Chapter 9
Netherfield Manor was large and imposing. I stepped out of my Jeep and smoothed my hands over my clothes. It had been too long since Darcy and I talked face-to-face.
Snow clung to the roof and settled in gentle mounds along the windowsills, turning the grand estate into something out of a storybook. Tall, frosted trees framed the lengthy driveway, their bare branches laced with lights that flickered like old-fashioned candle flames.
I entered the large entryway, looking up at the sparkling chandelier above my head.
Oscar walked into the front hall in his pressed tuxedo muttering to himself, a clipboard and checklist in hand.
“The meeting with the royal council at the lodge is coming up this Thursday. I must make sure I have extra blankets on hand for Gerard Smoot, who constantly complains he’s cold.
And Tom Selving will need space to store the medical supplies he loves to show off. ”
It was like Oscar to always be busy. I coughed, and he glanced up. “Oh, yes. It’s you,” he said in his slight, dismissive way. “Come, he’s waiting.” He led me up the steps of the large manor staircase and into the hallway. “Wait right here.”
I stood next to a wall with several magical video clips in frames. Titles scrolled across the top of videos of people celebrating or even hugging Darcy. One said, “New worker protections in place thanks to the support of Prince Valemont.”
I looked at it curiously. I’d heard that Netherfield Manor was enchanted. This clearly wasn’t the typical decorations since the prince went by Darcy in town and wouldn’t want the wall decor exposing his secret.
“You can’t do this to us. Do you believe the council will back these new moves? Vampires and werewolves are monsters. They need to be locked away, not given protections,” an angry voice snarled. “And these other regulations. When is enough, enough?”
“When all beings are treated fairly and protected from exploitation,” Darcy spoke with a hard and unyielding tone.
“If you keep pushing, you’ll regret it. You may snub the council, but you can’t fight against the people. Watch Pam Smoot’s videos.”
“That will be all, John.”
That name. I instantly recalled seeing him speaking against Darcy in the video my sire had shown me.
What was his name? John Rittle. Moments later, a fae man stormed out of the room.
He paused when he saw me, looking me up and down, and sniffed as if he knew just by smelling me that I was lower-born fae.
Without saying a word, he continued on his way.
As if on cue, the decor on the wall transformed into a painting of a winter wonderland with little kids running in the snow and sledding down a large hill. Perhaps the hallway’s decorations had to do with the council member visiting.
It was clear from Pam Smoot’s video that John Rittle hated vampires.
And John was a cousin to the fae man, Albert Jones, who’d been killed.
I recalled what Sephira had said about the murderer not being an actual vampire.
But if it was John, how would he know I was a vampire?
And why not expose me instead of the elaborate setup?
A highborn fae such as John Rittle could bring someone like me down in a second.
However, it was a reach since I didn’t have an idea of the killer’s race.
Or anything about John Rittle, or Albert Jones for that matter.
Oscar came back holding a tray that had two plates of food and glasses resting on it. “You may enter now.”
I walked into a large sitting room in front of a blazing fire. Oscar set the food and drinks on a small table before bowing and exiting. The plates held roasted chicken thighs, buttery mashed potatoes, and honey-glazed carrots with warm cranberry relish.
Darcy picked up his plate and sat in one of the sizable chairs in front of the fire. “Wickham.” He motioned for me to sit.
“Darcy.” I grabbed my plate and sat across from him in another high-backed chair.
An awkward silence filled the space, as if neither of us knew how to begin. I definitely didn’t. How did I cut through the ill will between us? But I cleared my throat. “Seems Oscar is still enjoying playing the part of servant.”
Darcy looked toward the door through which Oscar departed. “You know how he is. I tell him to relax, and he becomes even more adamant.”
It was true. While he’d always been a bit informal around me, even looking down on me a bit, he tended to simper over Darcy’s royal status.
It was probably his way of feeling useful and part of the family since his own relatives had died long ago.
Despite being royal, the Valemonts tended to pick up strays.
Oscar and I had that in common, which is why I didn’t mind his slight snubbery.
“And why are you hiding your identity and spending so much time in Austen Heights?” I asked.
“Moonrot.”
