Mr. Darcy, Vampyre

by Amanda Grange

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2009 by Amanda Grange

  Cover and internal design © 2009 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Tina Silva/Sourcebooks

  Cover photos © Getty Images; Istockphoto/Alex Staroseltsev

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Landmark, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  FAX: (630) 961-2168

  www.sourcebooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Grange, Amanda.

  Mr. Darcy, vampyre / Amanda Grange.

  p. cm.

  1. Darcy, Fitzwilliam (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Bennet, Elizabeth (Fictitious character)—Fiction. I. Austen, Jane, 1775-1817. Pride and prejudice. II. Title.

  PR6107.R35M69 2009

  823’.92—dc22

  2009024137

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  This book is dedicated to Catherine Morland

  Prologue

  December 1802

  My dearest Jane,

  My hand is trembling as I write this letter. My nerves are in tatters and I am so altered that I believe you would not recognise me. The past two months have been a nightmarish whirl of strange and disturbing circumstances, and the future…

  Jane, I am afraid.

  If anything happens to me, remember that I love you and that my spirit will always be with you, though we may never see each other again. The world is a cold and frightening place where nothing is as it seems.

  It was all so different a few short months ago. When I awoke on my wedding morning, I thought myself the happiest woman alive…

  Chapter 1

  October 1802

  Elizabeth Bennet’s wedding morning was one of soft mists and mellow sunshine. She drew back her bedroom curtains to see the dreaming English landscape lying serene and beautiful beneath a soft, white quilt. The mist was at its thickest by the river, lying voluptuously over the water, then thinning out as it spread over the fields and pastures before disappearing, wisp-like, into the trees.

  The birds were silent, but there was a sense of expectancy in the air. It was as though the world were waiting for the sun to rise and burn away the gauzy veil, revealing the true colours of the countryside, not muted white and grey, but green and blue and gold.

  Elizabeth sank onto the window seat and pulled her knees up in front of her. She wrapped her arms around them and her thoughts drifted to the ceremony that was to come. Images floated through her mind: she and her father walking down the aisle, Darcy waiting for her, the ring slipping onto her finger…

  She was not the only one to have risen early. Her mother was already awake, complaining to anyone who would listen to her about her nerves, and Mary was playing the piano. Kitty was calling out, ‘Has anyone seen my ribbon?’ and Mr Bennet was adding a full stop to his dry reply by closing the library door.

  Beside her, Jane was still sleeping.

  As she watched the world waking outside the window, Elizabeth thought of the past year and of how lucky she and her sister had been. They had both met men they loved and now, after many trials and difficulties, they were to marry them.

  Elizabeth could not remember whose idea it had been to have a joint ceremony, but she was glad to know that her sister was to share the happiest day of her life—no, not the happiest, for she was sure that was yet to come—but the happiest day of her life thus far.

  As the sun rose and the mists began to lift, Jane stirred. She blinked and then lifted herself on one elbow, pushing her fair hair out of her eyes and smiling her slow, beautiful smile.

  ‘You’re awake early,’ she said to Lizzy.

  ‘And so are you.’

  ‘Here.’ Jane climbed out of bed and took a wrapper from its peg behind the door, then draped it over her sister’s shoulders. ‘You don’t want to catch cold.’

  Lizzy took the wrapper and put it on, then she caught her sister’s hand impulsively and said, ‘Only think, in a few more hours we will be married. I will be on the way to the Lake District for my wedding tour, and you will be on your way to London to visit Bingley’s relations there.’

  Jane sat down on the window seat opposite Elizabeth, and Elizabeth made herself smaller to give her sister more room. Jane raised one knee and let her other leg dangle over the edge of the seat, with her foot swinging idly an inch or two from the floor. She looked absently out of the window and twirled one fair curl round her finger, then she turned to face her sister and she said, ‘Do you wish we were going on our wedding tours together?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lizzy. ‘And no.’

  Jane nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘I will miss you, Jane, but we need some time alone with our husbands,’ said Lizzy, ‘especially to begin with. You will write to me, though, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course. And you will write to me?’

  ‘Every day. Well, perhaps not every day,’ said Lizzy with a sudden smile, ‘and perhaps not at all just at first, but I will write often and tell you what I am doing, and you must do the same.’

  They heard the sound of footsteps on the stair and they knew it was their mother, who was coming to hurry them into dressing, even though the ceremony would not begin for another three hours. They greeted her with affection, being too happy to worry about anything this morning, and listened to all her anxieties, both real and imagined. They reassured her that Kitty would not cough during the ceremony and that Mrs Long would not steal Mr Bingley for her niece at the last moment—‘for I am sure she would be capable of trying,’ said Mrs Bennet.

  ‘Mr Bingley loves Jane,’ said Lizzy.

  Mrs Bennet smiled complacently.

