The Transformation of Georgiana Darcy Page 10

  “I will explain, but I assure you… swear to you… there is nothing to worry about, at least not for any children of ours.”

  *****

  Hours later, as Georgiana lay heavily sedated and Doctor Allan had gone, Darcy took Lizzie into the library and shut the door, locking it against any possible interruption. He had carefully replaced the assortment of journals in their cabinet, choosing only two out to show Lizzie. While the doctor had examined his sister, he had remained below, pondering how to explain an old family legend, now possibly truth, to his wife. Would she think him insane? Probably, but it had to be told.

  Now, as she joined him he struggled with how to begin. Doctor Allan had given the diagnosis of pernicious anemia, but Darcy knew the true cause, he had just not known it could manifest this late in one’s life. Every story he had been told was that of Darcys being born with the condition, not acquiring it later.

  “Just keep her at rest and plenty of rare meat. We must get her strength up and avoid any undue stress, it can trigger another episode. However, I must inform you that this is more of a temporary treatment. There is no cure of which I know, but let me contact some of my colleagues at the medical college in Glasgow. They may have some better suggestions. I wish I could be more helpful.”

  Thanking him, the Darcys saw him off and promised to do as prescribed.

  “What do you think of it all? Will she be a danger to Charlie? I cannot have him near her.”

  “No of course not… but this is not going to be as simple as feeding her raw meat.”

  “You have suggested that… what exactly are you talking about?”

  Darcy opened one of the earliest journals to where he had found an entry about what he had hoped to explain. Allowing Lizzie time to read, he rubbed his temples to massage away what was going to be a grand headache and reached to sip from a filled tumbler of whiskey. Pouring one for Lizzie, she was initially surprised by the act until after she finished reading. Raising her glass, she downed half the contents in one gulp before facing her husband.

  “Blood drinkers? You have got to be jesting! What sort of ailment causes that?”

  “I have only heard about it in stories. The sort a child is told on dark winter nights to scare them into proper behavior. Until now, that is what I thought they were.”

  “So tell me…”Lizzie prodded and refilled her glass. This was surely going to need more drink than she was accustomed, but it had been a truly trying day.

  Darcy spent the better part of the next two hours recalling everything he could about his family’s peculiar history. Together, they scoured the diaries for anything that could be of help to Georgiana. Somewhere near midnight, and near the bottom of the whiskey decanter, they called it quits for the night.

  “At least from what we can gather, it does seem manageable,” Darcy said tiredly as they climbed the grand stair to the bedchambers above.

  “If only we had someone here who could assist us, but I would rather keep things as private as possible. Poor nanny was ready to give notice. It was with much convincing and more than a bit of bribery that she agreed to stay,” replied Elizabeth.

  “Just a guess, but, I am thinking that my esteemed cousins from Wales are just the persons to provide such assistance. I am now under the conviction that one of them must have had something to do with this. They both fit the physical description, and Georgiana was just fine before they came here.”

  “Let’s wait until she has an opportunity to tell us her own side. Dr. Allan said she’d sleep for some time with the medication he gave her. Perhaps tomorrow things will be clearer.”

  “You are wise as always, my dear. Let us get some sleep ourselves.”

  ~Fourteen~

  When Georgiana Darcy woke that next morning, it was to the most excruciating headache ever. Blinking against the sunlight that streamed into her bedchamber, she tried to raise a hand to block its brilliance, but discovered that she could not. Thinking that she was still in the throes of a strange dream, she tried again but was met with the same resistance. Squinting painfully, she saw the thick woven cords that bound her to the bed. She was tied down.

  “What? Why am I held down?” she slurred through the remains of her laudanum haze.

  Shaking her head to clear the hazy waves of dizziness, the room slowly came into focus. Sitting at her bedside were her brother and Elizabeth, drinking tea and eating scones as if it were any leisurely breakfast. At first, they seemed unaware of her, but the sound of her voice alerted them to her wakened state.

  After pausing to glance at her husband, who nodded, Lizzie released Georgiana from her bounds.

  “It was for your own protection. Do you remember anything that happened yesterday?” she asked gently as Georgiana slowly sat up and rubbed her wrists.

  “I… I…It seems so blurred and far away, but… wasn’t I in the nursery?” she asked and then as the memory came flooding back, the realization of what she had tried to do sent a torrent of tears flowing down her cheeks.

  “Oh Elizabeth! How could I have tried to hurt Charlie? Whatever came over me?” she gasped, and tried to turn away from what she expected to be harsh disapproval and censure from not only Lizzie but her brother. What must they think of her? How could she possibly explain?

  Darcy, seeing her distress, sat down on the bed beside her and insisted she look at him. “Just tell us everything… from the beginning.”

  Georgiana, through sniffles and hiccoughs, gave her best account. Including the cravings and physical changes that she had tried to hide. Greatly embarrassed by the personal nature of the conversation, she fixed her gaze on some distant point as she admitted to having kissed Gareth’s wound.

  “Georgiana… none of this is your fault. It is mine.”

  “Yours? But I tried to hurt Charlie… I would never hurt him willingly.”

