Chapter Eight
THAT VERY NIGHT, Elizabeth awoke to the sound of something hitting her window.
She got up from her bed and looked outside to see Mr. Darcy standing there. She thought of what Mr. Wickham had said, but she could sense Mr. Darcy and she did not sense any malice or deception in him. Perhaps that was not as easily sensed as anger, though, she could not say.
She would not go so far as to say that she trusted Mr. Darcy, she supposed.
No, it was madness to go out there to him, sheer madness.
It was only that when it came to Mr. Darcy, she could not help herself. And also, somehow, she sensed that he was unlikely to harm her.
“Apologies for coming,” he said when she met him in the garden outside of the house. “It is only that I could not stop thinking of you.”
She smiled at him. “I think of you often, too. I feel you, in fact.”
“Yes, I suppose I should explain that,” he said with a sigh. “I was hoping it was less noticeable for you than it is for me.” He gestured. “Let us walk.”
“You do not wish to come inside?” she said.
“No,” he said, “and do not invite me. I do not wish to take the chance that I shall come for you at night and lose control.”
“You cannot enter the house without an invitation?” she said. “This is because you are a vampire?”
“Yes, exactly right.”
“But both Louisa and Caroline have done so,” she said.
“No, they were invited by Jane,” said Mr. Darcy. “I think she must have done it when she dined at Netherfield. It was likely prompted by Caroline and Louisa. The invitation magic is rather strange, I think, for invitations can be cajoled or forced, so it is not a failsafe.”
“Magic,” said Elizabeth, shaking her head. “What else could it be, I suppose? How else do you live forever?”
“It might be fine,” said Mr. Darcy. “Now that we have this bond, I think it quite unlikely that I would harm you. But let us not chance it quite yet.”
Elizabeth let out a breath, laughing softly to herself. “Well, it is all very strange, and you will admit it, sir, that I am consenting to walk alone with you while we are having a conversation about how to keep myself safe from you.”
He nodded in chagrin. “I should stay away from you entirely.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, for she didn’t wish that, and she was happier now, in his presence, than she had been in some time.
He reached down and took her hand, and she made a little noise at his touch, and he made an answering noise.
Then, hand in hand, they walked off into the darkness together.
“Well,” she said eventually, “explain it, then.”
“Explain what?”
“Why it is I feel you all the time.”
“Ah, yes, it is a bond between us on account of your having drunk my blood. It may yet fade. We must wait and see. It may not fade at all, however. On account of your being my sirensong, I think it more likely that it does not, but that is not guaranteed either. I wish I could be sure what the future held, Elizabeth, but I am afraid I am not. So much is uncertain.”
“Am I turning into a vampire?”
“No, no,” he said. “For you to be a vampire, you would need to die with vampire blood in your system. Then the process is complete once you, after death, drink human blood. But no, Elizabeth, by now the danger is gone, anyway. My blood is gone from your system. The bond remains, but there is nothing else.”
She eyed him, thinking of what Mr. Wickham had said, that she could not trust him to tell the truth. “I suppose there’s no reason to think you’d wish me to be a vampire, anyway. I suppose you can’t drink other vampire’s blood.”
He coughed, seemingly embarrassed. “W-well, you can.”
“Oh,” she said.
“It’s not the same,” he owned. “It’s, erm, it’s not done for sustenance, only for pleasure.”
“Oh,” she said again. “Is it just as pleasurable to drink from one of your own kind, though?”
He hesitated.
“I was only thinking you likely wish me to remain human and your sirensong, since you seem to enjoy drinking from me so much.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Would I wish you changed? Of course not. It is not something I would wish on anyone, let alone a young and vibrant woman like yourself. You should not be made into a thing like me. You should live and marry and have children, have a life. But I suppose I can’t say I like having you as tempting as you are, for it drives me mad, practically out of my head when I scent you.
” He leaned over and ran his nose over her neck as if to prove his point.
She pressed into his chest, seemingly unable to stop herself, remembering how nice it was when he bit her. “You want me now?”
“Quite a great deal,” he said in a thick voice.
“Are you going to bite me?”
He sighed. He touched her neck, gentling his fingers over her there and it made her shiver. “I should like nothing more than to taste you, but we are alone, and I am not certain I should chance it. If I lost control, no one could stop me.”