  ‘I cannot wonder at it. I knew she could not be so beautiful for nothing. Now, girls, you must come downstairs. Breakfast is ready in the dining room.’

  Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances. They could not face the thought of a family breakfast with their mother fussing and Mary moralising.

  ‘I am not hungry,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Nor I,’ said Jane.

  Their mother protested, but they would not be persuaded, and at last Mrs Bennet went downstairs, calling, ‘Kitty! Kitty, my love! I want to speak to you…’

  Elizabeth and Jane breathed a sigh of relief when they were left alone again.

  ‘We should eat something, though, even if we don’t really want it,’ said Jane.

  ‘I couldn’t eat a thing,’ said Lizzy. ‘I’m too excited.’

  ‘You shou
ld try,’ said Jane, standing up and looking at her sister with affection. ‘It will be a long morning and you don’t want to faint in the church.’

  ‘All right,’ said Lizzy, ‘for you, I’ll eat something, but only if we don’t have to go downstairs.’

  Jane swirled her own wrapper from the peg and let it fall round her shoulders, then she drifted out of the room.

  Elizabeth leaned back against the window and her eyes looked towards Netherfield. She imagined Darcy rising, too, and preparing himself for the wedding.

  Her thoughts were recalled by Jane, who returned with a tray of delicacies, and together the two of them managed to make a passable breakfast. They broke off small pieces of hot rolls and ate them slowly in between sipping hot chocolate.

  ‘What do you think it will be like?’ asked Elizabeth.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Jane. ‘Different.’

  ‘You will still be here, at Netherfield,’ said Elizabeth, ‘but I will be living in Derbyshire.’

  ‘With Mr Darcy,’ said Jane.

  ‘Yes, with my beloved Darcy,’ she said with a long smile.

  She thought of herself and Darcy at Pemberley, wandering through the lush grounds and living their lives in the luxurious rooms, and she was lost in happy daydreams until her mother came in again, saying that it was time to dress.

  The two young women rose from the window seat and went over to the washstand, where they stepped out of their nightgowns and washed in the scented water before slipping into their chemises. They sat patiently whilst Hill arranged their hair, threading seed pearls through their soft chignons, and then they put on their corsets, tying each other’s stays and laughing all the while.

  They became quieter when it was time to put on their wedding dresses. They had wanted their dresses to be similar but not the same. Both gowns were made of white silk, but Jane’s dress had a round neck decorated with ribbon whilst Lizzy’s dress had a square neck trimmed with lace. Elizabeth helped Jane to begin with, lifting the gown over her sister’s head. It fell to the floor with a whisper of silk and Elizabeth fastened it, then stood and looked at Jane in the mirror. She kissed her on the cheek and said, ‘Bingley is a lucky man.’

  Then Elizabeth raised her arms so that her sister could slip her dress over her head. It fell lightly around Elizabeth’s form, dropping to the floor with a satisfying rustle.

  Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror and thought that she looked somehow different. Elizabeth Bennet had almost gone, but Elizabeth Darcy had not yet appeared. For the moment she was caught between the two worlds, neither one thing nor another. She would be sorry to let the former depart and yet she was longing for the latter to arrive: a new name and with it a new world and a new life.

  The two young women looked at each other and then hugged and laughed. They put on their veiled bonnets, pulled on their long white gloves, and picked up their bouquets, releasing the scent of roses into the air. Then, hand in hand, they went downstairs.

  ‘So here we are, two brides,’ said Elizabeth as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and suddenly, she shivered.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Jane.

  Elizabeth’s voice was queer.

  ‘I don’t know. I just had a strange feeling, almost a sense of foreboding.’

  ‘Hah! That is nothing but wedding nerves,’ said her father’s warm voice behind her, and turning round, she saw him looking at her kindly. ‘Everyone has them on their wedding day.’ He became suddenly serious. ‘Unless you have changed your mind, Lizzy? If so, it is better to say so now. You have only to say the word, you know that. It is still not too late.’

  Elizabeth thought of her beloved Darcy and the way he looked at her as though she was the only woman in the world, and said, ‘No, of course not, Papa. It is as you say, just wedding nerves.’

  ‘Good, because I could not bear to let you go to anyone who did not deserve you or anyone you did not truly love,’ he said searchingly.

  ‘I do love him, Papa, with all my heart,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Well then, the carriage is ready, and your bridesmaids are waiting for you. Your mother has already gone to the church. It’s time for us to go.’

  He offered them each an arm and then, with Lizzy on his right and Jane on his left, he led them out to the carriage.

  ***

  The streets of Meryton were full of the townspeople going about their daily business, but they all stopped to look and smile as the Bennet carriage drove past. It was the centre of attention as it drove the mile to the church. When it arrived, Elizabeth and Jane saw that the lich gate had been decorated with flowers.

