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Chapter One

Posted on Saturday, 4 February 2006

Elizabeth Bennet climbed the stairs, the sounds of rejoicing from her mother and younger sisters ringing in her ears. She was filled with trepidation. How would she tell Jane the news? How could she? Oh, it was all very distressing and Jane, the kindest, sweetest sister in the whole world was so far from deserving the dreadful curse she suffered.

She opened the door to Jane's room and found her sister sitting by the window, a notebook in her lap, a pen in her hand. Jane was the most beautiful of the five daughters: curls like spun gold, classical features, porcelain complexion and an elegant figure. Sitting by the window in the small, dark room, she looked like an angel and very far above her setting -- the simple country house of impoverished gentry. Jane deserved to be enshrined in a stately mansion and showered with all the riches of the world -- but that was never to be -- and all because of the terrible accident of her birth.

Jane looked up from her notebook and at Lizzy. Her sweet face held an expression of fear that made Lizzy's heart shrink in her chest.

"What is it, Lizzy?" she said, putting her pen back into the inkwell she'd rested on the windowsill. "Why is mama so happy?"

"Netherfield," Lizzy said, and had to swallow to build up the courage to continue. She knew what a blow her next words would be to her beloved sister. "Is let at last."

Jane gave a small shriek and her beautiful, pale hand went up to cover her mouth. "Oh, no." She moaned. She hunched against the window embrasure, trembling, filtering moonlight casting ghostly shadows upon her stricken face.

Elizabeth hurried to relay the rest of the news. "Kitty and Lydia say that it was rented to a rich gentleman from the North. His name is Bingley. He's said to be very handsome and they find it most impressive that he has a blue jacket. He's due to arrive soon, with a large party. Seven ladies and five gentlemen." She paused and then continued ruefully, "Too many ladies and gentlemen."

"A large party," Jane said, nodding forlornly, as though unable to command thought for more than repeating Lizzy's words. She looked at the notebook, which lay open on her lap, and then up towards the moon, which was waxing towards its greatest fullness. "Oh, Lizzy, what shall I do? I've been used to having the liberty of Netherfield's preserves and parks. Now I shall be forced to go towards Merryton." She paled at such a terrible idea.

Lizzy could do no more than nod. She watched Jane visibly pull herself together. "And yet," Jane said, smiling wanly, "Mama is so happy."

Lizzy sighed. "With five daughters to marry, any gentleman taking a house in the neighborhood must seem a godsend. For you know that any gentleman in possession of a large fortune must be in need of a wife."

"Oh," Jane said. She jerked out of her hunched position to sit tall and defiant. "I hope she doesn't plan on his marrying me."

"I'm sure she does," Lizzy said. "Since she has five dowerless daughters, and you are easily five times as pretty as the rest of us. I know exactly how her mind works - she plans on you marrying Mr. Bingley, thereby throwing the rest of us girls into the path of other rich men."

"But... Lizzy," Jane said in some agitation. "You know it can never be."

"Yes," Lizzy said, nodding slightly. "But Mama doesn't."

"Oh," Jane said, putting her head down in her hands. "Mama shall push me at him, shamelessly."

"Indeed."

"Oh, Lizzy." Jane's lovely eyes were moist with tears. "What shall I do?"

"When Mama is set upon a course of action, there is not much anyone can do, however I shall do my utmost to protect you," she said.

"As you always have," Jane said, gratefully.

"What else could I do?" Lizzy asked. "Your affliction is not of your making. How it pains me that you have to suffer and hide away in obscurity as you do. You have the heart of an angel, Jane. No one could wish for a better sister. You do not deserve this."

"Oh, Lizzy. It is you who are the angel, always kind and willing to protect me as no one else would do."

"What else would you have me do?" Lizzy asked. "Turn you in to the authorities?" She patted her sister on the shoulder. "Now don't worry too much about Netherfield. We will survive this, as we've survived other adversity in the past. I will do everything in my power to ensure that nothing will happen to you."

"I am very lucky to have you as a sister," Jane said, tears again moistening her lovely dark brown eyes.

The sisters embraced and then Elizabeth departed from the room. She knew that Jane wished to be alone. Jane hated for anyone to see her distress. Lizzy, not feeling equal to sharing the nonsensical jubilation downstairs, repaired to her own bedchamber. Even from the privacy of her room, she could hear her mother shrieking with glee, "And Lydia, you shall dance with Mister Bingley."

Lizzy sat upon her bed, unable to shake the melancholy that was overpowering her. She removed her day clothes and put on her nightgown. True, she could have called on the maid to do this, but she preferred her solitude and had long ago learned to take care of herself -- and Jane -- in these small ways.

After undressing and putting her clothes away, she slipped into her nightgown and dressing gown, got her silver brush from the dresser and started brushing her hair. While doing so, she walked to the window, threw it open, and gazed out at the devious moon.

It was very close to being full now. People with less internal fortitude than Jane would already be feeling its relentless pull. She looked at the brilliant satellite in the dark sky with near hatred. What problems the moon caused! She wished there were no moon.

At that moment something dark and looming interposed between herself and the moon. Lizzy blinked to refocus, and realized it was a dragon, huge and a luminous green. She blinked again, and the beast had flown closer.

It glided through the heavens with unerring grace, its flight like a ballet performed upon the rising currents. Its body was powerful, sinuous, less reptilian than fluid, as though someone had decanted fire into an animal shape and set it free upon the sky. The metaphor was more apt than not, because as the beast flew closer she could see that its green skin glowed with the captive fire of a million gold scales, flickering and shimmering. And its wings were iridescent, semi-transparent, seemingly made of golden flame, glittering and softly billowing with each movement.

Lizzy became aware that she was holding her breath. She knew there existed were-dragons, just as werewolves and were-tigers roamed the secret shadows of moonlit nights. All of them had, of course, to be killed as soon as they were found. It was ancient law of Britain, dating back to pre-Roman times. Because shape shifters were often dangerous while in their were form, the law demanded they be destroyed. Lycanthropy was the only reason for which British law imposed death without trial. And yet, lycanthropes persisted.

But were-dragons were very rare. Lizzy had never even heard of one outside legend. And she never imagined they would be so beautiful or so graceful. As she watched, transfixed, the dragon flew closer, as though as fascinated by her as she was by him.

It was staring at her with the clearest pair of dark green eyes she had ever seen. She felt as if they were boring into her very being -- reading all her innermost thoughts. She pulled the window closed and backed away into her room. When she looked out the window again, it was gone.

Chapter Two

Posted on Sunday, 12 February 2006

After her unnerving experience with the dragon, Lizzie found it hard to go to sleep. It had been such a shock to see a dragon in the neighborhood, but the fact that it had come so close to her window, as if drawn to her, had left her both intrigued and frightened. If it was a were-beast, who could he be? She knew deep within that the beast could be nothing other than were. But why had he suddenly shown himself with such a lack of discretion? And what could he mean by flying here, like that, where anyone looking up could spy him? Surely he knew the law - certain death upon capture. The idea of such a magnificent creature being killed out of prejudice and fear chilled her heart.

It never occurred to her the dragon might be a she. There had been something very masculine to the intent glance of the jade-green eyes in the reptilian head. And her response to them had been the response of a woman to an attractive member of the opposite sex.

Perhaps he was a wild were, she thought. So lost to everything human and to all danger that he was not aware of his trespass. But if he was a wild were...

Lizzy tossed and turned in her bed, half expecting that at any time now she would find her window broken down by a reptilian head, and herself under attack by a powerful, fanged animal. Just because he looked beautiful in flight did not mean he could not bite her in half without effort. She had to remember that he was as dangerous as he was alluring. And he had no way of knowing the sympathies she held for his kind. She rolled over in her bed again, tangling her sweat soaked coverings even further. It must have been quite late when she finally fell asleep because she almost didn't hear the pebbles pelting gently against the window.

Cursing herself for a terrible person, she got up, and opened the window. Jane stood on the path that ran below, looking quite concerned. Also, very cold, as she was completely naked in the autumn pre-dawn. Lizzy looked up at the sky. Only the lightest glimmer of pink touched the horizon. They had a good hour before the servants arose to prepare breakfast. Which was good. This would enable Jane to get at least a little sleep before breakfast. Between that and a furtive nap in the afternoon, she would be almost as good as new.

While she thought this, Lizzy quietly withdrew the rope ladder made from old sheets that she kept hidden beneath her mattress. Fortunately the house couldn't really afford that many servants, so the girls usually made their own beds and turned the mattress in the spring. She could only imagine what a servant would think upon finding the ladder hidden. Doubtless that Lizzy intended to elope.

