Vampire Darcys Desire - Regina Jeffers

She fought back tears as Belton rushed to her side. “Miss Darcy,” he inquired urgently,“are you hurt?”

“I do not think I can walk,” she whispered.

“Shall I carry you, Miss?”

“My brother would be furious,” Georgiana responded. “Help me to the bench behind me, and then go find my brother. Have the carriage come here.”

Belton straightened before protesting, “Mr. Darcy will not like my leaving both you and Mrs. Darcy behind.”

“Belton, my foot is bleeding into my slipper. Now, hurry, please.”

Belton helped her take a few steps to the bench outside the storefront.“I will return with the carriage and your brother, Miss.” The man took off at a near run.

Elizabeth thumbed through the book she had found on the floor as the clerk totaled her purchases and prepared them for shipping to Derbyshire. She noted references to the crucifix, the rosary, and holy water, as well as beliefs about mirrors. She remembered Wickham’s blurry reflection in the window in Meryton, and suddenly things made sense. Darcy had told her about using the vial of holy water when Wickham approached Georgiana at Ramsgate. On another page, she discovered the Germans believed the head should be buried between the feet to release the soul. It seems as though Darcy was right on that point, she thought.

Flipping the page again, her eyes fell on a picture of a woman holding a crucifix and a vampire backing away. She thought how foolish the drawing appeared until she read the caption: “Say the vampire’s name backwards as you bring forth the crucifix.” Well, she thought, I wonder if that would do the trick?

Elizabeth closed the book and slid it towards the clerk.“This is quite an agglomerate,” the old man said with amusement.

“My father reads everything having to do with Scottish beliefs, folklore, and customs,” she lied.“I thought to share these with him after I learn more about the beginnings of the well-dressing ceremonies. I understand them to be based on ancient pagan customs. Mr. Darcy and I only recently married, and I have yet to see his estate; I do not want the villagers to judge my ignorance on such traditions as being a poor reflection on my husband.”

“That is admirable, Mrs. Darcy,” the man observed as he stacked the items. The shopkeeper picked up the last two books. “And these are to be delivered to Overton House?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I need.”

Georgiana’s attention was focused on her injury. She expected her brother or her new sister to appear at any moment, so when George Wickham slid in beside her on the bench, she was too startled to react at first—and then it was too late to respond.

Wickham waited until the street was momentarily deserted before he made his appearance, and then he was suddenly next to her, with a knife aimed right above her kidneys. He whispered softly to her before she turned her head, “I missed you, Georgiana.” She turned immediately, and Wickham took great pleasure in watching the terror spread across her face.“We have unfinished business, my dear.” He brushed his lips across her cheek. “Have I ever told you how you remind me of someone I once loved? Now, be a good girl and stand slowly.We are going to step into the alley.” He watched her face as possible ways to escape ran through her mind.Wickham was used to this scenario and expected it. “Do not consider it, my

Georgiana did not move, so Wickham took her arm and pulled her to her feet.“You will join in the pleasure,” he taunted her, while directing her to the shadowy alley. “I look forward to this, Georgiana. I have waited a long time.” Trancelike, she walked beside him, never looking back.

As Elizabeth stepped from the bookstore, she found neither husband nor carriage. “Where can they be?” she mused out loud. “Surely Georgiana and Belton are at the coach by now. Maybe Mr. Darcy was late.” Impatient, as usual, Elizabeth began to pace along the walkway. It was not like Darcy to be late; never had she known him to be late for anything. Agitated, she took off at a steady pace, searching both sides of the street for her husband, Georgiana, or even one of the servants in the Darcy livery.

Reaching the alley, a flash of color along a row of boxes caught her eye, and, intuitively, Elizabeth turned towards the bright object. It is Georgiana’s slipper! How did it get there? And where is she? Impulsively, she rushed forward to retrieve it.

The overhang of the buildings blocked out the little winter sun the day offered, and the alley itself, although not totally black, was heavily draped in shadows. “Georgiana?” she called, and then listened before stepping farther into the opening. Nothing moved in the empty alleyway, and Elizabeth turned to leave, but then a muffled whimper froze her in place.

“Georgiana!” she yelled louder, before charging into the dusky obscurity.

As if a theatrical light were thrown on the scene, Elizabeth stared in horror at the tableau playing out before her. Georgiana, wide-eyed, stood in the narrow, gloom-filled passageway.Wickham held one hand over her mouth and the other wrapped around her waist, and although her efforts were in vain because her hands were tied behind her back, Georgiana struggled to free herself. Wickham’s

“Step away from her, Wickham!” Elizabeth’s voice rebounded off the brick walls.

