Vampire Darcy's Desire

They rode and they rode till they came to the hall,

So loudly she twirled at the pin

And no one so ready as Lord Thomas himself

To let fair Ellender in.

He took her by her lily-white hand

When leading her through the hall

Saying,“Fifty gay ladies are here today

But here is the flower of them all.”

“Is this your bride, Lord Thomas?” she said.

“She looks most wonderful brown

You might have had as a fair a woman

As ever trod Scotland’s ground.”

“Despise her not, Fair Ellender,” he cried.

“Despise her not to me

For I love the end of your little finger

More than her whole body.”

The Brown Girl, she was standing by

With knife ground keen and sharp,

Between the long ribs and the short,

She pierced Fair Ellender’s heart.

“Oh, what’s the matter?” Lord Thomas said.

“You look so pale and wan;

You used to have so fair a color

As ever the sun shone on.”

Here it comes, he thought. The ending! The story of “Fair Ellender” he knew well—too well. Ellender D’Arcy began the madness; her love of Arawn Benning marked them—all the generations to follow—and Fitzwilliam Darcy fought to stop the evil she brought on his family. Knowingly, or unknowingly, Elizabeth Bennet sang on:

“Oh, you are blind, Lord Thomas!” she said.

“Or can’t you very well see?

Oh, can’t you see my own heart’s blood

As it trickles down on thee?”

He took the Brown Girl by the hand

And led her across the hall.

He took off his sword and cut off her head

And threw it against the wall.

“Oh, Mother, oh, Mother, go dig my grave;

Go dig it both wide and deep,

And place Fair Ellender in my arms

And the Brown Girl at my feet.”

He placed his sword against the wall

The point against his breast,

Saying,“This is the end of three poor lovers

God take us all to rest.”

They buried Ellender in the old churchyard;

They buried Lord Thomas beside her.

Out of his grave grew a red, red rose,

And out of hers a briar.

They grew and grew up the old church wall

Till they could grow no higher,

And at the top twined a lover’s knot

The red rose and the briar.¹

“Miss Elizabeth,” Sir William cried, “you clearly brought me to tears. Such a song!”

Elizabeth dropped her eyes, looking away demurely.“I apologize, Sir William. I did not mean to place a cold sheet on your festivities.”

“Really, Miss Elizabeth, it was worth the silence to hear one of the traditional ballads done so well; so few people these days remember them.”

Darcy stood near, praying for another topic of conversation. Engrossed in his thoughts, he took little note of Mary Bennet succeeding Elizabeth at the pianoforte, nor did he approve of her younger sisters’ demand that Mary perform Scottish and Irish airs instead of a concerto. Bingley joined the group of dancers, along with several of the officers; yet Darcy still did not move—he could not—would not.

When Sir William stepped up beside him and engaged in conversation, Darcy wanted no part of the man. He wanted only to retreat to his room and sort out the chaos. He wanted to go home to Pemberley or even to Overton House, but the vast emptiness of How could the man expect him to maintain such an asinine conversation when he just lost his soul—hexed by the truth of her words? Moments ticked breathlessly away while Darcy remained silently reserved until Elizabeth came into view again, and despite wanting to throttle her—wanting to run away from her—wanting to question what she knew of him—his body betrayed him, and Darcy hungrily devoured her with his eyes.

Sir William summoned her, and Darcy silently moaned in despair. He needed to be somewhere else, somewhere far away from her. “My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing?—Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner.You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you.”

If Darcy had bothered to look, he would have, obviously, seen that Elizabeth was as miserable as he. She protested immediately, taking a steadying breath. How could she let Darcy know she could not forget the look on his face as she sang? At first, she thought him critical again, but now she was certain she had hurt him somehow. Suddenly, everything she thought about him turned upside down. “Indeed, Sir, I have not the least intention of dancing.”

Her voice brought him back to reality, and although he still held the dread of her knowing a secret he swore to take to his grave, Elizabeth’s presence—her proximity—forced him to react. Unsettled by his spiraling desire, Darcy forgot his previous trepidation; he wanted to dance with her—like a moth compelled to follow the flame, he felt a need to be near her.“Miss Elizabeth, may I have the honor of this dance?” He offered her a proper bow.

“I appreciate your gallantry, Mr. Darcy, but without meaning offense, I will decline.” Instinctively, she knew she could not risk touching him—taking his hand. Elizabeth was not sure if she wanted to know of more Mr. Darcy.

She walked away, but the spell Elizabeth cast on him remained: She was an enigma—one he desperately wanted to solve.The fact that she did not set designs on him went a long way in holding must know more of the woman.

Caroline Bingley suddenly appeared in his path. He had managed to avoid her for several days. Smiling, Miss Bingley placated his every thought. “You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such society, and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity and yet the noise—the nothingness—and yet the self-importance of all these people!—What would I give to hear your strictures on them!”

Darcy knew how to send her away. “Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I meditated on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

“Who might credit such inspiration?” she cried coquettishly.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He smiled as he said her name.

Caroline took immediate offense, but Darcy was unmoved by the wound he had dealt to her vanity. Only his Elizabeth brought forth any interest.