The Transformation of Georgiana Darcy Page 16

  “Truly… it was only my mother’s wish that Fitz and I were to wed… never mine. No offense cousin… but I don’t even fancy you as the least bit attractive,” she had admitted honestly, adding a playful swat to Darcy’s arm.

  In reality, when separated from Lady Catherine’s domineering presence, Anne was quite a different person. Outgoing and in possession of a natural wit, she was not without attentions from the male gender. It was unfortunate that these outings were so few. The Darcy’s resolved to do their best to create more opportunities for Anne to socialize away from her mother in the future.

  Georgiana, however, was another issue completely. The couple watched her interactions with Gareth Devlin with mixed feelings. While they appeared to be a perfect match, neither Darcy nor Elizabeth wanted the young woman to feel any sense of obligation due to her new situation. This evening, with the inclusion of many distant relatives was a relief. So many of the guests bore the same unusual features. Georgiana would have an opportunity during her stay to decide if it was Gareth she truly wanted, and not just a sense of acceptance by others like her. But, with each new introduction, Georgiana continued to only have eyes for Gareth. It was as if no others existed. Lizzie privately wondered if she had been so obvious in her love for Darcy. The thought of it made her blush, despite being married for some years now.

  *****

  Once dinner had been consumed, to the great satisfaction of all, the dancing began. As the couples whirled about the steps of the various sets, Lizzie and Darcy lost sight of Anne. It was during a break in the activity that a worried Nicholas Keithly approached them, in search of Anne.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy… have you seen Anne? She had promised me the last dance, but I was unable to find her. Nor was she anywhere in the ballroom. I thought perhaps she may have taken unwell and was most concerned for her,” he asked, still scanning the room for any sign of Anne.

  Alarmed, the Darcy’s could not provide an answer, but immediately volunteered a discreet search, should illness indeed be the cause.

  “I shall check her bedchamber,” offered Lizzie and left the two gentlemen to wander the perimeter of the grounds outside the ballroom. Three sets of French doors leading to a large balcony that wrapped around the rear of the house allowed the cool night air to relieve the heat of the room. Taking the nearest, Darcy and Keithly peered into the night, allowing for their eyes to adjust to the darkness for a moment before descending the stone steps into the gardens below. Darcy had noticed that Georgiana, as well as the Devlins who were like her, had an uncanny ability to see in the dark. He hesitated a moment, considering enlisting their assistance, but did not want to cause worry should Anne simply have needed to retire. Additionally, something akin to suspicion, had made him wary of Ewan Devlin, and he wanted to avoid him being involved with Anne. Lizzie had noted Anne’s dislike of the man and had made mention of it earlier.

  “Anne feels that he is always watching her. I hope it is simply her imagination, but I have to agree that he is an odd one, and I trust Anne’s sensibilities.”

  Darcy had not paid it any particular concern until now. Just as they reached the bottom of the stair, he heard Lizzie’s voice call out in a hushed whisper from the balcony above.

  “I cannot find her either….nor did I see any sign of Ewan Devlin. Lady Ellsmere said she saw them together earlier, but that was some time ago.”

  By now, with dusk several hours past, a misting fog had begun to filter through the rose garden, casting shadows and making it harder to see despite the lantern that Lizzie had thoughtfully brought down. The three cautiously searched the gardens for any sign of Anne. The uneven ground, combined with the thickening fog, made the going treacherous as they made their way further from the house.

  “We may need to go back and get some assistance,” suggested a practical Lizzie, who kept to the gravel path. Waving Elizabeth to remain where she was, and hold the lantern high for light, the two men continued alone. Darcy did not like the idea of Anne possibly out alone in the dark. She was his responsibility and he would not risk the chance of her being lost.

  Stumbling heavily over what he thought was a stone, Darcy’s hand, placed before him to break his fall, met with a far more giving surface, one that moaned slightly.

  “She is here! We’ve found her…” he called with relief to where Lizzie stood with the lantern. Casting the dull light about, it revealed the form of Anne, lying face down in the wet grass. Her dress was torn and muddied, hair falling from its once carefully arranged mass of curls.

