Mr. Darcy Vampyre (12 page)

When she had gone halfway up the imposing stone staircase, Elizabeth heard Darcy calling her. She stopped and turned round. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her.

‘Elizabeth!' he said again, as he began to climb the stairs towards her place on the half landing.

Illuminated by the light from the large window she made a lovely sight. Her cheeks were aglow, her eyes sparkled, and she radiated good humour and health.

‘I am glad you enjoyed the company of my uncle's guests, but it would be well not to encourage them too far,' he said in some agitation.

‘I don't know what you mean,' she said in surprise.

‘You were enjoying their attentions,' he said with a sudden spurt of jealousy.

She was taken aback by the injustice of his remark and flashed back, ‘And why should I not? I never get yours.'

He looked startled.

‘What do you mean?' he asked.

‘You know full well what I mean. We have been married for weeks and yet I am still not your wife.'

‘Elizabeth—' he said, and then stopped, as if at a loss.

‘Why do you never come to me?' she asked him, hurt.

‘I—' He shook his head. ‘I should never have brought you here,' he said.

‘Then why did you?' she asked.

‘I didn't know how it would be. I thought it would be different.'

‘Different? How?'

‘Not so difficult—or yes, difficult, but difficult in different ways.'

‘I don't see what is so difficult,' she said, looking at him beseechingly and reaching out a hand to touch him.

‘No, I know you don't,' he said, but he did not take her hand.

‘Then explain it to me. Talk to me, Darcy,' she begged him, taking his hands and looking into his eyes. ‘Tell me what is wrong. I will not leave this spot until you talk to me, though sunset is already on its way. I will stand here until dark if necessary.'

He lifted his eyes but he did not look at her, he looked beyond her, over her shoulder, to the reddening sky. Then his whole attitude changed.

‘That's no sunset,' he said.

She was startled and, looking over her shoulder, she saw that he was right. The sky was not flamed with crimson, it was stained with a fire's glow.

A bell on the stables started to ring out and there was a clamour from the courtyard outside. Through the window she saw the mercenaries mount with all speed as the grating of the drawbridge's chains rent the air. The vast bridge began to lower and the mercenaries streamed across it, filling the air with the flash of their bright swords.

‘There is no time to lose,' said Darcy, seizing Elizabeth by the hand and pulling her down the stairs, just as the Count appeared at their foot.

‘Quickly,' the Count said, ‘you must go at once. The mob, it is on the move.'

Elizabeth was at once alarmed, remembering everything she had heard about the revolution in France, when the mobs had stormed the houses of the nobility and wreaked havoc, burning and murdering as they went.

‘We can't leave the castle,' she said. ‘The walls are thick. We will be safe here.'

‘We can and we must leave,' said Darcy.

The Count said something under his breath and Elizabeth thought he said,
Get her away from here. It is her they will not stand for
, before realising that she must be mistaken, because those words didn't make sense. Then, in a louder voice, he said, ‘Do not stop for your things. Me, I will have them sent on.'

‘We can't leave at night,' said Elizabeth. ‘The horses—'

‘We cannot ride our own horses, there is no time to have them readied,' said Darcy.

‘You will find everything needful at the usual place,' said the Count to Darcy. ‘Go quickly, my friend, and the wind, may he be at your back.'

Darcy nodded, then saying, ‘Send our things on,' he turned to Elizabeth and said, ‘We must go.'

Caught up in the sense of urgency, she ran down the flight of stairs with Darcy beside her, but when she headed for the door he caught her hand and, pulling her along with him, took her to another staircase leading down into the bowels of the castle. The steps were smooth and slippery, and the cold bit into Elizabeth's feet through the soles of her shoes. The light faded as the windows receded and they were running in near darkness, until at last Darcy pulled her through a studded door. There he took a torch from a sconce on the wall and fumbled on a shelf, striking a light with a tinder box. The torch caught fire and a light shone out, a dreadful echo of the torches of the mob.

They were in a storeroom with sacks of flour stacked against the walls. It was hewn out of the rock on which the castle stood, and the ceiling was so low that Darcy had to stoop and Elizabeth was in danger of hitting her head.

