Amanda Grange - Mr. Darcy, Vampyre

‘And the people at Pemberley? Do they know?’ she asked.

‘Some of the servants, yes.’

‘Mrs Reynolds? She said she had known you since you were four years old.’

‘She was our nurse. She was waiting for us when we returned to our estate, where Lady Catherine—for it was she who turned us—took us in her carriage, after she had made us vampyres. The plague had spread there too, and the other servants had fled, but Mrs Reynolds had remained. When she saw us she told us to stay away, thinking she would infect us, but Lady Catherine offered her the same choice she had offered us, and Mrs Reynolds joined us.’

Elizabeth nodded. She took a knife and cut a piece of cheese, eating it with some of the rustic bread and following it with more of the grapes.

‘If you were alive in 1665, then you must be 150 years old,’ said Elizabeth wonderingly. ‘And in all this time you have never married. There has never been a Mrs Darcy?’

‘No, never once,’ he said.

‘Because of the curse,’ she said.

‘No,’ he said simply. ‘Because I never met you.’

He stroked his fingers over the back of her hand and stroked his thumb across her palm, then lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it lovingly.

‘Is there nothing we can do?’ she asked him. ‘No way of changing things? Of undoing what has been done?’

‘No,’ he said with a look of profound sadness. ‘None.’

The servants stirred.

‘Have you finished your meal?’ he asked Elizabeth.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Then let us move into the drawing room and leave the servants to clear.’

‘I wish…’ said Elizabeth, as they did as he had suggested.

‘Yes?’

‘I wish we could forget all this, just for a day or two.’

‘Then we will, for a few days at least,’ he said with a smile. ‘Let us be simply Mr and Mrs Darcy as we were meant to be.’

Ensconced in the hunting lodge, away from the world, Elizabeth was happier than she had been since her wedding day. She and Darcy took refuge from the problems facing them and wandered through the gardens in the early morning when the dew was on the grass and the air was fresh and clear. They delighted in the flowers which, although less vigorous than they had been earlier in the season, were still putting forth their blooms. They talked of many things, of their childhoods and their families, and like other newlyweds, they talked of their hopes and dreams. All subjects save one they discussed, and that subject, for the time being, they avoided.

Over the hot noontide hours they retreated indoors and sat on the shady veranda, eating olives and other tasty delicacies. Then, when the heat began to dissipate, they wandered further afield, smelling the sweet scent of herbs, and walked by the side of streams or strolled in the shade of the Lombardy poplars which stood like sentinels on guard in the fields.

‘We will take a picnic with us tomorrow. There is a place I want to show you,’ said Darcy.

They set off before the heat of the day and wandered down a country lane and onto a track which led to a cliff top overlooking the ocean. There was a small copse of trees, their spreading branches forming an umbrella of shade. Dappled light danced over the ground as the wind stirred the leaves, creating ever-changing patterns on the grassy floor beneath it. Nearby a stream trickled over rocks, the sound of it cooling and refreshing.

Darcy spread out the rug and they sat down, unpacking good, homely fare: bread, cheese, and cold meats, with small cakes, bunches of grapes, and glasses of sweet wine. They ate leisurely, enjoying the view and the novelty of eating in the open. When they had finished, Elizabeth lay back with her head in Darcy’s lap and he stroked her hair and kissed her with soft, gentle kisses, and they talked of their plans for Pemberley.

‘When we return to England, I would like to have your portrait painted. I have been thinking about it for a long time, ever since the time you walked to Netherfield when Jane was ill. It was Caroline who suggested the idea, although she did so to ridicule me. She was aware that I was interested in you, and she wanted to tease me out of my preference. After telling me to hang a portrait of your aunt and uncle Phillips in the gallery next to my great uncle the judge, she said that I must not attempt to have your portrait painted for what painter could do justice to your eyes? I had offended her by saying that your eyes were very fine,’ he explained.

Elizabeth smiled at the compliment and, as her eyes looked lovelier than ever, Darcy was prompted to kiss her again.

‘Ever since then I have been thinking how well your portrait would look at Pemberley. I mean to hang it in the hall,’ said Darcy.

‘No,’ said Elizabeth, ‘not in the hall. It must go next to your portrait in the gallery, the one I saw when I visited Pemberley with my aunt and uncle for the first time. The artist had caught your likeness very well. There was a smile about your lips, and I remembered I had seen the same smile on your face when you had looked at me. It made me regret all my foolish prejudices, which had made it so difficult for me to like you and to see your worth, and had instead encouraged me to cling to my first impression of you.’

‘Which was not very favourable.’

‘No. Nor was your first impression favourable of me.’

‘How could I not have seen your beauty?’ he asked. ‘I look at you now and I see you in all your loveliness and I can barely stop myself from…’

He fell silent as he approached dangerous ground.

‘We must have a family gathering at Christmas,’ he said, changing the subject.

‘Yes,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘We must invite Mama and Papa and the girls, and Jane and Bingley, and Charlotte and Mr Collins.’

Darcy stopped stroking Lizzy’s hair as she mentioned the Collinses.

‘Must we have them?’ he asked.

‘Not if you don’t want to, but I would like to have them, or at least, I would like to have Charlotte.’

‘She might prefer to go to Lucas Lodge to visit her family,’ said Darcy with hope in his voice.

‘That is true, but I think I must ask her, all the same. I cannot admire her for marrying Mr Collins; indeed, I am very disappointed in her taste and her judgement, but she was right when she said that we were not alike, and I have no right to judge her for her decision. Although I perhaps cannot feel such perfect friendship for her as I once did, she is still my friend and I would like to see her again.’

‘Then invite her,’ said Darcy. ‘Your Aunt and Uncle Gardiner must come, of course. Without them we might never have met again.’

‘If we hadn’t come to Pemberley, would you have been content to leave things as they were?’ asked Elizabeth, turning to look at him. ‘Would you have gone your way and left me to go mine?’

‘No,’ he confessed. ‘I couldn’t forget you, no matter how hard I tried, and no matter how great the barriers between us. I think I would have gone to Netherfield again with Bingley whatever had occurred. I knew I had to tell him about Jane, that she had been in London and that I had kept it from him, and once I told him, I knew he would go back to Netherfield. I am sure I would not have been able to resist seeing you again and so I would have gone too.’

‘And everything would have been the same.’

‘Yes, it would. We were destined to be together, you and I, Lizzy.’

‘Yes, I think so too. Although—’

‘Yes?’

‘I did wonder why it took you so long to propose. You came to Longbourn again with Bingley but then you did not speak to me for weeks. Was it because of your curse?’ she asked.

‘Yes, it was. I kept telling myself that it was impossible, but in the end, I loved you too much to live without you. I had tried to forget you and failed, and the more I knew of you, the more I knew I had to be with you.’