Vampire Darcys Desire - Regina Jeffers

“Whom should we trust with the task?”

“Peter.” The colonel knew that without a doubt. “He is most eager to be of service. I will put him in one of my uniforms; he can take Trident.We just need Wickham away for a few minutes.”

Things settled, Elizabeth moved to end their discussion. “We need some rest.” She stood and offered her hand.

The colonel followed her to his feet. “Will you be well alone, my dear?”

“I will, Colonel. Find yourself a real bed tonight.You deserve a proper sleep.” Elizabeth led him to the door.“I will be ready in the morning, Sir.”

Damon opened the door and edged out, not wanting anyone to see him.“Rest well, Elizabeth.”

From the upper window, they surreptitiously watched Wickham try to blend in with the villagers moving about the area. He dressed in plain clothing, but he did not assume another’s identity, and Elizabeth easily recognized his awkward movements as he pretended to be a farmer herding sheep through a series of pens.

“Peter knows what to do.”The colonel stood behind her.

“He is brave to face this. Mr. Darcy needs to reward him accordingly.”

The colonel walked away. “I am sure my cousin will be generous.” He picked up his gloves. Today he dressed, as did the local gentry, in a loose overcoat and a plain waistcoat. They wanted as little attention as possible.

“The stable hand has brought out Trident.” Damon returned to the window just in time to see Peter stride from the inn. He wore the colonel’s uniform, belted and tucked in to give the appearance of fitting, along with a hat pulled down over his forehead and a scarf covering the lower part of his face. He used a mounting block to settle himself into the saddle. Although no horseman, Peter knew horses well enough to create an illusion, and he kicked Trident’s flanks to edge the horse out onto the road. Recognizing a friend—one who regularly offered him a treat—Trident

“I hope Peter is able to walk tonight,” Elizabeth mused.

“It is for a good cause.” Damon watched more intently.“Come on, Wickham,” he thought aloud,“take the bait.”

They waited for several long moments, and then Wickham moved to a waiting gig. The colonel heard Elizabeth let out her breath.“We are on, Elizabeth.” He moved swiftly towards the door. “We have very little time.”

Nearly at a run, they cut across several fields to make their trek shorter. The innkeeper pointed out the way and within less than ten minutes,Wickford Manor loomed ahead.

“You are very adept at moving through the countryside,” the colonel murmured close to Elizabeth’s ear as she knelt beside him, observing the house for occupants.

She smiled brightly. “I am often criticized for being a good walker.”

“Not today, my dear.” Damon touched her hand and pointed to the kitchen door he had used the previous night.

Elizabeth nodded in recognition; he expected her to follow him. Less cautious today than during the night, the colonel opened the door, and both of them moved through the portal. He motioned for her to wait while he scouted the area, taking the servant stairs once again and moving quickly through the house.

However, Elizabeth chose not to wait; impatient to see Darcy, she discovered the door by the hearth. The crucifix affixed to the handle—which she intuited that Wickham had hung there for his own nefarious purposes—told her that she found what she sought. She tried the handle but, as expected, it did not move; Elizabeth though, was not the type to allow that to stop her. She began searching for the key. CouldWickham have it on him? Not likely. It was not in his character.Wickham loved the melodramatic—the manipulation, the puzzle. He would hide the key in an obvious place to see if anyone were smart enough to outwit him. Realizing the truth of the matter, Elizabeth began to frantically turn over cups and bowls, assuming Wickham

Finding nothing above, the colonel returned to the kitchen. “Do you see anything?” he whispered, but she shook her head as she continued to search everything in sight.

Damon moved to the door and tried physically to force the lock. “We need to do something now,” he insisted, but Elizabeth ignored his urgency and continued her search.

“It has to be here.” Elizabeth turned over the kettle—and then she saw it, lodged between the logs ready for a fire.“I have it!” She was all excitement as she scrambled to recover it.

Coming to the door, she handed the key ring to Damon, who quickly opened the cellar. And then Elizabeth saw him, crumpled and broken looking. “Fitzwilliam!” she exhaled his name as she rushed forward, nearly bounding down the steps. Reaching him quickly, she cradled his head in her hands, covering his face with a battery of feather-light kisses.“Oh, God, Fitzwilliam, speak to me,” she pleaded.

His mouth parched from a day and a half of no nourishment, he managed,“Are you real? I dreamed of you.”

“Very real, my love.” She kissed him again.“Let us help you out of here.”

The colonel had already begun to work at the locks of the shackles. Not expecting anyone to stage a rescue, Wickham had foolishly left all the keys on the same ring, and so the colonel released the first lock and gingerly lowered Darcy’s arm to his side. “Easy, Darcy,” he whispered before moving on to the other lock.