Smiling at the idea, she secured the ladder to the large wardrobe near the window, then threw it down. Jane scrambled up, very fast, with the practice of years. Once inside Lizzy's room, she took the nightgown and dressing gown Lizzy extended to her. They were doubles of the ones she wore to bed, and they would return to Lizzy's room sometime during the day. This minimized the coming and going between the rooms at night and the chances someone would catch one of them where she wasn't supposed to be.

While Jane dressed herself, Lizzy pulled the ladder up and returned it to its hiding place, then closed the window.

"You were such a long time, Lizzy," Jane said. "I almost despaired and thought I would have to break into the house and make my way up alone."

"I'm sorry Jane," Lizzy said. "Only I had trouble going to sleep." She wasn't sure she should tell Jane, but then she thought Jane was out there, all night at least a week a month. If the dragon were a wild one, he might very well attack Jane. "Did you see the dragon?"

"No. A dragon? When? Where?"

"Just after I left you, last night. There was a dragon in the sky. He was... Large and... He flew right close to the window." The thought of it caused a tingle of excitement to run down her spine. Or was it apprehension?

Jane looked appalled. "He must be either very daring or very lost," she said.

"Or else a feral were-beast, gone insane," Lizzy said. "I fear for you out there when an unknown being is on the loose. A dragon may very well have vicious propensities."

"Oh, Lizzy. You know I can't stay indoors these next few days."

"Nor should you need to. Only beware of shadows in the sky."

Jane sighed. She was combing her hair and braiding it. "Lizzy, there is another one, out there."

"Another dragon?" Lizzy asked alarmed. Perhaps what she'd seen was a mating dance, then?

"No, Lizzy, another... another one like me." Jane looked serious, and blushed a little, as she always did when describing things that happened in her other form. "You know how... Well, village dogs and wild wolves often give chase, but I have ... I'm smarter than they are and I manage to evade them."

And a good thing, Lizzy thought. She tried never pry too deeply about the peculiar dangers of Jane's condition. She didn't want to ask Jane if she might become pregnant by a creature other than human, but since weres mated with humans -- and that's how the line was propagated -- it stood to reason they might also mate with their other form. Lizzy shuddered. The idea was completely unthinkable -- she cast it from her mind. It was another humiliating danger arising from the unnatural birth defect. Sweet Jane had done nothing to deserve any of the torment that haunted her young life.

She looked on with heightened sympathy as Jane continued, "But Lizzy, yesterday another one pursued me... and I couldn't lose him. It was only with the utmost effort that I managed to return home undiscovered."

"A werewolf?" Lizzy asked.

Jane shook her head and sighed. "I don't think so. The glimpses I caught were of a regal, spotted hunting dog."

"And are you sure it wasn't a hunting dog?" Lizzy asked. In her other form, Jane looked like a sleek, golden and elegant wolfhound.

"I am sure, Lizzy. He ... He was too smart to be a dog. I'm very much afraid, Lizzy, that I won't be able to evade him another time. Not that I think he would hurt me. Not as such. But I don't know what his moral fiber is, nor how well he can control himself."

Lizzy bit her lower lip. "I don't know what to tell you, Jane. I can't lock you in the basement. There are no facilities for it, and a servant might find you."

"I know," Jane said. "I wasn't asking you to. I'll just hope that the other one is a gentleman and thoroughly under self-control, in both forms."

Lizzy sighed. "We'll have to hope that." But she didn't like trusting so much in the goodness and self-control of others.

Breakfast brought yet another threat to the sisters' calm. The family was hardly assembled at the table when Lydia announced, "La, such fun last night. Did you see the dragon in the sky?"

Several spoons clattered to plates. Mr. Bennet looked from behind his newspaper, "Have you been sneaking the claret again, Lydia?"

Lydia laughed. "Oh, Papa, that's so droll. No. I haven't. But there was a dragon dancing in the sky. Do you think they'll send the were-hunters after him? I hear his majesty's were-hunters have golden uniforms with silver braid. I think that would be very splendid. Even better than red coats."

"Don't speak nonsense, Lydia," Lizzy said, fervently hoping that only Lydia had seen the dragon -- other than Lizzy herself. No one would send for the were hunters on the word of a very silly fifteen year old. And Lizzy knew they couldn't afford to have the were hunters loose in the region. The were hunters always made their investigations during the full moon, and if they came now, they would find a great deal more than a dragon. Jane would be in dire peril. "There are almost no were-dragons. They were pretty much killed right after the were laws came into effect."

"Lizzy is right," Mary said. "Let us not forget that these laws were implemented by John Lackland when his brother Richard assumed the form of a lion at court and devoured half the courtiers. King John had him executed and forthwith, parliament passed the wise law that every were, harmful or not will be executed as soon as discovered, for they are not fully human and might at any moment lose control of themselves and fall upon humans, devouring human flesh. In fact, Fordyce himself writes that--"

"Jane, you must eat eggs," Mrs. Bennet said. "For you are too pale. Tell me you're not coming down with anything for we must have you healthy. There is an assembly tonight, where Mr. Bingley will come and dance, and you must know I mean for you to marry him."

"He's coming with a large party, I hear," Lydia said.

"Three gentlemen and five ladies," Kitty said.

"Too many ladies," Lizzy said. Her sisters laughed and all talk of weres was forgotten, though Mary looked very upset at being so ignored.

It was one of the rare times in her life when Lizzy felt grateful to her mother and her mother's matchmaking obsession. For the rest of breakfast, they discussed the assembly and the subject of were-hunters and dragons was quite forgotten. Towards the end of breakfast, through combined efforts of herself and Mrs. Bennet, they managed to make Jane eat a boiled egg and drink some warm tea.

Despite the insufficient breakfast, Jane was looking lovelier than ever when they left for the assembly. The assembly taking place in the evening and early hours of the night, Jane had always been able to hold off her transformation until it was over. Something for which Lizzy felt they should be very grateful.

The assembly was as it always was every month, except for the ripple of excitement that ran through the crowd. They were all eager to finally see the new resident of Netherfield Park, and the large party he was rumored to have assembled.

When they entered there was a hush, only broken by Lydia saying, "Thank the Lord there are not five ladies after all!" and then giggling loudly.

Charlotte, who was next to Lizzy, leaned towards her and said in a low voice, "The fair-haired gentleman with the agreeable smile is Mr Bingley, and the two ladies his sisters. One of the other gentlemen is married to his older sister, and the other is Mr Darcy. My father tells me that he is very rich -- ten thousand a year -- and that he has a grand estate in Derbyshire."

"His sisters think themselves very fine, do they not?" said Lizzy, They were dressed in the height of fashion and cast bored, superior glances across the room. "Which gentleman is the rich friend? Not the portly one, I hope -- it would be too sad for all the hopeful ladies in this room to be denied a chance with the tall, dark haired one, though his expression is so very stern."

"He is a fine figure of a man," said Charlotte with a sigh. "It indeed would be cruel if he were married."

"Not that he would look at the likes of us," said Lizzy lightly.

"You are looking remarkably pretty tonight," said Charlotte, "so I see no reason for you to suppose that."

"He has the look of not being well pleased with his company," said Lizzy. "He must think us all very countrified and provincial."

It was not long after his arrival that Mr Bingley sought out an introduction to Jane and asked her to dance. Lizzy did not blame him for her sister was by far the prettiest girl in the room, but she was concerned for Jane. She had such a kind heart and gentle nature. If she fell in love it would be dangerous -- and Mr Bingley's affable countenance was tailor made to attract her.

As was often the case at local assemblies, gentlemen were scarce. Lizzy had danced a few dances but was now sitting on the sidelines beside Mary, wondering whether she should be happy that Jane was enjoying herself or worried because Jane seemed to show the same preference towards Mr Bingley that he showed towards her. It was unfortunate that Mr Bingley was not more like his friend, who had at first impressed the people of Meryton with his stately bearing and fine fortune, until they had become disgusted by his evident pride and arrogance. He was decidedly above his company, dancing only with the ladies in his party and standing by the wall the rest of the time, conversing with nobody. At that moment he was standing not far from where Lizzy was seated, only to be joined by his friend who came from the dance for a few minutes to talk to him. She perked up at hearing Bingley address his friend.

"Come, Darcy, you have to dance," Bingley said. "I must have you dance."

