The Transformation of Georgiana Darcy Page 12

  “No doubt… since Evangeline was the cause of his demise…the families have been estranged ever since.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “Your grandparents were hosting their yearly autumn festival… much like you did this year. Everyone expected an engagement to be announced at the closing ball. Evangeline and Christopher were inseparable. She positively glowed with happiness. Only one issue darkened the festivities; she had yet to tell him about her secret. As you know, it only rarely manifests in the family nowadays, so she did not fear his rejection. But when she went to meet him at their usual place in the rose maze, he was not alone. Evangeline found him in the arms of another, making promises of all sorts once he had control over her fortune.”

  Darcy felt the flush of anger again rise inside him. Was it the curse of the wealthy to be forever plagued by fortune hunters? His memories of Georgiana and Wickham now transferred to the aunt he had never known. Clenching his fingers to maintain control he looked up at the ceiling and breathed deeply.

  “Yes, I know nephew… it is the bane of all those born into the highest levels of society,” Lady Catherine replied with a glance in Lizzie’s direction.

  Lizzie did all she could to keep her composure… they were here for Georgiana. Her personal feelings did not matter now. She would bear all the barbs the old lady could bestow to help her sister-in-law.

  “From what I was told, Evangeline must have flown into some sort of rage. When they were discovered, both Christopher and his lover were dead. Evangeline was unconscious and covered in blood. A story about a wild pig was created to cover it all up, but the family knew the truth. Evangeline admitted everything and showed no remorse. There was only one course of action left to them, and despite misgivings, they did it. It was for the best.”

  Darcy looked up at his aunt. “What was that? Did they kill her?”

  “Of course not! We are not barbarians…she was sent away to an asylum and all mention of her ceased. She remains there to this day. After the death of your mother, I was appointed guardian of her care. Georgiana must also be sent there… I shall make the arrangements immediately.”

  “What asylum? I have heard of such places. Terrible things… I won’t allow my sister to suffer alone like an animal.”

  Lady Catherine did not look at him. Her eyes were cast on some faraway place as she replied. “St. Columba’s… in Scotland. And yes… you must send her there, it is the only option.”

  Darcy nodded and rose to assist the elder woman to her feet. “I need to think on this,” was all he said and took Lizzie’s arm as they made their way to their bedchamber, leaving his aunt at her own door.

  Once inside, Lizzie turned to him. “You are not actually going to consider this?”

  “Of course not… there must be another way. I believe our answers lie at Polwys with the Devlins. They have managed to survive without incident and so can Georgiana. We shall cut our visit as short as is polite and make our way there.”

  Lizzie agreed with relief. She could not imagine sending a sweet girl like Georgiana away to what must be worse than a prison. Surely they would find a solution, but it would be many a restless night until then.

  ~Eighteen~

  After saying her good nights, Georgiana made her best attempt to sleep. Despite her fatigue from travel and the respite of food provided by Anne, the gnawing in her stomach had only temporarily been satiated. Now, as the household slept, she tossed and turned before finally giving up and making her way to the vast Rosings kitchen.

  Easing open the green baize door that separated the servant’s realm from that of the main house, she nearly tripped over the snoozing form of Bertie, one of Lady Catherine’s terriers. Normally fond of animals, and not a stranger to those at Rosings, Georgiana reached down to bestow a friendly pat before continuing. However, Bertie was not of a mind to be receptive. Deep growls accompanied by bared teeth greeted her affections. Snatching her hand away, Georgiana growled back in an attempt at play. This too was met with hostility and the dog nipped her hand sending a small trickle of blood running down her fingers.

  “Brat!” she snapped and flashed her now glowing eyes at the dog, instantly ending the encounter. Whimpering in fright, the dog tucked its tail and ran out the open door. Georgiana stuck her wounded hand in her mouth to staunch the flow of blood. This was immediately found to be a mistake. The hunger in her now became a raging need. Fearing what might happen, she scoured the vacant kitchen for anything remotely resembling fresh meat. The gnawing was becoming painful and a wave of dizziness washed over her, threatening her consciousness. Stumbling into the scullery, she found a freshly skinned rabbit, hung to cure. Relief flowed over her as she sunk her teeth into the meat, sucking hard on the flesh until the drumming in her head lowered to a dull ache. Taking the rest of the carcass, she wandered out into the kitchen gardens to finish her meal in a more leisurely fashion and avoid being seen by any potential staff. Finding a small bench situated under an apple tree, Georgiana chewed, blissfully unaware that she was not alone.

