Blood and Prejudice: Part IV

Part IV: A Werewolf Called Wickham

Read Part III: An Unexpected Visitor here.

Kitty and Lydia begged Elizabeth to accompany them to town; they wanted to buy new ribbons. Elizabeth relented and walked with her sisters. The fields were slowly awakening from their winter sleep, green shoots pushing out of the ground to greet the sun. Merry birdsong followed the sisters as they made their way to the shops.

It did not take long before Elizabeth discovered Kitty and Lydia’s ulterior motive. A werewolf pack was expected to arrive that day, and the young girls wanted to be the first to greet them. When they reached the storefront, Kitty and Lydia dawdled so they wouldn’t miss the pack.

Werewolves had served the king for as long as Elizabeth could remember. The packs had protected England from threats for centuries. Though they could turn into their wolf forms at will, they refrained from doing so in civilized company. The werewolves were at their strongest during the full moon — though they could get drunk on that power, causing their behavior to become erratic and aggressive. All the Bennet girls knew that when the moon was full, they should stay inside. With the sun at its apex in the sky, there was no danger of a werewolf mistaking them for a meal. Well, no more danger than from any other poorly mannered man, Elizabeth thought. She was roused from her musings by the regular thrum of boots marching down the road. The werewolf pack appeared, all dressed in identical red coats.

Lydia feigned tripping in front of a few werewolves, a desperate attempt to invite a display of their gallantry. To Elizabeth’s amusement, one stepped out of formation to help Lydia regain her footing.

“Thank you ever so much,” Lydia said demurely, peeking up through her lashes at her savior.

“It is my policy to always come to a lady’s aid,” he replied, though his eyes were on Elizabeth.

Elizabeth lifted her chin and bore his scrutiny, looking him over as well. The werewolf was tall, with golden hair that curled at the nape of his neck. His green eyes glimmered with something Elizabeth couldn’t puzzle out. He was very handsome.

“Thank you for helping my sister, sir. I am Elizabeth Bennet, and these are my sisters Lydia and Kitty,” Elizabeth said.

“A pleasure, Miss Elizabeth. My name is Mr. Wickham. Would you like to take a turn around this quaint town with me?” He grinned at her, flashing his canines.

“We would love to,” Lydia gushed.

Elizabeth chose not to point out that Mr. Wickham had asked her, and not Lydia. She took Mr. Wickham’s proffered arm. “I would be delighted to, Mr. Wickham.”

As they walked, Mr. Wickham expressed great interest in the vampires residing at Netherfield Park.

“Yes, Mr. Bingley is quite taken by my eldest sister.” Elizabeth didn’t dare say anything about Miss Bingley.

“His friend, Mr. Darcy. Have you had much of a chance to become acquainted with him?”

The harsh rejection at the ball. The stormy night he’d turned Jane into a vampire. Acquainted was not the word that Elizabeth would use. “I’ve only had the opportunity to speak with him on two occasions. Do you know him?”

Mr. Wickham grimaced. “We were once very close. Mr. Darcy’s father treated me, the son of his steward, like a son. After he died, Mr. Darcy and I had a very serious disagreement. I won’t divulge the details to you, Miss Elizabeth. I hesitate to speak ill of such an esteemed visitor.”

Elizabeth could not resist laughing a little at that. “On the contrary, Mr. Wickham, there is very little about Mr. Darcy that could shock me. I have not been impressed with his behavior towards me and my family.”

Mr. Wickham lowered his voice, but he needn’t have worried. Kitty and Lydia were lagging behind them, tittering to one another about whatever held their attention at that moment. “Mr. Darcy’s father left me a significant sum of money after his death. For whatever reason, Mr. Darcy withheld the money that was rightfully mine. He was very harsh about it, proclaiming that the money could never leave the Darcy family. He destroyed our years of friendship with that declaration. That sort of pain cannot be easily healed.”

“I am very sorry he treated you that way, Mr. Wickham. I suppose then that . . .” Elizabeth faltered.

Mr. Wickham smiled widely. “Come now, Miss Elizabeth. I have told you one of my darkest secrets. Do not dally in telling me what’s on your mind.”

“Is it too much to hope,” Elizabeth began slowly, “that you will attend the Netherfield ball that is in a few days? I imagine the rest of the pack is invited, which will provide a great many dancing partners for the young ladies that are usually left to spectate. My mother expects us all to go, and I would prefer to have at least one friend there.” Charlotte would not be there, Elizabeth realized. She was with her new husband. All the more reason to hope that Mr. Wickham would come.

