“My apologies, but we have only a moment.” He stood immobile, his thoughts distracted by his nearly naked wife’s proximity. “The servants believe we spent our wedding night in that bed.” He gestured towards the rumpled bed linens.

“Yes?”

“They will assume you were no maiden.” He stumbled through his thoughts, which were divided by his need to hurry—his need to act—and his need to touch her.

Elizabeth smiled, realizing perfectly where his thoughts lay. “I took care of it. Actually, I did so last night before you joined me.” She indicated a reddish brown stain on the linens—only a few droplets, but, obviously, proof of their night together.

“How?” Darcy’s thoughts returned to her semiclad body, and his groin swelled. He wondered—almost idly—whether he would spend the rest of his life in a perpetual state of arousal.

“A simple prick of the finger, Mr. Darcy.” She held up her left index finger. “Aunt Gardiner kindly regaled me with details of what to expect on the wedding night. She thought to protect my sensibilities, but I found her tale quite enticing. She cautioned me about the pain and the blood.” She, too, gestured towards the linens.“It creates a nice effect, does it not?” She sat on the bed, still holding the gown to her breasts.

Darcy took in the perfect curvature of her hips and how Elizabeth’s hair streamed down her back and draped over her shoulders. He prayed for her to drop the gown so that he might see all of her. It seemed for a moment that she might do just that, but a light tap on the door told them Sally had returned.

He motioned for her to wait before claiming her maid’s services. Then he bowed and disappeared quickly into her dressing room. Elizabeth smiled at his retreating form.Then she called out, “Come.”

Wickham followed Darcy and Elizabeth to Hyde Park, watching them ride side by side while he hid in a copse of trees near the Serpentine. He noted Darcy’s attentiveness to the woman and Elizabeth’s devotion to the man. Even he, although he was loath to admit it, saw they made a charming couple.

Wickham’s finely honed intuition told him Darcy loved Elizabeth. The rules of the game were now altered. Elizabeth would become another source for revenge against the Darcy dynasty, but his opponent’s love for the woman—the first true affection Wickham had noted between a descendant of Ellender D’Arcy and another human being—the first in nearly two hundred years—created dangerous complications. If Darcy were alone in the world, he might gladly die, but Elizabeth Darcy provided him with reasons to live and to fight.

Wickham had questioned a new footman of the Darcy household earlier in the day, learning exactly the nature of Darcy’s plans and where each of the players would be later and at what time. Wickham had paid the servant handsomely for the intelligence, and then journeyed away from the Darcys’ scene of domesticity.At the entrance to Rotten Row he met up with Mrs.Younge, who waited patiently on one of the park benches. “We have some time before we make an appearance. Let us return to Edward Street and set our plans for the day.” He took her hand on his arm and led Amelia Younge away, as if they were a real couple. Wickham enjoyed playing the role; it gave him a sense of what he missed in life, which reinforced his resolve to deny Darcy the same pleasures.

Darcy and Elizabeth called for Georgiana at her residence. He escorted both ladies on a shopping excursion—last-minute details before they left for Pemberley.The changes in the family dynamics demanded they search for special gifts to commemorate Christmas.

Darcy dutifully led the ladies from shop to shop. Elizabeth, who at twenty was not much older than Darcy’s sixteen-year-old sister, understood what Georgiana experienced as a girl, giving them a natural, easy, and lighthearted connection. Darcy complimented himself for choosing a younger wife. Or did she choose me? No matter. Many men chose a younger wife because childbirth was long, difficult, and sometimes fatal, and the choice of a younger bride meant the woman stood a better chance of producing the required heir. For intensely personal reasons, that factor had in no way affected his decision to marry Elizabeth Bennet. He had chosen Elizabeth because he cared deeply for her, plus, she needed his protection. The fact that she could serve as counsel for his sister had not occurred to him at the time. Instead, it was a wonderful revelation.

“You look smug, Mr. Darcy,” his wife whispered as he held the door of the next shop they entered.

“Just thinking how lucky I am, Sweetling.” His smile showed his sense of contentment.

Elizabeth laughed. “Why should you not feel lucky?” she taunted him.“Two women idolize you—your dear sister and Caroline Bingley.” She swatted his arm with her fan before following Georgiana into the well-lit store.

