Chapter Eight #2
The first strains of the music sounded to call everyone to the dance, and her sisters scrambled to their places.
When Darcy stepped to the edge of the floor, everyone’s eyes turned to him.
In all his time in Hertfordshire, other than the three or four times he escorted one of Bingley’s sisters to the floor, he never danced with another woman.
Now, he strode purposefully across the floor towards her.
The couples gave way until he stood before her.
With a proper bow he claimed her hand. “I believe that this is our dance, Miss Elizabeth.”
In the background, Elizabeth heard her sisters and Miss Bingley gasp. She made a quick curtsy before accepting his arm. “I believe it is, Sir.”
He led her to the head of the line. As the wealthiest and the only man who could claim a noble family, it was his accepted place of honor, and although he never claimed it for previous dances, he did on this night.
When the music began, they circled each other, but never once did he remove his eyes from hers.
“Vixen,” he whispered as they passed, “you are exquisite.”
“I am only sorry we will not waltz,” she whispered back.
“Would you like to waltz?” he asked as they caught hands.
“Would I like to be in your arms?” she asked sotto voce.
“I could use my powers. Just say the word.”
The temptation was great. “Ye … Yes,” she stammered. “Yes, William.”
Engrossed in their thoughts, they finished the set in silence. When the second song ended, he led her to the back of the ballroom. “Meet me on the balcony in five minutes.”
Elizabeth waited until no one paid her attention before slipping through the patio door. Although it was November, the evening was warm. When she made her way to the baluster, Darcy appeared behind her. “I never tire of you,” he whispered as she leaned into him.
She tilted her head up to look upon his fine countenance. “The dance was lovely, William.”
“The night is not over. Permit me to work my magic.” He released her and turned towards the house.
Then he spread his arms wide. Streaks of blue light snaked across the marble balcony, bathing the windows and doors in a sealed energy.
Everyone inside remained as they were, repeating dance forms in a continuous loop.
Men bowed over ladies’ hands, cards were shuffled constantly, and drinks were poured and then emptied.
At length, the strains of a waltz began.
Darcy heard her giggle. “Do I amuse you, Miss Elizabeth?” He dropped his arms to his side, but the blue light continued to zigzag about the house. She slid under his arm and into his embrace, and, for him, the threat of the curse lessened.
“Something I never thought to see,” she murmured. “I am impressed, Sir.”
He could learn to love this part of the curse, especially if it made Elizabeth happy. Darcy presented her with an elegant bow. “May I have this dance, Miss Elizabeth?”
With a girlish giggle, she replied, “You may, Mr. Darcy.” As she placed her hand in his, he pulled her into his arms. The night turned very warm as he stepped into the dance.
His hand rested on the small of her back, and with the slightest nudge, he edged her closer.
His actions were perfectly scandalous. They glided in long, rhythmic steps and tight turns.
The song continued as they spun in breathless circles, their bodies pressed tightly together.
Darcy would cherish the memory of this dance forever.
Caught in the moment, at first, he did not sense the danger, but then he knew with a sickening certainty they were no longer alone. He protectively spun her behind him to whisper, “Follow my lead.”
“What do we have here?” George Wickham stepped from the shadow of a statue. “Darcy, I am thunderstruck. I was unaware your powers had improved.” He walked with a defiant swagger. “Whatever you are doing differently, Sir, continue it.You might prove a worthy opponent, after all.”
“Why are you here, Wickham?” Darcy reached behind him to feel Elizabeth. Her fingers trembled when he touched them.
“I followed the blue light.” Wickham nodded in the direction of the dancing rays. “I was stunned to discover the household under your spell.” He stepped to the side. “And who is with you? Ah, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I should have recognized your preferences, Darcy.”
“I have no preferences, Wickham.” Darcy countered, blocking Elizabeth from Wickham’s view.
Wickham laughed sardonically. “Then why this private party?”
“Boredom.” Darcy sneered. “This supercilious collection of know-it-alls bores me. Thankfully, I depart tomorrow.”
“Last night here? And why Miss Elizabeth?” Wickham asked warily.
“Why not Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” Darcy feigned indifference. “Why not take my revenge on my most vocal adversary? Miss Elizabeth does not hide her disdain for me.”
