Chapter Nineteen
MR. WICKHAM TIED her up, hands and feet, and tied her ankles to the foot of a couch in the shabby sitting room in the house where they were staying. Then, he dashed off a letter at a writing desk and took it out of the house.
She watched through the window as Mr. Wickham spoke to the driver of the carriage—her carriage, from her own house—and handed off the letter. Then her own carriage drove off without her.
Mr. Wickham came back inside. He looked in on her, and then he went back to rap on the door that contained Caroline.
“What am I to do?”
“I’m not opening the door to you, Mr. Wickham,” came Caroline’s cold voice. “I have no desire to burn in the sun.”
“Well, what? I just sit here and wait, then?”
“Yes, indeed. He will come soon, and he will come in a carriage that has no windows,” said Caroline. “We have been over this before, Mr. Wickham.”
“It seems that he would know not to be so foolish, that is all,” said Wickham, glancing back at her.
“No, I have threatened her before,” said Caroline. “He will throw caution to the wind to come for her. He has shown already how foolish he is when it comes to her. He will believe it when I threaten to kill her, and he will come straightaway.”
“All right,” said Mr. Wickham.
“You will have very little to do, sir,” came Caroline’s voice. “Simply open the door to the carriage.”
“He won’t come without some sort of protection, though,” said Mr. Wickham. “I can’t believe that.”
“He will be too distraught to do anything except come for her immediately,” said Caroline.
“So, what do I do now? Just sit there with her?”
“She is to be yours, of course,” said Caroline. “In order to complete the change, you must drink from a human, and that is the human you will drink from.”
Mr. Wickham turned to look at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth swallowed very hard, and she realized she’d been tricked far too easily. Caroline was likely correct that Mr. Darcy would be out of his head and would come for her directly.
They were in grave danger.
MR. DARCY READ the letter and he could feel Elizabeth’s despair through the bond. He had been feeling her anxiety all afternoon as well, and he—foolishly—had chalked it up to something to do with Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Ah, yes, but funny that he should think of that man now, was it not?
“Bring Miss Bennet here,” he said to the servant. “She is still under this roof, is she not, or did she go with my wife?”
“She is here,” said the servant. “I shall fetch her.”
He retreated as the servant left the room.
This room had an outer chamber. He must be sealed away whenever that door was open to the sun.
He could get into his windowless carriage if he must, but it involved a great deal of effort.
He would have to be swathed in several layers of thick quilts, covering every inch of him, and even then, it would weaken him.
He would do it, of course, but he was not going after her alone.
This was likely a trap.
Caroline had sent this missive to him, threatening the life of his wife, but she wanted him to come to her, and he didn’t know why.
There was a time when he wouldn’t have thought that Caroline would cause him harm, but he had misjudged her. She seemed quite willing to kill if it served her purposes.
And, yes, she had loved him, but it was easy for love to sour to hate. Love turned to hate far before it became indifference, after all.
There was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” he called.
“Miss Bennet, sir,” said the servant.
He opened the door.
Jane Bennet stood there, eyes wide. “Am I in your bedchamber, sir, because this seems highly irregular.”
“Your sister’s life is in danger, Miss Bennet,” he said to her.
“I need you to go and collect Colonel Fitzwilliam. I know it’s not entirely proper for you to go to his house alone without a chaperone, but I shall send you with a letter.
The two of you must go immediately to this address.
” He showed her the letter that had been brought to him from Caroline. “Tell him to bring a loaded gun.”
Jane’s lips parted. “Oh. Oh, dear.”
“The colonel will listen to you, I think,” said Mr. Darcy. “I am not certain if he would come there for my sake, but for yours, I think he would. If not, at least for your sister’s, perhaps. He will come.”
“For my sister’s life, yes, I shall make him come,” said Jane, her voice suddenly fierce.
“Good,” said Mr. Darcy. He rapped on the door. “Mr. Giles? Have you the quilts I need?”
“At the ready, sir,” came the response.
“Good,” he said. “And my windowless carriage?”
“It awaits you.”
MR. WICKHAM HAD to tie Elizabeth Bennet back up twice because she managed to get free. Not entirely free either time, of course, but she got a hand free once, and then both of her feet. That time he had to chase her and tackle her and wrestle her back to the couch.
He was thinking a good bit about what it was going to be like to be a vampire, how he was going to enjoy it, he thought. It would be power, the kind of power he’d never had. He was thinking about drinking Elizabeth’s blood and looking forward to that as well.
Caroline Bingley had been good at predicting Mr. Darcy’s behavior, for the windowless carriage appeared quite soon after Wickham had sent the letter off.
Elizabeth was struggling against her newly tied bonds.
She had been screaming for help too loudly and talking overmuch as well, really bothering him, so eventually, he’d just balled up an armchair cover and stuffed that into her mouth.
She was still making noise, but it was muffled. He liked it better that way.
Wickham looked at the carriage, simply sitting there.
This house was out on the outskirts of London, not in the country exactly but definitely not in the hustle and bustle of the city.
He waited, but no one came out, and he supposed that Darcy couldn’t come out of it, not and risk the sun.
Wickham wondered what the man’s plan was.
He couldn’t really be so foolish as to be sitting in there, vulnerable to someone opening the door on him and burning him to ash, could he?
He rapped on Caroline’s door. “Well, he’s arrived.”
“He has?” Her voice was very close, as if she was right on the other side of the door.
“I’m off to do it,” he said.
Silence from Caroline.
He started for the door.
“Mr. Wickham!” cried Caroline. “Stop. You can’t. I cannot go through with it, I find.”
He paused. “But we had a deal, Miss Bingley. I’ve done my part, and if you back out of your part…”
“Just come in here and speak to me,” she said.
He sighed heavily and went over to open the door.
It was dark in the room, for there were no windows. It was lit only by candles. She was cowering on a bed, entirely covered in blankets, just a woman-shaped lump on the bed.
He shut the door behind himself. “All right. The door is closed.”
She pushed the blankets off and came to him. “Mr. Wickham, with me. Be in my eyes.”
He pointedly didn’t look at her. “I know about that trick, madam,” he said. “I’ll not be convinced that I never wished to be a vampire. You made me promises, and I want what you promised.”
She snatched at his chin. She was strong.
He backed up, out of her grasp, hands up.
“Mr. Wickham,” she said, “I cannot kill Mr. Darcy. I love him. I don’t know what it is that I was thinking. I take it all back.”
“You’ll make me one of you, then.”
A pause. “All right, fine. You know, the first thing I must do is drink from you.”
Alarm flashed through him. He could not trust this woman, not to keep her word, not to do anything. If he allowed her to bite him, she’d as likely kill him.
He made the decision in an instant, impulsive, without any thought.
He reached behind himself and turned the knob.
The door opened and sunlight rushed in.
She shrieked, throwing up her hands against the light. Her fingers caught flame at once. She screamed. “Shut the door, I beg you!” She turned, running for her bed, but she was bursting into flame everywhere the light touched her.
So, when she reached the bed and covered herself with the blankets, they simply caught on fire.
The bed caught on fire.
Mr. Wickham flailed backwards out of the room, muttering swear words. He eyed Elizabeth Darcy, tied up in the sitting room. The door was open. He could go in and untie her, rescue her.
He looked back at the conflagration in the other room. It had consumed the bed. The flames were licking at the ceiling.
He shut the door to the sitting room so he didn’t have to see Mrs. Darcy’s frightened eyes. He rushed out of the front door and he ran.