Darcy pulled aside the heavy sacks of floor and then, taking the torch in one hand and Elizabeth's hand in the other, he led her on through the door that had been revealed. Elizabeth found herself in a dark, dank tunnel with water running down the walls, and she shuddered with cold and fear. The floor was uneven, and twice she stumbled, but she quickly righted herself, wondering where they were going. She guessed they were passing beneath the castle walls and the thought of so much weight above oppressed her so that she hurried her pace. At last they came to another thick door which was barred with a stout oak log. Darcy again handed her the torch and then heaved the bar out of its housings and opened the door. Beyond was a tangled thicket of thorns and ivy, disguising the opening, and beyond that lay the forest.

A wolf howled and Elizabeth's pulse jumped at the thought of the dangers ahead and the dangers behind.

Darcy extinguished the torch and threw it aside. Then he led her cautiously ahead, pushing the creepers out of the way with his hands and making a passage for her through the thick and thorny tangle. Even so, she scratched her face and caught her cloak on a briar before she was able to stand upright in a dense part of the forest.

Through a gap in the canopy above there came the faint and sickly light of a new moon rising in the sky, floating like a ghost in the stark and terrible blackness. Beneath it was an angry red glow, moving towards the castle. But the castle was now some way behind them and Elizabeth stopped to catch her breath.

‘No, we can't stop yet,' Darcy said. ‘We are still not safe.'

There were far-off shouts and the dim commotion of steel on steel, but closer to hand all was quiet.

Darcy turned and looked ahead. Through the thick and gnarly tree trunks a cottage could be glimpsed, and it was to this building that Darcy headed, Elizabeth at his side. They moved quickly and quietly, their breath misting in the air and their lungs gasping with the cold.

They had almost gained the cottage when a shadow detached itself from the surrounding blackness and Elizabeth froze. She could not at first see what it was, it seemed too large for a wolf or a man, but then it split and separated and she could see that it was made up of half a dozen men or more, each holding a club.

‘They were waiting for us,' said Darcy under his breath. ‘We were betrayed.'

He began to back away from the men, pushing Elizabeth behind him, protecting her with his body. And then she heard a twig crack behind her and she froze. Her arm was seized and she was pulled backwards, amidst a flurry of blows and cries. And then from out of nowhere, a wind arose, circling with force and speed, and she felt a roaring in her ears. She could see nothing and hear nothing, save a confused jumble of sounds and images, and then suddenly everything went quiet. The wind dropped, the cries died, and she was standing alone in the forest. There were no hands holding on to her, no one anywhere. The forest was empty.

‘Darcy!' she called, softly to begin with in case there were any enemies nearby. But then, needing to hear a friendly voice whatever the cost, she called more loudly, ‘Darcy!'

‘It's all right,' he said, ‘I'm here.'

Somehow he was right beside her, though she had not seen him or heard him a moment before.

‘What happened?' she asked.

‘Some of the mob knew what we would do and tried to cut us off,' he said.

‘I know, but after that. The wind, the cries, what happened to the men?'

‘Gone,' he said.

He turned slightly and the moonlight fell on one side of his face. His hair was dishevelled and his clothes were awry, and she saw to her horror that he had blood on his mouth.

‘You're hurt,' she said, removing her glove and lifting her hand to see to his wound.

He caught it, stopping her, and all of a sudden they were not in the forest, they were nowhere, in some strange realm where only they two existed, and where every inch of her needed him. She looked into his eyes and something shot between them, connecting them, joining them, making them one. She felt the hunger in him, she saw the longing in his eyes and her heart stopped beating. Then he wrenched himself away.

‘What is it?' she begged him. ‘What's wrong? Why won't you tell me?'

‘I should never have let her do this to me,' he muttered under his breath, ‘but then, if I hadn't, I would never have met you.'

There was a low murmur like the sea coming towards them and the red glow was getting closer.

‘We must go,' he said.

He took her hand again and together they ran through the forest, snaking through the tree trunks and jumping over gnarled roots until they came to the cottage door.

Darcy knocked swiftly and quietly in a distinctive tattoo. The door was opened at once by a woman carrying a candle, which gave out only the smallest light. She said something to Darcy in a foreign tongue and he thanked her, then took Elizabeth through the house and out of the door at the other side. A barn lay ahead, and a man was leading a couple of horses, both saddled and ready to go.