  *****

  Malcolm Carey watched the woman in the garden. Since his escape, he had found the grounds of Rosings to be quite the perfect refuge. In the months in which he had planned his escape, the singular thought of revenge had developed into an obsession. Now, he was hidden right under the nose of the very person he held responsible for his imprisonment. Lady Catherine de Bourgh had not even allowed his testimony at the hearing in which he had been found guilty of murder, orchestrating the entire thing to simply be rid of him. “A born troublemaker” she had called him and with a wave of her hand, justice was ignored completely. Truth be told, he was indeed guilty of murder, but not of the two men. Women were far more to his tastes. Seeing the pale beauty who now sat in the old woman’s garden only quickened his desire to kill again. He closed his eyes and imagined her screams and pleading. It sent a river of pleasure coursing through his veins. What more appropriate revenge could be had than to take one of Lady Catherine’s own family? That would teach the interfering cow a lesson. However, he needed to be clever about it. This location was far too close to the house for comfort. He would bide his time and keep watch for the right moment.

  “Soon my lovely…. Very soon…” he whispered and disappeared into the night.

  *****

  Two days later…

  Georgiana Darcy and Anne de Bourgh finally escaped the confines of the house. Lady Catherine had once again succumbed to a mysterious ailment of the digestive, thus disallowing her removal far from her chamber. With freedom secured, albeit with promises not to leave the grounds, they walked as quickly as was ladylike from the immediate area of the house.

  “Remember! The Collins’ are to come to tea,” Elizabeth Darcy said as they adjusted their bonnets in preparation to leave.

  “We won’t be long, perhaps an hour or so in the fresh air will set us right.” Anne promised. Anne had suffered through more than her share of teas with the Reverend Collins. While she held genuine affection for his wife Charlotte, pure loathing was all she could feel towards the stuffy self-righteous vicar. Grabbing Georgiana’s arm, she practically pushed her guest out the door.

  “At least you and the Darcy’s are here to alleviate the tedium. Some days I wish I could simply tell him to shut his mouth!”

  To this Georgiana laughed aloud, a sound that had been far too foreign in her nature lately. If only Anne lived closer to Pemberley... what grand times they would have, and she would not be so lonely. Taking a narrow path through the woods, the women took a leisurely pace. The wood was thick this time of year with layers of debris from the winter cluttering the path. Only the Collinses ever used the trail that connected Rosings to the vicarage, leaving it practically impassible at times. Picking their way, they paused often to inspect the variety of flora that populated the thicket before taking a moment to rest inside a small clearing.

  This particular clearing had been an item of disagreement between Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine
. Never one to contradict his patroness, it had taken all the courage that the little man possessed to suggest that any aspect of Rosings be changed. But, he considered it his duty as a man of God to request that the small pagan stone circle be taken down. As they wandered inside the ancient monoliths, Anne recanted the incident with unrepressed delight.

  “Oh Georgie…you should have seen him. His face was near purple with anxiety after broaching the idea one evening after dinner. My mother stared at him as if he had turned into some sort of creature. “Mister Collins! When I require your advice I shall look elsewhere! May I remind you that my generosity has its limits!” she had snapped at him and immediately changed the subject. I thought he was going to have an apoplectic fit! It took everything I had to not burst out laughing. Such nonsense, worrying about ancient things coming back to haunt us.”

  Georgiana had found the story hilarious, but the humor was immediately quelled by the mention of ancient harms… one had indeed come back to find her. She so desperately wanted to confide in her cousin, but how would Anne react? Sighing, but filling with resolve, Georgiana decided to take the risk. The worst thing that could happen was that Anne would think she was either insane or telling a great joke of her own.