She paused at the counter and waited for his approach. When Darcy stepped up behind her, Elizabeth’s body reacted to him as it always did. Her breath came more quickly and her cheeks flushed. Darcy spoke close to her ear.“Does my wife not idolize me?”

Elizabeth answered softly, delivering the lines without turning around. “Your wife, Mr. Darcy, is of a practical nature. Idols are for schoolgirls and desperate women. I prefer the flesh-and-blood man, someone who strives for perfection and often falls short, but someone who stirs my very soul.”

“Then I am not just lucky, but blessed.”

Elizabeth stayed at the counter, counting to ten before she, too, moved. She walked around the displays, but her eyes never left her husband’s back. As she strolled leisurely among the tables bearing gloves and scarves and fans, he half turned and his profile revealed

Feeling flirtatious, Elizabeth glided up to him and placed her hand on his arm. “My Husband, may your sister and I leave your company for a few minutes? We wish to choose some intimate garments for ourselves, and we both need to purchase a special gift for the idolized man in our lives, and as you are that man, it might be easier if you were not part of our company.”

“Now I am your idol, Mrs. Darcy?”

Elizabeth laughed at her own words.“I bow to the higher intelligence of such an accomplished lady as Miss Bingley. After all, the woman cannot be wrong about everything.”

He chuckled. “How long?” He resigned himself to doing as she asked.

“An hour should suffice. I know what I seek.”

“Very well, my love, but I will leave Belton to tend to your purchases. I shall meet you at the carriage in an hour.”

Darcy started for the door, stopping only long enough to give the footman orders. Elizabeth turned immediately to Georgiana. “We have an hour to purchase a gift for your brother. I know what I wish to purchase, but I know not where to look. If I tell you, will you lead me in the right direction?”

“Certainly, Elizabeth.What did you have in mind?”

“New riding boots.” Elizabeth sparkled with excitement. “Do you not think it an excellent idea, Georgiana?”

The girl glowed with delight. “Yes, I do. And I could get him a new riding crop. It is a perfect idea, and Fitzwilliam’s boot maker has a shop the next street over. Let us hurry before my brother returns.” With that, they headed out, arm in arm, to see Darcy’s cobbler.

The boot maker assured them he would have the new boots and riding crop ready before the holidays. He would deliver them to Pemberley well before Christmas. Next, they found gifts for the

“I could buy a book for Lord Matlock,” Georgiana reasoned.

They hurried along the street, knowing not much time remained of the hour. When they entered, the bell tinkled, and the same man Elizabeth had seen before hustled in from the back room.

“Yes, ladies,” the man said automatically, “may I be of service?” As he approached, he took note of Elizabeth.“Ah, my lady, did you return for another book of poetry?”

“You remembered, Sir?”

The old man had a playful nature.“I have an eye for a fine book or a fine lady.” His eyes twinkled with humor.

Elizabeth blushed.“I am Elizabeth Darcy of Overton House.” It was the first time she had said those words. “My husband’s sister and I would like to make several purchases.You will send the bill to Mr. Darcy afterwards.”

It was a statement rather than a question, and the man nodded. “I knew you to be a fine lady from the first moment I saw you. I am never wrong about a book or a woman.”

“I assume that means you will honor my request,” Elizabeth responded good-humoredly.

“Naturally, Mrs. Darcy. I am Mr. Henley. May I show you something, or would you prefer to browse?”

“I would like a piece on the British navy,” Georgiana piped up.

“Certainly, Miss Darcy. Follow me.”

The man led the way through the narrow aisles. Georgiana whispered to Elizabeth, “My uncle loves to harass my cousin, the colonel, with the victories of the navy. It makes for good dinner banter.”

“Oh, this is the section where I found all those books on spiritualism,” Elizabeth observed aloud as they came to an abrupt halt. The man pulled out three books for Georgiana’s perusal, ignoring Elizabeth’s comment.

Georgiana rejected two right away as being ones His Lordship might already own. She retained the last one in her hand as a possibility, but she asked to see others. Dutifully, the bookseller replaced his original choices and stepped farther down the row to offer up more.

