some Bow Street runners to find her.Wickham never appeared, however.”

  “Do you know where this Mrs. Younge lives?” Elizabeth needed to know every detail.

  “I do not recall the exact address, but it is in the report,” Darcy assured her.“Do you think Wickham is there?”

  “Wickham likely took shelter with Mrs.Younge after your last battle. I suspect you injured him seriously. I doubt he is there now. He disappeared as we ran away today. He was bending over the woman’s body when I looked back—and then he was gone. He probably would be afraid to return there, but he might if your bullet hit him as I suspect it did. He must know you would make the connection; however, we should check it out just the same. Do you not think?”

  “It is too late to safely enter that section of London this evening,” Darcy reasoned. “We will pay a visit to Mrs. Younge’s address tomorrow.”

  A small voice came from behind them.“Fitzwilliam, when may we return to Pemberley?”

  Darcy sought his new wife’s counsel.“When might you wish to leave, Elizabeth?”

  “We have commitments to family in the next few days. Plus, if you whisk me away to the country so soon, it might appear you wish to hide me from the ton. I want no rumors to follow our union.”

  “I agree. If we withdraw after two days, gossip will run unchecked.”

  Elizabeth noted Georgiana’s dissatisfaction with her brother’s response.

  “Could I?” Georgiana begged. “I do not wish to be here if Wickham is about.”

  “I will arrange it,” Darcy assured her. “Now, we will go down to supper, and then we will return here to finish our discussion. I asked Mrs. Annesley to join us this evening. The two of you will stay here tonight, Georgiana.”

  “Thank you, Fitzwilliam.”

  “I will send to Steventon House to have your things packed. His Lordship plans to depart tomorrow, as soon as our aunt sees fit to leave Bond Street.” Darcy helped his sister to her feet.“You will be safe with Damon at Matlock.”

  “And you and Elizabeth will be safe here together?”

  Darcy glanced at Elizabeth.“We will…most definitely, we will.”

  She opened the door to a seedy-looking house on a nearly deserted street. Darcy circled towards the back of the building as she pushed the door wide, fearing someone might lurk behind it.The sound of the frame banging against the wall reverberated through the empty entrance hall. They came had come to find Wickham. Clutching the iron crucifix in her fist, Elizabeth moved cautiously.

  She peered into each room, surprised by the tasteful décor.The dining room, for example, held fine china on a table set for twelve. Elizabeth wondered how anyone who might stay in this neighborhood would react if he saw such elegance. Such a disparity in economic situations must make for fine dinner conversation. Plus, if Mrs.Younge could afford such furnishings, why would she take up residence in the recesses of filth? Wickham. When Elizabeth considered what Wickham’s deviance had done to the woman, the situation made more sense.

  Finding no one on the lower level, Elizabeth began making her way slowly up the staircase. Odd that no one, not even a servant, has Her eyes searched the shadows for any movement. Where is Darcy? she thought.They had agreed he would come through the servants’ entrance.

  Elizabeth paused on a landing, debating whether to proceed without him. She looked anxiously at the way she had come in, expecting him to turn the corner at any second, and then she felt it—Wickham stood at the top of the stairs. His steel grey eyes devoured her as he stood in the shadows.

  “Mrs. Darcy.” Wickham’s voice sent a cold shiver down her spine, and automatically Elizabeth began to edge her way back down the staircase.

  “Mr. Wickham,” she answered, taking note that he kept pace with her retreat. It was one of his favorite cat-and-mouse games; for her every step, he took a matching one, keeping the distance between them constant.

  Wickham’s satisfaction showed on his face. His smile increased, and for the first time, Elizabeth noticed his protruding, fanglike teeth. How is it that I never took note of them before?They were exactly like those in the drawings she saw in the books found in the bookstore. All her senses on alert, Elizabeth watched him, anticipating a cobra-like assault. He took each step that she did—challenging her—testing her—preparing to tame her.

  Wickham tormented her by lowering his foot ever so slowly before letting it come to rest on the hardwood of the staircase while leaving his other on the previous step. Elizabeth never looked away from Wickham’s stare, allowing her foot to seek the depth of the next stair on its own.

  “Do not tell me you plan to run away?” Wickham asked smoothly, and he smiled. He narrowed his gaze and edged forward. “Really, Mrs. Darcy, you should know by now that I prefer my conquests with a little more spirit; I prefer when they fight for their lives. It is so much more satisfying that way.”

  “I will fight you,” Elizabeth declared,“but you will find no satisfaction in the results.”

  With Elizabeth’s threat, Wickham now took two steps to each

  At last, Elizabeth felt her foot touch the floor of the hallway, and, intuitively, she turned towards the still-open front door, hiking up her dress and sprinting away with all her might. She heard Wickham’s footsteps quicken behind her, first on the last of the stairs and then in the hallway.A few more steps to the outside—for her, everything seemed to move in slow motion except Wickham’s advance. She felt him so close to her that she was sure it was his breath on her neck. Then, to her horror, a gust of wind slammed the door closed just as she reached it. Frantically calling Darcy’s name, she pounded on the frame, pulling and twisting the knob, but it did not give.

