Page 72 of Bitten By Mr. Darcy
Mr. Darcy was at the Bingley town house that night. He and Bingley were alone together in Bingley’s study, not even with Louisa or Mr. Hurst. Elizabeth had accompanied him, but she was not with them either.
He felt he needed to speak to Bingley alone about this, for some reason.
Perhaps they had shared Caroline in some strange way and this was best conducted between the two of them for that reason.
“I do,” Darcy said. “My wife says that Caroline called it all off right at the last moment, anyway. She was yelling through the door that she could not actually hurt me. But we do not know what passed between herself and Mr. Wickham behind that door before he flung it open and bathed her in sunlight. She was not thinking clearly to leave herself so vulnerable, anyway.”
“If she had spoken to me, I would have stopped her,” said Bingley. He was grieved. He had looked shocked and blank all evening. “I would have saved her. Hell and damnation, I cannot believe she did something like this.”
“In a way, I cannot help but blame myself.”
Bingley sighed. “Oh, that is like you.”
“I wonder why I could not feel anything for her,” said Darcy, sighing as well. He settled down in a chair and gazed into the fireplace, which was burning cheerily, and it reminded him that Caroline had been consumed in flames, that she had died in agony, screaming.
Of course, that was the only death available to his kind. It must be flames, one way or the other. He grimaced.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Bingley.
“Hmm?” said Darcy, not having expected that response.
“Oh, you are going to say that if you had loved her back, she wouldn’t have been so hurt and angry, and I don’t think so. Because I did love her, Darcy, and if you had loved her, it would have been much the same. She would have been bored by youand sought someone else to obsess over. It was, as you say, that she did not quite know how to feel love.”
Darcy was quiet, contemplating this. Eventually, he said, “Perhaps you’re right.”
“I don’t know why. Her human life… I think it was harsh. We rarely spoke of such things, but she was a slave, you know, sold as a child and forced to do all manner of things. I don’t know if she ever recovered from that, or from the sheer betrayal of it, you know? Sold by your mother and father for money? Sold by the people who were supposed to care for you?”
Darcy grimaced again. “Yes, she suffered.”
“Not an excuse, I suppose,” said Bingley. “Perhaps I made too many excuses for her.”
“No, she was lucky to have you. If she had not had you, would she have survived as long as she did, considering how destructively she behaved? You saved her over and over again, my friend.”
“Yes, and now here I am, alone.” Bingley passed a hand over his face. “That other Bennet girl—”
“No,” said Darcy. “No, I don’t want her tangled up in this. And besides, I think my cousin is going to marry her. After all, I put a great deal of effort into getting all those Bennet girls decent dowries.”
Bingley nodded, looking away. “All right. I shall keep my hands and teeth off the eldest Bennet sister.”
“Thank you,” said Darcy.
“But what about your wife? Are you any closer to turning her?”
“I think so,” he said. “But it will be her own decision in the end.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“WHAT DO YOUmean, he drinks blood?” said Jane, leaping to her feet.
The colonel, who was there with her, all alone, at Mr. Darcy’s house while Darcy and his wife had gone off to visit Caroline’s family, spread his hands. “You must have guessed, really, Miss Bennet.”
“No,” said Jane, shaking her head. “No, not at all.” Because drinking blood, it was something she wasn’t supposed to think—
She sat down heavily next to the colonel and put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Christ in heaven protect us all, I have forgotten a number of things.”
“They charmed you,” muttered the colonel.
She turned to look at him, shaking all over. “They… they… oh, dear.” She touched her neck and then she stopped. She did not think she should tell the colonel that she remembered having her blood drunk or that she had very much liked it. She was positive that she was still chaste, but, well, it was sort of a near thing in some way, the way that Mr. Bingley had fitted his teeth to her, the way he’d savored her. She cringed.