“I cannot resist an invitation from you, Miss Elizabeth!” Mr. Wickham declared. “I will brave my enemy’s walls to dance with you.”

Elizabeth smiled. “A courageous endeavor that will certainly become a tale worth telling.”

Elizabeth clutched Jane’s hand tightly as their carriage approached Netherfield Park. Memories of the last time they were there emerged from the depths of her brain, making her shiver with a most unpleasant feeling.

The halls were brightly lit, at least, a far cry from the desolate halls that had last greeted Elizabeth. Men and women bustled around in their finery, laughing loudly and drinking from sparkling glasses. Elizabeth craned her neck, searching for Mr. Wickham. There were several werewolves, identifiable by their red coats, but none with clever green eyes.

“Where is Mr. Wickham?” Jane asked, echoing Elizabeth’s thoughts. “I so wish to meet the young man that has captured your attention.”

“I am sure he is here somewhere,” Elizabeth said.

“I’ll ask around,” Jane promised. She departed, undoubtedly to find Mr. Bingley. They would likely share every dance together. Elizabeth wouldn’t be surprised if the night concluded with a proposal.

Elizabeth watched the first few dances, turning away a few werewolves who asked her to dance. Instead, she chose to stand beside a very sullen Mary. Mary didn’t much like balls.

Jane reappeared, grasping Elizabeth’s arm. “Mr. Wickham is not here,” she whispered. “He’s been called away to Brighton. I’m sorry, Lizzie.”

Elizabeth sighed, but she resolved not to let the news weigh her down. It felt like far too long since she’d last enjoyed herself. The next man who asked her to dance, she’d accept.

As if summoned by her thoughts, a deep voice said, “Miss Elizabeth, might I have the next dance?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, turning toward the voice. She blinked dumbly.

Mr. Darcy stood before her. Mr. Darcy, who had so expressly declared his disinterest in dancing with her previously. Mr. Darcy, who had turned Jane into a vampire and sworn them to secrecy. Mr. Darcy, who had withheld money from poor Mr. Wickham for nothing but selfish reasons.

“Splendid.” His tone said otherwise.

Elizabeth couldn’t quite believe she was on her way to the dance floor with Mr. Darcy. A cruel irony, especially when she’d looked forward to doing the same with Mr. Wickham.

The vampire stayed silent as they went through the first motions of the dance.

“Do you not make it a habit to speak to your dance partners, Mr. Darcy?”

“What would you like to speak about?”

“The werewolf pack that joined us in Meryton this week, perhaps. I believe you know one of them.” Elizabeth felt a surge of reckless desire. She could not speak of Mr. Darcy’s wrongdoings to her family, but she had sworn no such oath about Mr. Wickham.

“I’ve met a great many werewolves over the years, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Mr. Wickham.” Elizabeth relished the faint surprise in Mr. Darcy’s eyes. For the stoic vampire, that was the equivalent of swooning in shock.

“My relationship with Mr. Wickham is none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? The way you intervene in the lives of others, Mr. Darcy, is certainly my concern. No wonder Mr. Wickham went away to Brighton so eagerly. He could hardly stand being within five miles of you.”

The dance ended, and Mr. Darcy bowed. “I see you are set in your beliefs, Miss Elizabeth. It would be foolish of me to attempt to contradict them.”

Elizabeth curtsied back. “Then there is one thing on which we can agree.” She walked away and found Mrs. Bennet reclining on a sofa, regaling her audience with details of Mr. Bingley’s infatuation with Jane. Elizabeth couldn’t bear to listen. Must her mother be so oblivious to what is proper?

Elizabeth finally found Jane, who was not dancing with Mr. Bingley as she’d expected. Still aglow with annoyance from dancing with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth opened her mouth to tell Jane all the dreadful details, but stopped when she saw that Jane’s eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“Whatever is wrong, Jane?”

Jane smiled weakly. “Mr. Bingley just informed me that he will be staying at Netherfield Park no longer. They are departing within the week to London.”

Elizabeth embraced her sister.

“He said nothing of a proposal, Lizzie. He said good-bye like it was nothing. Perhaps I imagined the whole thing.”

“He is a fool,” Elizabeth insisted.

Jane pulled back, looking down at her hands. “I thought I could bear being a vampire. I thought I could bear it, if only I was doing it with him.” Her shoulders shook, but still no tears fell down her face.

Elizabeth hugged her again. There was nothing she could say.

Read Part V: A Vampire’s Proposal here.