Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
“Once is a mistake, twice is a plan, Darcy. I will not change into something you can control,” Wickham hissed. “Fortunately, one of my powers is rejuvenation. A night’s sleep will heal these wounds.”
Darcy forced himself to his feet. “Your coffin is destroyed, Wickham. Where will you find such sleep?”
“I will sleep with Lady Ellender.” Wickham took a menacing step towards Darcy, and, immediately, both Elizabeth and Edward stood between them. “I tire of these foolish displays, Darcy.”
“You must go through me, Sir, to reach my husband.” Darcy noted that Elizabeth reached into her pocket for a small bottle. She moved her thumb to uncork it, and Darcy assumed it was holy water. He prayed it was not more of the oil he found earlier.
“And through me, also,” the colonel contended as he carefully cocked the gun he palmed in his hand.
“As you see, Wickham, even humans have loyal followers.” Darcy smiled at the show of defiance.
Wickham bristled. “I will not have this!” He strode forward, his right arm extended to bring forth his power, but, in desperation, Elizabeth released the vial, showering Wickham with the blessed water.
A cry of alarm filled the air as Wickham covered his face with his hands.
The smell of burning flesh filled the air before the colonel lunged to bring Wickham directly before him.
The shrieks continued, but, undaunted, Edward placed the short muzzle of the gun to Wickham’s chest and pulled the trigger.
The sound of the gun momentarily drowned out the shrieks, and then total silence reigned.
Gunpowder mixed with the stench of death surrounded them, and this time when he fell, none doubted George Wickham would not stand again.
His body shriveled to skin and bones before becoming completely skeletal.
No one spoke. Darcy, Elizabeth, and the colonel stood transfixed by the sight of the rotted corpse of the creature who had plagued them and theirs for two hundred years.
“Mr. Darcy?” the softly accented speech of Lady Ellender D’Arcy shocked them all. “Is he gone forever?”
Darcy found his voice first. “Seorais Winchcombe is no more, Lady Ellender.”
“I am not sorry to hear it, but mayhap he will now know peace. I never should have traded Seorais’s life for Arawn’s, but I held no other means to save the man I loved. Yet nothing was the same after that. It affected my dear Arawn in unspeakable ways.” Pure sadness crossed her ghostly features.
Elizabeth spoke to the figure as though she were a troubled child. “Lady Ellender, it is nearly dawn.You should return to your bed.”
Ellender looked about her, seeing the first streaks of light in the sky. “I wish never to spend another night without Arawn.You will see to that, Mr. Darcy?”
“I am your servant, Lady Benning.” Darcy offered a pain-ridden bow.
Ellender D’Arcy pivoted to return to the open vault. “I will follow her,” Elizabeth said as she handed Edward the bandages she held.
“Lady Ellender remains a vampire,” Edward warned under his breath. “Take the sword.”
Elizabeth nodded her head in understanding and then followed the apparition to the center of the cemetery, keeping a proper distance to avoid a surprise attack.
At the crypt, Ellender D’Arcy turned to Elizabeth before entering. “Mrs. Darcy, what is your husband’s relationship to my family?”
Caught unawares by the question, Elizabeth stammered, “I … I am uncertain, Lady Benning. We have been married for so short a time. You are at least ten generations apart. Yet it is uncanny how much Mr. Darcy’s sister resembles you.”
“Does your husband suffer from the curse?” The lilting roll of her accent softened the evilness of the word.
“Mr. Darcy was told that he does. He exhibits some of the powers.”
Ellender D’Arcy shook her head with concern. “He has not infected you?”
“My husband does the honorable thing and protects me.”
“Once Seorais claimed his revenge, I refused Lord Benning. I could not bring myself to injure him. I protected him twice, but he did not understand my refusal of his affections.” She straightened the bodice of her gown.
“Did you ever love Seorais, Lady Benning?”
Ellender looked off, as if remembering. “Seorais Winchcombe’s father served as an overseer on the D’Arcy land.
My father would never have tolerated such an alliance.
I found him most pleasing in his demeanor, but from the first moment I looked upon Arawn Benning, I could consider no other.
Surely you understand, Mrs. Darcy. Two men fight for your favor. ”
Elizabeth glanced to where her husband waited. “I love the colonel, but I am in love with my husband. If I never knew Mr. Darcy, I could live a comfortable, loving life with the colonel, but I do know Mr. Darcy. William is my reason to welcome each new day.”
