Page 70 of Bitten By Mr. Darcy
He was thinking a good bit about what it was going to be like to be a vampire, how he was going to enjoy it, he thought. It would be power, the kind of power he’d never had. He was thinking about drinking Elizabeth’s blood and looking forward to that as well.
Caroline Bingley had been good at predicting Mr. Darcy’s behavior, for the windowless carriage appeared quite soon after Wickham had sent the letter off.
Elizabeth was struggling against her newly tied bonds. She had been screaming for help too loudly and talking overmuch as well, really bothering him, so eventually, he’d just balled up an armchair cover and stuffed that into her mouth. She was still making noise, but it was muffled. He liked it better that way.
Wickham looked at the carriage, simply sitting there. This house was out on the outskirts of London, not in the country exactly but definitely not in the hustle and bustle of the city. He waited, but no one came out, and he supposed that Darcy couldn’t come out of it, not and risk the sun. Wickham wondered what the man’s plan was. He couldn’t really be so foolish as to be sitting in there, vulnerable to someone opening the door on him and burning him to ash, could he?
He rapped on Caroline’s door. “Well, he’s arrived.”
“He has?” Her voice was very close, as if she was right on the other side of the door.
“I’m off to do it,” he said.
Silence from Caroline.
He started for the door.
“Mr. Wickham!” cried Caroline. “Stop. You can’t. I cannot go through with it, I find.”
He paused. “But we had a deal, Miss Bingley. I’ve done my part, and if you back out of your part…”
“Just come in here and speak to me,” she said.
He sighed heavily and went over to open the door.
It was dark in the room, for there were no windows. It was lit only by candles. She was cowering on a bed, entirely covered in blankets, just a woman-shaped lump on the bed.
He shut the door behind himself. “All right. The door is closed.”
She pushed the blankets off and came to him. “Mr. Wickham, with me. Be in my eyes.”
He pointedly didn’t look at her. “I know about that trick, madam,” he said. “I’ll not be convinced that I never wished to be a vampire. You made me promises, and I want what you promised.”
She snatched at his chin. She was strong.
He backed up, out of her grasp, hands up.
“Mr. Wickham,” she said, “I cannot kill Mr. Darcy. I love him. I don’t know what it is that I was thinking. I take it all back.”
“You’ll make me one of you, then.”
A pause. “All right, fine. You know, the first thing I must do is drink from you.”
Alarm flashed through him. He could not trust this woman, not to keep her word, not to do anything. If he allowed her to bite him, she’d as likely kill him.
He made the decision in an instant, impulsive, without any thought.
He reached behind himself and turned the knob.
The door opened and sunlight rushed in.
She shrieked, throwing up her hands against the light. Her fingers caught flame at once. She screamed. “Shut the door, I beg you!” She turned, running for her bed, but she was bursting into flame everywhere the light touched her.
So, when she reached the bed and covered herself with the blankets, they simply caught on fire.
The bed caught on fire.
Mr. Wickham flailed backwards out of the room, muttering swear words. He eyed Elizabeth Darcy, tied up in the sitting room. The door was open. He could go in and untie her, rescue her.