  “It is mine for not considering that such a thing could happen… for keeping family secrets from you… for exposing you to those who could harm you.”

  Now, it was Lizzie’s turn to feel guilty. If she had not invited the Devlins, could this have been prevented?

  Sensing his wife’s feelings, Darcy immediately refuted such notions before they could be voiced.

  “No one could have known, it was the stuff of legends. Long forgotten and seemingly impossible in this modern age. However, not that it is not, we must learn how to manage things, that is all.”

  “But that is what I have been trying to do… and failing,” wailed Georgiana as fresh tears threatened once again.

  We shall be leaving for our annual visit to Rosings in just under a fortnight, after that on to Polwys. I believe that our answers lie there. Have you had word from Gareth recently?”

  “Yes, but this was not something we ever discussed in great detail. He was aware, and tried, but I did not want to admit that it was possible. Plus, I did not have such strong cravings until after he left. I have not told him anything that has been happening. It is all my fault, do not place blame upon him, he did nothing but behave in the most gentlemanly fashion.”

  Darcy took both of his sister’s hands in his. They were so small and pale in comparison. The desire to protect her had always been present, but now it was overwhelming, as was the realization that he was practically helpless himself.

  “I will not hear any more words of blame. Promise me?”

  Georgiana only nodded, but in her mind, she did not know how to achieve what he wished. Laying back against her pillows, exhaustion again took its toll and she stifled a yawn.

  “We shall leave you to your rest, but not until after we see you eat. If what I have read is correct, this should prevent any more occurrences such as yesterday.”

  Darcy took the lid off a covered tray to expose thick slices of blood cake. In appearance, it had all the visual appeal of the best chocolate. However, that was greatly misleading once a person took the first bite and the metallic taste overwhelmed the mouth. Wrinkling her nose, Georgiana took a piece and eagerly c
hewed. Surprisingly, the former unpleasantness was gone. In its place a satisfying sweetness danced on her tongue. Was it the relief of being able to share her new state that made the formerly horrible food not only palatable, but delicious? As long as it kept her from attacking her nephew, she did not care if she needed to consume live snakes. It was worth it.

  After Georgiana had downed enough to not only fill her stomach, but also please the watchful eyes of her brother and Lizzie, they bid her to take some rest.

  “We shall leave the restraints off. I believe that you will not have another episode if you eat regularly,” Darcy concluded as he and Lizzie prepared to leave.

  Nodding and already half asleep, Georgiana murmured in ascent. She did indeed feel content.

  Closing the door, Darcy spoke to the burly manservant who sat on guard outside the bedchamber. “If Miss Darcy tries to leave, lock her in and find me. Whatever you do, don’t let her out without my order.”

  ~Fifteen~

  Polwys Tor, one week later….

  Gareth Devlin arrived home to find a letter from Pemberley awaiting him. Thinking it to be from Georgiana, he eagerly tore it open, only to discover the stern voiced writing of Fitzwilliam Darcy. Fear coursed through his soul as he took the letter into the library as to not be disturbed. It had to be something significant to warrant a letter from the owner of Pemberley. Where they not coming to visit? Had something terrible befallen Georgiana? As it was, the past few months had not been without their own trials at Polwys.

  When he had arrived home after the Pemberley visit, it was to a house with all the appearances of one that had been sacked. Only the aging housekeeper and two maids remained of the staff after Ewan’s tirade.

  “Master Gareth, I tried my best to stop him, but we were terrified of what he would do. A black rage he was in once he came from the library. Looking for some sort of book, he tore through all the shelves making a frightful mess.”

  “It is all right… I will not be leaving again, should he return.”

  Ewan had indeed made a shambles of the house. Not only had he tossed the library, but also the main bedchambers and much of the finer receiving rooms. Strange, it did not appear as though anything of value had been taken. Gareth could not discover a single thing missing. In contrast, the mess made him aware of a new addition to Polwys Tor. One that even he, in his broad experience with some of the more unusual elements of the world, had found unnerving. Now, as weeks had turned into months, Gareth had not only accepted, but come to rely upon the guidance provided by the entity.

  He first became aware of something strange when he made attempts to put the library to rights. Refusing assistance from what was left of his household, he had shut himself inside and began to sift through the debris. As he tried to make some semblance to the mess, an uncanny feeling of being watched crept over him.

  The library had never been one of Gareth’s favorite places. Something about the room had always made him uneasy. When his mother was alive, it had been her sanctuary. Now that she was gone, he had forced himself to go through the estate records, but spent only what time was necessary and left, locking the door each time. Distracted by the mess, he had not noticed the glowing pair of eyes hovering in the far corner, away from the door. It was not until he took a few moments rest that a vague face materialized around the eyes and a soft voice spoke his name.

  “Gareth… Gareth… Can you hear me?”

  Startled by the familiar sound, he jumped from his chair and spun to face the door. Opening it, the hall was devoid of any person, not that what few servants he still retained would ever use his first name. Returning inside, he blamed fatigue and sat back down, rubbing his eyes. As soon as he did so, the voice called once again, this time with more forcefulness.