  ‘That was your sister Kitty’s idea,’ said Mr Bennet as he handed his daughters out of the carriage.

  Kitty, climbing out of the carriage behind them with their other bridesmaid, Georgiana Darcy, flushed with pleasure at their obvious delight.

  ‘Your sister Mary, however, thought it a well intentioned but futile gesture as the state of the lich gate would not have any bearing on your future happiness; indeed, she had already discovered a learned extract on that very subject,’ Mr Bennet added drily.

  Elizabeth laughed, but as she walked up the path to the church, she felt her humour leave her and nerves began to assail her.

  Would Darcy be there? Would he have changed his mind?

  Would he be wearing his blue coat?

  The mischievous thought slipped into her mind and made her realise how foolish her worries were, and she laughed quietly to herself.

  When they reached the church door, Mr Bennet paused.

  ‘Well, girls, let me look at you for one last time,’ he said with something that looked suspiciously like moisture in his eyes. ‘Yes, you will do very well,’ he said at last with a fond smile. ‘In fact, you will do more than very well. You are undoubtedly the two loveliest brides in England.’

  Then, giving them an arm each, he led them inside.

  As they entered the church, Elizabeth and Jane saw that their family and friends had all gathered to witness their wedding. Mrs Bennet was sitting on one side of the aisle with the Gardiners and the Phillipses, whilst Caroline Bingley was on the other side with her sister and brother-in-law. Friends and neighbours were scattered about, all eager to witness the ceremony.

  Mr Collins told everyone, in a loud whisper, that, as a clergyman, he was ready to perform the necessary ceremony if the Meryton vicar should suddenly be taken ill; but as Mr Williams was a young man, and as he was already standing in front of them, this did not seem very likely.

  The two prospective bridegrooms stood at the front of the church, smiling nervously at each other and asking their groomsmen repeatedly if the wedding rings were safe. They were both looking very handsome and were dressed immaculately in black tailcoats and white breeches. Their cravats were newly starched and their white shirts were ruffled at the wrist.

  As Elizabeth and Jane began to walk down the aisle, Mary, who was seated at the church organ, struck up a sonata and everyone turned to look at the brides. A murmur of appreciation went up, gradually fading away to nothing.

  When Elizabeth and Jane reached the front of the church, they gave their bouquets to Kitty and Georgiana and then the bridesmaids stood to one side. There were a few coughs, though mercifully none from Kitty, and the vicar began.

  ‘Dearly, beloved, we are gathered together here…’

  Elizabeth stole a look at Darcy. He was looking more nervous than she had ever seen him; more nervous, even, than he had been when he had visited her at the inn at Lambton after their estrangement. But when, feeling her eyes on him, he turned to look at her, she saw his nervousness fade, and smiling, they both turned back to the vicar.

  ‘Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?’ asked the Rev Mr Williams.

  ‘I do,’ said Mr Bennet, with a look of paternal love and pride.

  Mr Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand in his own right hand and repeated after Mr Williams, ‘I, Fitzwilliam Charles George Darcy, take thee,
Elizabeth Eleanor Anne Bennet, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honour, and cherish, till death do us part.’

  As he did so, there were sighs from the congregation, most notably from the corner where Caroline Bingley was sitting.

  Elizabeth and Darcy loosed hands, and then Elizabeth took Darcy’s right hand in her own right hand and made her vows in a clear voice that set Mrs Bennet mopping her eyes with her handkerchief, and when Darcy slipped the ring onto Elizabeth’s finger, a murmur of approval ran round the church.

  Their vows made, they went through into the vestry to sign the register, accompanied by Jane and Bingley, whose vows had been made in no less loving tones. As Mary played another sonata, Elizabeth and Jane signed their names as Bennet for the last time.

  When they came out of the vestry, Elizabeth distinctly heard her mother whispering in exultant tones, ‘Oh! Mr Bennet! Just think, of it, our Elizabeth is now Mrs Darcy! Oh my goodness, ten thousand a year!’

  They walked back up the aisle to showers of congratulations. As they emerged into the sunshine, they were met by Sir William Lucas making a stately speech, and then confronted by Mr Collins bowing obsequiously before them and peppering his rambling congratulations with ‘…esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh…’ before they were free to walk down the path.

  When they reached its end, Mr Gardiner handed Mr Darcy some messages which had arrived from well wishers who could not attend the service. Mr Darcy read them to Elizabeth as they went out to the road, where the Darcy coach was waiting.

  Elizabeth climbed into the coach, where she was met with the smell of polish and the feel of leather seats, so different from the Bennet coach with its musty interior and its patched upholstery. Even the blinds in the Darcy coach were made of silk.

  To the happy cries of the congregation the coach set off on its way back to Longbourn for the wedding breakfast. As Mr Darcy seated himself opposite her, Elizabeth caught an expression of such pure love on his face that she felt a catch in her throat.