As if they held a great power all their own, Elizabeth turned to the books directly over her right shoulder. One title seemed most compelling—Vampire Burials called to her. She pulled it from the shelf and began to page through it. She read,“A corpse swells with gas, making the body appear to be full of blood. Believers in vampires, although the Church is sore to accept these pagan rituals, often stake the decomposing body, releasing the blood left in the corpse. The escaping air makes a sound often associated with a groan, causing believers to assume that the vampire is still alive.”

“Obviously, the author of this book never met a real vampire,” she mumbled.

Unimpressed, she carefully returned the book to its place. Next, she selected Tales of the Vampire, containing the poem “DerVampir” by Heinrich August Ossenfelder, Gottried August Bürger’s “Lenore,” and Goethe’s ballad “Die Braut von Korinth.” Elizabeth slipped that book under her arm.

Now on a mission, she began to select others. She pulled out one on pagan worship of the upyri, adding it to her growing stack. Vampires: Folklore and Myth became her next choice because it included a chapter on how to prevent the corpse from turning into an undead revenant. Maybe something other than removing the head, she thought.

Suddenly, Georgiana rejoined her, having made her selection. “Elizabeth, what are you doing?” Georgiana hissed, seeing the subject of her choices.

Elizabeth eyeballed the seller, who was close by. “If you would

“Certainly, Mrs. Darcy.”The man disappeared into the depths of the store.

When he was out of earshot, Elizabeth took Georgiana by the arm. “I saw all these books, and I needed to read them, to know more.This may sound bizarre, but I believe that we need to confront Wickham, not wait for him to come to us.The thing is….we know little about vampires. For example, how does this iron crucifix work? When Wickham kidnapped me, I wore this cross. It prevented him from making me one of his own, but it did not stop him.Why? These books are filled perhaps with facts, perhaps with myths and legends—things we do not know. When we arrive at Pemberley, I plan to start compiling all the specifics we know about Mr.Wickham. Maybe from the compilation and from these books we might have a better idea of how to rid ourselves of the curse.”

Georgiana wanted to believe in what her new sister proposed. “Do you actually think it possible?”

Elizabeth reasoned, “What have we to lose? The cost of a few books?”

Georgiana looked about, making sure that no one was near. “We cannot simply buy books on vampires. The man knows our name; he may talk.”

“We will choose a variety, suggesting that we are looking for information on local well-dressing ceremonies. Let us choose some Celtic folklore to make the ruse more believable. We will say that with your brother’s marriage, he feels a new responsibility to the village traditions and beliefs.”

“You are so clever,” Georgiana remarked.“No wonder my dear brother loves you.”

“Let us hurry, Georgiana.You choose some on Celtic religion and maybe one on Scottish beliefs and culture. I will pick out a few more of these.”

Georgiana moved along the aisle to the religious tomes. Quickly, she made three choices.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, selected two more volumes. To balance out her search, she chose a history of Scotland and a similar one on the British Empire. Impulsively, she even selected a novel by Mrs. Ratcliffe, trying to create an eclectic look to her choices.

Just as she reached the end of the aisle to turn towards the front, she spotted a book lying on the floor. The old man treated each book he touched with reverence, so she wondered if Georgiana had unknowingly dropped it. Jostling the stack she carried, Elizabeth bent down gingerly to retrieve the volume from the floor. Bringing it up with her, she laughed when she saw the title: Apotropaics . “How appropriate,” she murmured, and added it to her choices. Perhaps the book would fulfill the promise of its title and turn away evil from their lives.

Arms loaded, Elizabeth made her way through the twists and turns of the shelving. Arriving at the front, she found Georgiana pacing back and forth. “Elizabeth, Fitzwilliam must be waiting by now. He will be frantic.”

“Go, then,” she urged her.“Take Belton and hurry to meet your brother. I will wait here for the two of you.”

Georgiana was already moving towards the door.“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I will be fine. I will take care of the transaction. With your permission, I shall have your choice for His Lordship and mine for Papa sent to Overton House; the others I will forward on to Pemberley.”

“Fitzwilliam and I will return momentarily.”Then her sister was gone, hurrying towards the waiting carriage.

CHAPTER 14

When a distracted Georgiana stepped off the walkway to cross the street, she took no note of the broken slat of its wooden frame. She stepped fully on it, and a protruding nail easily penetrated her day slippers.“Ow!” she screeched, before limping out of the way of the street traffic.

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?”

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