Shadow and Discoveries

Caroline, a mistress of getting her way, acts quickly. She isn't about to allow the country bumpkin to either upstage her or make her look bad. "Mr. Darcy is right, it wasn't polite to joke so. In all honesty, it was meant as a playful remark between friends. Mothers can be so domineering, we all know that."

She walks to Elizabeth and hooks her unresponsive limp arm. "Isn't that right Miss Eliza?" She smiles at the beleaguered Elizabeth, a house guest against a nasty army of one. Caroline continues to gift her with a sweet grin, faker than tinsel paper.

Albeit Elizabeth might feel bad, she doesn't give in an inch. A proud princess holding her own, even when under attack. She doesn't even look at the Orange Offender. I want to applaud.

At her lack of response, Miss Bingley goes back to her seat, sits, and huffs.

Luisa rolls her eyes. Hurst makes a disagreeable sound, clearly displeased. He now expresses his contempt whenever his sister misbehaves. I shake my head and clench my jaw.

"Whatever was said is forgiven, let us sit." Elizabeth offers conciliatory, although I can sense it is far from the truth. So, hear what others cannot. Far from forgiving her, I hear, 'I wish that the ugly turban would reveal her unbecoming orange hair. Her condescending ways need correction, oh how I wish.' Those were Elizabeth's thoughts.

Indeed, I can hear her thoughts, they are loud and angry, and I am in full agreement.

Let's give her a small wish, Shadow urges me. It is tempting; thus I move my hand slightly to point in the right direction straight at Caroline's head. I look with amusement how the end of her turban starts to unravel. Shadow snickers, Faster, he urges.

Unfortunately, for me, Caroline notices much too quickly and proficiently sets the hairpins. No, to do more is risky.

Finally, I decide to distract her. After a brief while, Elizabeth scratches her ear after hearing a buzzing inside. She looks around for a bug and catches me looking at her; staring is better said.

"I am reading a fascinating discourse about raising honey bees. I must say that I find the small fiends rather enchanting, so charming, yet their bite should be feared. Their beauty disguises their sharp sting!" I tell her as if to explain my stare.

Elizabeth looks at me queerly, "Is there a bee here, did you see or hear one?" She looks around trying to find the little menace.

I nearly burst out laughing; she believes that a bee is the source of the buzzing inside her ear. I'm playing pranks unworthy of me, but so enjoyable. Those who see me as proud Mr. Darcy have no idea that I love practical jokes. Just ask my cousins.

To my deep annoyance, Caroline stands and screams theatrically, "Someone, kill it, quickly, I am wrought with fear. Louisa, you must remember how I nearly died the last time a bee bit me."

She concludes and dramatically lowers her voice. Hmm, surely all her acting is for my benefit.

Louisa shrugs her shoulders and mumbles, " I remember no such thing." Caroline sends a venomous look her way and sits down. By now, she must realize the futility of her acting; after all what is the sense when nobody pays any attention?

Now that she is quiet I look at Elizabeth whose eyes are narrowed in distrust.

"I didn't say a bee was here," I am unable to hide my amusement, "it is much too cold for them. I want honey bees at Pemberley," and point at the book.

"If you must know, while I read about them, I was reminded of one of the ladies of my acquaintance," my grin is widening as I look directly at my quarry, "I expect when pushed too far, her sting would be most painful. I would very much enjoy being around when it happens."

Charles looks at me as if I have gone daft. Elizabeth's cheeks redden, probably wondering why she has heard a bee buzzing? The reference had been directed to her as if I knew about her problem.

She frowns with her eyes half closed; she is looking at me, and I have to try not to grin.

Oh, yes, I can tell that she wonders because her eyebrow raises, her eyes darken with suspicion, and she holds her lips a little too tight.

Caroline is talking, again, Lord have mercy, "Charles, you should read more and learn instead of playing all day long. If you are to be a landowner there is much that you will need to do, maybe raising bees, don't you agree Mr. Darcy?"

Caroline flutters her eyelashes for my benefit. She should start doing things because she wants to, such a bore and needs correction. If only she were brought down a peg or two, she might attract someone, just not me.

I ignore her and close my eyes. I want to reach inside Elizabeth's mind, "Darcy, do you want to ride before it gets dark? "

Bingley is next to demand my attention, goodness. "No, you go on, I do have a headache." A headache caused by all the chatter around me.

"I think there is a bit of a draft here, aggravating the pain," I look at Elizabeth hoping to be invited to sit next to her. After all, Elizabeth is the only one seated away from a window, on a small couch; besides, she has exquisite manners, and I hope to benefit from them.

"Mr. Darcy, please sit here, in a few minutes you will have this seat to yourself. I shall go to visit Jane in a short while."

The words are forced as if she is making an effort to be civil, a sign of a true lady. I smile inwardly, I was right.

Blood

Elizabeth disliked the disagreeable, conceited, proud, and rude man; nevertheless, there was something about Mr. Darcy that pulled her to him, much to her concern. He had been teasing her, maybe he was a ventriloquist, She'd read about them.

