Posted on 2008-10-31

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a vampire in possession of good morals ought never be in want of a human wife.

When the Netherfield party entered the assembly room, it consisted of only five altogether: Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the oldest, and another young man. They were—to a person—the most handsome collection of individuals that Lizzy had ever beheld. The men were uniformly tall and well-formed, though the married one was much broader than the others; the women were nearly opposites: one tall and blonde, one dark and nearly elfin. Each was unique, yet all were perfectly coiffed and attired. Moreover, they all shared, in addition to their ethereal beauty, eyes the color of candlelit amber.

Lizzy could not take her eyes off the bronze-haired man, a Mr. Darcy, according to Charlotte, and yet when he looked at her, the expression in his golden eyes was so cold and unyielding that she wondered what she could have done to offend him standing across the room—and before they had even been introduced.

Our sulkier-than-normal heroine had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit down for two dances; and during part of that time, Mr. Darcy had been standing near enough for her to overhear a conversation between him and Mr. Bingley, who had come from the dance for a few minutes to press his friend to join it.

"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."

"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

"Oh! she is the most beautiful human I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."

"Which do you mean?" and turning round, he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said, "She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me."

Elizabeth was about to be very put out, and rose to leave, just in time to hear Mr. Darcy inhale deeply, his tone turning urgent.

“Yet she does tempt me with her scent, Charles. It is the sweetest I've ever known. I am sorry my friend, but we must depart before I do something...unforgivable."

And with that, Darcy and Bingley went to collect the whole of the Netherfield party, leaving Lizzy to sniff herself discreetly and wonder how someone so like a marble statue in looks and manners could suddenly sound like an inhabitant of Bedlam. Yet, in spite of herself, she found herself intrigued by the enigmatic Mr. Darcy.

Over the weeks, the mystery of Mr. Darcy, and indeed the whole Netherfield party, increased. But Elizabeth loved a good mystery and began collecting clues immediately after the assembly, including making discreet but vain inquiries into her own body odor.

When Jane fell ill at Netherfield, for example, Lizzy went to visit her. She found it very odd that even in the middle of a cold autumn day, the draperies were all shut tight and only a few candles gave any light in the normally cheery rooms. The reaction of the whole party on her suggestion that the draperies be opened to let in the beautiful sunshine was so violent, so negative, as her suspicions were immediately raised. What kind of person hates the sun? She herself worshipped it, being tanned beyond what was strictly proper for a well brought up lady.

And why, she wondered, did the entire party need to go “hunting” at a distant estate? Didn’t most men buy estates in the country to enjoy shooting his own birds?

Even more suspicious were the number of horses that came to the estate to be "inspected for sale", were purchased, but were never seen again.

The last, and most incriminating, piece of evidence that the Netherfield party was more than they seemed happened on an overcast autumn day in Meryton.

Lizzy was walking to the store, thinking about the enigmatic Edwilliam Darcy, when she heard the noise of a carriage suddenly behind her. She heard her name, or a variation of it, at least, "Bella!" And, as she whirled around to see what was happening, the man in question flew out of nowhere, knocking her out of the way of a runaway carriage and seemingly stopping it with his body at the same time.

Shocked and dazed, Lizzy had just enough time to notice that the corner of the carriage was crushed before Mr. Darcy, wearing an unfashionably wide-brimmed hat, had helped her up and whisked her off to refresh herself with a cup of tea.

Though his hands were cool, even through his gloves, the shiver of warmth that spread through Elizabeth was delicious.

Their conversation at the tea shop only continued to warm her—as did Mr. Darcy’s obvious regard, which only increased her curiousity and her attraction. However, Mr. Darcy refused to explain the strange circumstances of the runaway carriage, saying only that it must have already been damaged, given the careless nature of its driver.

Shortly after she was saved by Darcy, a new man arrived in town to whom Lizzy also felt drawn.

Standing nearly as tall as Darcy, but much more hirsute, Lieutenant Wickham was a warm, brotherly figure who seemed younger than his years. They formed a close attachment very quickly. Elizabeth began to suspect that Mr. Wickham was desirous of more than friendship, for his jealousy over Mr. Darcy was palpable.

One day as Lizzy and Wickham were socializing at the Lucas’ home, Lizzy broached the tender subject.

