Amanda Grange - Mr. Darcy, Vampyre

She sanded her letter and put it away, then, snuffing all but one of the candles, she climbed into bed. She arranged the coverlet and extinguished the final candle, then lay down. Sleep came quickly, but it was not a restful sleep, for it was plagued by disturbing dreams.

Elizabeth was glad to rise the following morning. She had spent the night running through the forest pursued by wolves, or losing herself in the castle, or being tormented by other unsettling nightmares, and she was pleased to put them behind her.

She dressed warmly, wrapping her thick shawl around her, and left her room. She found her way down from the turret easily, but then she stood hesitating on the landing, uncertain which way to go. Luckily one of the Count’s footmen happened to pass by. He looked at her fearfully, but she did not let him depart before she had made him understand that she wanted to eat and he led her to the dining room. Darcy was already there at breakfast. He rose with a smile on his face and she was instantly calmed. Here was reality. Here was sanity and repose—not in sleep, but in the waking world.

‘Has the Count already eaten?’ she asked, as she was served with a kind of thick porridge which looked unappetising but tasted surprisingly good.

‘Yes, he was up before daybreak. He has gone to consult with some of his friends and neighbours on the matter which has been troubling me. They are scattered over thirty miles or so of hard riding terrain, and he will not be back until tonight.’

‘Has he been able to give you any advice?’

‘Not yet, but I hope that an answer will soon be found.’

She waited for the servants to leave the room and then said, ‘I asked you once before if you regretted our marriage and you said you did not. I need to ask you again.’ She paused, uncertain how to continue. She wanted to say to him, Why don’t you come to me at night? But now that the moment had come, she felt tongue-tied and did not know how to broach the subject.

‘No, of course not,’ he said with a frown. ‘You have no need to ask me and I am only sorry I have made you feel that way.’

‘Are the problems anything to do with the marriage settlement?’ she asked. ‘Is that why you need your uncle’s advice?’

‘Not precisely, no,’ he said evasively. ‘But matters will soon be cleared up, I hope, and then we can forget it and enjoy the rest of our wedding tour.’

He took her hand and kissed it, and she felt heat radiating out from the place where his lips had touched.

A shaft of sunlight came in through the window and Elizabeth, having finished her porridge, said, ‘Let us go out into the courtyard,’ for she glimpsed a small garden, of sorts, through the window and longed to be out of doors.

‘By all means,’ he said.

The rain had abated, but despite the gleam of sunshine, the morning was sulky and promised more rain to come.

The garden itself must once have been attractive, but it was now overgrown. It was square in shape, backed by the grey stone walls of the castle, and in its centre was a stagnant pool, choked with weeds. Little light entered the courtyard and even that was sickly and pale, as if the effort to find its way down into the courtyard had depleted it of energy. Weeds sprouted between the paving stones and yellow grasses competed for space with unhealthy looking ferns. A statue of a satyr rose from the tangle of creeping plants which stalked the ground, but it was broken, its pan pipes lying beside it, coated with moss and lichen.

‘What a pity it is so overgrown,’ she said. ‘It is protected from the wind, and it might be pleasant to walk here if the garden were cleared.’

‘The castle is old and the upkeep is expensive,’ said Darcy, offering her his arm. ‘My uncle doesn’t have enough money to attend to everything that needs doing here. His fortunes have suffered a reverse of late and he has had to let some parts of the castle fall into disrepair.’ He glanced at her as they began to stroll through the garden. ‘I suppose I do not notice its deficiencies because I am used to them. I have loved the place since I was a boy. But you, I think, do not.’

‘No, I must confess I don’t,’ she said. ‘It seems very forbidding to me, and it is not just the castle. The language is strange, the gossip…’

‘It is not like you to listen to gossip,’ he said.

‘No, I know, but I feel different here, not like myself. I feel shut in, trapped.’ She shuddered as she remembered the drawbridge clanging shut and she pulled her shawl more tightly about her. ‘When the drawbridge was raised behind me, I felt as if I were a prisoner.’