  “Anne… have you ever heard of my family having any sort of things like your stone circle? I mean… we don’t have monoliths, only an old medieval watchtower, but what about stories? Do you know if the Darcy’s or de Bourgh’s have skeletons in their closets?”

  Anne’s eyebrows drew together in thought and then she shook her head. “Not of which I am aware, but no one would be surprised if my mother had descended from a long line of witches,” she replied with a giggle.

  Georgiana smiled in return and then broached her subject. “My brother always told me of an old story about some Darcy ancestor having a taste for blood.”

  “Seriously? I cannot imagine Cousin Fitz giving any credence to such things.”

  “He said it often skipped a generation… sometimes lying dormant for years.”

  Anne eyed her cousin curiously, this conversation was going in a strange direction. Never before had she heard of Georgiana having such an interest in the supernatural. Usually a practical and often timid girl, Anne had bonded with her cousin as a kindred spirit. Both women lived in a highly controlled world, was this a way for Georgiana to show some defiance? Or was she simply seeking attention? Anne could definitely sympathize with the feeling of being forgotten. In an attempt to offer support, she decided to indulge Georgiana’s fantasy.

  “Have you shown any signs of it? I mean, you have always favored a rare cut of beef… but do you believe it could be something more?”

  Georgiana relaxed slightly, it was a relief not to be met with instant censure… or worse yet, laughter. “I would never have thought so, but ever since the festival, things have been strange. I am sure you noticed my hair…”

  “Yes, it has gone rather pale, but I had assumed that it was a fashionable trend of which I was unaware.”

  “No… it did it all on its own. I also have the most incredible cravings.”

  “That is indeed strange. Have you seen a doctor?”

  “Of course… my brother insisted upon a full physical. Dr. Allan only said I was a bit low in vitamins… more meat needed.”

  Anne only nodded, a rustling in the surrounding trees had drawn her attention away from Georgiana and she put a finger to her lips to silence her cousin. “Someone is out there,” she whispered.

  “Probably the Reverend and Mrs. Collins… they are due to tea, or perhaps a rabbit.”

  “Hmm… I don’t hear anything now. All this talk must be giving me notions.”

  Georgiana nodded “it is a bit much to take in,” she agreed, but was interrupted from continuing by the sight of a large unkempt man standing a few feet behind Anne. A menacing sneer showed broken teeth when he made eye contact with Georgiana. Momentarily frozen in fear, she could only point a finger in his direction as a gasp escaped her lips. Anne spun about to see what had so shaken her cousin when the man charged from his spot and grabbed her roughly about the waist, placing a filthy hand over Anne’s mouth.

  “If you scream, I will snap her neck!” he ordered.

  Georgiana, seeing the fear form large tears in Anne’s eyes only nodded, but her mind was racing. Instead of the expected fright, a surge of anger raced through her veins as the stranger motioned her to follow him as he dragged Anne to the edge of the clearing. Never a strong girl, Anne was helplessly flailing as she was pulled through the brambles and over stones. Doing as she was bid, Georgiana feared for Anne’s safety as the now familiar surge of blood lust blurred her vision. In the past, only hunger had fueled her desire for blood. Now, an uncontrollable rage was rapidly growing. Georgiana imagined she could feel the man’s own heartbeat pulsing in her head. Swaying to maintain her composure, she feared fainting, but was snapped back by a smothered squeal of pain as he tightened his grip on Anne’s waist, tearing her dress. This small sound of panic from a person so dear to her echoed in her ears as Georgiana emitted an inhuman growl from her own lips and released the pent up primal instinct that had become part of her being. Closing the distance between herself and Anne’s attacker, Georgiana launched her full form on his person, sinking her teeth deeply into the exposed flesh of his neck.

  His howl of shock, that soon changed to pain filled fear was smothered as Georgiana dug the nails of both hands into the side of his face and clutched his neck to her mouth as she drank. His arms released Anne in a futile effort to defend himself from the assault, but to no avail as Georgiana continued to drain his life’s blood. Soon, all resistance was gone. All that remained was a pale empty shell, lifeless on the ground. Next to the body, Georgiana collapsed in exhaustion, unable to move as Anne did her best to restrain all thoughts of hysterics.