“Why do you bristle every time Mr. Darcy walks into the room. It is as though you know the man.”

“I do know him, of him at least. I hail from the same area of Derbyshire as he. The family is odd. They spend little to no time at their beautiful estate, Pemberly. They are generous owners, but solely from afar. My own excellent father had the management of their estate and never met Mr. Darcy’s father more than a few times. When he later met the son, though, he said he was his spitting image—almost as if it was the same man. And they always move about with the Bingleys and the Hursts. It’s as though the families had formed some sort of bond that extends beyond friendship.”

“How odd. I wonder that they do not live on an estate that is legally theirs. Maybe there is an inheritance issue? Some dispute?”

“Well, my father…. Toward the end he was going a bit barmy , and he began to rave about strange goings on. Bits of rumor gleaned from old retainers and villagers. He said…” At this he paused, uncomfortable.

“He said what, Mr. Wickham?” laughed Lizzy. “You cannot possibly leave me in such suspense. You must know that Mr. Darcy, that is, Mr. Darcy and his friends intrigue me greatly.”

“It’s just so foolish. Ridiculous, really. Yet, I cannot deny that they are a strange lot. And, to be truthful, I don’t like the way that Darcy looks at you. If this will keep you away from him, I guess I ought to tell you.” Jaorge took a breath and blurted, “There has been talk that they are not human at all. Ageless. Cruel. Murderess.”

“Vampires,” breathed Lizzy, before she even knew she had thought the word.

“Aye. Vampires.” Wickham laughed uncomfortably. “I know in my head it’s ridiculous. But in my heart. In my gut. Well, I just can’t seem to shake the feeling that there is more to those…people…than meets the eye.”

Lizzy could not help but wonder about Wickham’s outrageous suppositions. Wonder, however, is perhaps too mild a word. Ponder. Cogitate. Obsess. Yes, she had to admit she was obsessed with the Netherfield clan. With the thought of what they might be. What he was.

By the end of October, she could bear these chaotic thoughts no longer, she decided she must flee Meryton and Mr. Darcy’s looming presence.

Writing a quick note to Jane, she walked quickly to Meryton, taking what little pin money she had. It would be enough to get her to the Gardiners, which was all she wanted in any case.

Even though it was a beautiful day for November, few people were about, and she boarded the post-chaise without being seen. Or so she thought.
When the post-chaise stopped at the next town, she got out briefly to stretch her legs, walking around the side of the inn.

“What have we got here,” said a gruff voice just behind her.

Lizzy, startled, turned to see the owner of the voice. It was an older man—no one could call him a gentleman—with a younger, very burly companion who stepped past Lizzy. The look in his eyes made Lizzy’s blood run cold. Before she could move or scream, the younger man had covered her mouth and held her close to his unwashed body.

Lizzy fought to free herself. Just as she began to despair that no one would notice her plight, Edwilliam Darcy sprang at the older man, striking him with a blow that sent him reeling. The younger man, shocked, released his hold on Lizzy long enough for her to begin to squirm away. That was all the space and time Edwilliam needed.

Darcy punched the assailant squarely in the nose, and Lizzy heard the sound of bone splintering. She thought it better not to look, but threw herself, sobbing, into Edwilliam’s arms.

“Lizzibella, you foolish girl! What are you doing traveling alone on a public conveyance. They are not safe. You are not safe.”

“Mr. Darcy does sparkle.” Lizzy murmured, dazzled by his beautiful, concerned face, uncovered for once in the bright sun.

“What?!?!”

Lizzy blushed, but looked at him defiantly, “I said, ‘Mr. Darcy does sparkle.’ And you do. Sparkle, I mean. Miss Barron will be quite put out to be proved wrong.” The last was said with a bit of a smirk, as Lizzy was recovering her self-possession.

“Inside, you beautiful vixen,” growled Darcy, “I believe you know what I have to tell you, but I would like some privacy as I do.” With that, he found the hat he had lost in his haste, thrust it back on his head, and led Lizzy away from the writhing bodies of her captors to the front of the inn.

The post was driving away as they rounded the corner, but Lizzy was not bothered.

She felt utterly safe in the company of her sparkly vampire on this All Hallow’s Eve.