He moved next to her carrying several hefty tomes. His expensive cologne reached her nose, and she could better appreciate the sheen of his fancy woolen coat and his masculine presence. He was rather tall, and the small couch was perhaps too small for the two of them.

Her nearness acted like dry kindle was thrown into an already roaring fire, causing a flood of boiling desire to flow along his body, making it shudder.

"Are you well," Elizabeth asked softly, not wanting to call Miss Bingley' attention.

He turned his head, "Just a chill," his voice was raspy.

Closer, sit closer, I want to smell her delicious fragrance, Shadow urged, but he ignored the compelling voice and his own need.

Elizabeth raised her eyes from the embroidery and all changed in one second.

"Ouch," she exclaimed, for not paying attention she had nicked her hand while cutting the silk floss with a small sharp knife. The cut was deep enough to bleed on her dress, and she frantically searched for a handkerchief while she held her injured hand to her mouth.

Darcy froze, her blood mesmerized him. Furthermore, her lips upon it made him harder than ever, thus clouding his judgment. He could only hear Shadow's roar inside him, prompting him, We must taste, OURS!

No longer aware of his actions, driven by pure instinct, and for the first time in front of witnesses, he acted upon his desires. The next thing he did, made Caroline gasp, "Mr. Darcy, that is quite unsanitary." She screamed quite loud and raised a hand to cover her mouth.

Inadvertently, he had reached, as in a trance, taken her hand from her mouth and brought it to his. A shadow obscured his actions from there on, thus Caroline only saw his finger placed over the cut, as he raised it close to his mouth, but she didn't see his lips over the bleeding wound.

Elizabeth, already overcome by shock, was petrified at the feel of a warm tongue lapping the flowing blood. Instead of protesting or reacting, she just sat there enveloped by a strange bliss. It was a sensation of not being alone, an inexplicable communion with someone unknown, deep inside her mind; hence, she forgot the moment and just lived for that instant.

Darcy's world imploded. It was only him and her. His saliva increased the blood flow, each drop fed his desire to a frenzy. His hand moved towards her. He was about to start loving her in front of everyone.

They were being observed by unseen eyes. They had been for a while. Something needed to happen before this day turned into an irreparable disaster.

"Mr. Darcy, you must stop at once. It is shocking!" Her voice was now loud enough to raise the dead.

At Caroline's booming recrimination, Darcy blinked, slowly regaining self-control. As fate, or whatever, should have it, several loud yips, and yaps filled the air, breaking the oppressive silence surrounding the room.

Any observer could have seen the occupants sitting with their eyes fixed upon Darcy, whose actions had managed to render the entire room speechless. Charles, the Hurst, Caroline all watching. Not all disgusted, because Hurst somehow admired Darcy's boldness.

Bad Dogs

At once the explosion of noise and movement entering the room, switched the attention's focus to three catapulting fur balls, jumping on top of their chosen humans.

To Caroline's profound repugnance, Mucky had chosen her. Darcy's small terrier had developed a tender spot for Miss Bingley. He was completely enamored with the multiple plumages that she often displayed as adornments.

Being partial to fowl game, Mucky believed her to be a great huntress (how else could she had hunted such portentous birds?), hence worthy of his altogether misguided affections. He dreamed of the day that she would be his mistress at Pemberley.

The dogs had just come from the muddy grounds. On their wake, they covered the floor, rugs, and wherever they trampled, with chunks of mud, stones, assorted twigs, and leaves. It was rather obvious, their underbelly and paws were covered with the great outdoors.

Caroline was no exception, she now wore whatever stuck to Mucky's underside.

"My dress is ruined, get away from me, you filthy mongrel," Caroline was still screeching when a harried footman, one in Darcy's employment came into the room to collect the miscreants.

The room was loud, filled with laughter at Caroline's futile efforts, to push Mucky away from her with a delicate fan, not wanting to touch his grubby fur.

The terrier undeterred by her puny labors continued to climb her body. Mucky was set on a quest to remove his coveted prize, the large orange feather adorning her hair.

He had nearly succeeded in retrieving the feather when Jonathan, the burly young footman, who wore a kilt, caught Mucky. At that moment he stood on Miss Bingley's bosom, pulling his prize feather. He had to be careful not to touch the Miss since the terrier was using her breast as a ladder of sorts.

Once he had the offender, he had to pry his mouth open so he would let go of the chewed up ruined feather.

"Sorry, so sorry Mad'm, they snuck thru me legs, so sorry..." He apologized profusely, his lips straining with the effort not to join the laughter; nobody liked the haughty Miss, and, well, she had it coming.

This incident would make for good laughter later on. Targus who was interested in the Miss would particularly like this story; mostly because it involved her bosoms.

Meanwhile, the other two dogs sat by Darcy's foot, properly chastised and humbly accepting Elizabeth's caresses. They both were sweet on Elizabeth.

As for Elizabeth, she seemed to have forgotten her recent injury, which no longer bled. Though she didn't like Mr. Darcy, she absolutely adored the misbehaved dogs.

