Thanks to alix33 for flagging more of those pesky apostrophes. If I had to think of them, I'd get them right. There are down sides to autocorrect :(

Suggestions for the title of Chapter 37 were:

"Teaming and Scheming" by Chica de Los Ojas,

"Tales in the Crypt" by Deanna27,

"A cryptic encounter" by Laure Saint-Yves,

"Shelter from the Storm" by nanciellen,

"Dead and Undead," and "Lingering Injuries" by Windchimed,

"On A Slow Road", "Much Brooding,", "Much brewing",

"Tea for Two and Two for Tea", "Among the Dead" by beaty,

There were number of good ones there including "Tales in the Crypt" by Deanna27, "Shelter from the Storm" by nanciellen, and "Much brewing" by beaty.

My favourite was "A cryptic encounter", as first suggested, by Laure Saint-Yves,

Chapter 38 Midnight Bell

Having reached their agreement, Darcy and Elizabeth reverted to small talk* as they finished their tea. The rain continued to pour down outside, occasionally lashing against the stained glass window. Elizabeth was truly grateful to be inside. But finally she coughed and Darcy noticed her wet shoes.

"You really should take off your boots," he observed. "We can set them by the stove. Here! I have a spare pair of stockings in the pocket of my great coat."

Elizabeth had to admit her feet were feeling like two cold stone blocks attached to her legs. She knew what her aunt would have to say about that. "Do you always carry a spare pair of stockings?" she enquired solicitously.

"Finn looks after me a little too well," responded Darcy before noticing the twitch at the corner of Elizabeth's lips. "I believe you are teasing me. Do you think it unmanly to carry spare stockings?"

"Oh, no!" averred Elizabeth. "I praise your valet's forethought. But if you do not like being teased I think you should reconsider your choice of sweetheart," she ended with a smile.

"I think I can stand a bit of teasing," Darcy returned, smiling back.

Elizabeth had a little difficulty undoing the shrunken, wet leather laces. After eventually prising the first double knot undone, she withdrew her wet and stained stockinged foot from the boot only to become uncomfortably aware that Mr Darcy was staring at it. Her foot disappeared quickly beneath her skirts.

"I beg your pardon," said Darcy, turning slightly to the side and tilting his head up to stare fixedly at the ceiling.

"These are my favourite walking boots," explained Elizabeth, embarrassed by the grubby stockings which the damp had stained near the toe. She turned her body to the wall so that she might untie her garter to roll her stocking down.

"Walking is a very healthful exercise," observed Darcy, who had noted merely how the wet stocking had clung to her dainty and shapely foot.

The borrowed stockings were ridiculously large but thankfully dry. Having effected the change, Elizabeth turned back towards Darcy and drew her feet up under her skirts onto the seat of the chair, to encourage their thawing.

Darcy searched his mind desperately for a conversational gambit. He discarded a query on the health of Elizabeth's family as possibly impertinent, concluding it might be viewed as an attempt to discover Lydia's condition. "I hope your aunt and uncle are well?" he finally ventured.

"Yes."

"And Mrs Collins' sister?"

"Mariah? Yes, she has recovered completely. I feel very humbled that it is I who have remained invalidish—I always prided myself on my regular exercise."

"You were unlucky to get an infection. Perhaps you also inhaled more smoke than Mariah during your exertions to save her. I don't know if you remember, but you fought me off at the window of the parsonage; would not let me save you until I had extracted Mariah."

"I remember," said Elizabeth as one of her half-forgotten memories resolved on his words. "After I realised the parsonage was on fire, I remember trying to wake her. She was quite determined not to get up. I suppose the smoke had affected her, as it did me. It makes you feel lethargic, saps your will away. I do not know if I would have woken without Misty. She scratched me."

"Was that the name of Charlotte's cat?"

"Yes. She was a very smart cat. I miss her. Charlotte gave me one of her kittens. She is already queen of the barn at Longbourn, a great mouser*. The milkmaids make a great fuss of her."

Darcy smiled sadly, remembering how the cat had stood sentinel on his many midnight visits to the parsonage.

"Thank you again for rescuing me," continued Elizabeth. "I do not know what I would have done if you had not been at hand. Charlotte was so upset that I had come to harm when I was staying with her. She was sure she had checked the servant had made everything safe and tidy in the kitchen."

