Vampire Darcy's Desire (43 page)

“I promise I have only the highest opinion of you, Miss Lydia. I would wish to express my plans for my future and my ardent admiration for one of God’s most beautiful creatures.” Such niceties never failed to make a woman let down her guard, whether she be a working-class bar maid or a lady of the realm.

Lydia bit her bottom lip, debating the sensibility of allowing a man to share her carriage. She believed she had good reason to hope for a proposal of marriage from Mr. Wickham. So she said, “As you wish, Mr.Wickham.”

Wickham called up to the coachman and reined in his horse. Dismounting, he tied the animal to the back of the coach and climbed in, seating himself across from her. Lydia settled back into the cheap seats of the letted coach. She smoothed the creases of her dress and tried to look prepared for what she hoped would happen.

Once the coach rolled again, Wickham leaned forward and took Lydia’s hand in his.As he made small circles with his fingertips along her wrists, he beckoned her to look at him. His gaze would solidify his control over the girl.“Miss Lydia,” he said slowly, giving himself time to enthrall her,“I wish to keep you with me through eternity. I would give you a love no one else can. I would welcome you into my arms nightly; we would be partners in the oldest game known to man.”With what ability to think she still possessed, Lydia envisioned balls and kisses and wedding dresses. “Instead of the Forsters, please say you will let me take you to Scotland, where we may join forever. I have a home of which you will be mistress in your own right.”

Lydia Bennet simply nodded her agreement. His eyes held her, and she could no longer generate an independent thought.Wickham enjoyed this moment, the one when his whims became his victim’s actions.Whatever he wanted would occur. He could manipulate Lydia Bennet as he chose. Wickham knew better than anyone how all humanity fed on the power of one another. Every minute of every day, people tried to
best
their neighbors—to suck the life from those less fortunate, leaving the weakest drained and ruined.

Darkness filled the windows as Wickham moved to the seat
beside her. “You will look good in my house,” he whispered close to her ear before starting to trace light kisses down Lydia’s neck. Using his thumb against her chin, Wickham tilted Lydia’s head back to give him access to the veins in her neck—an unnatural kiss of eternal life.

When he sank his teeth into the spot, she flinched but then relaxed into his arms.This moment always amazed him, because as the victim’s life became his to use as he saw fit—as the fluid flowed into his innards—the stranger’s life moved through him—all their memories were now his. Lydia left him with stolen kisses behind the stable from a knock-kneed storekeeper, with games of hide-and-seek with her sisters, with the frustrations of useless music lessons, and with boisterous laughter to hide her own insecurities.

He did not drink enough to kill her outright, just enough to change Lydia Bennet forever. He did not break her neck but instead gently released her, laying the girl back along the seat. He lifted Lydia’s feet onto his lap and removed her slippers; then he absentmindedly stroked her leg from ankle to knee. Being given such liberties would sexually arouse a man, but Wickham was more interested in the texture of her skin, making sure it retained its softness. He would exchange fluids with her several more times over the next couple of days on their way to Northumberland. The lights of London faded into the distance.The coach isolated them from the outside world; he no longer heard the click and the clack of the wheels on the roadway. He sprinkled some of his home earth on the opposite seat and settled in for a long rest.The coachman was one of his followers.There would be no need to stop for food or drink. Changing horses would be the only delays. They would return to his home and wait for what Fitzwilliam Darcy would do next. By noon tomorrow, when her aunt and uncle discovered that Lydia was gone, there would be no turning back. He had instigated a last stand—a final battle with Darcy—one from which only one of them could walk away.

“What does it say, Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth watched him as he read the latest report from one of the many investigators he had hired to find Wickham. It was two days after Christmas, and by silent agreement, they had not discussed Wickham or the curse since his declaration on Christmas day of wanting time away from the obsession.

He tossed the paper on the desk with disgust.The information brought his reprieve to a close. For those few hours, he had enjoyed being simply the master of Pemberley, overseeing his properties, scouring the newspapers for political pieces that would affect his tenants or his business holdings, treating Georgiana in an attentive way, and stealing romantic moments with his wife. This could be his life if not for an ancient hex, and Darcy did not want it to end. “We have news from one of Bramwell’s agents. He located Wickham’s home.”

Elizabeth moved quickly to grab the letter. “Where?” Her eyes searched the words for the answer.

“Near Chillingham.” Darcy crossed the room, putting space between him and the damnable missive. Hands resting on the sill, he took up a sentry position at the window overlooking the south lawn, where he had wrestled in the snow with Elizabeth only a week earlier.

Recognizing his foul mood, Elizabeth first put the offending letter in her pocket so that she might read it more closely later. Then she encircled his waist with her arms and rested her head against the lean, strong muscles of Darcy’s back.“What causes your grief, my Husband?” Elizabeth knew the letter to be related to his discontent, but she knew not the exact reason.“Did not Bramwell’s men do a thorough job?”

Darcy sighed.“On the contrary; they were very professional.”

“Then I do not understand.Are you not happy to know where we might find Wickham?”

Darcy held her to him, clasping her hands tightly. He did not answer for several moments, choosing instead to keep up his vigil and to enjoy the warmth of Elizabeth’s body along his back. “I
cannot in all honesty say I find the report fortuitous.”

Elizabeth released her hold and came to stand in front of him. “Will you not search Wickham out?”

“For what purpose? The chance to get myself or you killed?” He looked away, not wishing to see the censure in her sea-green eyes.“I will not put you in danger again, Elizabeth.
I will not risk it.
You are too precious to me.”

