Vampire Darcy's Desire

prepared for war, knowing that if Darcy failed, only they stood between Wickham and a continuation of evil.

They expected to be in the area described in Bramwell’s report by late the next afternoon or early evening, depending on the weather. It was significantly colder than in Derbyshire, but to their surprise, they met no snow or rain. The colonel and Peter kept a

“A stake through the heart, a coin in the mouth, decapitate with an ax, boil the head in vinegar, chain to the grave with wild roses, bury at a crossroads—my God, the list goes on and on. How will we ever know what to do?!”The colonel began to feel the frustration she had known weeks earlier.

“We will listen to our intuition. Actually, I have a theory about all this. It depends on when the person died.What I mean is, different generations placed their beliefs in different symbols; that is why so much is unknown about how to do this. Besides, it is not as if there exists a vampire hunter instruction book!”

The colonel laughed at her assertion.“Do you suppose there be a market for one? We might be able to author such a tome after this.” He settled back into the cushions of the carriage.“Maybe it is the nationality difference of which you speak, rather than a generational one,” he mused.“It seems that many of the items have some relationship to purifying wounds or curing illnesses.”

Elizabeth weighed what the man said. Over the past few days, she had developed a real respect for her husband’s cousin. If she had met the colonel first, she might have set her sights on him. Shorter than Darcy, but not by much, the colonel was well made. Long, dark lashes capped dark brown eyes, which matched his head of thick brown curly hair. He possessed a compelling, almost sensual, masculinity. She appreciated his logic and his amiability and his arresting wit. Damon Fitzwilliam was not as intense in his interactions as her husband, but he was attractive, although for her, Darcy spoke of manliness and charisma and love. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. They avoided speaking of the possibility of Darcy’s already being in Stanwick. Meticulously, the colonel silently estimated how long it would take Darcy to reach

“One of the things of which I am relatively sure is that Wickham does not believe in the Trinity. I have witnessed how he retreats from symbols of Christianity, but they do not destroy him. Fitzwilliam threw holy water on him in the confrontation over Georgiana, but all it got him was a scream, the smell of burning skin, and a momentary withdrawal on Wickham’s part. I had more success with the name reversal in London than my husband did with his attempts at Ramsgate.The crucifix will work on my sister, but not on Wickham.”

“Is Wickham that close to the Devil to be immune to symbols of God?”

“Wickham is closer to his own gods. Mrs. Annesley discovered the god Cernunnos, a classic stag-horned god of Celtic origin.The crown everyone describes as a mark on Wickham’s hand resembles the ram-horned serpent of the Meigle stone in Perthshire, which everyone identifies as Cernunnos. Some believe Cernunnos is the figure encountered in the tale of King Arthur and the Lady of the Lake. Even Shakespeare mentions Cernunnos as Herne the Hunter. Anyway, the ash stakes should be effective in that realm.”

The colonel looked out the carriage window, noting that Peter had turned off the main road and was headed towards the inn they had discussed earlier. “What will you do if we find that Darcy did not survive?” The words hung in the air, a curtain of doubt between them.

“I will try to recover both my husband’s and my sister’s bodies and put them at rest.Then I will return to Longbourn.”

“You will not go back to Pemberley?” He turned his head to look closely at her.

“Pemberley belongs to Georgiana,” she argued.

Colonel Fitzwilliam returned his gaze to the window. “Darcy would provide for you. I am sure he would want you to be a part of his sister’s life.”

“Georgiana has you, Sir. She does not need me. I barely scratched the surface in making my way there. In fact, the staff members probably find me most scandalous.”

The colonel chuckled at her assertion. “Perhaps. If…if my cousin cannot be saved, as Georgiana’s only other guardian, I would be grateful if you would return to Pemberley, Mrs. Darcy. Your intuition is good, and I am sure my young cousin could learn much from you.”

Elizabeth was silent, but she was touched by the sentiment. Aloud, she said,“Let us not face that decision until it is necessary, Sir.”

Darcy scouted the area after his arrival at the local inn. It would be dark soon, and he needed to become familiar with the lay of the land before it was too black to see the details of the buildings. A several-hours’ ride northeast of Chillingham, the village of Stanwick was little more than a turning-off point for Edinburgh.

Wickham’s residence could be accessed only by one of two ways: through the churchyard and cemetery and then down a treacherously steep hill and through a wooded field or the direct route of over a drawbridge, across an open courtyard, and through the front door of the moderate-sized house. Darcy could not get close enough to see into the house, but some carefully placed questions told him that the few steps led to an unadorned open hall, evidently used as the center of activity for Wickford Manor. A few of the more adventurous youths gladly told him how the pantry in the kitchen was totally bare and the well was only for show, because no water was ever seen within it. From the road, Darcy could see that the garden and the lawn, although naturally dormant in winter, still showed signs of neglect and overgrowth.

Thinking the churchyard a better choice for his approach, he tried to appear casual as he strolled through the graveyard, pausing periodically to read epitaphs: Make WisdomYour Provision for the Journey fromYouth to Old Age and Ye Shall Know the Truth and True Nobility Is Exempt from Fear were mixed with The Music of My Life, Matthew Horace and Charles McDane, Loving Father and Behold the Child, Mary Adams. Circling the perimeter of the cemetery, he stumbled across the Winchcombe headstones of Mairte Rosin and Domhnall Neill. He suspected them to be those of Wickham’s parents, because they were the last ones before one exited the rear of the neighborhood’s churchyard. He would not find Wickham’s grave here. The great evil associated with George Wickham prohibited his inclusion in consecrated land. More than likely, Wickham’s house was designed to embrace his own grave.

Then his eyes fell upon the dual crypts dominating the center of the site. Without reading the engraving, Darcy knew to whom they belonged.These two faced in towards the center of the cemetery, as if they stood staring into each other’s eyes for eternity. Darcy could see them in his mind’s eye—Lady Ellender D’Arcy and Lord Arawn Benning, circling each other on the dance floor… preparing to rush into each other’s arms in a moment of passion… arguing heatedly over some domestic matter.

Slowly and methodically, Darcy made his way around different mounds until he stood reverently before the