Darcy tried to turn his head towards his liberator. “Damon?” he mumbled softly as he slumped into Elizabeth’s arms.

“In the flesh, Cousin.” He released the other binding before helping Darcy to his feet.“Hopefully, your legs work, because I do not choose to carry you.” But the colonel bolstered his cousin’s weight and started Darcy’s unsure footsteps to the door. Elizabeth led the way, but as she reached the top stair, she halted suddenly in place, refusing to move from the portal.

Pushing her aside, Damon leaned Darcy against the frame as

Elizabeth did not answer, but Damon knew she had heard by the slight nod of her head.

“You will take my lord’s friend nowhere,” the older woman hissed. She was beautifully handsome—buxom, with raven black hair and pale violet eyes; yet Damon knew she would ravish him without a thought.

“Unfortunately, we differ on that.” He noted how the girl he now recognized to be Lydia Bennet edged to the side.

Then before he could stop her, Elizabeth faced her sister. “Lydia, listen to me; you cannot do this.”When the apparition who once was her sister made no response, Elizabeth tried again.“I will not let you hurt Fitzwilliam or the colonel, Lydia. I love you, Lyddie, but I will not allow you to destroy others.”

Lydia, a bit taller than her older sibling, turned her head slowly, as if observing a fly on the wall. “Then I will destroy you, Elizabeth.” Not only were the words bone-chilling, but the tone told Elizabeth that nothing of her sister remained.

Darcy gave his senses a shake, knowing he must intervene. He could not let Elizabeth fight her sister. In pain, he lifted his arms and turned once in place.“Heads down!” he ordered his rescuers as the weak flow of energy temporarily blinded the two vampires. Intuitively, the colonel ducked his head and tackled Elizabeth around the waist, dragging her away from their assailants; then he, too, spun a half turn, bringing the sword high as he did so.

Still weak from his confinement, Darcy’s arms soon lowered, and the energy waned, but a different type of energy—one of pure evil—replaced it. Instantly, the women attacked, first knocking the enfeebled Darcy to the floor and then turning their full vengeance on the man.

Elizabeth watched in horror as the colonel arced his sword through the air, hacking at arms and legs as sharp claws dug at his

Jerking the door open with one hand, she shoved her husband through. He landed on all fours in the dirt, and then she turned back to the melee. “Lydia!” she screamed as she picked up a poker and challenged her sister.

The being who was once Lydia Bennet turned immediately, giving Damon Fitzwilliam a reprieve, the thing for which Elizabeth had hoped. Behind Lydia, the colonel still fought with a frenzied older woman, but Elizabeth’s attention rested purely on the creature who had been her sister. Gaping stab wounds now crisscrossed the countenance she loved, and slash marks laced the girl’s arms. Elizabeth groaned in pain, witnessing the evil that controlled her younger sister.

Lydia now advanced, backing Elizabeth to the wall. “You wanted me, Sister?” Surprisingly, the sinister words drowned out the shrieks and grunts of the fight raging over Lydia’s shoulder. “My lord will welcome you among his followers, Elizabeth.”

“Mama and Papa grieve for you, Lydia.” Feeling guilty, Elizabeth tried to reason rather than fight.

Lydia bared her fangs.“I grieve for no one.”The girl took a step closer.“I will not grieve for you, Sister.”

“But I will grieve for you, Lydia.” Elizabeth intuitively raised the poker in a defensive stance.

Meanwhile, Damon fought for his life. With no experience in fighting vampires, at first, he underestimated the brute strength of the animals he encountered, seeing only a beautiful woman and a pretty girl. But a few well-placed blows from his attackers told him that he fought more than the shell in which each was encased. He fought unearthly demons determined to strip him of his very soul. Knowing Elizabeth’s life was in danger, he redoubled his efforts. Finally, the woman charged, and he thrust at the same time.

When the sword pierced her heart, a blood-curdling shriek filled the room as her momentum impaled her all the way to the

“Lydia, no!” he heard Elizabeth warn behind him as he pushed back on the woman’s body, following her to the floor.

Screams continued as Damon frantically wrestled with the woman’s limp form to free the sword, finally placing his booted foot on her chest and yanking at the handle with all his might.

Darcy, hearing Elizabeth’s calls of distress, fought his way to his feet. Reeling from exhaustion and desiccation, he knew he must find some way to reach her. He must stop Elizabeth from being the one who hurt her sister. She would never forgive herself, no matter how justified the action. Staggering back through the open doorway, he battled for some sort of control.