Darcy sighed. "Bingley, I'll never understand your interest in getting so involved in society. For those like us, the more people we know, the greater the chance we'll get caught."

Caught? Lizzy thought this an odd thing to say and wondered if the two of them were some sort of criminals, or if Mr Darcy alluded in this indelicate way to the possibility of their getting caught into marriage by women he considered their inferiors. Considering Mr. Darcy's obviously insolent pride and self-importance, that was all too likely.

Half amused and half horrified, she listened on, prepared to laugh at Mr. Darcy's obvious pride, but was shocked as the conversation turned to her.

"Don't be silly, Darcy," Bingley said. "There is no one hunting for us. Lay aside your worries for one night and enjoy yourself! This assembly is exceptionally delightful. In fact I've never seen a pleasanter society or more handsome girls. Some of them are uncommonly pretty."

"Your partner is the only handsome girl in the room," responded Darcy, glancing over to where Jane stood waiting.

"She is divine! But there are other beautiful girls as well -- why she has a sister sitting behind you who is also pretty and looks most agreeable. Miss Bennet can introduce you to her."

"Which do you mean?" Darcy asked, and looked at Lizzy. The minute he looked at her, his eyes widened, as if she were... Something dangerous, or perhaps poisonous.

He had uncommonly beautiful eyes, when he looked at her directly. Dark green and expressive, they widened and filled with horror at the sight of her. His cheeks tinged with a red flush. But before she could think very hard about what that might mean, Darcy looked away and said to Bingley. "She's tolerable, I suppose. But not handsome enough to tempt me. I am in no mood to give consequence to females who are slighted by other men -- it is bad enough to have to stand here and endure the rest of the evening without you wishing an uncomfortable situation upon me. Return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, you are wasting your time upon me."

Lizzy's feelings towards Mr Darcy, which had already been less than cordial, were now completely turned against him. She had done nothing to deserve such contempt from him. And the look he had cast her was filled with abhorrence. As if he had sensed some evil within her, or some danger. But she could not understand what it was about her countenance that had disgusted him so. She had always been held to be one of the prettiest girls in the community. He was clearly a strange gentleman, and she was heartily glad not to have been forced into dancing with him. She knew it would not have been a pleasurable experience at all.

She got up and walked across the room to join her friend Charlotte. As she walked she pondered the other comment she had overheard. His concern about mingling in society giving them a greater chance of being caught. Were they, then, not the gentlemen that they seemed? She had heard tell of scoundrels and thieves, men of gentility who had lost their fortunes through gambling and dissipation who came into the country and posed as upstanding citizens only to pull off some nefarious swindle in the community. Were Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy involved in just such a plot? Or were they in hiding because of political intrigue or espionage? Were they indeed traitors to the crown? Lizzy was still mulling these thoughts over when she reached Charlotte's side.

"What is the matter, Lizzy?" asked Charlotte. "Your expression is so very grim."

Lizzy shook herself and laughed. It would not do to express her suppositions without any proof. "I have just been slighted, Charlotte, and it has cut me to the quick."

"By whom?"

"Mr Darcy, of all people does not think me tolerable enough to dance with!" she said, her eyes now alight with mirth for above all else Lizzy dearly enjoyed a joke. "He is so proud and fastidious one must be as elegant and showy as those vain peahens he is used to consort with. I am not handsome enough to tempt him! He would not be seen dead dancing with a lady slighted by other men. As if I had the least desire to dance with him myself!"

"Careful Lizzy," said Charlotte. "Behind your laughter I detect some bitterness of spirit."

"Do not be foolish, Charlotte. I am merely disgusted with the gentleman's consummate arrogance. I can assure you that he is the last man in the world that I would ever wish to dance with."

The two friends continued to laugh as Lizzy found many other amusing ways to disparage the haughty Mr Darcy. All the while Lizzy kept Jane within her sights, as her sister danced with every gentleman who asked her. Lizzy's protective instinct was so strong that she could never relax her vigil of keeping Jane safe from detection and the deadly consequences that entailed.

Chapter Three

Posted on Tuesday, 7 March 2006

There was much excitement at Longbourn the next morning. While Mrs. Bennet tried to relate the wonders of the assembly in minutest detail to her husband and Mr. Bennet made totally out-of-context comments from behind his edition of the Times of London, a letter arrived for Jane.

That the letter came from Netherfield threw Mrs. Bennet into raptures, which threatened to be overwhelming. However upon discovering that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley should be dining with the officers and, therefore, Jane would only have the honour of dining with Caroline and Louisa, Mrs Bennet's glee became tempered by distress.

In an attempt to turn this ill luck to her favour, Mrs. Bennet decided her eldest daughter should ride on horseback to Netherfield because it looked like rain and therefore she would have to stay the night.

Jane's look at Lizzy wasn't as anguished as it might have been. The moon had started to wane and therefore her urge to change was lessened and more easily controllable. It was just the hopeless look the sisters were used to trading when their mother thought of matching Jane to someone. All Mrs Bennet's machinations were for naught, due to Jane's condition, and both girls did their utmost to avoid any uncomfortable situations she contrived to place Jane in.

While helping her sister get ready to go to Netherfield, Lizzy reminded her of the dangers of any gentleman forming an attachment for her.

"You have no reason to imagine I would have forgotten," said Jane, who looked very beautiful, with her hair arranged in an upward sweep and flowers woven through her curls. "Surely you don't think me so inconsiderate that I would risk cursing an innocent family with my blood."

"An innocent family indeed," Lizzy said. "Any family should be lucky to have you amid them, no matter what your blood." They had discussed this many a time. They knew, from books and police accounts written in the papers that the curse didn't hit every generation. In fact, just a few weeks ago, a Lord had been arrested in London whose family had never -- to the knowledge of anyone living -- had a were amongst its members. But the man -- Lizzy couldn't help thinking of him as a poor man -- had been found in lion form in the middle of Town one night, and had been arrested, tried and beheaded within the week. She shivered at the thought. She would do whatever she had to do to prevent such a fate befalling her sweet Jane. "And there is no guarantee it would show in the children. I'm just afraid of a husband who would not understand your need."

Jane made an impish face, worthy of Lizzy. "Oh, as to that, there is no problem, then. I shall marry Bingley and you shall come and live with us. That way you can be at hand to hide my changes."

"And to teach your ten children to embroider cushions and play their instruments very ill indeed," Lizzy said, and grinned. "Go, and I hope you enjoy your evening with the superior sisters."

"Lizzy, they're not so very bad."

Lizzy stuck her tongue out at Jane, so it reflected in the mirror Jane was looking into. "No, they are far worse. But you'll always think the best of people. So go, because it looks like rain, and though this might mean you get to see your Mr. Bingley, I don't want you soaked to the skin on the way there."

However, as fate would have it, it rained while Jane was on the way to Netherfield, and in the way of such things, Jane, who, in her other form, was fairly impervious to rain, immediately fell ill and had to stay at Netherfield.

Lizzy could imagine her sister's torment and refused to sit idly at Longbourn while her sister was bereft of a friendly shoulder to cry on. Instead, she insisted on walking to Netherfield to visit the very next morning.

She arrived early in the morning and much to her astonishment saw Mr. Darcy in the gardens. He looked tired and disoriented and his cravat was askew, something she found surprising for he had given every appearance of being a fastidious man. This led Lizzy to again consider the conversation she had overheard between Mr Darcy and his friend at the assembly. It seemed almost as if he was just now returning from a night of debauchery.

She hoped to avoid his notice, but the very next moment he looked up. His eyes widened upon seeing her and, she was sure, he stared at her petticoats, which were three inches deep in mud. And though his green eyes remained attractive, even while widened to their extreme extent, she was sure they were filled with disapproval and something more. Possibly contempt. How could he judge her after whatever indiscretions he had come from? Lizzy tossed her head and turned away from him. She walked quickly up the carriageway towards the front steps as Mr Darcy stood, silent and brooding, beneath the overspreading bough of a great oak.

The butler showed Lizzy into the breakfast room, where Mr Bingley and his sisters were still partaking of their first meal of the day. After the initial greetings had been exchanged, Lizzy asked to be taken to her sister, and a maid was summoned to perform this service. Just as she exited through the doorway, Darcy entered from an adjoining salon.

"Mr Darcy!' cried Caroline. "You will never guess who just traipsed in and disturbed our meal!"

"I imagine it was Miss Elizabeth Bennet," said he, imperturbably.

"How uncouth she is!" continued Caroline, as she wondered at Darcy's accurate guess. "Running all over the countryside and barging in uninvited just because her sister has a trifling cold."