Ellender smiled and looked lovingly at the Benning crypt.
“It is as I suspected. Arawn will be pleased when I join him in heaven and when I convey how our families are joined again.” Ellender turned and entered the vault.
Elizabeth closed the inner door of the tomb and then closed the gate.
The lock was not important. Lady Ellender was ready to know peace.
The three of them sat in the chapel, waiting for the first of the workers that Gordy had promised to arrive.
Edward and Elizabeth devised elaborate plans as to what would happen.
By count, one and twenty graves must be addressed.
From each, the coffin would be exhumed and opened.
A coin would be placed under the deceased’s tongue and a stake driven through the heart.
Darcy and the colonel would see to that task personally, shielding the town’s folk from experiencing the mutilation of a loved one’s corpse.
And then the coffin would be reburied. Although highly unusual, the local clergy agreed to consecrate the land again, as those being reburied were counterfeit in that manner.
They promised each of the twenty workers a month’s pay if all the work was completed in one day. It would be hard, backbreaking work in the frozen soil of January, but the pay assured the men’s diligence.
Upon his arrival, the clergyman summoned a surgeon to tend them. Both Elizabeth and the colonel insisted the man attend Darcy first. The back wound, as they expected, was the worst. However, the surgeon assured them Darcy knew no internal damage and time would heal him.
Elizabeth bathed in the small bowl provided by the cleric and donned a simple day dress. She would not shock the locals by appearing in men’s breeches. A bruise shadowed her cheek, and the dress covered more than one laceration.Yet Darcy thought her beautiful.
The colonel, too, showed wear and tear. The concussion he suffered was of most concern. Exhaustion—the natural release after such a battle— slowed his step, but he asked, “Darcy, what do we do with Wickham’s remains? Obviously, he cannot be buried anywhere around here.”
“I think I know just the place.”
Elizabeth inquired as she joined them, “Of what do we discuss?”
Darcy caught her hand to ward off any doldrums he might still carry. Elizabeth leaned over the back of the pew upon which he rested. “What to do with Wickham.”
“And?”
“There is an island less than two miles out called Lindisfarne. Have you heard of it?”
“The one from Scott’s poem?” Elizabeth asked.
“I curl not Tweed alone, that breeze / For far upon Northumbrian seas / It freshly blew, and strong / Where from high Whitby’s cloistered pile / Bound to St. Cuthbert’s holy isle / It bore a barque along.
” Elizabeth quoted the lines. “I never made the connection with how close we are to Berwick on Tweed.”
Sitting up to address them, Darcy reasoned, “The island is nearly deserted, and is called the Holy Isle as it was once the base of Christian evangelizing in northern England and southern Scotland. About the time that this madness with Wickham began, the parliamentarians took the castle on the island for the king during the Civil Wars. For our purposes, the monastery and the holy relics associated with Lindisfarne will serve as a deterrent for this evil to resurface. Moreover, an island serves another purpose. A vampire cannot cross running water. We can put Wickham’s remains by one of the springs or even by the lake. ”
“This is absolutely amazing,” the colonel fumed as he paced across the front of the church.
“You burn Wickham’s house to the ground, impale him with an ash stake, wound him repeatedly with a silver sword, attack him with a symbol of his god, throw holy water on him, and shoot him through the heart with a silver bullet.
How many ways will you protect yourself from this fiend?
Let us simply remove his remains to the woods and burn what is left of him! ”
“Edward, you have not lived with this fear night and day for the past twelve years! I have! You will excuse me if I am overcautious!”
The two men stared at each other in a battle of wills.
At length, the colonel gave way. “Then I will do it. You cannot make a journey by boat, trek across an island, and bury a corpse. Your injury will not permit it. Can you oversee the reburials? Are you strong enough to drive the stake through the heart of each of those Elizabeth and I vanquished?”
“I will assist William,” Elizabeth added innocently.
“No!” Both men ordered in unison. Darcy continued while the colonel looked away. “You will not do this, Elizabeth. It is too gruesome.”
“But, William …” she began; however, when he raised his hand, she fell silent.
“If you must do something, when the women from the village arrive with Gordy, see them to what remains of the manor. Gather the ashes and spread them indiscriminately in the woods and on the hillside. Wickham’s grave should no longer exist. I witnessed him gathering his home ashes to reseal them in his coffin.
Make it impossible for any to bring back this evil. ”