Her eyes shone with mischief and a bit of glee, rejoicing at the unexpected punishment delivered by the naughty dog, and her infectious laughter was shared by most of the occupants, but for Darcy and Caroline.

Even the footmen, cleaning the mess, smiled surreptitiously at Miss Bingley's state of disarray; she looked as if she had been rolling outside with the dogs.

Caroline had not yet moved and sat in place moaning and groaning in her ruined frock. She was adorned with a skewed feather that no longer stood straight on the turban around her head.

As for Darcy, he was busy at work. He was applying his hindered abilities, in hopes to erase his friends' short-term memories of his careless indiscretion.

It shouldn't be difficult if he weren't battling the dizziness. The one brought about by the reaction to Elizabeth's blood exquisite flavor. It still lingered in his mouth and fed his desire to take her in his arms, away from the room. Had his control not been so strong, he would have allowed Shadow to take her to a private place.

The small trickle of blood had made both he and his beast, giddy with delight and lust. Shadow wanted to be in control; never mind that Darcy's mind reeled at the unexpected and impossible discovery he had just made. He couldn't think straight.

As for Elizabeth, she retained the event's memory and would later ponder whether or not she had imagined the incident; after all, nobody else seemed to remember it, not even Miss Bingley.

If it were true then why was Mr. Darcy as chilly as ever, for the rest of the evening?

No surprise there, she thought bitterly, what else could I expect from His Majesty when he feels that I am a mere country peasant, a milkmaid.

She wasn't altogether certain why it hurt so. She scratched the beauty mark over her brow, it had been itching like crazy. It'd started just a while back; it was as annoying as Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy, why do you hold me in such low regard? She wanted to ask him.

Shadow Time

She was wrong of course, because that same evening, a tall lone figure made of shadows, smoke, and stone, stood by the young woman's bed. From the side, some would think that he was an angel, but in closer examination, a demon came to mind.

He had never done this before as an adult. Of course, when he was younger, he had snuck into other's rooms, but it was in jest, to play pranks. He had a playful nature when around his cousins but was reserved with others. Thus, this was a first.

His handsome face was not quite human but even more arresting in its perfection. His beauty was neither lessened by his teeth ending in sharp points, nor by two small protuberances, made of translucent ivory, growing from above his forehead.

Pick, the youngest of the terrier pack laid his head over Elizabeth's foot and stared at the figure of his master, who had put him in charge of guarding the mistress.

His young master seemed forlorn; maybe he should try to lie down by Elizabeth's leg. She smelled fine, and besides being a nice human, her body was warm and comfortable. He wondered why his master couldn't see past her outside cover. The mistress was so perfect, why did she hide so much behind the shell? It would be so lovely if they could really play with her.

He wished to stay with her forever but was sure he wouldn't be allowed, oh well, perhaps she would become the master's wife, one could dream.

Shadow Darcy - The Night Visitor

As I stand to look at her, I cannot stop my amazement. My earlier discovery has thrown my mind into complete disarray. I wish I could, but I cannot trust anyone with my findings. I have no doubts that I am right.

I am absolutely convinced because my superb senses couldn't be wrong earlier today. They are intrinsic to my nature, to what I am. My senses never lie; they are one of my gifts.

Early on in life, I learned to differentiate between the nuances of blood flavors and its origins; it must have started during fistfights and squabbles with my cousins and Wickham.

Instinctively, I used to lick the blood spilled by others after our childhood disagreements, or while playing rough; it never failed to invigorate and made me feel great.

Yes, boys are ruffians, ready to test their strength and declare their superiority over a band of young bulls. We, males, naturally power thirsty, always seeking dominion and in the quest to rule other males around us, and I was no different, and blood was often spilled. Since most of us shared my strange behavior; it seemed quite natural to me.

It wasn't until later when I learned why I liked the taste of blood in my tongue; however, by that time I was able to quickly tell that my cousins' blood tasted different from George's and so on. At the same time, I was also told to never take blood from anyone in mixed company; or, better said around those outside our close circle, others like us. It is not only forbidden but also punishable because it threatens our secrecy.

The most significant difference in the types of blood I have consumed is that human blood lacks the aftertaste of n'amn, a spice not grown in this world, and carefully stored and hidden from human eyes. Its flavor is indescribable and can never be compared to anything else. Depending on the concentration, one of its effects is to make us see potent hallucinations of future events relevant to us.

Early that day when I tasted her blood, the strong taste of n'amn overwhelmed me, and instead of hallucinations or what not, I saw her standing in front of me, beckoning me to take my pleasure.

What scared me the most was her eyes, which were larger than other eyes, plus their color, shape, and form, were nothing that I had seen before. Her eyes were colorless with a rim of dark blue; her hair cascades of wheat colored waves, flowing in a strong wind and gleaming with hints of summer blooms, not human hair but crystalline locks. They reflected yellows, purples, reds, and pinks. It wasn't possible, or was it? Was it perhaps a hallucination?

What is going on? If I tasted n'amn, it means that Elizabeth isn't human, no one drop of her blood is.

A/n If you read my previous posting of this story, this version contains many changes. Although the changes are mostly in the format, the plot is somewhat modified.