"It shows sisterly compassion which I find very pleasing!" countered Bingley.

"Yes," said Darcy, "but does so slight an illness necessitate such lively concern?"

"Not at all," cried Caroline. "And what a figure she presented! Her petticoats all covered in mud and her hair positively windblown! You would not want your sister to make such a display, would you Mr Darcy?"

He shook his head, and then excused himself and went up to his room. He could not erase from his mind the look he had seen upon Miss Bennet's face when she had spied him in the garden. It was one of disgust. His appearance had indeed been dishevelled, but nothing to what she would have seen if she had happened upon him not fifteen minutes earlier. Then he had been completely naked. He would have to secrete his cache of clothing deeper in the bushes. This morning had been much too close a call.

Lizzy sat by Jane's bedside and waited for her to awaken. Her hair was sweaty and brushed back from her face. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyelids fluttered and then opened.

"Lizzy," she sighed, her voice weak and hoarse.

"Do not speak dearest, just rest. I am with you now and all will be well."

"He was here, last night," whispered Jane, her eyes sparkling and feverish. "In my room."

"Who was in your room?"

"The were that ran with me."

Lizzy smiled and took her hand. "Oh Jane! He could not come inside this house, let alone find your room. You must have been dreaming."

"But it was so real. So real. He was beside my bed, watching over me."

"Your description is more that of an angel than a were," said Lizzy.

"Lizzy! You, of all people must know that weres are not inherently evil. I believe that even in their animal form they have compassion, just as humans do."

"Dearest Jane! You have more tender feelings than most normal humans do, but all weres are not like you. Certainly in their human form they are civilised and know right from wrong, but are they always cognisant of their true feelings when under the influence of the moon? And would a the were you ran with recognise you as you are now?"

Jane hung her head. It had been such a compelling idea that she had wanted to believe it, but Lizzy must be right. How would the were have come to her and known her. It was a dream. No more than a foolish romantic dream. And yet . . .

"Do not worry about it," said Lizzy, stroking Jane's cheek. "You sleep, dearest, and get well. I will be here by your side."

The doctor was called to see Jane and his advice was that she not be moved, though both Lizzy and Jane were anxious to return to Longbourn. Caroline, seeing that she had no choice but offer her hospitality to Jane until she was well enough to return home, invited Lizzy to stay and nurse her, thus relieving herself of the burden she had no wish to take part in. Miss Jane Bennet was a dear, sweet girl, but she and Louisa had better things to do than cater to the wishes of a country nobody.

Lizzy spent the rest of the day with Jane and only went below stairs to partake of the evening meal with the family. Mr Bingley asked after her sister in a most solicitous manner, offering anything that was in his power to provide for her comfort, and even Mr Darcy politely said that he hoped Miss Bennet was feeling better. Caroline and Louisa declared how desperately sorry they were for their friend and then began to speak of the latest London fashions, and Mr Hurst had no time for anything but his food. Lizzy could not return to Jane fast enough. She was so fast, in fact, that she had omitted to bring some new reading material, and the volume Miss Bingley had provided on Jane's night table, Of Witches, Weres, and Warlocks, did not appeal to her in the least.

It was quite late and Jane was at last sleeping peacefully, when Lizzy made the decision to find her way through the slumbering household to the library. She pulled her robe close about her and held her candlestick up high. Silently she followed the corridors to the main staircase and then descended. If she was not mistaken, the Netherfield library was next door to the drawing room. There was a chill draught running through the lower hallways, and as she passed an open door, her candle blew out. She almost stumbled as darkness enclosed her, but after taking a deep breath and letting her eyes become accustomed to the looming shadows, she started forward again. Then she heard a noise -- a slight scuffling and an earnest whisper. Light glowed dimly from the open doorway. She stopped, unsure whether to retrace her steps or continue on to the library. The whispers became more distinct.

"Listen to me. You are with me now -- let me hold you till the urge passes."

"I can't help myself. It is strong. So strong."

"You can overcome it."

"Darcy -- you don't understand. There is a desire that fills me more than ever before."

"I understand your desire. Do you think I do not have it? But now is not the time. Think of your sisters and your guests -- they must never even guess at this thing we share."

Through the doorframe, silhouetted against the banked fire, Lizzy could see two men in what could only be construed as an ardent embrace. Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley! The impassioned words that had gone between them spoke of something far deeper than mere friendship. Lizzy blushed furiously at the thought of what that must mean and then turned tail and ran upstairs to the safety of her sister's bedside.

In the morning, with the bright winter sun shining in through the bedchamber window, Lizzy could hardly credit what she had seen the night before. Could that walk through the darkened house have been all in her imagination? A dream? It was too gothic to be real -- the snuffed candle, the mysterious voices, the image of two men in close embrace. She looked at the discarded book upon the nightstand. She had not read much of it, but what she had read, and her previous suspicions of Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley being engaged in some kind of nefarious activities, might possibly have brought on confused dreams. It was easier to believe she had dreamed it than to believe that they were lovers.

At breakfast she observed both of them and found Mr Bingley just as charming as ever. And just as concerned for Jane's welfare. And Mr Darcy was just as silent and withdrawn as always. His eyes did not rest upon Mr Bingley with any more warmth than when they rested upon her -- which they did all too often. But the look in them was indecipherable.

Lizzy decided that she must indeed have been dreaming, and made sure to ask Mr Bingley if she could borrow some books from his library. He immediately apologized profusely for not thinking of it before, and she went up to her room with a half dozen volumes of poetry and plays -- all light, bright and sparkling -- to ensure that her night time horrors were not repeated. The next two days went by without incident.

It was on the third night, in the drawing room, while Mr. Hurst and Mrs. Hurst were engaged in a game of cards, Lizzy sat reading a book, Mr. Bingley paced desultorily back and forth and Mr. Darcy wrote a letter to his sister -- while Caroline admired everything he did, from the way he wrote his letters to the speed of his writing -- that a conversation took place which Lizzy would have given something to avoid.

It really could not surprise her that the conversation should come across through the good offices of Caroline, whom Lizzy had already determined to be smitten with Mr. Darcy. Being smitten with Mr. Darcy was, of course, the height of bad taste but atop of it all Caroline seemed to be insane or deluded and so far gone as to consider Elizabeth a rival. In her effort to mark her territory and exclude Lizzy, she was practically bending over the table upon which Mr. Darcy wrote, and making comments about Mr. Darcy's sister, Georgiana. How intelligent, accomplished and amazing Georgiana was. And how, as soon as she came out, she would be a famed beauty, and how...

Amid the flow of inane talk, she said, "Oh, and pray ask Georgiana if she saw the execution of the were lion in London, for I heard it was most amusing."

Lizzy glanced up, struck, staring at a woman who could refer to the death of a human being as amusing. At the same time she realized that Mr. Darcy, who was looking up, had gone deathly pale. For just a moment she met his eyes, and she thought she could read compassion and understanding in his gaze. The realization so stunned her that she didn't say anything. Mr. Darcy didn't speak, also, and Caroline was suffered to go on, in her light way, giggling, "Imagine a terrible were in one of the best families of the ton, and having kept it secret until he was twenty eight, too. He must have started changing shapes a good fourteen years ago, if not sooner. Imagine hiding it from everyone. I'm so glad they caught him. He might have changed in the middle of a party and... eaten me."

Mr. Darcy, still pale, let his mouth drop open, as though in astonishment.

Chastisement came from a strange quarter. Mr. Bingley, usually so easy going, had turned around, "Caroline! You must know that Lord Sevrin was at Cambridge with Darcy and I, and he was all that could be proper and civilized, poor soul. I can't believe you, of all people, would gloat over his execution."

At that moment Mr. Darcy found his voice, and boomed, in a tone that left little chance his paleness was due to compassion, "Miss Bingley! Surely you don't think the spectacle of a were execution is appropriate for the eyes of a young lady of my sister's delicacy and upbringing?"

And Miss Bingley was left speechless, in the crossfire from two so disparate directions. Were the subject not so distasteful, Elizabeth would have laughed.

Instead, she remained quiet as Caroline tried to defend herself, "Well, everyone knows how dangerous weres are. And this is why the were laws say they must be killed as soon as possible. Surely the law has our best interests at heart and..."

"I've always wondered about that," Bingley said, and there was a hint of an odd tremor to his voice. "I've always wondered if truly weres are all dangerous, or only some of them, and whether the others suffer needlessly for the misdeeds of a few."