  Groping in the dark, Nick Keithly and Darcy carefully moved the unconscious woman. Nick, being the larger of the two, easily lifted Anne in his arms, causing her to stir and struggle as if still fighting her assailant.

  “No… no… she slurred through a hazy film that seemed to blur her thoughts and prevent her flailing arms from fending of attack.

  “Anne… Anne…stop resisting… you are safe now,” comforted Lizzie as she stroked Anne’s forehead in an attempt to calm her struggles.

  Relaxing to the sound of a familiar voice, Anne went limp as she once again lost consciousness. “We must get her to the house and find a physician, we shall find Ewan Devlin later” ordered Darcy with barely controlled rage. How dare anyone assault a member of his family? They would pay dearly for their grave mistake.

  *****

  Entering the house through the empty kitchens, Anne was deposited in the care of Elizabeth once they reached the safety of her chamber. Promising to lock the door until he returned, Darcy and Nick Keithly sought Gareth to inform him of the incident. Fortunately, being near midnight, many of the guests were in the process of leaving for their homes. It gave an opportunity to also attempt to discover the whereabouts of Ewan Devlin. Once the last person had said goodnight, Darcy pulled Gareth and Georgiana aside to discuss what had happened to Anne.

  “Oh this is all my fault! I know I should have said something before, but I had hoped it was an isolated incident. I had no idea he would try it again!” wailed Georgiana, who tearfully related Kitty Bennet’s encounter with Ewan Devlin as they went above to determine Anne’s state. Finding her asleep, but with a considerable bruise upon her forehead, Elizabeth closed the door and went into the hall as not to disturb her.

  “She will recover, some bumps and bruises, but nothing worse. Her headache will be all the more severe due to the laudanum she was given. I could smell the almond flavoring on her breath. She does not remember much, only that Ewan had said he wanted to apologize for something. What I cannot fathom… after that, she remembers nothing. I can only say that from the state of her hands and nails, she fought back bravely.”

  Gareth and Georgiana exchanged looks of apprehension that required immediate explanation. Both, in their agitated state, had not realized that their eyes had begun to glow intensely. Seeing Darcy and Elizabeth’s reaction, Nick Keithly volunteered his expertise.

  “Did Miss de Bourgh show any signs of being bitten or scratched deeply?” he asked of Elizabeth.

  “No…not that I noticed. She did have blood on her hands, but it did not appear to be hers. I assume she scratched her attacker, no doubt leaving evidence.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked again. Receiving an affirmative nod, he sighed in relief. Not that becoming like other members of his family was shocking, it was the idea of being forced that was distasteful. Turing to Darcy, he saw the myriad of questions in his eyes.

  “We shall keep watch over her just in case, but it does not sound as if Anne was tainted by her ordeal. My only worry is that many who are deliberately brought across tend to form unusually strong attachments to that person. When it is out of love, it is a wonderful thing… but when it is not…. Well, I would rather not have to think about that unless it is absolutely necessary.”

  Darcy’s face had begun to redden from a slight flush into a full blown rage. It was indeed rare for him to lose his temper at all, but this was simply not to be borne. Turning to Gareth, he swore softly before spe
aking, “When I find him… and I will…I am going to kill Ewan Devlin,” he promised quietly before taking Elizabeth’s arm and returning to their bedchamber.

  Gareth only nodded, Darcy would indeed kill his cousin, but only if he did not do it himself first. With Nick Keithly insisting upon guarding the entrance to Anne’s room for the night, Gareth and Georgiana went in search of Ewan.

  ~Twenty-five~

  Despite being nearly one in the morning, Gareth and Georgiana turned the Polwys upside-down in search of Ewan. Thankfully, Elizabeth had convinced Darcy that he would think clearer in the morning and they had retired for a fitful night of rest. With the staff also asleep, their search had gone unhindered and unnoticed by all but Maris Devlin. Her specter had appeared immediately once Gareth and Georgiana were alone.

  “I tried to stop him…. But I have not gotten strong enough to do anything past making a door slam. Plus, I could not go out into the gardens… something pushed me back. It was almost as if he knew I was there….”

