Chapter Seven
TRUE TO HIS WORD, THE CONSTABLE ASKED ONLY A FEW TACTFULLY phrased questions of Elizabeth.
Her story echoed what Darcy and Bingley said earlier.
During her interrogation, Darcy stood close, filling in details where she appeared uncertain.
With Darcy’s impeccable reputation, Bingley’s new status in the neighborhood, and the presumed innocence of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, their retelling satisfied the law.
Colonel Forster asked a few more probing questions, but they were nothing Darcy had not anticipated.
When both gentlemen departed, Mr. Bennet issued an invitation to supper for Bingley and Darcy.
“We cannot impose, Mr. Bennet,” Bingley said quickly.
Miss Bennet spoke softly, “Please, Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth is still distraught. Mr. Darcy’s presence appears to bring her peace. Please remain for a few more hours.”
Bingley looked at Darcy, seeking his approval. Having received it, Bingley said with a smile, “Thank you, Mr. Bennet. We accept your hospitality.”
“I will inform Mrs. Hill,” Miss Bennet assured.
Elizabeth stood upon hearing the news. “I require some fresh air. Mr. Darcy, would you accompany me to the garden? I do not believe I care to be outside alone.”
“Wait, Miss Elizabeth. Miss Bennet and I will join you when your sister returns.”
“A chaperone is not necessary, Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy and I will go no farther than the nearest bench. We will be seen by any eyes that wish to observe us.” She continued, “Please do not judge me as impertinent. I want to feel the fresh breeze on my face—feel clean air in my lungs. The house is so confining. If I felt entirely safe in doing so, I would shun Mr. Darcy’s company as well. ”
Mr. Bennet studied her closely, attempting to judge what was best for his daughter. “Stay close to the house, Lizzy.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Elizabeth led the way to the entrance hall. “Where is my cloak?” she asked as she reached for the peg beside the door.
Darcy spoke softly into her hair. “You left it in the field, Miss Elizabeth.”
She spun around, her eyes filled with remembrance. “It was choking me as I ran.” She paused, consumed by the image of her flight. “I have no cloak. What will I wear?”
“The cloak was ruined, Elizabeth. Mr. Bingley and I used it to protect the woman’s body.” He kept his voice even. “When I brought you home, I wrapped you in my greatcoat.”
“I recall now.” Elizabeth’s glazed-over eyes told Darcy her mind replayed the whole scene of his finding her in the field.
“You will use one of your sister’s cloaks this afternoon.” He reached for a plain brown wrap and placed it over her shoulders.
Elizabeth’s hand tightened around his wrist. She looked up at him, her fathomless green eyes luminous with need. “What will I wear tomorrow?”
He swallowed hard. “I will buy you a new one, the most beautiful cloak you can imagine.” He would give her anything if she would continue to look at him with those mesmerizing eyes. He whispered, “I will buy you a hundred cloaks if you wish.”
Elizabeth giggled with the absurdity of what he said and of the situation in which they found themselves. “I cannot accept even one from you, Mr. Darcy.”
“That is where you err, Miss Elizabeth.” He continued to fasten the brown cloak’s clasp at her neck. “I will insist. It is my and Mr. Bingley’s fault we could not salvage your other one.” He hooked the button under her chin. “I will claim extreme shame at having failed you.”
“After the riding habit, Mr. Darcy, I put nothing beyond your attention.” She sighed. “Come, Sir, we will finish this conversation in the garden.” They proceeded in silence along the gravel walk to the arbor.
Once seated among the trees, Darcy slipped her hand into his. They sat with their backs to the house. No one would notice them from the window views. “Do you wish to speak of today, my dear?”
“We should.” Beneath it all, he knew Elizabeth experienced fear, but she could not name her apprehension.
“Elizabeth, it grieves me I inadvertently placed you in danger. What occurred will be on my conscience until the day I die. I hope someday you forgive me.You deserve so much better than the horror I brought into your life.” He stroked her palm with his fingertips.
“William, you did nothing to harm me.”
His icy blue eyes remained fixed on hers. “Tell me what George Wickham said to you,” he said in a quiet voice.
Through tear-filled eyes, she related her complete conversation with Wickham.
“I was wrong to speak to him without your knowledge.” Darcy did not push further.
He simply waited for her to continue. “Wickham spoke of your cruelty to your cottagers and to the villagers. I am ashamed to say there was a time when I would have believed him. The man has a way of playing on a person’s sensibilities. We must do something, William.”