Elizabeth looked at her horse with some apprehension. It was no gentle mount, but a large and restive looking creature, and it had a man's saddle on its back. There was no help for it, she had to mount. Darcy lifted her into the saddle, then mounted his own animal, and they set off. She could barely hold the horse, but she hoped it would become less restive when it had run off some of its energy.

‘Where are we going?' she asked.

‘Across the mountains,' he said.

‘But the Count—' she said.

‘—Will survive,' he said. ‘He has survived worse.'

His horse shot forwards and Elizabeth's animal followed, and they were swallowed up by the dark.

The night was long and wearisome. The horses were strong and not used to their riders, so that Elizabeth could only hold her mount with difficulty. The saddle was uncomfortable, and it was not long before her arms and legs were aching with the unaccustomed exertion. At last her horse began to tire and she was able to relax a little, which came as some relief, but the road seemed endless and she longed for journey's end.

To begin with they rode side by side but, as the road narrowed, Darcy began to ride ahead of her, stopping at each junction to consider the way.

‘Haven't you been here before?' she asked him.

‘Yes, I have, but not for some time,' he said, looking down three roads. ‘This way I think.'

‘You think?' she asked in a dispirited voice.

He looked at her with sympathy.

‘Tired?' he asked in concern.

She sat up in the saddle.

‘No,' she lied, ‘I have never felt better.'

He smiled at her blatant but courageous lie and there was admiration in his eyes, then he laughed, and she laughed too. It was a bright sound in the deserted forest, ringing through the trees, and it heartened them, until it was answered by the desolate howling of a wolf, and then their laughter died.

Darcy turned to the right and Elizabeth followed him.

The road now began to wind downwards until it reached a hollow, where ice was already starting to form on the shallow pools of water which had collected there, but once through the hollow, it began to climb steadily. The horses had to pick their way carefully as the road began to narrow and finally dwindled into a path.

The branches of the trees closed in on them from every side, and when the path became a track, the trees were so close that the branches reached out and groped at Elizabeth as she passed, snagging her cloak and tangling in her horse's mane. The animal whickered nervously and began to roll its eyes. For all its fatigue, it became jittery and tried to turn back, and Elizabeth had to struggle to keep it moving onwards, threading its way through a tangle of tree trunks and wading through deep undergrowth whilst she swerved and ducked to avoid the low hanging branches.

The horse's nervousness communicated itself to her and she began to start at the slightest sound. Her nerves were stretched so tight that they quivered like a plucked bowstring for the forest was full of noises. Leaves rustled, twigs cracked, and, every now and then, a wolf howled, sending its lonely ululations high into the air, wailing and crying like a tortured soul. Worse was the agony of expectation as she waited for the answering cry, so that it was almost a relief when it came, although it was quickly replaced with a new terror: the knowledge that the wolves were out in force and were hunting in a pack.

They rode on to the point of endurance and beyond, never stopping, until Elizabeth was dazed with weariness. Then Darcy took the reins of her horse and led it behind his, whilst she slumped in the saddle. The moon rose and fell, sliding through the darkness like a pallid spectre. It was only when she saw it fall so far that it almost reached the horizon that Elizabeth realised what it meant: they were coming out of the forest. Ahead of them the trees thinned out and there, right at the edge of the tree line, was a small hut. It was a ramshackle affair, but it beckoned her with all the allure of a palace.

She was so tired by the time they finally reached it that she fell out of the saddle and into Darcy's waiting arms. He carried her inside and lay her down on a bed of bracken covered with soft white goat skins, and by the time she touched the ground, she was already asleep.

***

Night was followed by day, creeping into the hut like a ghost, slowly, hesitantly, but taking on strength as the darkness faded from black to grey, before mustering its courage and illuminating the small hut to reveal a cotillion of dancing dust motes and Elizabeth's sleeping form.

She was dressed as she had been for her flight, except that Darcy had removed her bonnet to reveal her soft, tangled hair, and covered her with his coat. She looked angelic. The lines of worry had gone from her face and been replaced with the smooth calm lines of repose. Her lashes lay thickly on her cheek. It had lost some of its sun-coloured brown and was now creamily golden against the dark grey of his coat. Her hand was above the loving coverlet, the nails small and well-shaped with white crescents at the tip.