“Mrs. Darcy,” Wickham raised his head but did not release his captive. “You can be next, but you must wait your turn, my dear. Your lovely sister is ahead of you.”

Elizabeth squared her shoulders. She must protect Darcy’s sister at all cost. If she could delay the wretched creature who was hovering over Georgiana, maybe Darcy would arrive in time to help her. She spoke slowly and loudly:“I said to let her go!”

“If you insist,” Wickham said and he laughed, but he did not slacken his hold on Georgiana.“You may go first, Elizabeth.”

“I am not Elizabeth to you,” she insisted. Taking a smaller step forward and lifting the chain from around her neck, exposing the jeweled cross, Elizabeth continued, “You will remove your hands from Mr. Darcy’s sister.”

He challenged, “Do you really think that pitiful little crucifix has any effect on me?”

“Actually, I do believe it does,” she asserted. “If not, you would have had me, back at the Netherfield Manor House.” She extended the cross in front of her for protection. “I think, Mr.Wickham, the reason Georgiana is still alive is because she wears a similar crucifix.”

“This thing?”Wickham used his hand to flick at the chain, but Elizabeth noted he did not touch the cross.

Realizing she needed to give Georgiana hope if they stood a chance of getting out of the situation alive, Elizabeth addressed Darcy’s sister directly: “Georgiana, you must believe in your brother. And the crucifix protects you as long as you wear it.” She watched with satisfaction as the terror on the girl’s face diminished. “Your brother would do anything to protect you; continue to believe in him.”

Wickham jerked Georgiana closer. As he feared, Elizabeth Bennet was a calming force for the Darcys, making them stronger opponents.

“Why do you care if I take her?” Wickham countercharged. “I swore to take one of each generation. If Miss Darcy is my choice, that leaves you and your beloved Fitzwilliam to your happiness. Why not take the freedom you will earn with her death?” He wrenched Georgiana’s head to the side to expose her neck once again.

“Because we all swore to end the curse our ancestors began,” Elizabeth said coolly.

“Our ancestors?”Wickham repeated sneeringly.

Elizabeth smiled.“Do you really not know that Arawn Benning was my ancestor, just as Ellender D’Arcy was Fitzwilliam’s? How ignorant you are! It is Fate that brings my dear husband and me together.You cannot defeat us,Wickham,” she insisted.

“Yet I can still exact my revenge.”

Elizabeth tried to stall, tried to think of something to frighten Wickham away. She still clutched the crucifix before her.Then she thought of the diagram from the book. “Wickham George!” she called out as she took a step forward.

Wickham did not turn a hair. “My followers call me My lord. You may do so when you join me.”

“Pigs will sprout wings first.” Elizabeth’s mind raced. If Darcy were coming, he would be here by now. Reverse the letters. Visualize Wickham’s name and reverse the letters. It was a silly thought, but why not try it? “Mahkicw Egroeg!” she tried.

“Gibberish, Mrs. Darcy?” Wickham inquired mockingly. “You are grasping at straws, my dear.” He lowered his voice and spoke in an intimate tone: “Taking you will double my pleasure—revenge on both the D’Arcys and the Bennings in one fell swoop.”

Darcy bounded from the coach almost before it could stop. Belton jumped from the rear perch. Both men looked to the bench where the footman had left Georgiana.“Where is she?” Darcy demanded.

“I do not know, Mr. Darcy,” the servant stammered, afraid for both his position and for the girl he left sitting on the sidewalk bench. “Perhaps Mrs. Darcy took your sister into the bookstore to

Darcy did not respond; he simply strode towards the storefront and burst through the door, fully expecting to find both Elizabeth and Georgiana waiting for him; but no one was to be seen, not even the clerk. “Hello, in the store!” he called at the top of his lungs.

A stirring from the back of the building could be heard, and within a few seconds, the old man appeared. “Yes, Sir. May I be of service, Sir?”

“I am Fitzwilliam Darcy. I believe my wife and sister were both in here minutes ago,” Darcy said impatiently.

“Your sister, Mr. Darcy, left first with your footman there.Your wife followed five minutes later. Mrs. Darcy took her leave at least ten minutes ago, Sir.”

Darcy tapped his cane to his hat in a salute of gratitude, but his mind was not on the conversation. Immediately, he was back on the street, searching the storefronts for the faces he most loved. “Belton, go down the other side as far down as where you found me, and work your way back here.”