Lizzy blinked, disbelieving. If the man was telling the truth, and this was truly how he felt, perhaps there was no great harm in Jane's feeling tenderly towards him. Perhaps he was the one man in a million to whom she would dare entrust her sister's happiness and her very life. If indeed that strange nighttime scene between him and Mr Darcy was only a dream, or her heightened imagination. From her observation of Mr Bingley, his heart was more likely to belong to her sister than to his friend. And though she had sworn she would do her utmost to ensure that the Jane and Mr Bingley did not fall in love with each other, the idea of someone who cared about Jane enough to overlook her disability was a very heady thing. She was jerked out of these happy thoughts by Mr Darcy's response to Bingley.

"Oh, Charles, do not presume to expound on things to which you've given little thought." He was still pale and, weirdly, his eyes looked scared.

Lizzy wondered why he looked scared. Perhaps he was coming down with some illness?

"Of course your sister is right, and the were laws are meant to protect us. Still, poor Sevrin, he always seemed like a decent chap. But you know, he must have done some depredations in a secret life we knew nothing about."

Mr. Bingley looked as if he might argue, but the two men exchanged a look that Lizzy couldn't begin to understand, and he shrugged. "Perhaps you are right. You are always a deeper thinker than I."

"Well, you tend to think with your heart, Bingley, which doesn't entirely speak ill of you."

But Lizzy was disgusted with how easily Mr. Bingley would give in to his disagreeable friend.

"Oh, Jane," she told her sister that night, after relating the conversation. "The man is odious. How he could speak of a gentleman he knew to be a decent chap and yet rejoice in his death. I cannot wait till we can return to Longbourn and are out of Netherfield for good."

Chapter Four

Posted on Friday, 10 March 2006

The day after Lizzy and Jane returned from Netherfield, Lydia and Kitty came from Meryton all excited at some news.

Giggling, they tripped into the drawing room, and Lydia said, "Guess what is happening?" And then immediately after. "Oh, you'll never guess, so I'll tell you. We're getting a regiment of the Royal Were Hunters. They're camping at Meryton, in response to people's complaints that they've seen a dragon flying around at night. Because some farmers also say that their hen houses have been broken into by wolves that are too cunning to be natural, we've been declared an infested shire. This means we get the were hunters all to ourselves for months." She fanned herself, as she fell into a chair. "Oooh. Gold coats. I can hardly wait."

While Lizzy and Jane traded a horrified look across the room, Mrs. Bennet gazed fondly at her youngest daughter. "I liked a gold coat well enough in my day," she said. "When I was being courted by your father," she sighed, "there was a colonel Cummings of whom I thought exceedingly well." She frowned. "But then he was found tied to the hitching post outside the church, stark naked, with some very rude words painted on his bottom. He swore the werewolf had found him, overpowered him with were strength and done this to him. But no one could believe that a were would have such a sense of humor and so the colonel left the region in some disgrace." She sighed again. "And I married your father." She rallied. "However, you must know that were hunters get a bounty of ten thousand for each were denounced and twenty thousand for each were killed. So, as long as they're good marksmen, all of you could find good husbands."

Mr. Bennet came into the drawing room at that moment, a letter in his hand, and frowned at his wife. "How are you disposing of our daughters' hands now, Mrs. Bennet?"

"Oh. I said that with the were hunter regiment coming to town, they can all get themselves good husbands."

Mr. Bennet frowned at his wife. "Good marksmen, certainly, although I hear that those regiments accept all manner of men who would be turned down elsewhere."

"I think," Lizzy said, to distract attention from Jane who had gone suddenly pale, "that it must take a very heartless kind of person to shoot down, in cold blood, a human being who, to their knowledge, has never done anything to deserve it."

"Human being?" Mrs. Bennet said. "Oh, don't be tedious Lizzy. These are weres. They are NOT human. That is the whole point."

Mr. Bennet nodded. "If it comes to that, my dear, there are many people who are not fully human." He waved a paper. "However, while you're giving your daughters' hands away, you must save one of them for my cousin, Mr. Collins."

"Your cousin?" Mrs. Bennet asked alarmed. "Oh, not the wretch who is to inherit Longbourn once you're gone."

"I'm afraid that very same wretch, my dear. But he says he wishes to make amends by marrying one of his fair cousins." He beamed around the room with an absent minded kind of smile. "His term, not mine. I wonder what he will think when he finds we're the parents of a couple -- or might I say three -- of the silliest girls in all of England?"

"I cannot understand why you disparage your own daughters so," Mrs. Bennet said. "When is this Collins to arrive?"

"Tomorrow."

"Oh, I must see if there's some fish to be got. Kitty, ring the bell for Hill."

"I'm not scared," Jane said. She sat in front of the mirror, combing out her long locks. "Truly, Lizzy you must not worry about me."

"Not worry about you?" Lizzy asked. She sat on Jane's bed, cross-legged. The thought of not worrying about Jane was alien. Ever since she was twelve and Jane thirteen, when Jane had first changed shape, she had done nothing but worry about Jane. "You've perhaps not heard that there is a regiment of were hunters headed for fair Meryton. And that our sisters," she slapped the bed next to her to show the indignation she didn't dare display by raising her voice. "Our own sisters, are setting their sights on those murderers."

Jane looked over her shoulder at her sister. "Lizzy, they don't know they're murderers," she said. "They think they're only defending civilization from bestial creatures."

"They're the bestial creatures," Lizzy snarled.

"Lizzy, truly, if you didn't know me and my secret, what would you think of weres? What do the books tell us?"

Lizzy shook her head. "Our father doesn't believe weres are bad."

"He didn't say that. He merely said that he doesn't like were hunters. But, Lizzy, it must be allowed our father doesn't like most people. Some amuse him and some he simply can't stand."

Lizzy sighed. "You must go to London," she said. "Aunt Gardiner will keep you safe."

The Gardiners were the only other members of the family who knew of Jane's problem. It had happened quite by chance that they'd witnessed her change one night and, unwilling to believe Jane anything less than the sweetest, kindest girl in the world, had agreed to hide her defect from everyone. Shortly after that, the sisters had hit upon the arrangement of sending Jane to London when Lizzy was unable to care for her. The Gardiner's house was one of the older homes and had passages and rooms that everyone, even the help, had forgotten. There was a convenient secret room adjacent to the bedroom Jane occupied. It could only be accessed via a certain manipulation of bricks upon the wall. And it could not be opened from the inside. Mrs. Gardiner had set it up very comfortably and Jane slept there on full moon nights, unable to get out and hurt herself or others.

Jane toyed with the tip of her golden hair and sighed. "Yes, I know I must. But Lizzy, can we not wait until the twenty-ninth? For you know that Mr. Bingley has promised to give a ball and, Lizzy, I would very much like to attend."

Lizzy looked suspiciously at her sister. She was sure the gothic dream at Netherfield had been just that, a dream, and that Mr Bingley's predilections ran towards ladies, Jane in particular, and not Mr Darcy. And yet, she could not in any way condone Jane's getting closer to a man whose friend hated weres so much. She could imagine Mr. Darcy convincing Bingley to turn his wife in to the authorities. "Do you love Mr. Bingley?"

Jane shook her head, then shrugged. "I don't think so, Lizzy. I do enjoy his company very much. But, being as I am, I've always known that I could never... you know, live a normal life. So I don't think I could fall in love. But I would very much enjoy a ball. And I'll always think him the most amiable man of my acquaintance. Please, Lizzy. It's not very long till the ball, and the full moon isn't till after. And you know I can control myself except for the three days at the peak of the moon."

Lizzy nodded. "If you're sure. I shall write aunt Gardiner then."

"Yes." Jane looked worried. "What concerns me, Lizzy, is the dragon. If the stories are true, gentlemen weres always have less control than lady weres. And this one... He's out there, flying almost every night as if looking for something. He's going to get caught and killed Lizzy, and I don't know if I can endure that..."

Lizzy found it amusing that her sister often referred to weres as ladies and gentlemen, but given Jane's sweet character it did not surprise her. This time, however, her amusement was short lived. The idea of the were-dragon being executed chilled her heart, not only because of what such a spectacle as a public execution in Meryton would mean, but because she hated to think of such a magnificent creature being beheaded. After that first night she had searched the skies for it, but though she caught fleeting glimpses of its shimmering scales as it slid away through the night sky, she had not again seen up close the deep, clear green of those huge reptilian eyes. But the intensity of that gaze lingered within and returned to her mind's eye again and again. "If only we knew who he was to send a message," she said.