  “No, the fault is mine. He has always gone to extreme measures to get what he wants… but not this time. Where could he be hiding! We have looked everywhere. It is not like him to hide… always so smug, I would have expected him to have confronted me by now, bragging about his exploits.”

  “Perhaps she fought back harder than we think and he is hurt?” suggested Georgiana.

  “Unlikely… I agree with Gareth, he is simply waiting somewhere… “Maris agreed, “but there is one place left… the widows walk… up on the parapet. No one has been up there.”

  *****

  Ewan Devlin had indeed chosen his place of refuge carefully. The parapets had always been his favorite place. Up here, he felt as if a lord, overlooking his kingdom. Only now, as he drank heavily from a bottle of whiskey, it would truly be his. Gingerly touching the deep scratches on his face, he laughed to himself as he thought of how he’d make Anne appear to her family. They would insist upon a hasty marriage. Even if Polwys went to Gareth, he’d have the grand estate of Rosings. Leaning his head back, he looked up at the stars peeking through the fog, the view, combined with the amount of spirits he had consumed, was dizzying. So much so, that he did not hear the faint slide of tower door as it opened.

  “Allow me to do this… he is dangerous and I don’t want you to get hurt,” Gareth begged of Georgiana as they had made their way up the narrow curving stair that led to the rooftop.

  “I want to help…”

  “You have… and will, but not in this,” he replied with a beseeching look to Maris who hovered slightly above them.

  “Yes, Georgiana, this has been a long time in coming. They need to sort it out for themselves. It is best we don’t interfere.”

  Once on the exposed roof, they found Ewan almost asleep, with his back to the door. Motioning for Georgiana to remain close to the door, Gareth approached his cousin by kicking the chair out from under him, knocking him to the cold stones.

  Immediately awake, and ice blue eyes flaring in anger, Ewan rushed at Gareth, swinging the nearly empty whiskey bottle at his head. The sound of glass connecting with bone made a sickening crunch, but it did not stop Gareth. Placing his hands around Ewan’s throat, Gareth began to squeeze, causing the smaller man to spew alcohol tainted spittle in his face. Shaking it off, Gareth stepped back without releasing his hold. Ewan, gasping for breath, kicked his legs in defense, sending them both sprawling to the slippery stone surface. Rolling, Ewan managed to wrap his legs about Gareth and began to slam his head downward. Each contact with solid stone sent a rivet of fear through Georgiana where she stood shaking as she watched. Gareth’s eyes rolled heavenward as he lost consciousness. It was more than she could bear. Looking up at Maris, she made her intentions clear and leapt onto the back of Ewan, digging her teeth solidly into his neck.

  Howling in pain, but being forced to release his hold on Gareth, Ewan turned his aggression on Georgiana. “Both of you dead is definitely more to my liking,” he snarled and arched his back to throw her off. Georgiana, compelled by an energy that she had never known, clung on and bit down again, sending a geyser of blood spurting upwards out of Ewan’s neck. His eyes glowed fiercely for a moment, as the pain surged through him. He was not going to let some little girl best him, and he flung her from him. Leaning back against the crenelated wall, he laughed as he placed a compressing finger over his wound.

  “You won’t win…. I shall have it all. First the old woman, and now Gareth and you… no one will stop me,” he snarled at her. Thinking her stunned by her fall, he nudged her with his booted foot as she stared blankly past him. However, it was not the fear of her imminent death that had held her gaze. It was the sight of Maris, now glowing brightly that held her attention. The formerly hazy spectre was now in full form, rushing forward like a meteor in motion towards her nephew.

  “You… it was you… but never again…” promised the raging light as it pushed full force into Ewan’s body, sending him over the edge of the wall to the courtyard below.

  Staggering to her feet, Georgiana peered cautiously over the edge. Below, crumpled in a heap, lay the broken body of Ewan, surrounded by a fading blue light that slowly went out. He was dead… and Maris was gone. Slumping to the stones in relief, she crawled over to Gareth and cradled his head in her lap. Finding a strong pulse, and comforted by his murmuring of her name, she too lost consciousness.