As the sun touched her cheek she stirred, but then turned over and slept again.

Her sleep was lighter this time, and she stirred more often until she emerged at last into the waking world to see Darcy sitting in front of the door, watching her.

‘You look beautiful when you sleep,' he said.

There was something so tender in his glance that it went straight to her heart and she sat up, eager to meet the day. As she did so, the greatcoat fell away, and when she saw that he had covered her with it she felt warmed and cherished. Her aching limbs no longer mattered, nor the hard bed, nor the cold which set her breath misting in front of her. All that mattered was him.

She pushed the coat gently aside and stood up, shaking out her creased gown and stretching to release the cramps in her limbs.

‘How long have you been awake?' she asked.

‘Long enough,' he said.

She looked at him enquiringly.

‘Long enough to make sure you were undisturbed,' he said.

She remembered the wolves and said, ‘We were lucky not to be attacked last night. I felt sure the wolves would set upon us.'

‘You have nothing to fear from them. I will always protect you and keep you safe,' he replied.

‘This is not what I imagined when we set out on our wedding tour!' she said, her natural humour reasserting itself. ‘I thought I would be waking up in an inn, with hot water and a good breakfast close to hand!'

‘I can give you the first of those, at least. There is water heating on a fire outside.'

He went outside and returned with the water in a bucket.

‘Can I drink it?'

‘Yes. Here.'

He poured some into the water canister that had been attached to the saddlebags and handed it to her. She drank it gratefully then splashed the rest of the water over herself.

His eyes followed the movement of her hands as she scooped the water out of the bucket and then watched the beads of water as they ran down her face and neck.

She dried herself as best she could on her handkerchief and then ventured outside to put it by the fire to dry. But when she saw a man by the fire she stepped back uncertainly. His face was weather-beaten and his clothes were made of the skin of the chamois which wandered sure footed in the mountains. He appeared to be a simple shepherd, but in his left hand he held a bag and, after all the alarms of the previous day, she found herself wondering if it hid a pistol or a knife. He made no threatening moves, however, and he took from the bag a loaf of dark bread and a lump of hard cheese.

‘It can't compare with hot rolls and hot chocolate,' said Darcy humorously, ‘but it will satisfy you, at least.'

Elizabeth took it gratefully, tasting none of it in her hunger, eating rapidly until it was all gone. She realised with dismay that she had finished it and tried to apologize, but Darcy only laughed and said that he and Jean-Paul had already eaten.

He turned and said something to the shepherd. Although they spoke in French, Elizabeth could not understand it, for it seemed to be in some kind of regional accent or dialect.

‘Are you ready to go on?' Darcy asked her when the two men had finished speaking. ‘We are not out of danger yet. We cannot go back so we must go on; it is a good thing perhaps, for there are many things I still wish to show you. It will mean more riding and we must travel on mules: where we are going, no coach can travel and even horses cannot pick their way.'

‘Where are we going, if even horses can't walk there?' she asked.

‘Over the mountains,' he said. ‘Across the Alps, over Mount Cenis, where only sure-footed beasts can tread. And then down the other side of the mountains, to Italy.'

‘Italy!'

‘Yes, Italy,' said Darcy. ‘I think you will like it, and I have many friends there.'

‘You have many friends everywhere,' she said.

‘When a man has lived to my age he cannot help it,' he said sombrely. Then he cast off his low mood and said, ‘I want to take you to Venice. It is a beautiful city, full of treasures, and one you should see. You have had to endure much over the last few days but this is meant to be your wedding tour. I want it to be something you will always remember.'

‘There is no danger of me forgetting it, I do assure you!' said Lizzy mischievously.

Darcy laughed.

‘No, I suppose there is not, but I want you to remember it for better reasons than the ones you have at present. I want you to be sorry to go home, not eager for it!'

‘Sorry to go home to Pemberley? I think that will never be. But I must confess, I would like to see something of Europe beyond wolves and forests! They will not believe me, at home, when I tell them of all my adventures.'

‘Jean-Paul is coming with us,' said Darcy. ‘He will be our guide. Are you ready to go on?'