‘The drawbridge is to keep people out, not keep them in,’ he said, putting his hand over her arm reassuringly. ‘We are in a very remote part of the country and there are lots of bandits hereabouts. They would willingly prey on the castle if its defences weren’t secure.’

‘Yes, of course. But it is not just the drawbridge—it is everything. When I looked out of my window this morning, I looked down onto a terrible drop with nothing but jagged rocks below. It is not what I am used to,’ she said apologetically.

‘You are used to rolling meadows and winding rivers in a peaceful part of the world,’ he agreed, ‘but the castle is in a less hospitable country. It was built as a fortress at a time when fortresses were needed. The rocks keep it safe. They make sure that no one can climb up and assault it from behind. I know it can seem forbidding if you are not used to it, but inside the castle you don’t feel afraid?’

‘Not afraid, precisely, but anxious. The windows are small and the castle is gloomy. And the rumours…’

‘Go on.’

‘Oh, they are foolish, of course, but they say in the servant’s hall that the axe falling was a portent of your death and that I will cause it. They say that the same fate befell the Count’s wife. Is it true?’

He hesitated.

‘After a fashion,’ he said. ‘The Count lost his wife, but there was nothing strange about her death. She had been ill for a long time.’

‘And did the axe fall?’

‘Yes, it did, but the castle is very old. Some of the wall fixings had worked themselves loose, that is all.’

‘Of course,’ she said, his calm words filling her with relief. ‘I don’t know why I took any notice of it. It is just the atmosphere here, it is oppressive.’

‘A pity. I hoped you would like it. But we will not be here much longer. The Count should return this evening and we need only stay a few days. I have a hunting lodge in the area, and I would like to visit it as we are so close by, and we must stay a little while longer for politeness’ sake, but by the end of the week, if you are still unhappy, we will go.’

Elizabeth was comforted.

‘Do you really have a hunting lodge here?’ she asked. ‘It’s a long way from Pemberley.’

‘I own hunting lodges throughout Europe, a relic of the old days. I don’t use them anymore, but from time to time, I find a tenant for one or other of them. The Count thinks that one of his friends might like to rent the nearest lodge and so I would like to see if it needs any repairs. Why don’t you come with me? We can go tomorrow, and it will give you some relief from the castle.’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘I would like that very much.’

‘Very well, I will go and make the arrangements.’

Whilst he went off to the stables, Elizabeth went inside, finding the drawing room after three attempts. She had seen little of it the night before, and she hoped there might be a pianoforte but there was no instrument. She took a turn around the room, examining the portraits which hung on the walls and coming to rest in front of the fireplace. Above it hung a fine portrait of two gentlemen in seventeenth century dress. They were clothed in the fashions of the time, in satin coats and breeches, and they wore dark, curling wigs which fell to their waists.

She looked at them more closely. It was not easy to see them clearly from her low angle but something about them was familiar. She wondered who they reminded her of and then she realised that it was Darcy and the Count.

‘The paintings are very good, do you not think?’ came a voice behind her.

She very nearly jumped.

‘My apologies, I did not mean to startle you,’ said the Count, for it was he.

‘I thought you were visiting neighbours,’ she said.

‘And so I was, but the riding, it is hard with old bones. I would have said to my servants, “Go! Do this errand for me!” but Darcy, he is a valued nephew of mine and I do not like to send a servant in a matter concerning him. When I arrive, my neighbours, they are good to me, they say, “We will go to the next castle ourselves to spare you the travelling. Your commission, it will be done in half the time and with less jostling to you of your old bones.” And so it goes. One visits another and they each of them travel only a short way to the next castle. I encourage them by saying, “You are welcome to my castle. I have with me a new bride!”’ he said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘You had small hospitality yesterday but today it will be not the same. You will like my neighbours, I think. Some of them are family and all of them are friends. They will entertain you and make up for the castle’s darkness with their humour and conversation. And they will like you. You are an ornament to my home. It is many years since such loveliness has been inside the castle. You are comfortable here, may I hope? You have everything you need?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘If there is anything I can do to make your stay more agreeable you must say, “Count! I will have this!”’