Darcy realized she would reach this point eventually. “And what would you suggest, my dear?”
“We speak to the authorities.”
“It is not that simple, Elizabeth. You tell the authorities George Wickham is a vampire. And they ask you how you know this to be true, and you tell them I assured you of that fact. Then they say, How does Mr. Darcy come by this information? And you disclose how my family is cursed, thanks to our ancestors’ love affair, and I could be as evil as Wickham if I chose.
We would be ruined. My reputation—Georgiana’s future—your future and your sisters’ futures—your entire family’s status in the neighborhood—some will believe the tale and believe I am also evil.
Others will consider your words madness. ”
She glanced at him, her thoughts scattered. “You are correct,” she acknowledged, “but we cannot permit Wickham to escape justice for killing that woman.”
“From what I know of Wickham’s pattern, he will not strike again for a week or more, other than the occasional animal—a dog or a sheep.”
“I cannot believe you speak so lightheartedly about this wickedness,” she challenged.
Darcy’s face reddened from a mix of anger and regret. “You are mistaken if you think I find no horror, but I have lived with it longer than you. It has been my existence. Forgive me if I am aware that evil corrupts absolutely.”
“So, we cannot go to the authorities. What do we do, then?” she asked in tones of resignation.
“First, I must lure Wickham from the area. He customarily seeks out easy victims. He chooses very vulnerable targets. Rarely does Wickham select a woman of circumstance. If he did, he might draw more notice from the local law officers. In most small villages and towns, the law is incompetent, at best. By the time someone makes a connection, he is gone.”
“That does not make these women not worth saving!” she protested. Her eyes widened in vexation.
He spoke coldly. “I never meant to imply otherwise.”
“Did Wickham kill Vivian Piccadilly?” she demanded.
Darcy spoke unguardedly. “I always assumed he was the perpetrator. Miss Piccadilly’s body was found close to a stream. Her father was devastated by the condition in which he discovered her. I felt the shame of my part in the man’s pain.”
“Your part?” Elizabeth seized upon the words. “What part did you play in Vivian’s death?”
He avoided a response. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me, William.” Elizabeth stood, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.
“If I tell you, you will turn from me.”
Suddenly, she saw things in a sharper focus. She recalled her aunt’s description of Vivian’s body. In a voice of resigned contempt, she said, “You prevent Wickham’s victims from following him, do you not?”
“The only means I know to stop them from becoming Wickham’s followers is to break the connection between the body and the soul. I permit the soul to make its way to Heaven, rather than to dwell in Hell.”
“How can you do such a thing?” she gasped.
“It is the most responsible thing I do. I offer prayers of redemption for the victim’s soul and forgiveness for mine, and then I do what must be done.” His eyes were dark with anger at the injustice.
A frown creased across her forehead. “Did you do the responsible thing today?” she whispered.
“It is done.”
“Oh, William!” She collapsed onto the seat beside him and took his hand in hers. Unsurprisingly, he required as much comfort as she. “You have been placed in an unwritten tragedy. It is no wonder you withdraw from society.” Her slim, strong fingers intertwined with his.
“I did not succeed where you are concerned, Vixen.”
“You simply prefer a challenge, Mr. Darcy.”
“I suppose you are correct. I want what I cannot have.”
Taking to heart her role in this mad situation, Elizabeth demanded, “Explain to me what you plan to do.”
Darcy summarized his plans for the next few days.
“I will come to you tonight. Tomorrow, we put in place at Longbourn some supposed deterrents to vampires. We will decorate the sashes of all the windows with garlands containing cloves of garlic, work iron crosses or bars at each door, and a few other such ornamentations. I will ask you to do so without raising the attention of your family members. We must be careful. Wickham cannot cross the threshold of any house unless invited to do so. As your sister already invited Wickham to Longbourn, we require stronger deterrents than customary.”
“I will see to it,” Elizabeth said in a businesslike tone.
“I suspect,” Darcy continued, “Mr. Wickham will call upon you soon.”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “He would not!”
“He will, Elizabeth, and you will respond graciously to his concern for your well-being. It will become common knowledge that Mr. Bingley and I found you, and the three of us discovered the body. Mr. Wickham will want to know how you feel about me after this incident. With your words and your actions, you must convince him that although you appreciate my gentlemanly behavior towards you, your feelings have not altered. I am still the man who cut you at the assembly.”
“I doubt I can feign those feelings,” she asserted.