Vampire Darcy's Desire

“Elizabeth, this is madness.You are my wife; I will help you find your sister.” He edged forward, hoping to bring her into his embrace, where he might convince her.

“And what will you do, Fitzwilliam, when you find Lydia? Take an ax to her head like you did the others? Free her soul?” Her voice quivered with rage.

Darcy flinched from the accusation.“I will do whatever is necessary to end your sister’s wanderings.” He tried to stay calm—tried to make Elizabeth understand.

“Do not dare to take that self-righteous attitude! If we had pursued Wickham, as I wished… ” she charged. Her eyes burned with resolve, and he watched the color rush to her cheeks.

“It would have made no difference,” he countered. “The letter says he came for Lydia the day after Christmas. We had not even discussed whether to continue our pursuit at that time.”

Elizabeth shook her head.“It lacks significance; I cannot do this any longer!”

The words hit him harder than any blow he had ever taken from an opponent. Cautiously, he asked,“Cannot do what any longer?”

“This!” She threw her hands up in a gesture of frustration. “This…us!”The silence deflated her spirits.“Us,” she whispered.“I cannot do us any longer.” Tears filled her eyes, and Elizabeth’s bottom lip began to tremble. “If I had not allowed myself to be seduced by the idea of helping you, my family would be safe from danger.…I would be back at Longbourn, listening to Lydia rattle on about the latest militia officer to catch her eye. Instead, she is probably calling George Wickham my lord. I cannot forgive myself for my weakness. I want to go home, but how will I ever face my parents with the knowledge that my arrogance cost them their youngest child? How will they ever forgive me? How can I explain without being disloyal to you? My keeping your secret allowed Wickham the opportunity to exact his revenge.”

“I cannot let you go alone.” Darcy was clutching at a straw. He knew, deep in his soul, that she meant to leave him forever.

Elizabeth turned on him, eyes ablaze. “How will you stop me from going alone, Fitzwilliam? Will you keep me under lock and key? Will you follow me and drag me back here against my will? If you do, I will escape again and again, and one of those times I will make it to London, and I will find a solicitor who will take my case; and although I, as a woman, cannot seek a divorce from you, I will let it be known that we never consummated our marriage.The ton will shun you, thinking you perverted in your tastes.” Elizabeth did not know why she said such awful things; she would never purposely hurt Darcy. Even with Lydia’s abduction, she, truthfully, did not blame Darcy as much as she did herself. She had let down her guard, and Wickham had swept in for the kill.

Darcy stepped away from the door, resigned. Elizabeth would never forgive him. He had lost her—lost the only woman he would ever love. “I will not stop you,” he muttered, “and not because of your threat, but because I will not see you hurt by me any longer. Send word where you choose to go, and I will have my man provide for you.Whatever you need—tell him; I will not deny you.” He stepped purposefully behind the desk, as if negotiating a business arrangement. “If you wish to leave today, I shall have the coach readied.” Deflated by his loss, Darcy sat down heavily.

Elizabeth nodded before moving to the door; yet she paused with her hand on the knob. Her voice trembled. “I am sorry, Fitzwilliam,” she said softly, as if offering a caress, but she did not turn around.Tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

“I will think otherwise,” he said from somewhere behind her. Elizabeth heard the emotion in his voice. “I will never be sorry for loving you, Elizabeth. Even with everything that happened, I do not regret one moment I held you in my arms. I only regret that I brought you pain. It was not a fair exchange for the joy you gave me.”

Imagining the danger in which she placed her family by being with Darcy, Elizabeth forced herself to turn the handle—made

The tap on his study door was insistent, but Darcy made no move to respond. Elizabeth had departed more than two hours earlier. He had watched her board the coach—watched as she left, never to return again. Even if he had not seen her leave, Darcy intuitively would have known Elizabeth was gone forever. The house was a crypt; all the sunlight that had filled it for the past few weeks had departed on the back of the carriage that took her away from him. He now stood leaning against his forearm, looking deeply into a fully engaged fireplace, but feeling the chill of an empty heart.

“Fitzwilliam?” Georgiana knocked again and tried the knob before pounding with her fist. “Fitzwilliam, open the door! Elizabeth left, Fitzwilliam.Will you not go after her?”

Georgiana waited for an answer, but Darcy did not move. He had locked the door when Elizabeth walked out of it two hours and thirteen minutes earlier. He counted it off in five-minute intervals, wondering how long it would be before he died of a broken heart. How long could he survive without breathing? What had he done before Elizabeth? Was there anything prior to when Elizabeth Bennet had danced into his life?

His sister’s voice came again, but this time it was softer and more pleading.“Fitzwilliam, please. Brother, we need her.We need Elizabeth.”

“Go away, Georgiana,” he called over his shoulder.“There is no more Elizabeth.”

“But, Fitzwilliam…”She jiggled the door handle again.

“Damn it, Georgiana; I said there is no more Elizabeth! ”

His sister heard the glass shatter as it hit the door and felt the wood vibrate from the impact.That was followed quickly by three thuds in close succession and then an inhuman cry of pain emanating It is so cold.Why is it so cold? before he closed his eyes and let the blackness overcome him.

As the carriage pulled away from the steps of Pemberley, Elizabeth hoped Darcy would stop her. All along the lane, she imagined his riding up like a highwayman, stopping his coach, and demanding that she return to him. Before she left, she had tried the door to his study, but found it locked. Is he behind the door? Does he not care enough to even say his farewells? Secretly, she regretted her impetuous stand in his study; she should not have accused him of causing her family’s grief. Assuredly, he had played a part in it, but so had she, and so had Lydia, and—most important—so had Mr. Wickham. It was no more Darcy’s fault than it was Lord Thomas’s fault for catching Leana’s eye two centuries earlier. Possibly Ellender D’Arcy shared some of the blame for her decision to trade Seorais Winchcombe for Arawn Benning, but as a woman in love she could easily visualize that she would go to such extremes to save Darcy’s life if faced with a similar situation.

Now, as the carriage rolled towards London, Elizabeth urgently wanted to order it to turn around.Yet how could