‘Yes,' she said.

‘Then we should go.'

After making some attempt to tidy her hair she set her bonnet low on her head and tied it firmly beneath her chin.

She eyed her mule with misgiving but it stood placidly whilst Darcy helped her to mount.

They waited only for Jean-Paul to gather together some food for the journey and then they set off. They moved out of the last few sheltering trees, and before long they were above the tree line altogether. All around them were the purple peaks of the Alps, bathed in hard sunshine and topped with gleaming snow. Elizabeth felt the cold and was glad of her cloak and her gloves as well as her warm boots.

She felt her spirits begin to lift despite her worries. It was impossible to be downcast amidst such magnificence, where she was surrounded on every side by the majesty of the Alps. Their travels so far had not prepared her for the sublime and terrible grandeur of the views. She soon became accustomed to her mule. The stalwart animal picked its way stubbornly yet surely over the rough and rocky paths that wound to dizzying heights as they climbed the mountains.

They passed glaciers covered in snow and thundering cataracts that plunged with a roar to the valleys below. They traversed rough bridges which had been thrown over the dreadful torrents, spanning the mighty waterfalls with their fragile strength.

They picked their way through thick drifts of snow and walked by the side of sheer precipices. They climbed through the clouds until they were above them. They stopped and looked down, seeing the clouds parting in places to reveal glimpses of dwellings and churches in the meadows far below. Then they set off again and climbed even higher, up towards the dizzying summits.

The air grew ever colder until the very waterfalls were frozen, plunging downwards in huge sheets of ice that glimmered green and white in the unclouded sunlight.

They saw no one on their way, save for a stray shepherd or two and, here and there, a hunter. Of wildlife they saw little, only the chamois who ranged over the crags and occasionally some hardy mountain cattle.

At last they began to descend, going down through the clouds, where the foggy vapour closed around them like a damp hand and where they could see nothing except the whiteness all around them. But eventually, wet and shivering, they emerged, to see the mountain track becoming wider and less steep beneath them and, far below, the green and verdant grass of the plains. The air began to grow warmer, and they felt they were leaving winter behind them and entering spring. The rocks and crags were gradually replaced with trees and grasses and then bright swathes of meadow, spotted with the greens and blues and yellows of the late wildflowers.

They stopped for a rest on a grassy slope above the mountain's foot.

Jean-Paul turned to Darcy and said something that Elizabeth did not understand, but she understood Darcy's reply: he was thanking Jean-Paul for all his help and bidding him adieu. Jean-Paul nodded his head in token of leave-taking and then, catching up the reins of the mules, he began to walk back up the foothills, returning to the rocky crags amongst which he made his home.

Elizabeth watched him go with regret. He had been a stalwart presence as the crossed the Alps, sure-footed and knowledgeable, and she had been grateful to him for accompanying them and showing them the way.

‘Do we walk now?' asked Elizabeth.

‘No, it is too far for us to walk. We hire horses over there,' said Darcy, indicating a nearby farm.

He gave her his arm and they began to walk towards it.

‘What are those places I can see in the distance?' she asked, turning her attention to the lands that lay at the bottom of the slopes.

‘Piedmont,' said Darcy, ‘the foot of the mountain. Beyond is Lombardy, and in the far distance you can see Turin. And beyond Turin lies Venice.'

They hired horses at the farm, hardy animals that clopped slowly through the foothills, and continued their journey with the river Doria rushing along beside them. They passed through a landscape of forests, with streams and lakes varying the view, and with castles and monasteries nestled amongst them.

At last they reached the valley, where sheep were grazing placidly. They came then to the walled town of Susa, and as they passed through the gate, Elizabeth said, ‘I never thought I would be so happy to see a town.'

Though the Alps had been sublime, the joys of hot water now awaited her, as well as a soft bed and a hot and filling meal.

They were soon at the inn. As they rode into the courtyard, there were suspicious glances from the other people there, including the grooms, who looked at the farm horses askance, but then recognition dawned on the face of one of the grooms and he called out something in Italian. The innkeeper hurried out of the inn with his wife behind him, uttering a long and excited greeting of which Elizabeth understood not a word, but she understood his smiling face and his bow and his wave towards the open door.