That night she stood by her window, hoping the dragon would come, hoping she could give him a warning. But he never came.

The next day Mr. Collins arrived. Lizzy wasn't sure what she expected, but what they got was a powerfully built, ginger haired man, incongruously attired as a man of the cloth. He was not very well informed or, truth be owned, very intelligent. His conversation seemed to gravitate solely around his patroness, whom he referred to as the noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Upon hearing that the lady was Mr. Darcy's aunt, Lizzy was immediately convinced that the woman must be as proud as her nephew and all the condescension of which her cousin spoke must be a fabrication of her cousin's imagination.

He first fixed his attentions on Jane and it took some doing, on Lizzy's part, to get them transferred to herself. Oh, she wanted neither part nor parcel of the fool, but she was very determined he should never guess Jane's secret. In this she was aided by her mother's certainty that Jane would very soon be engaged to Bingley.

In the evenings, Mr Bennet sat with Mr Collins and conversed over a glass of sherry. Lizzy often did some needlework in a corner by the fire, and her father invariably glanced her way, a sardonic grin upon his face. He loved to make sport of oddities in human nature, and Mr Collins took the term oddity to new heights. Lizzy did notice, though, that as the evenings progressed, his usual volubility became monosyllabic. Mr Collins also had a tendency to pick little things out of his scalp and then study them before absently popping them into his mouth. Lizzy's stomach turned, but her father only grinned all the more.

One morning Mr Collins walked into Meryton with Elizabeth and her sisters. He expounded the entire way about the staircases, chimneypieces, and myriad windows to be found in the home of his patroness. She had to admit that his late night grunts were by far preferable. She felt sorry for the woman upon whom his name would eventually be bestowed, but vowed it would never be her.

In the main street of the village they chanced to see one of the officers of the Royal Were Hunters, accompanied by another gentleman.

"It is captain Denny!" cried Lydia, waving across the road and calling out his name in a manner her mother thought cheerful and friendly but to Lizzy's mind was nothing short of forward. Lizzy glanced quickly at Jane, but her expression was serene, with no hint of the panic she surely must feel coming face to face with an officer trained to discover weres.

"This is Mr. Whickam," Captain Denny said. "He had just joined our regiment and I dare say that once he is dressed up in his gold uniform he will out swagger us all."

Kitty and Lydia looked at him and giggled. Lizzy introduced Mr Collins and hoped that he, with his long-winded conversation, would keep the attention away from herself and Jane.

Lydia was not to be outdone, however, and instantly invited both Denny and Wickham to their Aunt Phillips' card party that evening, "For you know she dearly loves a gold coat, and two will be even better," she said with a titter.

Just as the officers were accepting, Lizzy noticed Mr Bingley and his solemn friend approaching them. The former was all smiles as he addressed Jane, and Lizzy thought again how silly she had been ever to entertain the outrageous idea that he and Mr Darcy were . . . involved. In fact, Mr Darcy appeared to be about to greet her when his eyes alighted upon Mr Wickham, and his face drained of color. Mr Wickham, for his part, became beet-red and then tipped his hat in Darcy's direction. Lizzy was surprised to see that gentleman turn away without so much as a nod. She had known him to be proud and disagreeable but had not thought him quite so uncivil. The rich, she supposed, could give offense wherever they went.

At Aunt Phillips card party that night, Mr Wickham appeared in his regimentals. He looked, truth be told, like one of the few men who could appear to advantage in a gold jacket, embroidered in gold and with gold braid on the shoulders. His hair was the exact color of the gold jacket, his skin a shade lighter and his eyes a tawny gold.

If observed from a distance and with one's eyes half closed, Elizabeth thought, he could almost be taken for a golden statue. Though this reflection did not mean that she was smitten with him as her two youngest sisters were. She was determined not to like the man, for he was a were hunter and represented everything she most feared and despised. She almost carried her purpose to the end of the evening. Almost that is, until, through the casual mingling that happens at such informal gatherings, she found herself sitting beside him on a sofa. Having made some politely casual remark about his new career as a were hunter, she was surprised to hear him sigh.

"I was not cut out for this line of work," he said. "I've never killed anyone and I'm not sure I could point my gun at a human being and kill him in cold blood."

"You consider weres human beings, then?" Elizabeth asked, surprised.

"Surely. Do you not? Like us they're endowed with God given reason and understanding. They merely have a flaw in their makeup. And, truth be told, most of them never do anything wrong. I think the laws should be altered, and death sentences should only be imposed upon those weres capable of causing significant harm."

With such an auspicious beginning, Lizzy couldn't help but liking the fellow. "Why is it then," she asked, "that you joined the Royal Were Hunters? With such feelings as you have just expressed, I would not have expected it of you."

"I had other hopes for my future, but alas, they were dashed, through no fault of my own."

The sincere look of disappointment that he cast her was enough to melt the hardest of hearts, and upon one already disposed to liking him, it instilled an eagerness to discover the cause of all his woes. "Someone has served you ill?" she asked.

Wickham glanced about him and then responded in a lowered voice. "I do not like to speak ill of anyone, you understand, especially someone who is already residing here and most probably well respected in the neighborhood."

Lizzy instantly recalled the unusual meeting between him and Mr Darcy in the street. "I think I can venture to guess -- it is Mr Darcy you refer to."

"Indeed."

"But he is not at all well liked here."

"Is he not? In most circles, his fortune guarantees his popularity. I am happy to know that I may confide in you. At one time Mr Darcy and I were very close -- we grew up almost like brothers, but he changed his ways when we were in Cambridge together. His father was my godfather, and cared for me deeply. I think Darcy always resented the love his father had for me. In his will there was a bequest that I receive a set of colors, but Darcy ignored his father's wishes. Instead he made it so no regiment in the King's army would have me. My only dream was to serve my country with pride and honor, but the only avenue left to me was the Were Hunters."

"But that is terrible! Not to respect his father's dying wishes? I had suspected Mr Darcy of some sort of depravity, but I had not thought him devoid of all common decency."

Wickham was quick to jump on the one word he felt he could use to even greater advantage. He enjoyed the quick sympathy he could get from a pretty girl whenever he told his tale of woe, but besmirching Darcy's name pleased him even more. "Depravity?"

Lizzy blushed. "Well, when I first met Mr Darcy I suspected something not quite . . . gentlemanly about his friendship with Mr Bingley. I thought perhaps there was something . . . dark. Oh, I'm convinced I've dreamed it all."

Mr. Whickam became very intent. "Dark? I don't have the pleasure of understanding your meaning. Did you suspect, perhaps, some secret between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley?"

To Lizzy it was like that moment in the night all over again. Her candle had blown out, and there was . . . She felt her cheeks heat. Could it be that it had really happened? "His friendship with Mr Bingley . . ." She blurted. "Oh. I thought they might be involved in something nefarious, but, when I spent the night at Netherfield I . . . I thought I must have been dreaming . . . but why would I dream of something so very perverse in nature?"

As Elizabeth spoke, Mr Wickham's expression changed from apprehensive to smug to apprehensive again. "Exactly what are you inferring, Miss Bennet?" he asked, his color heightened.

Lizzy gasped. "Mr Wickham," she said, "there are some things a lady cannot be explicit about. I have already said too much."

Strangely, Mr Wickham's assurance returned with this remark. "I do apologize most sincerely -- I misunderstood you completely. But now -- I have to admit that while in Cambridge I observed evidence of what you so delicately cannot speak. It shocked me to the marrow, and was part of the reason for our falling out. After all -- I had been very close to him growing up -- and looking back upon those years, I can only wonder whether it was brotherhood that was foremost in his thoughts."

After this disclosure Lydia flounced up and plunked herself down upon the settee between them, effectively ending the conversation. Lizzy was quite relieved -- what had passed between her and Mr Wickham was of such a sordid nature she could not understand how she had actually come to disclose such indelicate concerns, or that he, if she understood him correctly, had actually indicated that she might not be far wrong in her assumptions. It was totally deplorable and gave her much to think on. It is hardly surprising that when she finally sought the relief of sleep, it forsook her. Head pounding, she sat at her open window and scanned the sky, hoping to see a sinuous, iridescent-green body, and a noble head with jewel like eyes.

Chapter Five

Posted on Sunday, 12 March 2006

Netherfield Hall was all lit up and footmen lined the stairs as guests alighted from their carriages and made their way up into the ballroom of the stately mansion. Darcy was uncomfortable with the crowds.

He left the receiving line and made his way to the landing where a window looked out upon the sweep and new arrivals.

