Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tremulous cries of mortal terror reigned during the night.
If anyone slept, the person was assuredly the exception.
Wickham led the attacks, and nary a house in the village or countryside was spared.
Shrills of death filled the air as the mist moved progressively over the landscape.
Those brave enough to watch likened it to the finger of God and the plagues of Egypt, and, similar to God’s Passover, each household marked its door frame and all windows with signs of Christianity and crudely made crosses of ash, along with garlic, as prescribed in the pagan manner.
Prayer vigils continued throughout the night, and the blessed streaks of dawn brought shouts of joy.
Even more effective, the colonel placed sentries throughout a five-mile radius to prevent anyone from entering the area during the darkness.
No loss of human life occurred, and they congratulated themselves on their small victory.
Darcy promised to replace the few farm animals lost, and most were satisfied with how well the precautions they had practiced had protected them.
While the villagers followed Edward’s instructions, Elizabeth placed a ring of salt outside each door of the inn, as well as a line around the barn to protect the animals and the stable hands.
Yet no one celebrated at the inn. Few boarders stayed once the preparations were initiated.
Throughout the night, faces and hands clawed at the windows, glazed eyes pleaded for admittance, and bloody mouths sang out in warning.
Darcy heard the innkeeper comment on being the proprietor of hell.
He and Elizabeth watched it all unfold from their bedroom window. Elizabeth leaned into his shoulder for comfort. “Will it ever end?” A blood-curdling scream caused her to start in fright.
“It is like something from Revelations, but it will end with the dawn.” He stroked the back of her head. “I never expected such a scene of horror. How did evil claim such a foothold?”
Elizabeth traced his jawline with her fingertips. “No one would take a stand before now.”
“Am I up to this, Elizabeth? Can I change this for these people? I am not some gypsy claiming vampiric powers in order to swindle good people. I came here to save my family, but now the blood of more than twenty families is my responsibility.”
She stroked his chin with the back of her hand. “If you take such thoughts into this battle, failure will be assured. Instead, do this for me, for Georgiana, and for yourself.”
Edward tapped on the door. “Everything is in place,” he informed them when Darcy bid his cousin to enter. “This will be the last night these people live in fear.”
“I sincerely hope so.” Darcy’s doubts still played havoc with his resolve.
“Edward, would you stay with Elizabeth for a few minutes? I wish to speak to the innkeeper. This madness damages his business, and I wish to assure him we will make restitution.” He handed off his wife to the colonel.
Darcy noted how they both stiffened with the gesture, but he made no comment as he exited.
Judiciously, Elizabeth moved to the window to watch the countryside. She hugged herself in comfort. “How much longer before dawn?”
“Less than an hour.” Edward moved behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders.
She forced herself to relax into his touch. The colonel was a gentleman, and even without Darcy as an impediment, he would treat her appropriately. They would emerge from this debacle as friends. “Are we doing the right thing?”
“We are fighting for your husband’s life.”
Elizabeth simply nodded. “He is a good man.”
“The very best.”
She turned to face him. “Will we prevail?”
The colonel tilted his head as he pondered her question. “I have been in situations with less preparation and fewer options for victory. Perhaps I underestimate our opponents, but we possess the means to hold sway.”
“Then William and I will put our trust in you, Sir.”
“They dare to defy me!” Wickham shouted in the empty hall.
His emulators had returned to their graves, and he remained alone to face his own demons.
It infuriated him how Darcy’s family tricked him.
Angry, he unleashed a tornadic wind within the hall.
Standing in the room’s center, he permitted the wind to carry the tapestries and the furniture in a crazy swirl of color and power and deafening noise.
His hair whipped about his face, but Wickham was lost in the impregnability of the display.
The blast steadily increased in strength, empowering his confidence with the sheer brute force of it.
“Aaaah!” he yelled over the melee. “They will rue the day they dared to challenge my order!”
Rushing up the stairs, he hit the door to his private room with a blast of air, tearing it from its hinges.
Stilling himself, reverently he entered his shrine.
Only here did he find serenity. Everything he loved, with the exception of Lady Ellender, could be found in this room.
The sun, the moon, and the stars, three turning gold circles, hung overhead, directly above the moss-covered coffin.