“You could kill me?” she said.
“I could, Elizabeth.” He searched her gaze.
“But you don’t usually kill humans.”
“No, I have not in a very long time,” he said. “And it would destroy me to lose you. So, I am fairly certain I would be careful.”
“I don’t trust you, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “I would be a fool to trust you.”
“Yes, you would.”
“But I crave you,” she said.
He groaned, capturing her lips with his own. She clung to him as he kissed her quite senseless.
Then, abruptly, he pulled away, no longer touching her, and began walking, rather quickly, away.
She caught up to him. “Are you leaving me?” she said, breathless.
“What were we speaking of?”
She tried to think. “I know not, only that it was a conversation with a man named Mr. Wickham, who says he knows of you—”
“Wickham!” Mr. Darcy rounded on her, shaking his head. “He’s not entirely trustworthy, I’m afraid.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Are you saying that because he knows how to kill you? For you should know he declined to help me do it, but he did say that I must, that if I do not, I shall turn into a vampire.”
“So, he is the one putting ideas in your head,” said Mr. Darcy. “No, I tell you, Elizabeth, you are not going to turn.” He walked faster.
“He says that you have no reason to be truthful with me,” she said.
Mr. Darcy smirked. “Ah, does he? Did he tell you what he attempted with my sister?”
“You mean, Mr. Darcy’s sister, sir? Because Mr. Hurst explained to me that you are not really the Darcy heir, that you are only posing as the heir.”
“Ah, he did,” said Mr. Darcy. “Well, she is like my sister, truly, and I am dearly fond of her. When I came into her life, she was all alone, poor little duckling, just a small girl with no parents or brother, and I have watched her grow and taken care of her. She is like a sister to me, like a daughter in many ways, I may say. I would not allow harm to come to her, and Mr. Wickham tried to harm her.”
“What do you mean?” said Elizabeth. “He said that she was kind to him when she was a small girl but that she had grown haughty.”
“Oh, haughty? Because she did not wish to marry him? She is the heir to a great deal of money and property, and Mr. Wickham wished to take control of her in that way. He tried to convince her to elope with him, and she nearly was swayed, but she sent word to me, asking if I thought it a good idea, and I came to her straightaway and prevented all of it from happening.”
“Truly?” said Elizabeth, thinking that over.
“Mr. Wickham does not like me,” said Mr. Darcy.
“He said something else,” she said, “that you blocked him from making a living?”
“Oh, that is how he saw that?” said Mr. Darcy.
“There was a position in Derbyshire as a parson, and it was to be offered to Mr. Wickham in accordance with the late Mr. Darcy’s wishes.
I did so, but Wickham would have none of it.
He did not wish it, but he did beg me for the value of the living instead, and I paid him out of the Darcy coffers. ”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth. “He sounds… horrid, then.” But she wondered. If they did not like each other, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham, then was there any way to be sure they saw each other clearly? And was there any reason to trust Mr. Darcy was not lying to her?
I must be wary of this man, she thought, of this fiend who seeks to bite and drink from me.
“He is,” said Mr. Darcy. “Very horrid, and I would not advise speaking to him anymore.” He took her hand again, changing the subject. “Caroline has not come to you again, has she?”
“Oh, no,” said Elizabeth. “I have not seen her.”
“Good,” said Mr. Darcy. “If you do, you must call for me in the bond.”
“Can I do that?”
“Yes, simply concentrate on me, focus your need for me, and I shall feel you and come immediately,” said Mr. Darcy.
She let out a breath. “And you say this bond may not fade?”
“It may not,” he said.
“So, you could be tied to me for the rest of my life?”
“It has happened before,” said Mr. Darcy.
“You’d feel me, then, when I…” She swallowed. “Well, if I ever got married, which—as I said—I probably shan’t, you’d feel that, all of that, would you?”
He looked away.
“If you feed on someone else,” she said, “if you find another sirensong, would I feel it as well?”
He let out a breath.
“Is the answer yes?”
“I am ever so sorry, Elizabeth.”
“Maybe it would be easier if we were simply together, then,” she said.
“No, no, I would never do that to you,” he said.