What had Bingley been thinking, planning this ball so close to the full moon? True, it was a convention to hold balls at the time when the moon was at its fullest to have a bright night for travel, especially in the country, but for himself and Bingley it increased the danger of discovery one hundredfold.

Miss Bingley had been adamant that her choice of date remain unchanged, and Charles always conceded to his sister's demands. Darcy could well understand this. She was a vixen when crossed -- well not in the sense that he was a dragon, or Bingley a hunting dog, if that were the case they would have less to worry about. No -- she became enraged and spiteful. He was afraid that if Caroline ever discovered the truth about her brother she would not hesitate to turn him in to the authorities. As for himself . . . he held back a smirk at the thought of Caroline's reaction if she found out his closely guarded secret. In Miss Bingley's eyes weres were the worst abomination, and yet she seemed to have dedicated her life to entrapping Darcy.

Darcy had more to worry about than the ill-timing of the ball. He knew that there was now an encampment of Royal Were Hunters in Meryton. In fact, Bingley had been bound to invite all of the officers to the ball. Not that he usually had a great fear of the RWH -- he knew them to be undisciplined and poorly trained. It was usually only the most foolhardy of weres that were captured by the royal brigade. Unless they had been turned in, as he did not doubt had happened to his dear friend Sevrin. Darcy clenched his fists. He would make it his business to know. Surely, Fitzwilliam knew someone in the Were Control Ministry. Fitzwilliam knew half of London. And Darcy would know who had as good as murdered Sevrin.

This brought his thoughts back to Wickham. What was he doing in the regiment and why had he turned up now, in Meryton? After what had taken place in Ramsgate he would not be surprised if that reprobate was planning to do him a mischief. While Wickham would not dare to denounce Darcy -- who would denounce Wickham in return -- Wickham was now a Were Hunter. He would be harmed with silver bullets. If he shot Darcy before Darcy could speak . . . Darcy closed his eyes. He would have to hope that Wickham's lousy marksmanship had not improved. However he would bet that was what Wickham was hoping to do.

But even that was not the greatest of his worries. It was control. Bingley, spontaneous and easily swayed in his human form, had always had control issues. Luckily he had a loving father who had protected him well. Since the elder Bingley's passing, Darcy had taken that role upon himself. The idea of someone as amiable as Bingley ruthlessly slain was unthinkable. In his were form, Bingley was more harmless than a fly. A happy dog, ready to love the world. But the world was prejudiced against weres of any sort, and demonetized them all.

What worried Darcy the most, however, was his own control. He had always prided himself with his ability to master the urge to transform, and only indulge when he was assured of the most complete safety, but since coming to Hertfordshire his resistance to those very primal urges was slipping.

A group of new arrivals caught his attention as he gazed abstractedly from the window. The boisterous giggling of a parcel of silly young girls. But . . . it was really only two of the girls and their mama who were calling all that attention to themselves in a manner he would never wish his sister exposed to. Of the other three, one was so commonplace as to be completely unremarkable, another was the beauty who had dazzled his friend Bingley, and the third . . . his heart began to beat a little faster.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet completely unsettled him. From that first night when he had flown past her window, and been drawn closer and closer until he had looked directly into the finest pair of eyes he had ever beheld. At the assembly, when they had first been introduced, he had feared that his eyes would give him away -- but thankfully she had not recognized him. He vowed not to put himself in such a position of danger again. He could not allow her to see him in dragon form, but neither could he stop himself from searching her out. Her window became his nightly haunt, though he was always careful to slip away quickly without being seen. He had managed to gaze more than once upon her sleeping face -- so sweet and innocent in slumber. But he had to cure himself of this fascination. Not only was she totally unsuitable and beneath him in every way, but he could not set his sights upon any lady who would discover his secret only to denounce him. He calmed his wildly pumping blood and looked away. He would not allow her to be his undoing. He could not!

Tonight he would need to keep his wits about him. Bingley's and his own safety depended upon it.

Elizabeth looked around the ballroom, hoping to see Mr Wickham, but though there were numerous coats of gold, not one of the officers of the RWH shone like a golden statue under the mass of twinkling candelabras. She supposed that he had not been invited. It could only be Mr Darcy's doing. She felt her anger at him rise. There he was, standing against a far wall, looking all too handsome in his arrogance. His disturbing deep-green eyes rested upon her and she turned away. Why did he look at her? His expression was formidable. Did he hate all women or was there something about her he found particularly abhorrent? She did not care in the least for she believed whatever his feelings, they could not match the disgust she felt for him.

"Lizzy!"

Elizabeth turned to see her friend Charlotte approaching.

"Will I finally have the pleasure to meet your illustrious cousin?" Charlotte asked.

"Trust me -- there is little pleasure to be got in his company."

"He looks quite tall and handsome."

"If you like red-headed buffoons," said Lizzy. "I have to dance the first two with him and I am dreading the experience."

"Poor Lizzy. Maybe I can relieve you of his company after that."

"Why subject yourself to such torture?"

"Lizzy -- I am eight and twenty. I cannot have such romantic notions as you do. If I can find a man to take me I will be well pleased, even should he turn out to be ignorant as an ape."

"Charlotte, you cannot mean that."

"Why yes. I have not your charms Lizzy. I do not attract the richest, most handsome gentleman in the room as you do."

"I?" asked Lizzy. "If you mean Mr Darcy, I assure you that you are way off the mark."

Charlotte just smirked and, as Mr Collins had approached, Lizzy performed the introduction that her friend desired.

The dance with Mr Collins was as excruciating as Lizzy had expected. Not only did he tread on her toes and move in the wrong direction a few times, but he actually managed to scrape his knuckles across the floor while performing the figures of the dance. To add to Lizzy's discomfort, the rest of her family, with the exception of her father and Jane, seemed to have sworn a pact to make an embarrassing display of themselves. Lydia and Kitty were flirting flagrantly with the gold coated officers, Mary was reading in a very prominent and well lit spot, and Mrs Bennet was tippling too much and waxing eloquent about all the jewels and pin money that Jane would have once she married Mr Bingley.

Jane, bless her heart, was completely oblivious to all this. She danced with Mr Bingley and went down to dinner with him. They both seemed lost in their conversation and in each other's eyes.

During dinner Lizzy saw Mr Collins approach Darcy and she wished she could sink into the very earth.

"I have just been informed," intoned Collins, "that you are the nephew of my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

Darcy did little more than nod stiffly at this and turned back to his white soup.

"You will be pleased to know that she was quite well when I last saw her, shortly more than a week ago."

Darcy did not appear to be any more pleased than previously.

At this point, Mr Collins' faculties for speech seemed to have left him, but he persevered with the one sided conversation nevertheless. From where Lizzy sat, it sounded as if he said no more than the occasional, "Ook". Darcy turned his chair slightly to the left to avoid all eye contact. Across the table, Mr Bennet looked to be vastly amused. He winked at Lizzy and raised his glass to her. She forced a smile, but could not join him in his mirth.

After they dined, Lizzy was again conversing with Charlotte when Mr Darcy unexpectedly addressed her.

"Would you do me the honour of dancing the next?" he asked stiffly.

In her surprise she accepted, she was so completely flustered. Charlotte smirked and walked away, leaving her alone with Mr Darcy. Luckily the music started up almost immediately. He took her hand and led her to the floor. She noticed little else but that his grip was very firm, she was so busy chastising herself for not having thought of an excuse for not dancing.

After a few turns upon the floor, Lizzy decided that she must at least say something, any conversation being preferable to the deep silence that hung over them.

"The room is very large," she said.

"Not overly," was his response.

"Yes, but with so many couples the size is indeed fortunate."

He nodded.

"It is now your turn to say something."

Darcy looked at her in his inscrutable way. "Is this the local etiquette of dance conversation?"

"Do you not converse while dancing in London?" asked Lizzy. She had meant the comment to be sarcastic, but it sounded pert instead.

"I rarely dance in London."

"Well, here in the country we both dance and talk."

"Talk then. I will not prevent what brings you pleasure."

Lizzy was very irked by this response and chose a topic she was quite sure Mr Darcy would not like. "I made a new acquaintance the other day -- an old friend of yours -- Mr Wickham, though I understand the two of you are not as close as you once were."

"You will find that gentleman has great facility making friends but difficulty keeping them."

"So, you lay the problem at his door? I had heard it was quite the reverse."

Mr Darcy's countenance became more distant yet. "I have no wish to discuss my dealings with that fellow."