Elizabeth had reacted too late to fend off Lydia’s attack, assuming she could rekindle the goodness she had once known in her sister, and now she struggled to keep Lydia’s claws from tearing at her face and neck. Lydia’s inhuman strength surprised Elizabeth as she twisted and turned, trying to wrench herself free of the viselike grip of the being’s hell-bent fury, but Lydia’s demonic possession pushed Elizabeth farther against the wall, effectively pinning her and allowing Lydia to move in for the final mastication.

Elizabeth’s scream shattered the near silence of the room as Lydia lowered her head. Darcy raised his arms, and everything moved in slow motion as Damon pulled the sword free and turned, preparing to charge across the room. Propelling himself forward to help Elizabeth, Darcy reached the point of contact first, and the colonel automatically released the metal, sending it turning end over end.

The twang of the silver as it sliced the air mixed sharply with Elizabeth’s screams and Damon’s fight for breath. Darcy paused, focusing all his energy into one movement. Growing up, he and Damon had fought local bullies in tandem; and without a doubt,

Lydia Bennet slumped forward, clinging to her older sister as they both collapsed to the floor, Lydia lying face down in Elizabeth’s lap.With the last of his strength, Darcy pulled the sword free as Elizabeth rolled Lydia to her back.

“Lyddie.” Elizabeth caressed her sister’s cheek, but there was no response. Darcy had released her from hell, and Lydia rested at last.

“We need to get out of here,” the colonel said as he pulled Darcy to his feet.

“Elizabeth.” Darcy reached for her.

“I cannot leave her, Fitzwilliam…not like this.” Elizabeth’s eyes pleaded with him to do something.

Darcy turned to his cousin.“Can you carry her, Damon?”

Frustrated by the change in the dynamics and his own feelings of inadequacy, Damon unwillingly agreed. “I can carry her long enough to keep her body safe. I will come back for her later.”The colonel hoisted Lydia Bennet’s limp body onto his shoulder as he led the way out the door.They left everything else in shambles, the quickly decaying body of the once-beautiful opera singer prostrate on the hardwood floor.

Making their way in the open again, Elizabeth hurried between the colonel’s steady footsteps, carrying the dangling limbs of her sister, and her husband’s faltering footfall. In retreat, they were slower than in their advance. At last, they reached the final field. The inn in sight on the horizon, Damon laid Lydia’s body under a cluster of trees, while Darcy also sat to rest.

Bent over in fatigue, Damon stated the obvious: “We look bad enough as it is. We cannot go waltzing in with a body slung over our shoulders.”

Darcy and Elizabeth took a close look at each other.All three of

“We will freshen up and come back for you.” Exhausted, Damon now leaned against a tree.

Elizabeth knelt beside her husband.“Will you be safe?”

“I have the sword, and a few minutes to rest will do me well.” Darcy touched her face. Like a man starving for what he could not have, he traced her lips with his fingertips.“You will hurry?”

“I will bring you clean clothes. Peter led Wickham on a merry chase, but we should still have time to get you to the inn.” Elizabeth’s eyes searched his face, needing to convey her undying love. “Not long, Fitzwilliam.”

“Damon,” Darcy said as he turned his attention to his cousin, “make arrangements to send Lydia’s body to Longbourn. It is the least we can do for her parents.”

“Certainly, Darcy.” He reached his hand down to help Elizabeth to her feet.“Come, Elizabeth, we must make haste.”

She kissed Darcy’s cheek before following the colonel across the field. She ran the few steps it took to catch up with him. Impulsively, Elizabeth’s hand touched his arm. “Thank you, Damon, for everything—for Fitzwilliam’s life, for my life, and for my sister’s peace.”

He chose not to look at her, the domestic scene of the past few minutes too raw for his sensitivity.“Your husband saved you, Elizabeth, not I.”

“With your weapon and your help,” she insisted. However, they continued their torrid pace because he wanted to put distance between himself and his mixed feelings. Although she had to take two steps to every one of his, Elizabeth did not falter. She knew the source of his frustration and would voice what neither of them had said before.“Damon,” Elizabeth begged,“please do not do this.You knew my marriage to Fitzwilliam was not one of convenience when we met again on the London Road. I cannot lose you in my not be the cause of a rift between you and Fitzwilliam.”

Elizabeth’s words shook him; Damon knew his behavior to be out of bounds. It was not like him to act so impulsively. He did not respond; he did not want to recognize the truth of her words.Yet he did slow his pace, letting her know—in the only way a man of honor could—that he would deal with her heartfelt sentiments. Just before they crossed the stile leading to the inn’s road and courtyard, he caught her hand. “Let me help you,” he said as he lifted Elizabeth over the opening. Setting her down gently in front of him, Damon murmured, “It will all be well, Elizabeth; Fitzwilliam is my best friend.”