Elizabeth’s hands balled into fists at her sides, her frustration evident. “But we
must
stop him!”

He frowned. “Why is it
my
duty to protect everyone from Wickham?” Darcy, at a loss to explain why things had changed, stalked away from her, horribly and disturbingly uncomfortable. “I willingly accept the responsibility of safeguarding my family and my tenants. I would even defend the village. But how can I accept the responsibility for all of England?”

Elizabeth stormed across the room. “You sound like those weak-willed members of Parliament who are eager to forgive the French just for the sake of peace!”

“Even England cannot protect the whole world, Elizabeth. It can only effectively protect its own borders.That is what I want; I want to preserve what we have. Do you not understand? Am I not defeating Wickham simply by doing that very thing? By not letting his evil overtake me?”

“We have done all this just to
let Wickham go?”
she asked and burst into sobs.

Seeing her so distraught, Darcy scooped her into his arms and took Elizabeth onto his lap as he sat down in a nearby chair.“Have not the past few days been glorious? Just you and me and the hope springing from every wall of Pemberley? We can have that
every day,
Elizabeth.Wickham cannot reach us here.”

“He brought his destruction to the neighborhood before.Why would he not come again?” she countered.

“Because when he was here before, it was when I was learning about Wickham and he about me.” Darcy lifted her chin with the first two fingers of his right hand. “I would never allow that to
happen here again.Wickham cannot take me by surprise; I am an opponent he does not wish to face.”

Elizabeth’s bottom lip trembled. “Then we just…
go on
with our lives?”

Darcy traced her lips with his fingertips. “Do you not want a family, Elizabeth? I have thought of little else for days. We could adopt, just as you said before. We could make everyone think you to be with child—a pillow for padding—then off we go to one of the hundred foundling homes in London or Brighton or even Edinburgh. It will be our secret.”

“What of my maid? Would she not know?” Elizabeth inquired skeptically.

Excited by the possibilities, Darcy now kissed her freely. “We pay her extra to keep our counsel, or I become your handmaid for several months. Our servants would view me as an eccentric, doting husband and father. After all, I have been seen upon numerous occasions kissing my wife.As your time for delivery draws near, we will be called away on a family emergency, or we can go abroad, and you will deliver before we return.”

“But I will have no milk for the child!”

“We will employ a wet nurse,” he said. “Choose a son or a daughter; I do not care.We can repeat the process again in a year or two. How many children would you like? I considered two, but a half dozen would make me even happier.”

“You wish me to miraculously have six children?” Elizabeth wondered aloud.

“We will need to come up with creative tales, but I have no doubt we can do so.”

“Georgiana’s children would be denied their birthright with such a ruse.”

“My sister has a large dowry. She will marry well, and her family will not suffer. We can leave them an inheritance. Think about it. We end the curse with my passing, and the children we raise with a responsibility to the land will carry on—keeping Pemberley and my family’s legacy great.We have the resources to raise a
large family.” He seemed to have considered everything.

“What if I want my
own
children?”

Darcy looked serious.“Then I will swallow my pride and allow you a discreet assignation.”

“I do not want to make love with anyone but you, Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth felt like screaming.

He lowered his voice to share a delicate secret. “I have been thinking about that also.There are ways, Elizabeth,…ways I could pleasure you without…without our being…
together.
”

What he said both embarrassed and excited Elizabeth. “I said I wanted to
make love
with you, Fitzwilliam,” she asserted.

“Then we
will
make love,Vixen. I will send for one hundred French letters.They will prevent your ability to conceive a child—or we can use treated sponges.”

Elizabeth slid off his lap and strode away from him. “I was thinking of something more intimate—something spontaneous shared between a husband and a wife.”

Darcy rose to his feet to follow her. Coming up behind her, he started to embrace her, but then thought better of it. “Elizabeth, do you not understand?” His voice sounded calm, but his hunched shoulders and taut expression said otherwise. “It can be however we want it to be.We will name our own terms.”

“This is madness!” Elizabeth threw up her hands in exasperation. “What have you done with my sane and sensible husband?” She started for the door.

“Please, Elizabeth,…I am begging you,” he called after her.

Elizabeth stopped suddenly and whirled around to face him. “Begging? That is not begging, Fitzwilliam.That is demanding—it is
manipulating!
”And she strode off.

She was nearly to the door when his voice, so soft and so full of grief and pleading, froze her in her place.“
This
is
begging.
”

Elizabeth turned and the sight of her proud, powerful husband on his knees immediately brought tears to her eyes. She looked on in silence.“Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she sighed before rushing forward and dropping to her own knees in front of him; her arms encircled his
neck while she peppered his face with an array of kisses. “I love you,” she assured him before starting the barrage of kisses again.

Darcy made the decision the moment she stormed for the door. He would do anything to keep her with him. Their weeks together were the only joy he could remember. Elizabeth offered paradise; without her, there was no hope—no happiness.

For Elizabeth, the sight of Darcy on his knees ripped her heart in two. She knew him—knew what it cost her husband to beg her to agree. She also knew deep in her heart she could never deny him. She existed only to please him—to worship the man she embraced. Darcy pleaded in supplication for her agreement, and Elizabeth met his prayers with those of her own.

 

The next two days unfolded blissfully; they were some of the best of his eight and twenty years. Nothing troubled the exquisite serenity. He rode out with his steward to inspect several of the storage barns for possible repair, settled a tenant dispute over property lines, and listened to the new vicar’s plea for a village school. In the early afternoon of the second day, Darcy sat with Georgiana at the pianoforte while she practiced a new piece, even joining her on the more difficult parts.They then played several duets.