  “Gareth! Listen to me!”

  This time, he knew he was not imagining things. Jerking around to where the sound had originated, the sight of a shadowy outline of a woman was more alarming than the voice.

  “Oh don’t be so surprised. I would have told you sooner, but I had not planned on falling to my death, and then you went off somewhere for weeks.”

  Gareth’s mouth dropped at the realization that the spectral form and voice belonged to his mother.

  “How?... Why?...” he stammered at the image.

  “All in good time… think of me as a more permanent caretaker. It was part of the deal, but a bit early.”

  “What deal?”

  “You had better pour yourself a drink and get comfortable. This will take a while.”

  Gareth had indeed needed the support of alcohol to absorb not only the existence of his mother’s ghost, but the knowledge that it was not a new occurrence.

  “The women in our family each take up the obligation as protectress of Polwys. If we are married into the family and not born like you, we voluntarily change over. It was a role that began well before my time. I don’t understand it completely either, but accepted it upon my marriage. Before me, your grandmother Arnwen was here, before her Elise Devlin and so on. After me… well that is up to you.”

  “So… my wife… or Ewan’s will be expected to take your place someday”

  “Yes, but I was rather hoping it would be yours, considering recent events…” she replied absently and waved a hand at the disarray.

  “Ewan… why did you put him in your will? What was he looking for?”

  The specter appeared to shrug in askance. “You will have to ask him yourself. As for my will, I was not going to live forever. Someone had to be responsible around here. God knows you were not.”

  Gareth had not any defense for her argument, he had been reckless for far too long. Now, as he took Darcy’s letter up to what had become his favorite place, he hoped that Maris would materialize should he need some advice. Entering the chamber, he did not sense her presence as he took his place behind the great leather topped desk. Taking the single sheet out of its envelope, he quickly scanned the contents. What he feared most had come to realization, Georgiana had become like him, but oddly enough, Darcy did not apply any suggestion of blame on his part. Relief swept over him and he reread the letter again.

  My dear Cousin,

  Since your departure, my beloved sister has been stricken by a series of circumstances in which you may be most familiar. Georgiana, if I may speak plainly, has shown signs of an unusual Darcy family condition. She has confessed that the incident which caused the situation was entirely her own doing, but the situation remains dire. It has been rather trying in adjusting to her new living requirements, and we have done our best, but fact remains that we are hopelessly beyond our limited understanding. While neither I, nor Georgiana hold you in any way responsible, it was the physical contact with you that served as a catalyst for present events. With that being said, your assistance is crucial in order that we may be of service and make Georgiana’s transition as easy as possible. We shall be taking you up on your offer of hospitality at Polwys Tor immediately upon the close of our annual visit to my aunt at Rosings Park. While I would prefer to defer the Rosings obligation, it would require undue explanation that I should want to avoid. Please expect our party to arrive by the end of the month.

  Sincerely,

  Darcy

  Gareth was puzzled by the seemingly calm and collected nature of the letter. One would have expected a more angry response to the discovery that a beloved sister was now permanently changing into what any rational person would consider to be a monster. However, it was clear that the Darcy’s were indeed familiar with the condition. Despite the almost casual nature of the missive, Gareth did not believe that he was held blameless. How could he… when daily he blamed himself. Feeling a pair of eyes upon him, he turned to see his mother’s outline manifest around the sparkle of her glowing blue eyes. It still startled him to realize that she was there. He sometimes wondered where else she wandered about the house. It was not something that they discussed, nor was the topic of her death approached. He had tried to ask what she could r
emember, but had been abruptly shut down.

  “That moment is for me alone…” she replied and refused to answer.

  Today, she only shimmered and her form floated slightly above the stone floor. An amused look appeared to grace her shadowy face.

  “What grand news can that letter possibly hold to make you so thoughtful?” She queried.

  “We are to have visitors… from Pemberley. There is one among them, Georgiana, who is soon to be like us. That is, if she has not changed over completely.”

  “Is that all? Well, it has been some time since we have had anyone to stay here. You have much to do to prepare.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes! Air the mattresses, change the linens, stock the kitchen, and plan entertainments…. I do not exactly see this place crawling with servants. Dead or not, I will not be shamed by the state of my home!”

  Gareth swallowed a large imaginary lump in his throat. It had not occurred him when he had issued the invitation that there would be anything more to do than greet his guests. The realization that he too had no wish to appear a poor relation to the Darcy’s took hold fiercely. If he were to convince Georgiana to marry him, he needed to make a good impression. Not only on her, but Darcy as well, and he only had a few weeks to do so. Sharing a bizarre condition would not be enough to persuade her to stay. Rising, he went to find his housekeeper. There was much to do.

  ~Sixteen~

  The Darcy carriage slowly made its way along the country lanes leading to Rosings Park. Fine weather had graced the mid-April with early spring flowers and the budding of leaves on once barren trees. Making good time, this was their second day on the road, and they would arrive before tea time. Inside, warmly wrapped against the still brisk air, Georgiana Darcy stared absently out the window.