Prologue:

Fitzwilliam Darcy glared with determined ice-blue eyes at the red brick town house towering above him. The streets of the small town in Kent were deserted, the faint glow of the lamps throwing ghostly shadows along the tiny alleyways that ran between the houses of the rich and wealthy. Ordinarily, Darcy would've passed by these glitzed up streets without so much as a backwards glance, but now was different. Darcy gathered his wits and walked stealthily towards the elegant brick townhouse that held his sister.

* * *

Georgiana Darcy tried not to whimper as her captor advanced on her, even though everything in her wanted to scream. Screaming would do no good where he was concerned. It would only increase his twisted enjoyment.

With this thought present in her mind, Georgiana glared defiantly at the horrible demon in front of her.

"No need to look so grim, my dear," George Wickham chastised lightly, a slight lisp in his voice. "I'm sure you'll enjoy becoming one of my followers."

Georgiana shuddered and backed up farther against the wall. The edge of a gilded mirror dug into her back beneath the tattered muslin gown she had worn when Wickham had taken her. With a smile that revealed his wickedly sharp teeth, Wickham took another step towards her.

"Get away from her, Wickham," a deep voice said with an icy calm.

Wickham turned from his victim, his smile widening grotesquely.

"Well, hello Darcy," he purred. "What a nice surprise."

Darcy looked at Wickham steadily, his blue eyes resembling glaciers.

"If you're really that surprised to see me, you need to get better at your job, Wickham," he said coolly.

"And what of your job, Darcy?" Wickham asked casually, amusement flashing in his steely grey eyes. "After all, I did manage to kidnap your sister right under your very nose."

Darcy's lips curled in disgust but he kept his cool. His grip tightened on the wooden stake in his hand.

Wickham smirked at the weapon.

"A stake? Only one? For shame, Darcy, don't you know me at all?" he asked smugly.

"I do, actually," Darcy said calmly. Without another word, Darcy lunged, not for Wickham, but for Georgiana. His arms closed around his shivering sister and pulled her close. In one fluid movement, Darcy leapt through the large window in the room. Darcy closed his eyes and tightened his grip on his sister, shielding her from the falling glass and debris. A sharp yank on his ankle pulled his sister out of his grasp and sent Darcy flying back into the room he had tried to flee.

Wickham chuckled derisively and looked down at his rival in contempt.

"Really, Darcy? You thought I could be defeated by that pathetic display?"

Still grimacing from the dent the floor had made in his back, Darcy could only look up at Wickham with unreadable eyes.

Wickham snorted and reached to grab Darcy around the throat.

"You're a fool, Darcy," he hissed.

Darcy smiled wryly.

"Yes," he rasped. "I am. But not for the reasons you're thinking of, Wickham."

Wickham frowned and opened his mouth to retort when a shadow reared up behind him and drove a stake through his side.

Wickham hissed in pain and surprise. He threw Darcy onto the ground and whirled around, catching Colonel James Fitzwilliam in the chest.

James flew backwards into the wooden frame jutting out of the wall, his head slamming into the wood with an audible thwack.

Wickham glared at Darcy, his eyes sparkling with hate.

"This isn't over," he growled, pulling the bloodied stake out of his side.

Wickham turned and leapt from the house, his form shifting into mist as he went.

Darcy gritted his teeth against the pain and disappointment and ran to his cousin's side.

"James," he hissed. "James, are you alright?"

The Colonel nodded, wincing slightly at the throbbing in his head.

"Never better, Fitzwilliam," he said lightly, his voice hoarse.

Darcy shook his head at his cousin's stupidity and knelt to help him up.

"I told you to wait until the target was clearly visible before striking," Darcy said, glancing sternly at his cousin.

James shrugged.

"He would've killed you if I had waited any longer," he said pointedly.

Darcy didn't answer, although he wouldn't have objected if he had died. It would've served him right after what happened.

James, always intuitive, saw through Darcy's silence. He frowned.

"Don't you dare, Darcy," he grumbled. "Georgiana needs you alive, and so do I."

"Georgiana would be perfectly safe in your hands, James," Darcy argued, but he knew he was defeated. No matter what, he needed to be there for Georgiana and James. He was all they had left now.

Darcy sighed again and moved towards the half-opened servants' door.

"Bingley invited me to go with him to Netherfield," he said nonchalantly.

James cast him a side-ways glance, his face twisting into a smile.

"Are you going?" he asked.

"I don't-"

"Fitzwilliam," James said sternly. "Come on, you hardly get out anymore. And besides, what harm could come from visiting Netherfield? It's out in the middle of nowhere in Hertfordshire."

"Which means there really isn't any reason for me to go, now is there?" Darcy protested, shoving open the small door.

"Bingley is one of the only friends you have left, Fitzwilliam," James said quietly. "Don't ruin things with him too. Georgiana and I will be fine for a few months."

Darcy sighed in defeat.

"Fine, James, I'll go," he said wearily.

James grinned triumphantly.

"I win again, Cousin," he said cheerfully.

"You always do, James."

Disclaimer: all rights go to the awesome Jane Austen! Enjoy!