  Finally, she turned to face the demon at her back. Her right hand continued to turn the knob, but the rest of her prepared for Wickham’s assault.

  Wishing to feel the pleasure of her complete defeat, he stopped a few feet away from her. “Leaving so soon, my dear?” he hissed. “And I thought we had an understanding.” He moved in closer and braced his arms against the door, effectively penning her in.

  Breathing deeply to keep her emotions in check,
Elizabeth tried the knob again, but to no avail. Resigned to what she must face, her body stiffened. Would Wickham pounce on her or approach more slowly? Out of the corner of her eye, she sought some sort of weapon—something that might penetrate Wickham’s heart, for nothing else seemed to affect him for long. She found nothing that could help—she saw a clothes tree and a broken umbrella stand in the corner next to a bench, which was likely used for muddy boots.A vase of flowers rested on a table to the left. She backed as far away from him as possible as Wickham’s gaze taunted her, playing with her fear.With all exits blocked, Elizabeth dreaded what was to come.

  Patiently, Wickham waited for her survey, allowing time for

  “You will deal with me first, Wickham.” Darcy’s voice echoed through the empty house.

  Elizabeth gasped.

  “Killing both of you on the same day will be a memorable occasion.” He turned slowly to face his greatest adversary, determined to gain the upper hand. Then, as if possessed, Wickham lunged forward, a maelstrom of power hitting Darcy full force and sending them both flying through the air, landing with a crash on the lower stairs.

  Darcy answered with an energy of his own, propelling Wickham across the room, slamming the devil against the far wall.

  The air filled with the smell of decay and death. Thus assured that Elizabeth’s fear would not quickly dissolve,Wickham purposefully righted himself and then dusted off his sleeves before making his next move. Elizabeth watched in horror as Darcy staggered to his feet, preparing for a new offensive. Elizabeth edged to the left, but a raised hand from both Darcy and Wickham stayed her movement. With a flair she could not have expected,Wickham snapped his fingers, and three pale figures appeared in various doorways. One of them looked vaguely like the woman from the alley. Elizabeth felt her body contract in response. Is not Mrs.Younge dead? Then she realized, They are all dead! How does one kill something already dead?

  Before she could reason how that might be, everyone seemed to move at once. Elizabeth saw Darcy knocked to the floor as the three ghostly figures swarmed over him. Like wounded animals mad with rage and blood lust, she heard his cries and the sound of tearing flesh; yet she had her own problems. As Wickham advanced towards her, Elizabeth grabbed the nearest thing—the broken umbrella stand. Flipping it over, she heaved it at him, hoping to retard his progress. She had no time to assess the appalling futility of

  “Elizabeth!” Darcy shook her shoulder lightly. “It is all right; I am here. I will not leave you.” He moved the hair draped across her face.“It was only a dream, Sweetheart.”

  Elizabeth’s heart raced as if still in the middle of a life-or-death fight, and her breath came in short, ragged bursts, but the reality of what he had said sank in, and she clung to him for reassurance. “I thought you were dying,” she whispered close to his ear.

  Darcy caressed her cheek and clutched Elizabeth to his chest. “I will die of old age, my love.We will spend many years together.” He kissed the top of her head.“You dreamed of Wickham, did you not?”

  “We went to Mrs. Younge’s house, and Wickham was there.” She still whispered, afraid to voice her fears aloud—afraid of making them real. “Mrs.Younge and two of Wickham’s followers attacked you. I saw it all.” Again, Elizabeth shivered with the image of Darcy’s bloody countenance.

  A light tap at the door interrupted her words. Elizabeth sank back against the pillows.“I will see who it is,” Darcy assured her.“I shall be right back.” Elizabeth gave a quick nod, but she, intuitively, clung to him for as long as possible.

  Cracking the door only a little, Darcy peered out into the candlelight. Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley both stood there, wrapped in robes.“Yes, what is it, Georgiana?”

  “We heard someone scream.” Mrs. Annesley moved closer. “Is Mrs. Darcy well?”

  “It was a nightmare,” he said, attempting to assuage their concerns. “It makes sense after what happened today.”

  “Of course,” Georgiana said, and she started back to her room. “Tell Elizabeth I will see her in the morning.”

  Darcy started to close the door, but Mrs. Annesley’s hand shot out to stop him. “Find out about what Mrs. Darcy dreams,” she said.“Her dreams bear moments of truth.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Darcy implored her. “Have you seen something else?”

  “No, Mr. Darcy, I have not; but Mrs. Darcy has.”

  “I do not understand. Does Elizabeth have the Sight also?”

  The old woman paused for a long moment before answering. As if in a trance, she said,“Not in the traditional sense.Your wife is not just your future; she has the ability to see the future. Look at her eyes. Nearly catlike at times, are they not?”

