Once the coach rolled again, Wickham leaned forward and took Lydia’s hand in his.As he made small circles with his fingertips along her wrists, he beckoned her to look at him. His gaze would solidify his control over the girl.“Miss Lydia,” he said slowly, giving himself time to enthrall her,“I wish to keep you with me through eternity. I would give you a love no one else can. I would welcome you into my arms nightly; we would be partners in the oldest game known to man.”With what ability to think she still possessed, Lydia envisioned balls and kisses and wedding dresses. “Instead of the Forsters, please say you will let me take you to Scotland, where we may join forever. I have a home of which you will be mistress in your own right.”
Lydia Bennet simply nodded her agreement. His eyes held her, and she could no longer generate an independent thought.Wickham enjoyed this moment, the one when his whims became his victim’s actions.Whatever he wanted would occur. He could manipulate Lydia Bennet as he chose. Wickham knew better than anyone how all humanity fed on the power of one another. Every minute of every day, people tried to best their neighbors—to suck the life from those less fortunate, leaving the weakest drained and ruined.
Darkness filled the windows as Wickham moved to the seat
When he sank his teeth into the spot, she flinched but then relaxed into his arms.This moment always amazed him, because as the victim’s life became his to use as he saw fit—as the fluid flowed into his innards—the stranger’s life moved through him—all their memories were now his. Lydia left him with stolen kisses behind the stable from a knock-kneed storekeeper, with games of hide-and-seek with her sisters, with the frustrations of useless music lessons, and with boisterous laughter to hide her own insecurities.
He did not drink enough to kill her outright, just enough to change Lydia Bennet forever. He did not break her neck but instead gently released her, laying the girl back along the seat. He lifted Lydia’s feet onto his lap and removed her slippers; then he absentmindedly stroked her leg from ankle to knee. Being given such liberties would sexually arouse a man, but Wickham was more interested in the texture of her skin, making sure it retained its softness. He would exchange fluids with her several more times over the next couple of days on their way to Northumberland. The lights of London faded into the distance.The coach isolated them from the outside world; he no longer heard the click and the clack of the wheels on the roadway. He sprinkled some of his home earth on the opposite seat and settled in for a long rest.The coachman was one of his followers.There would be no need to stop for food or drink. Changing horses would be the only delays. They would return to his home and wait for what Fitzwilliam Darcy would do next. By noon tomorrow, when her aunt and uncle discovered that Lydia was gone, there would be no turning back. He had instigated a last stand—a final battle with Darcy—one from which only one of them could walk away.
“What does it say, Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth watched him as he read the latest report from one of the many investigators he had hired to find Wickham. It was two days after Christmas, and by silent agreement, they had not discussed Wickham or the curse since his declaration on Christmas day of wanting time away from the obsession.
He tossed the paper on the desk with disgust.The information brought his reprieve to a close. For those few hours, he had enjoyed being simply the master of Pemberley, overseeing his properties, scouring the newspapers for political pieces that would affect his tenants or his business holdings, treating Georgiana in an attentive way, and stealing romantic moments with his wife. This could be his life if not for an ancient hex, and Darcy did not want it to end. “We have news from one of Bramwell’s agents. He located Wickham’s home.”
Elizabeth moved quickly to grab the letter. “Where?” Her eyes searched the words for the answer.
“Near Chillingham.” Darcy crossed the room, putting space between him and the damnable missive. Hands resting on the sill, he took up a sentry position at the window overlooking the south lawn, where he had wrestled in the snow with Elizabeth only a week earlier.
Recognizing his foul mood, Elizabeth first put the offending letter in her pocket so that she might read it more closely later. Then she encircled his waist with her arms and rested her head against the lean, strong muscles of Darcy’s back.“What causes your grief, my Husband?” Elizabeth knew the letter to be related to his discontent, but she knew not the exact reason.“Did not Bramwell’s men do a thorough job?”
Darcy sighed.“On the contrary; they were very professional.”
“Then I do not understand.Are you not happy to know where we might find Wickham?”
Darcy held her to him, clasping her hands tightly. He did not answer for several moments, choosing instead to keep up his vigil and to enjoy the warmth of Elizabeth’s body along his back. “I
Elizabeth released her hold and came to stand in front of him. “Will you not search Wickham out?”
“For what purpose? The chance to get myself or you killed?” He looked away, not wishing to see the censure in her sea-green eyes.“I will not put you in danger again, Elizabeth. I will not risk it. You are too precious to me.”
Elizabeth’s hands balled into fists at her sides, her frustration evident. “But we must stop him!”
He frowned. “Why is it my duty to protect everyone from Wickham?” Darcy, at a loss to explain why things had changed, stalked away from her, horribly and disturbingly uncomfortable. “I willingly accept the responsibility of safeguarding my family and my tenants. I would even defend the village. But how can I accept the responsibility for all of England?”
Elizabeth stormed across the room. “You sound like those weak-willed members of Parliament who are eager to forgive the French just for the sake of peace!”
“Even England cannot protect the whole world, Elizabeth. It can only effectively protect its own borders.That is what I want; I want to preserve what we have. Do you not understand? Am I not defeating Wickham simply by doing that very thing? By not letting his evil overtake me?”
“We have done all this just to let Wickham go?” she asked and burst into sobs.
Seeing her so distraught, Darcy scooped her into his arms and took Elizabeth onto his lap as he sat down in a nearby chair.“Have not the past few days been glorious? Just you and me and the hope springing from every wall of Pemberley? We can have that every day, Elizabeth.Wickham cannot reach us here.”
“He brought his destruction to the neighborhood before.Why would he not come again?” she countered.
“Because when he was here before, it was when I was learning about Wickham and he about me.” Darcy lifted her chin with the first two fingers of his right hand. “I would never allow that to
Elizabeth’s bottom lip trembled. “Then we just…go on with our lives?”
Darcy traced her lips with his fingertips. “Do you not want a family, Elizabeth? I have thought of little else for days. We could adopt, just as you said before. We could make everyone think you to be with child—a pillow for padding—then off we go to one of the hundred foundling homes in London or Brighton or even Edinburgh. It will be our secret.”
“What of my maid? Would she not know?” Elizabeth inquired skeptically.
Excited by the possibilities, Darcy now kissed her freely. “We pay her extra to keep our counsel, or I become your handmaid for several months. Our servants would view me as an eccentric, doting husband and father. After all, I have been seen upon numerous occasions kissing my wife.As your time for delivery draws near, we will be called away on a family emergency, or we can go abroad, and you will deliver before we return.”