  *****

  In the months that followed, more events of happiness than sorrow were enjoyed by all. A servant had found the body of Ewan Devlin, early the next morning and had alerted the household, resulting in the discovery of Georgiana and Gareth. After some weeks of recuperation, life began to take a more normal appearance. As the time for the Darcy’s to return to Pemberley drew near, Georgiana sought her brother’s counsel alone in the gardens. She reached out and took his hand in hers, bringing it to her cheek before speaking.

  “You have always been the best of brothers, more than I have ever deserved, but the time for you to care for me is over. I have decided to marry Gareth….”

  She paused, wanting to gage his reaction, but only found him smiling sadly.

  “I suppose you wonder if it is out of love or simply obligation, or perhaps because of my strange experiences,” she added and paused once again. The past few weeks had accelerated the expected changes to her appearance. Her once golden hair, was now completely white. Deep purple rings had encircled the blazing blue of her irises, now glowing faintly in the afternoon shade. A small third incisor had descended to assist her feeding habits, but she chose to conceal it from Darcy. He had been through enough already, and she feared for his sanity.

  “I must truly say it is a combination of things. The only surety is that I belong here… with Gareth. It is as if it was meant to happen… my destiny.”

  Darcy did not speak, he only kissed her forehead. A strange thing indeed, but one that was impossible to argue.

  *****

  Anne de Bourgh, after her share of adventures, was also eager to return home. However, it was with a very different frame of mind. No sign of her being contaminated by Ewan had ever manifested. The only thing that had grown was her affection for one Nicholas Keithly. Her apprehension of introducing him to her mother was relieved by the arrival of Lady Catherine herself.

  Finding a few weeks respite from her daughter, had made the older woman finally realize that she actually missed her companionship. Rosings was far too great a place to be empty. Once acquainted, she took an immediate liking to Nick Keithly and now was of the mind that if not for her timely illness, they would not have met at all. Future visitations to Rosings were in the process of being arranged within days of their meeting. The only dismal element to her unexpected appearance was the additional personage of the Reverend Mr. Collins. His anxious little self constantly fretted over the possibility of demonic beings being in possession of all the residents of Polwys was quite exasperating, even to the most jovial. However, his occupation was put to use in the form of a
n officiator. With all parties in the happiest of agreement, Georgiana and Gareth were joined in matrimony as soon as the banns were posted. Of that formality, Mr. Collins would not waiver, despite being forced to remain in such a frightening place for the duration. He blessed himself that his wife Charlotte, so soon from childbed, had not been able to accompany them. The three week span gave opportunity for Elizabeth Darcy, in conjunction with Anne de Bourgh to plan the most fairytale of weddings for their dearest Georgiana, who made the most beautiful, albeit slightly mystical, bride.

  As the couple’s vows were sealed with a kiss, the casual observer could almost see a faint blue haze hovering over them, bestowing its own blessing before fading away.

  ~Epilogue~

  Two years later….

  Gareth and Georgiana strolled hand in hand through the curving maze of shrubbery that served as Polwys’ gardens. In the years since her marriage, Georgiana had done her best to create some sense of order, but things had a habit of going their own way about the place. It was as if the house had a life of its own.

  Two additional lives had been joyfully added to their existences. One being the arrival of master Everett Devlin, now some six months old and the prize of his parent’s eyes. The child, just as magical in appearance as his sire, now sat on a blanket sucking fiercely upon a freshly butchered leg of hare. It had been a most unusual nursery experience, but one filled with joy.

  The other, addition, was bittersweet. After more than a bit of searching as well as some threats of legal action, and a generous donation, Aunt Evangeline had been released from St. Columba’s asylum. Now nearing seventy, the poor woman had been kept restrained in a cell, devoid of human contact, save one nun to serve her most immediate needs. Dirty and dressed in rags, she had snarled in fright at the sight of Georgiana and Gareth. It had taken some months before she had begun to relax in her new surroundings, barely speaking. It was with the greatest of patience, and being near those who understood her nature, that healing had begun.