  Darcy’s mind flashed to the many times he had considered the compelling effects of his wife’s eyes—how the depths of them amazed and enthralled him from the beginning. “Yes, they are, Mrs.Annesley.”

  “Ask Mrs. Darcy to relate her recent dreams, especially ones of Mr.Wickham. Something in them is the key to this madness.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Annesley.” He watched as the elderly widow followed his sister back to the room they shared that evening.As he turned back to find Elizabeth curled up in their shared bed, he thought about what his sister’s companion claimed.Years of dealing with the unknown told him to listen to his intuition and to pay attention to Mrs. Annesley’s advice. He would find out about Elizabeth’s dreams and prepare himself for his future.

  CHAPTER 16

  The door to the Edward Street address stood ajar, and they slipped in unnoticed. Darcy had hired a hack rather than taking his private coach, and he and Elizabeth had dressed inconspicuously to avoid being noticed by Mrs.Younge’s neighbors. No one seemed to be about in the house. Elizabeth called out to servants, but none responded as they made their way from room to room.

  In her dream, Mrs. Younge’s décor had demonstrated the woman’s good taste, but, in reality, the furnishings were shabby.The cushions showed threadbare sections, but the place was clean. No dust rested on the cheap figurines nor were there spots on the carpeting. Looking at the economy with which the woman lived made Elizabeth pity the late Mrs. Younge. The woman’s descent into hell had started with Wickham’s seduction.

  “Someone is in the kitchen,” Darcy whispered into her hair. “Let us see who.”

  He pushed open the door, and the smell of porridge filled the air. An old woman with white hair stood with her back to them, fussing over the food preparation. Darcy cleared his throat to get her attention. She turned quickly and was surprised to see Darcy and Elizabeth occupying the doorway.“Oh, goodness gracious me.”The woman wiped her hands on her apron.“He’p you, Sir? Ma’am?”

  “We are friends of Mrs.Younge. Might she be about?” Darcy tried to keep his tone amiable. He had no idea whether the woman was a vampire. He would take no chances with Elizabeth here. He moved to shield his wife from a possible attack. Elizabeth had shared part of her dream with him, and after Mrs.Annesley’s words of advice, Darcy knew not which “reality” to trust.

  “Have yet to see her, Sir. Mrs. Younge come and go as she please. I hep out here couple days a week with cleanin’ and cookin’.”

  “Are there guests in the house now?” Elizabeth ventured from off Darcy’s right shoulder.

  “Mr. George left hours ago. He be it.”

  Darcy shot a quick glance at Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye.“Mr. George?”

  “He be an ole friend of ’Melia’s, too. My, Mr. George kin sleep—sleep for two days stright, he did.” She chuckled as she bent over and pulled two loaves of bread from the oven.“You be stayin’ tonight, Sir? Ma’am? I fix mighty fine soup.”

  “We are considering it.” He took Elizabeth’s hand to edge her back through the door.“Would you mind if we looked around?”

  The woman looked up suspiciously.“How be you know ’Melia?”

  Elizabeth responded casually, “She and I worked together before she was governess for the Darcy family. I tau
ght school for a year before I hooked up with my mister.”

  “This be yer mister?”The old woman eyed Darcy appreciatively.

  “Yes, he is.We just came to London to make our way. I thought Amelia might have a place we could afford until we got a nest egg of our own.” Elizabeth snuggled into Darcy’s arm in a possessive way.

  “Well, seein’ as how you know ’Melia, I be supposin’ you could choose yer room of those empty ones.All be clean ’ceptin’ Mr. George’s.”

  “We will not bother anything,” Elizabeth assured her, “just look around.”

  “That be fine, Ma’am.” The woman turned back to her work.

  Darcy and Elizabeth slipped from the room and headed towards the main staircase. “Does this resemble your dream?” Darcy wondered aloud as they ascended the hardwood steps.

  “Only in the angle of the curvature of the staircase,” she said, trying to downplay the vivid dream, which still clung to the recesses of her mind.

  “The old woman said Wickham is no longer here.”

  Elizabeth murmured,“What if she was wrong?”

  “She is not.” Darcy touched the knob of the only closed door in the hallway. “I am able to sense Wickham, and I have no such feeling right now.”

  Elizabeth sighed audibly, accepting his reasoning. “I hate it when you are right,” she joked, trying to ease the tension.

  “You must accustom yourself to it, my love. I am rarely wrong.”

  “Open the door, Mr. Darcy,” she said,“so we can find what we need and then leave this place.”

  Darcy turned the knob slowly; the click of the release made Elizabeth jump, but he let the wood swing away from the frame, revealing a darkened room. Cautiously, Darcy moved to the windows, pulling open the drapes to let the natural light pour in. Finally able to see, Elizabeth tiptoed into the space.

  Nothing seemed out of place; the water pitcher, the glass, the hairbrush, the folded towel—everything appeared to be ready for the next guest.They surveyed it all—every inch of the room. Elizabeth’s gaze fell on the chintz-covered bed. “What is that?” She pointed to dark streaks on the pale yellow cloth.