“The lady does not seem to disdain you tonight, Darcy.”
Darcy retorted, “Miss Elizabeth is under my spell. I thought I might enjoy touching her.” Darcy spun Elizabeth into his embrace.
“Kiss me as though you desire me,” he ordered.
He pulled her to him and kissed Elizabeth in the way he always wanted to do.
His mouth invaded hers, and his hands cupped her buttocks and lifted her to him.
Elizabeth’s fingers ran through his hair, and she arched into him.
At length, he broke the kiss and set her from him.
“Would Elizabeth Bennet kiss me in such a fashion of her own free will? Even you are not foolish enough to believe so, Wickham. She was brought up as a lady.”
“Mayhap, Darcy.” Wickham appeared amused. “When will you make her yours forever? It is so easy to do when they are under a spell.”
Darcy shielded Elizabeth once again. “I was bored, Wickham. I do not yet know depravity.”
“A pity,” Wickham returned mockingly. He spun in a whirlwind to the roof of the overhang.
“If I were not satisfied already, I might take the lovely Miss Elizabeth from you.” Then his tone changed and he issued a threat.
“Beware, my friend, for I am coming for you.” His warning hung like icicles in the air.
“By the way, Darcy, I left you a present by the servants’ entrance.
” Again, a gush of air wrapped them in a maelstrom of debris and swirling energy, and, in an instant, Wickham disappeared into the night.
Elizabeth sank to her knees in a release of smeddum. Darcy scooped her into his arms. “Elizabeth, please, are you well?” he asked in urgency.
“Ye … Yes,” she stammered. “But …”
“Elizabeth, we must discover what Wickham meant by ‘a present by the servants’ entrance.’” He caught her hand to lead her to the garden below.
They wove their way through the maze of plants until they reached the back gate.
“Stay close,” he whispered. They followed the outline of the house until they came to the steps leading to the kitchen.
The horror of the night stared at them: Eyes full of terror in a waxy, pale countenance.
Elizabeth buried her face against his shoulder to stifle her scream.
“I must examine her. Stay here.” As he suspected, Wickham had cruelly ripped open the woman’s neck.
“Come, love. You must quit this place,” he said as he wrapped his arm about her.
He hurried their return along the path they followed earlier. On the balcony, he asked, “Who is she?”
“Emily King,” Elizabeth spoke in regret. “I meant to tell you about her this evening, but I forgot. Lydia told me Wickham paid Miss King his attention before he left for London. I should have told you. We could have stopped this!” Elizabeth’s voice rose in self-recrimination.
“It would not have mattered.” He gave her a little shake of her shoulders. “Listen to me. You are not at fault. Miss King has been dead for many hours, likely since early this morning.”
“Oh, William, this is horrendous!”
“Yes, love, it is, but we must work fast or Miss King will join Wickham as one of the undead.”
Elizabeth trembled. “Oh, William, we cannot. I cannot!”
“I can, love. I know what to do. My fear is for you. I cannot release the spell on the house until I see to Miss King’s soul. I cannot send you back inside. Either you must stay here until I return or go with me. Do you understand, Elizabeth?”
“I cannot watch you —”
“Then you will stay here.” Darcy stood her against the wall. “Use your crucifix. I doubt if Wickham will return, but if he does, the sign of the cross will protect you. Believe in the Trinity, and you will be safe. His kind cannot come past the iron in the necklace.”
“Are you assured?”
“Absolutely.” Darcy kissed her forehead. “I have only moments to rescue Miss King’s soul. I will return as quickly as the deed is done.”
Darcy disappeared into the darkness. He made his way to the tool shed by the barn before returning to the house.
Twice in one week, he thought. Twice in one week he had been called upon to execute the unthinkable— mutilate a corpse.
In resignation, he knelt beside the body.
He removed his crucifix from his pocket and said the required prayers for Emily King’s soul and forgiveness for his.
Then he used the ax to remove her head with four carefully placed strikes.
Afterwards, he positioned it in place. Returning the ax to the shed, he made his way across the lawn to the back of the garden.
When he stepped upon the balcony, she was in his arms, clinging to him. Darcy held her until her trembling ceased. “Darling, you must return inside, and I must release the spell.” He carefully set her from him. “We will permit the others to discover the body.”
“Did you …?”