Lizzy could understand this sentiment fully, and she smiled inwardly. She made no more attempts at conversation and the dance soon came to an end. Mr Darcy bowed low over her hand and walked off, his back ramrod straight. She was pleased that she had managed to put him out of sorts.

Darcy looked about the ballroom in a panic. Bingley was nowhere to be seen. If only he had not given in to his desire to dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He had thought one dance could not hurt, especially if he kept his feelings in check, and he had managed quite admirably, even when she had begun to flirt so charmingly. But what she had said about Wickham had left him seething. He did not blame her -- she obviously had been importuned with a pack of lies. Wickham was the one at fault. But it had been enough to make him lose his concentration, and now Bingley was missing -- it could only mean one thing.

Darcy rushed out onto the terrace. He could feel the pull of the waxing moon, stronger and stronger as he jumped over the balustrade and strode into the shelter of the trees. There was nothing for it but to give in to his innate urges and let his animal instincts take over. He would find Bingley more quickly in dragon form than human. He pulled at his cravat frantically. His body was being overtaken more quickly than usual. His hands roughened, claws appeared, and as he ripped at his clothing his skin emerged, glistening gold and green, toughening to scales. He stretched his arms and wings furled open. His body arose in one sinuous motion and he spiralled up out of the trees into the cold night air. Dragon on the prowl.

Lizzy watched Mr Darcy leave the ballroom through the curtains that led to the terrace, then she went in search of Jane. Her sister was sitting by a potted palm, a tremulous smile upon her face.

"Alone?" teased Lizzy. "I thought I would find you with your Mr Bingley."

"He is not my Mr Bingley," said Jane.

Lizzy could feel tension in her sister's voice. "What is it, my love? I ought not have left you alone tonight. Is the urge so very strong?" She inwardly cursed Mr Darcy for asking her to dance and causing her to neglect her sister.

"Yes -- the tug of the moon is constant tonight, but do not worry, I will not succumb." A tear slipped slowly down her cheek. She reached up to wipe it away and sighed. "That is not what troubles me."

Lizzy took her hands and gazed into her eyes. "Tell me."

"I have been foolish," said Jane. "I thought that I could apply the same strength I apply to my were urges to my heart. I thought I could shield it just as well, but I was wrong."

"You have fallen in love with Mr Bingley?"

Jane nodded. "But it cannot be," she whispered. "He is too open hearted a gentleman to lead astray. I cannot give him my heart or my hand. This must end."

"But Jane," said Lizzy. Her thoughts were running wild. No matter what Wickham had inferred about Mr Darcy and his . . . unnatural preferences for his own sex, she had absolved Bingley of like predilections in her own mind. He exhibited an obvious interest in Jane that countered such indecent ideas. That Darcy was intent upon taking advantage of their friendship there could be no doubt. She was hopeful that he had not yet gone beyond the bounds of propriety. Because if there ever was a gentleman that Lizzy believed could love and protect Jane as she deserved, Mr Bingley was it. "Jane -- do not you think the decision is also his to make?"

"I could not wish this upon him!" Jane motioned with her hands towards her bosom, but Lizzy knew what she was referring to. That thing inside her breast that distinguished her from the rest of her family and most of the world. That animal that lurked within. A sweet and gentle dog, as loving as Jane herself in her human form. Not another entity, but an extension of Jane. Something to be nourished and nurtured, not despised and hunted.

"If he loves you, he will love all of you," said Lizzy, hoping that what she believed was indeed true.

"If he indeed loves me, then all the more reason to spare him. I have made up my mind."

And as Lizzy sat there she could only marvel at her sister's strength, presence of mind, and good sense. It was up to Mr Bingley to break through those barriers, and only time would prove whether he was the man to do it. She had to acknowledge that she wanted to believe in their love because she wanted Jane to live a normal, happy, fulfilled life, not one of sacrifice and sorrow.

"Lizzy," said Jane. "You do not look well yourself."

"I have a headache," Lizzy admitted. And upon saying so she realised that it was true. She'd had too much to think on and her head was pounding most furiously.

"And I have been selfishly piling my troubles upon you as usual."

"No Jane. Selfishness is not in your nature."

"Is there anything I can do for you, Lizzy dearest?"

All Lizzy could think was that she needed to be out of doors, under the stars, with fresh air caressing her face. "Will you sit with Charlotte while I take some air?"

"Would you like me to accompany you outside?"

Lizzy smiled wanly. "I think I need solitude more than anything else."

Lizzy walked out onto the terrace. The moon was an oval, nearing fullness, casting silver light upon the manicured lawns of the garden. Beyond the flowerbeds and topiary was a stand of trees, barren branches raised up to the stars. Even further she could dimly make out the brick walls of the kitchen gardens and the conservatory where all the fresh fruits and vegetables were grown in the middle of winter. The glow of the braziers that warmed these glasshouses tempted Lizzy to walk out to them. She had always wanted to explore such places but while she had been at Netherfield she had never the opportunity. Now was the time.

The smell of charcoal, moist earth, and growing things assailed Lizzy's nostrils as she entered the first house of the conservatory. She could dimly make out a tangle of vegetable plants, peas and haricots she realised upon closer scrutiny. The next house was devoted to fruit trees -- peaches and apricots sweetened the night air.

Lizzy's head was feeling much better now. There was nothing to bring one down to earth and away from the fantastical like beetroots and turnips, strawberries and raspberry canes. She entered the last house and stopped still just inside the doorway, a scream frozen in her throat.

Two strange shapes rose up from unearthly clumps of rhubarb. It took a moment before Lizzy registered that what she was seeing for the first time in her life was the unclothed male body. Actually two unclothed male bodies, but the closer held her attention more so than the other. It was tall and lithe, muscles firm and accentuated, with none of the softness of the female body. A trick of the light cast by the brazier through the rhubarb leaves tinted the skin green and gold. Mercifully the rhubarb grew lush and tall and hid both bodies from the hips down. Her eyes traversed up the abdomen and chest, to the face.

"Mr Darcy!" she cried in shock. And then the other body came into focus, as it crouched amid the leaves. "Mr Bingley!"

Both men appeared dazed. "Miss Bennet," said Darcy, not moving a muscle. Mr Bingley attempted to hide himself completely in the rhubarb plant.

From all the diverse thoughts that jumbled in Lizzy's head she was able to grasp at only one thing. "It is just as Wickham said, you are . . . unnatural . . ."

Mr. Darcy paled. "Wickham told you? Miss Bennet, please, I pray, listen. This is not what . . . Please. We are no threat to anyone. What can you gain from making this known? I'm begging you to keep our secret."

Lizzy did not wait to hear more. She turned and ran through the conservatory, snagging her gown upon netting and poles, gasping for breath, and hoping that she would not lose the contents of her stomach till she was far away from the two men.

The ball ended and all the guests went home, but Lizzy, Mr Darcy, and Mr Bingley were too much concerned with what had passed in the conservatory to give it any notice. How she got home, Lizzy never knew, but she sat in her window, staring out at the treacherous night, tears streaming down her face at the shattering of all her hopes and dreams for Jane and Mr Bingley. She saw the dragon fly by, a lonely, haunting voyage through the sky as it danced sorrowfully among the stars and then did one swooping pass alongside her house, close to her window. The sadness in the dragon's eye was more than she could bear.

In the morning Bingley ordered that all their belongings be packed and the house closed as soon as they quitted it. Caroline was surprised at her brother's insistence, but glad to be leaving Hertfordshire just the same. She had worried that Charles would be entrapped by that upstart Miss Jane Bennet and her deceptively sweet smile. Besides, Caroline had her sights set on an estate in Derbyshire -- preferably Mr Darcy's own.

As they rode alongside the carriage, Darcy turned to Bingley and said again, as if to reaffirm his decision. "We have no choice but to leave. She will be sure to report us to the Royal Were Hunters."

Bingley was not as sure as his friend, but there was no sense in taking any chances. He knew that he could never again look Miss Elizabeth Bennet in the eyes anyway, not after she had seen him naked. And he knew that he had to leave Jane Bennet even though she was the sweetest, most angelic lady he had ever met. He had been foolish to entertain thoughts of love and marriage. Happiness was not for his kind.

Darcy sat upright upon his horse as they cantered towards London. There was only one thing about the entire episode that still confused him. Why had Mr Wickham so forgotten himself as to denounce Darcy to a provincial girl? Was he seeking to get her to condemn Darcy for him? Sometimes Darcy thought it was he or Wickham. One of them would be the death of the other.

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