Regina Jeffers - Vampire Darcys Desire Страница 28

“Please start with your thoughts, Elizabeth.” Darcy stood to pace. He thought best on his feet.“How did the two of you come

Elizabeth looked imploringly at Georgiana, and Darcy’s sister reluctantly began her tale of injuring her foot and of Wickham’s abduction.“I am sorry I did not react when he first appeared; I am helpless.”Tears formed in the girl’s eyes.

“You are not helpless!” Elizabeth declared vehemently.“You are young.And you did what was necessary to survive.”

“Your courage, Elizabeth, gave me hope.”

Elizabeth shot a furtive glance at Darcy.“That was not courage, Georgiana.That was faith in your brother’s protection.”

“How did you know Fitzwilliam was there?You could not have seen him from where you stood.”

“I knew,” Elizabeth said softly. “I knew your brother would come for us, and I sensed his presence.We have a deep connection. I have no other way of explaining it.”

Darcy cleared his throat self-consciously. “In the alleyway… what was that you chanted?” he asked.

“Georgiana and I visited the same bookstore that I was at the other day. We found several books dealing with spiritualism and with Celtic tales. One mentioned saying the vampire’s name backwards. I was desperate for ways to stall until you arrived, so I tried it. When I reversed the name George Wickham, nothing happened. Finally, I remembered that name was not his real name.” Elizabeth recorded something on the paper as she spoke.

“What are you writing?” Georgiana asked curiously.

Elizabeth looked up from her task. “I want to write down everything that seems pertinent to Wickham.We can add information found in the books.That way, maybe we can solve the puzzle of how to defeat him.”

“Then add the iron cross,” Georgiana said, brightening.

“The iron retards Wickham’s efforts,” Elizabeth observed,“but it does not stop him or kill him.”

Georgiana thought aloud, “Was that why you begged me to also believe in Fitzwilliam and in you?”

“I suspect the power of the crucifix lies mostly in our belief—

Stunned by his wife’s analysis, Darcy paused in his pacing. “If what you say is true, then we must discover what Wickham believes in.Your theory makes sense; two hundred years ago, Christian ideas readily mixed with tales of the supernatural.Why did I not see that before? Elizabeth, you are brilliant.”

Elizabeth’s eyes softened. “I do believe we previously approached this the wrong way.” Elizabeth’s voice held her anticipation. “If we discover what protects Wickham, we can use it against him.”

“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.”