“No? Not like Mr. Hurst is to Mrs. Hurst, then? You said that Mr. Bingley could marry Jane, did you not, so you couldn’t—”
“No.”
She was stung. Her steps faltered. “No, of course. You wouldn’t wish to be saddled with someone like me, clearly.”
“That is not it at all.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t have to marry me,” she said, “though it would make it tidier, truly. Otherwise, people would probably think wretched things, that I was your mistress or something else very ignoble. My family would stop speaking to me if that were the case. I should be entirely shunned. However, when I weigh these things in the balance—a life like that or a life wherein I am constantly feeling you biting other women and longing for you to be biting me—”
“Elizabeth, hush.”
She was quiet.
He took her face in both of his hands, cradling it as he looked deep into her eyes.
His expression was one of tender affection.
“First of all, I do not refuse to marry you because I do not wish to be saddled with you. I should quite like to be saddled with you. I should be very fortunate, in fact, and the idea of keeping you as mine, having you in my bed, drinking from you every night… Obviously, I want it. But it would not be fair to you.”
It sounded rather nice to her. She was feeling warm all over at his words.
“Secondly, we do not know that this bond will not fade, and we must give it a bit of time to do so,” he said.
She supposed he was right.
He leaned in and kissed her again.
She sighed, her eyes closed.
His hands slid down her face to her neck, and then to her shoulders, and then over her arms, and then she was in his arms and they were kissing again, deep and sweet kisses that made her feel as if she were soaring. It was so nice to be this close to him.
“Have you bitten anyone else recently?” she asked.
He brushed at her neck with his fingertips. “Of course not. Only you, Elizabeth.”
“But you’ll have to, will you not? How often do you need blood?”
“I can go some time without it,” he said. “And I have been gorging myself on you, truly, taking much more than I need. I have little need to feed for maybe a month now.”
“So, then you won’t? Bite anyone else, I mean?”
“I won’t,” he said. “But you should know it isn’t always the way it is with us. Sometimes, there is no attraction involved, no romance. Sometimes, it is just to quench my thirst. You needn’t be jealous in those cases, hmm?”
“I’m not jealous,” she whispered. But she was.
“I wish to bite you now, Elizabeth,” he said in a gravelly voice.
“Oh, yes, please,” she moaned. “I do want you to, even though you said you wouldn’t.”
“I have said that I would not,” he muttered. He kissed her again, a searing kiss. “But I…” He looked into her eyes. “No, no. I would not risk you.”
“No,” she said, breathless. “I do not wish to be risked.” She did not want to die, of course.
They only searched each other’s expressions for the next few moments.
Finally, she said, “Could you not only take a small taste, then?”
“The bond should protect you,” he said in a guttural voice. “I must believe that I shall not harm you. I must believe it.”
And then he ducked his mouth down to her neck and bit her, and she cried out.
It was bliss.
It made her warm all over, but also cool all over.
It made her swell and undulate, and it made sensitive parts of her more sensitive.
But the best of all was the bond. When he had bitten her before, she had not been bonded to him, and now, she could feel him, and she felt how much he enjoyed her, how delicious she was to him, how precious, how treasured.
Had anyone ever desired her in this way before, had anyone ever delighted in her to this degree?
He wished to possess her; she wanted nothing but to belong to him.
And as he drank and the bond flared, for those moments, it was all true. She was his. He took control of her entirely.
He removed his teeth rather quickly. He had bitten her for much longer times, had much more of her blood in the past. This time, though, she felt in the bond that he wished to be careful with her, and that he knew that the times before, she had needed to sleep away half the day because he had not been able to control himself from taking so much.
He lapped at the fang wounds on her neck and she could feel them knitting closed.
Then he planted kisses on her clavicle. “You’re exquisite,” he told her again. “You’re exactly what a pretty little human girl should be. You’re the epitome of beauty and sweetness, and your blood is wondrous. I cannot get enough of you.”
She wriggled against him, pressing her body into his, and he clutched her to him.
“You should likely go back to sleep,” he breathed. “But I did control myself better now with the bond, so that bodes well for us, my sweet one.”
“Does it?” she said. “Because we can do it again? Because you can come to me in the night more often? Drink from me more often?”
“Yes, I think so,” he said, giving her another soft kiss on the lips. “Yes, I wish to do exactly that.”