“You’re looking for a cure?” Moonrot was a magical curse that appeared suddenly a few years ago and hadn’t gone away. Lydia’s father was afflicted with it and was only getting worse despite all the treatments her family paid for.
Darcy nodded. “The first case was said to be here. And you? Why are you in Austen Heights?”
“A few of the band members and I fit better here.”
It was wild that we were actually talking after all these months of running in similar circles and having rumors fly throughout town about us.
I hadn’t realized how quickly my history with Darcy would spread and grow into wild rumors after coming to Austen Heights and telling only a couple of people.
It had become too hard to contain, and I didn’t think either of us had attempted to change how people perceived us.
We sat in silence. I took a bite of the cranberries while Darcy stared into the fire without touching his food.
“I’m grateful for the money. For making Lydia and I above suspicion.” I cast him a sideways glance. “Although you’ve never deigned to stoop to get me out of trouble before. At least not since…”
The name hung in the air like a weight between us. Georgiana. Not since I’d broken his little sister’s heart.
“Despite the rumors flying around, you haven’t outed my true identity,” was all he said.
I tasted the mashed potatoes, observing him. “No, it has to be something more than that.”
Darcy became a little agitated. He set his plate aside. “Is it so far-fetched to think that I might do an act of kindness?”
“For me? Yeah, it kinda is.”
He grasped the armrest and stared hard at me. “Georgiana told me what you are.”
I froze before also setting my plate aside. “When did you find out?”
“A week or so ago,” he said. “And I suddenly saw your actions with Georgiana in a new light.” He glanced at me. “You ended things with her not out of cruelty and not because you were after her money or position like you claimed.”
I sighed, his words lifting a giant weight off my shoulders. Finally, he understood. “I’d just become this thing, Darcy, and already it had started affecting every aspect of my life. I couldn’t put your sister in danger. I couldn’t allow someone of her station to associate with someone like me.”
And it had been the right decision. From what I’d heard, Georgiana was now happily dating another guy and she was safe from me, from my messed up life. I could do the same with Lydia—I could, even though the idea of her with another man made me sick to my stomach.
Darcy’s expression softened. “How did you get turned?”
He wanted that story. After the bad blood between us, I wasn’t ready to give it. “Is this why you wished to meet?”
Darcy’s jaw clenched, and he looked out the large window that led out onto a balcony. The wind outside the manor whistled, tossing up snowdrifts and reminding me of the time Darcy and I tried to have a snowball fight from opposite balconies at Pemberley as children.
“The marriage served its purpose,” he said. “You and Lydia are safe from suspicion, but things have changed. What are your plans now?”
“Why do you care?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Have you heard of Pam Smoot?”
“The vlogger?”
“She’s the sister of a royal councilman, Gerard Smoot. I backed some policies that put him out of business a while back.”
He played Pam’s video, the same one my sire had made me watch, showing her conclusions about the prince and the fae that had been killed by vampires.
“You wouldn’t know who’s responsible for this death?” Darcy asked.
I shook my head. “I wish I did.”
He pinched his nose and looked at me. “Look, your kind are illegal, and the fervor against cracking down on them may become more than I can withhold.”
“Would you really try to stop them from coming for us?” In the past, I’d thought Darcy wouldn’t stand up for my kind.
But the fact that he hadn’t had me arrested when he discovered I was a vampire, and that he’d talked to the dignitaries about changing laws concerning werewolves and vampires, had me second guessing my original assessment of him.
It seemed as if my childhood friend had changed recently.
I wondered what could have brought that about.
Darcy released a slow breath. “If I did, it might end up turning the council against me entirely. I might be forced to abdicate and allow someone else to take my place.”
“Who would it be? Georgiana is next in line, but she wouldn’t be much different from you in your stance.”
“I don’t think Georgiana would want or take it. But the point is, things may only get more dangerous for your kind. Are you going to force Lydia into a life of danger and hiding? Don’t you think her family has already been through enough?”
“Her family?” I narrowed my eyes, trying to pin down what was really going on. “Since when do you care about a family of half-fae, half-witches?”