“Yes, Sir.”The man took off at a trot, searching every nook and cranny. Darcy would do the same after ordering the carriage driver to wait, in case Elizabeth and Georgiana were close by.

Darcy had taken no more than ten steps along the walkway when he heard her voice. Elizabeth stood in the darkened alleyway, talking loudly to someone even farther back in the shadows. Georgiana must be there also; otherwise, Elizabeth would back away. Of course, someone could be holding a gun on both of them. A silent click of the switch and a twist of the handle, and he slid the sword, a narrow blade edged on both sides, from the cane; and he reached for the small gun he carried in his boot. Easing his body along the wall and line of boxes, Darcy tried to maneuver to where he could see his wife and better assess the situation. From his current angle, all he could view was her skirt tail and the back of her bonnet. He fought to control his breathing and to curb his urge to burst upon the scene. If her assailant had a gun, she would be dead before

“Mahkicw Egroeg!” Elizabeth called out bravely. Darcy wondered at her words.

Then he heard the voice he most dreaded in such a situation. “Gibberish, Mrs. Darcy? You are grasping at straws, my dear.” Then Wickham continued speaking, but Darcy could not make out his words.

Elizabeth paused, seemingly at a loss. “Georgiana!” she called out again, as Darcy edged close enough to see Elizabeth’s profile. She stood with his crucifix dangling from a chain in front of her. “You can see Wickham has no power to defeat the crucifix. You must believe, Georgiana,” Elizabeth urged her. “You must believe in your brother and in me.”

Darcy wondered where she got her courage; Elizabeth Bennet Darcy was facing Wickham’s demonic possession armed with nothing more than a jeweled cross.

Elizabeth took another step forward, and Darcy nearly groaned, knowing the danger she was in. He wished he could see his sister—see the situation in which Georgiana found herself. Georgiana had not spoken, so she might be gagged. “Release my sister at once, Sir!” Elizabeth demanded. Darcy winced, knowing how Wickham detested orders and those who dared to issue them.

Intuitively, Elizabeth became aware of Darcy’s presence. He made no sound nor could she see him, but just the same, she knew he was there. Emboldened by his nearness, she sidestepped farther, hoping to pluck Georgiana from Wickham’s grasp. “I will tell you one last time, Wickham; your plan is madness.You will be found and punished.”

Desperately trying to formulate a plan as she moved, she thought once more of the book, and immediately Elizabeth recognized her error. The foul monster’s name was not really George Wickham; he was Seorais Winchcombe. George Wickham was his Anglicized name. She needed to use the correct one before the spell could work. Again, she visualized his name. She thrust the crucifix forward, extending her arm as far as the chain would go—

“Ebmochcniw Siaroes!”The words shot through the darkness, and with a gust of wind, Wickham flew backwards, slamming against the brick wall behind him.

Instantly, Elizabeth grabbed Georgiana and tumbled with the girl to the ground, anticipating that Darcy would step forward from the shadows. Darcy fired the gun, aiming for Wickham’s heart, as the demon slid down the wall.

In triumph, Darcy strode forward, adjusting the sword in his grip as he moved, planning to decapitate the beast lying at his feet. Poised above the limp body of his enemy, he could not have anticipated the attack.

In the shadows of the alley, a figure waited for an opening. Phantomlike, it clung to the side of the building, blending in with the faded wooden slats. Following Wickham’s orders, Amelia Younge had tracked Darcy’s carriage back to the bookstore. She had seen him enter the alley and hide in the darkness created by the haphazard stacking of discarded boxes.

So when Darcy stepped out of his hiding place and fired on Wickham, Mrs. Younge reacted in the only way she knew. She attacked the assassin attempting to kill the man she had followed into hell. Like a wild animal, she charged forward, taking Darcy by surprise, clawing at his back and ripping his coat to shreds with just a few swipes.

Dropping the sword, Darcy hit the ground and rolled, trying to escape the claws and the fangs snapping at him with great force and speed. His face sustained a raking from the tips of her nails, but he fought on. Calling forth his own powers, he pushed against her chest, shoving the woman back far enough that he could extend his arms. Blue light streamed from him, wrapping the vampire with a force she had not expected.

Yet energized by her need to help Wickham, the lamia valiantly led another attack.Again, she pressed Darcy back, her fangs dangerously close to his neck and ear. He struggled to right himself, but