Again Darcy felt the terrible guilt of being hailed as Elizabeth's saviour when he had contributed to the whole horrible mess—in not dealing decisively with Wickham earlier; in not watching him more closely. He bit his lip and frowned. "Your uncle did not tell you then?"

"Tell me what?"

"George Wickham was responsible for the fire at the parsonage."

"George?" repeated Lizzy incredulously. "He could not have been! He was in Brighton at the time!"

"No, he was at Rosings. He came there to extort more money from me. He had his friend Denny—one of the ensigns—set the fire. Denny died in the flames."

Lizzy went pale and shook her head. Despite his poor character, she had thought Lieutenant Wickham her friend, and Denny too. "Why would they do such a thing?" she asked weakly.

"George thought I had reneged on my agreement to cover his debts and purchase a commission in a proper regiment for him. He hoped to apply a little more pressure on me."

"But to raze the parsonage and thereby kill his own friend? It seems incredible!"

"I do not think he intended to kill Denny or even you. Likely something went wrong. Maybe the fire burnt more avidly then they intended and Denny got trapped. I do not know. I do not think George had a murderous character. He was just always very careless of everyone's welfare; even his own. He did not weigh risks very well."

"How is it that I heard nothing of this?" asked Lizzy in bewilderment.

"I hid the truth even from my aunt," admitted Darcy. "If she had discovered the parsonage was deliberately torched, she would not have been satisfied till she saw the perpetrator swinging from a hangman's noose. I had good reasons for tidying the matter up quietly myself.

"Unfortunately, George complicated things by running off with Lydia. Richard told me the full story afterwards. After the parsonage burnt down, George absconded—went back to Brighton as if nothing had happened. But Colonel Forster was having none of it. George had gone off with Denny to London as a courier but returned alone. Apparently George had told some cock and bull tale* of Denny's having gone off on a spree in London from which he did not return. Colonel Forster thought it very out of character for Denny whose mother was reliant on his income. The colonel had George thrown in the lock-up until Denny turned up. Of course, George knew that was never going to happen, so he enlisted Lydia's help."

"Ah!" said Elizabeth sadly. "That makes much more sense than Lydia's tale that George had fallen madly in love with her. He had never showed more than a passing interest in her in Hertfordshire and Lydia seemed a poor choice in view of his previous preference for heiresses."

"Exactly," confirmed Darcy.

"Oh, Lydia!" sighed Elizabeth. "And poor Mrs Denny! She has lost her son and his income and will never know what became of him."

"I did what I could to redress that by offering her a pension," said Darcy guiltily.

"Oh, how good of you! But did she not think that a little strange? How did you explain your involvement?"

"In much the same way I explained it to your uncle—that Wickham was my father's godson. It was all arranged through the agency of Colonel Forster."

"Was Denny the only son?"

"The only child."

"How terrible," said Elizabeth shuddering.

"He might have been killed in the war," offered Darcy.

"At least Mrs Denny would have had the comfort of knowing he died with honour if that was so. But this—she will always hold out the hope that her son might walk back in the door."

Darcy acknowledged this was likely true with a nod. Before he could pursue the conversation further, a noise was heard in the outer crypt and a footman appeared at the inner door carrying an umbrella. He stopped suddenly with a look of surprise on his face on finding that Darcy was not alone. It was Fletcher.

"I beg your pardon, sir. Mrs Reynolds sent me down," said the footman. "She wants you to come back to the manor house for tea."

Darcy sighed. "This," he said turning to Elizabeth with some irony, "is the problem with old family retainers. They think they are better attuned to family values and tradition than you are."

Elizabeth smiled sympathetically.

"Very well, Fletcher," said Darcy. "This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet who is visiting for the day. She got caught in the rain. I believe her relatives may be taking refuge in the nearby gardener's hut."

Arrangements were soon made for the whole party's transferral to Darcy's carriage, which was waiting nearby. At Darcy's insistence, Fletcher was entrusted with Elizabeth's boots and the umbrella while Elizabeth had to suffer to be carried by Darcy—so that she might not get the feet of his stockings dirty or wet. Rather than have an argument in front of the footman, Elizabeth submitted to this arrangement but she fully intended to take Darcy to task later for his high-handed ways.