A misty cauldron, whispering of time and night and blood, sat in the corner, while an ivy-covered crown of antlers stood in the center of the altar.
Candles lighted in veneration highlighted a torque of gold, a symbol of his sacred pledge, while five serpents, embodying the five rivers, slithered among his treasures.
“Welcome home,” he whispered to the room.
The open coffin spoke of longing. Stepping within, he laid back against the satin-covered interior.
Within moments, he slept deeply, his chest rising and falling in a slow, sustaining rhythm.
“Tonight,” he murmured in his dreams. “Tonight, Darcy.”
“Will this work, Colonel?” Gordy unloaded bundles of white thorn and ash staves. It was high noon, and the Darcys prepared for the evening.
“My cousin knows how to rid a land of vampires, and this is one of the steps.” The colonel placed a stave horizontally across each of the marked and unmarked graves.
Gordy followed Edward’s pattern. “What will these staves do?” he asked, bending over to place the wood carefully on the barely mounded dirt.
“The soul cannot leave the grave if the stave lies across it.”
“All them creatures be stuck in the ground?”
Edward responded, “Until we decide to permit them to leave.”
“That be somethin’ to view, Colonel.” He picked up another bundle and moved to the other side of the cemetery.
Edward watched as Elizabeth struggled with the large bags of salt and millet. “Gordy, leave those if you would and assist the lady instead. She will explain what she requires of you.”
Edward’s newest recruit followed his orders. “Let me be helping ye, Ma’am.” Gordy took the heavy bag from Elizabeth’s arms.
“Oh, bless you, Gordy.” She wiped perspiration from her forehead with her handkerchief.
“Ye jist be tellin’ Gordy what to do, and I be doin’ it. Colonel there tell me to he’p ye.”
Elizabeth looked up to see Edward continuing to place the staves. “I will thank him later. Now, Gordy, if you will follow me, we want to place a stream of salt all around the inside of the graveyard.”
“Seems like a mighty big waste of salt, Ma’am, but I be doin’ what ye ask.” Using a knife, he cut a small hole in the bottom of the bag and walked slowly around the perimeter of the site.
“Make at least two rounds, Gordy. The spirits cannot cross the salt line, so I want no breaks in the markings,” Elizabeth instructed him.
“Yes, Ma’am.” He continued his slow trek, meticulously filling in the uneven flow.
Darcy asked, “Where shall we place the millet, Elizabeth?”
“Have Peters use a ladle to scoop millet onto both the head and the foot of each grave and before the gate of each crypt.”
Darcy smiled at her, squeezing her hand. “Yes, my love.”
They brought in wooden stakes and several bags of coins to hide in a church alcove until they required them.
“Everything is set!” the colonel called out to the group.
“Gordy and Peters, you two stay here. We will send food and drink. You are to make certain no one else enters the cemetery. The three of us will return long before it is time for the confrontation.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“Gordy,” Darcy asked, “do the villagers understand they must rebury those we release tonight?”
“I be tellin’ ’em all. We be not understandin’ how ye be doin’ all this, but they come on the morrow. I’s sees to it.”
Darcy, Edward, and Elizabeth returned to the inn.
Not wishing to speak of what the night might bring, they took their meal in Darcy’s room, away from curious travelers.
They ate in near silence, each consumed with his thoughts.
At length, the colonel said, “I believe I will take to my bed for a few hours. It is likely to be the last rest I will have for some time. If you two will excuse me.” He left with a half bow.
Darcy and Elizabeth remained in silence until Darcy said, “I wish I had not agreed to this. How can a man place his wife in danger and still call himself a man?”
“I am not a weak woman. You, in fact, taught me to use a sword and to ride,” she protested.
Darcy protested, “I should not have encouraged your behavior.”
“Mr. Darcy, you fell in love with me because I was different. Did we not settle this earlier?”
Darcy moved to kneel before her. “God help me, Elizabeth, I truly do love you, and although I know you to be more capable than many men with whom I am acquainted, I cannot bear to place you in peril.”
“Do not worry. Remember, Edward will protect me.”
Darcy felt a pang of jealousy at hearing her refer to his cousin on such intimate terms. “It is my province to protect my wife.”