  Crawling over to her cousin, Anne shook Georgiana slightly. Only a faint familiar animal escaped her lips, but it was not one of pain. If Anne’s assessment was correct, Georgiana seemed to be purring in her sleep. This final oddity was far too much for Anne to bear, finally finding her breath, she began to scream.

  ~Nineteen~

  Reverend William Collins, and his bride of some five years, the former Charlotte Lucas, picked their way through the woods that adjoined the modest home they shared with the grounds of Rosings Park. As regular visitors to the big house, they had chosen this shortcut to avoid any possibilities of lateness, a trait disdained greatly by their patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

  Today, however, there was an added air of happiness to what would have normally been a few tedious hours of lecture bestowed by Lady Catherine on a very receptive Reverend Collins. Mrs. Collins was to be reunited with her childhood friend Elizabeth Bennet, now married to Lady Catherine’s nephew Mr. Darcy. In addition, Mr. Darcy’s younger sister was a part of the party. This welcome change to what had become a most trying routine, would allow Charlotte and Elizabeth a few private moments to rekindle their friendship. As they walked, Charlotte hoped that the presence of Georgiana Darcy would have a positive impact of Anne de Bourgh. It was quite often that the vicar’s wife felt more than a share of pity for the girl. Despite her own less than tolerable marriage, at least Charlotte had some happiness. Patting her rounded abdomen, she would soon know the joys of motherhood. Somehow, the forthcoming child would make all that she suffered worthwhile. Smiling, she actually took her husband’s hand in a rare gesture of affection.

  “Now Charlotte, no time for that sort of thing… we mustn’t be late. You know how Lady Catherine detests lateness.”

  “Yes dear, I only wanted to show my appreciation for you.”

  Reverend Collins reddened visibly at the compliment. He was well aware that their more than five years of childlessness was due to his lack of ability. However, he had managed and now all question of that nature was put to rest. Puffing up a bit in the guilty sin of pride, he only squeezed her hand for a moment before releasing it. Picking up the pace to hide his
embarrassment, Charlotte was left to trot to keep up. They were only half way there and quite early when she insisted he slow down to accommodate her awkward form.

  “Mr. Collins… it is not good for the child. I really must take a rest before we continue…” Charlotte rasped breathlessly.

  “Charlotte, we cannot stop here… so close to that pagan circle. Imagine if we were seen? What would people think of the vicar traipsing about with his pregnant wife in there? All sorts of ideas would be spread.”

  “Well then, at least slow down. I don’t want to give birth there either!” she replied in exasperation. While she did not share her husband’s phobia for the stone ring, she had to admit that it was a bit unnerving, even in daylight.

  Just as he was about to admonish her for such an idea, the sounds of screams cut through the silent pastoral peace of the forest. Jumping slightly, Mr. Collins’ eyes flew wide and he grabbed Charlotte’s hand, pulling her along the pathway.

  “We must flee… Lady Catherine warned of an escaped convict wandering the country side!”

  “Oh William! Do be rational!” Charlotte snapped as they entered the clearing containing the ancient stone circle. Clutching her bulky abdomen, Charlotte drew breaths in gasps as her husband suddenly stopped in his flight and released her. Once recovered, she too stared in silent shock at the sight before them.

  Standing over what was clearly a dead body, were the esteemed personages of Anne de Bourgh and Georgiana Darcy. The latter bore the remains of what could only be blood, now drying on her mouth and chin. Something evil had indeed taken place, and so near the dreaded pagan stones.

  *****

  Anne, once recovered from her momentary bout of hysterics, allowed her practical sound reason to take over once again. Clearly, she and Georgiana had been nearly the victims of a dreadful man, but somehow, in some strange way, Georgiana had managed to save them both. Now conscious, but with a hazy memory of the events, Georgiana leaned heavily on her cousin’s slight form. The red film was slowly lifting from her vision and an almost euphoric pleasure was now pulsing gently through her body. It was as if she was waking from the loveliest dream. Staggering slightly, she attempted to clear her sight and was greeted by the intruding personage of Reverend Collins. Blinking and squinting as his face came in and out of focus, she was barely cognizant of the story told by Anne to explain her condition.