“This isn’t about me, Wickham—”
“No, but it is about one of the sisters, isn’t it? Has Darcy fallen for a Bennet sister?” I leaned back in my chair in delight, tapping my chin. “Let’s see which one could it be? Not Lydia, she isn’t your style. Then who?” I tilted my head in consideration.
“Wickham.”
“Jane? No, she’s too docile for you. You enjoy a challenge.”
“Wickham.”
“Mary and Kitty have boyfriends, so good luck there… that only leaves…” My eyebrows shot up. Of course, why hadn’t I seen it before? “You care about Lizzy, don’t you?” I laughed. “She’d be perfect for you.”
Darcy’s shoulders slumped. “It doesn’t matter. Someone spent a lot of time abusing me to her, and now she hates my very presence.” He cast a dirty glance at me.
“She turned you down? Surely it wasn’t over me. If so, I’m pretty sure I’m her least favorite person since I ran off and married her younger sister.”
Darcy shook his head. “It’s irrelevant now. She can’t stand me.”
“Then why are you so worried about her family and how they’re treated?”
“I came upon Lizzy when she found out that you two had left town after your manager was murdered. Lizzy thought that if Lydia was suspected of murder, not only could it hurt Lydia, but it would reflect poorly on her entire family. Lizzy worried about losing her job at the paper since her employer has been uncertain about keeping her on. Especially after what happened with their mom and that girl’s death several months ago.
” Darcy ran a hand through his hair, concern flashing in his eyes.
“Lizzy has been giving extra money from her paycheck to help pay for Cupid’s Confections and to help pay her father’s medical bills. ”
“If Lizzy lost her job, the Bennets could end up homeless, and who knows what shape the father might be in,” I surmised.
Darcy nodded. “Lizzy hates me, and she’d be too proud to accept my direct help. Besides, she loves her job at the paper.”
Suddenly the reasoning behind Darcy’s actions became clearer. “So you convinced me to marry Lydia to deflect suspicion and gave us money as a wedding gift to pay off my debts,” I said. “But if Lizzy hates you, why are you still so insistent on helping her?”
Darcy adjusted in his chair, a look of misery on his face. “Despite her loathing, I can’t help but want to assist her in any way I can.”
I leaned forward, watching him. “You don’t just like her, you’re in love, aren’t you?”
He pressed his lips together in a grim line. “And what of Lydia? Is she another one of your little games? If so, then it’s time to let her go.”
I sat back, now the one on the defensive. “And if she’s not?”
“Even more reason to let her go. Can you see Lydia in hiding? Having to lie to those around her? Her family? And if you’re ever discovered—”
“The body was dropped on my doorstep.”
“What?”
“Lydia and I came home and found the dead fae on my doorstep. I didn’t know what else to do. I panicked, took Lydia home, and moved the body behind the police station.”
Darcy paled. “Then the danger is even greater than I imagined. If you care for her at all, you have to annul the marriage to Lydia before it’s too late.”
“I know. I will.” I rose to leave. “Thanks for the lunch, but I lost my appetite.” I headed for the door but paused and turned back as an idea struck.
John Rittle was a far-fetched option, but he was the only suspect I had.
And Darcy had connections. “Albert Jones and John Rittle were cousins. I was wondering if you could look into both of them and see if there was anything there that might lead somewhere?”
“You believe John Rittle could have something to do with it?”
“I’ve no clue. But I also don’t know anything about him besides that he hates vampires. I also know next to nothing about Albert Jones.”
Darcy frowned but nodded. “I will see what I can turn up and inform you what I find.”
“Thanks.” I turned to go.
“Wickham?”
I looked back. “Yeah?”
“If you really do care for her, once everything is calmed down, maybe you can do things again, if she’ll have you.”
I let out a low laugh. “Are things ever calmed down? Besides, Lydia isn’t the type to give second chances, and I don’t think I’d want her to. It would make her less… Lydia.”
“One more thing.” He stared at the fire, looking uncomfortable. “You’re welcome to come by anytime... maybe… we can hang out like we used to?”
The awkwardness with which he said it was so Darcy that I couldn’t help but smile. It was small, but it felt as if something was thawing between us, and a little bit of relief rushed through me at the thought. “Perhaps I will. Thanks Darcy.”