But Lizzy could not deny that she felt safe in his strong arms, not threatened, as they exited the crypt. She felt she was being carried by a gentleman, not a vampire. As Darcy walked briskly along the portico, she relaxed upon recognising the delicious scent of him, which she remembered from the night of the Netherfield ball. She acknowledged a momentary stab of panic when they reached the steps down from the portico, for when Darcy swung her slightly to one side, she realised his eyes were closed behind the dark glasses he had perched on his nose before picking her up. She let out a sigh of relief when he navigated the steps safely in the wet. A moment later they were at the carriage door and she stepped straight from his arms into the interior.

After a short stop during which Elizabeth gazed in a slightly embarrassed fashion at the carriage's black velvet curtains and leather squabs while Darcy held her gloved hand, they were soon joined by Mrs Gardiner and Jane who had been ferried to the carriage under Fletcher's umbrella. Elizabeth's hand was discreetly released on their advent. Mr Gardiner followed soon after.

"Well, this is an adventure!" laughed Mr Gardiner as they arranged themselves inside.

"So much for a fine day!" observed Elizabeth dryly.

Having missed their tour of the manor house entirely, the Gardiners took tea in the salon with what would have been their tour group and their obliging host. Mr Darcy managed to satisfy Mrs Reynolds' notion of his duty to the tourists by conversing with a few of them, but he spent most of his time orbiting Elizabeth and her family. Mr and Mrs Gardiner were highly gratified, not only by their rescue from the gardener's shed but the obvious attention being shown to their niece.

Finally the last of the scones were gone and the visitors began to drift out in groups. The remaining stragglers, which included a garrulous woman bent on praising the housekeeper in a slightly condescending manner, were escorted to the door by Mrs Reynolds. Feeling obliged to leave likewise, Mr Gardiner opened his mouth to bid his host goodbye but Darcy raised his hand to silence him while he waited for the other tourists to exit the room.

"Mr Gardiner, I do apologise for the poor weather," Darcy said. "You cannot leave without taking your tour of the house..."

Mr Gardiner exchanged a glance with his wife and saw encouragement there. "Why, thank you, Mr Darcy. We would be delighted!"

Darcy allowed Mrs Reynolds to conduct the bulk of the private tour, only adding a word or two here and there to point out views or objects he thought might be of special interest to his visitors. Elizabeth was delighted at the interior of the manor house. It was grand and richly furnished but not ostentatiously so. It had less of the grandeur and pomp of Rosings and more the feel of a home, despite its large rooms and grand staircase. She was also thankful that Darcy kept to his promise of not singling her out. He treated both her and Jane with a flattering deference, so that an outside observer might have assumed that either of the sisters might be the object of his attention or that they were merely esteemed friends. His manner was still slightly stiff and awkward but it was rendered less so by his visitors who all talked amiably and easily.

After touring the other public rooms they arrived in the library, much to Elizabeth's delight. It was awe inspiring. She looked about at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and the coffered ceiling, which Mrs Reynolds related had been preserved from the great hall of the original Elizabethan manor house. On Elizabeth's query, Darcy explained the arrangement of the books, showing Jane the shelves of poetry and Elizabeth the books of natural philosophy.

"Your father would be right at home here, Elizabeth!" commented Mr Gardiner before his wife tweaked his finger for perhaps going too far, whereupon he belatedly added: "being the great scholar that he is."

The faux pas seemed to go unnoticed by Darcy who, after seeing Elizabeth select a book from the shelves to peruse it, withdrew to talk quietly to his housekeeper in an undertone. Understanding that they might yet be encouraged to take more tea or even—God willing—be invited to dinner, the Gardiners made a stellar effort to appear interested in the book Elizabeth had selected, a collection of papers on theories of heat transfer. Having chosen it on the basis of its beautiful binding and the fact it had protruded slightly from its fellows on the shelf, Lizzy felt obliged to take some intelligent interest in it.

Soon Mr Darcy returned from his hasty conference. "Mr Gardiner, I am soon to entertain some friends of mine who are known to Jane and Elizabeth—Mr Bingley and his sisters. They are visiting for two weeks on their way to Yorkshire. I was wondering if you and your nieces would care to join us for the remainder of your stay in Derbyshire? If you like fishing, I can promise you some excellent sport."

This was far more than Mr Gardiner had expected and on turning to his wife, he discovered her uncharacteristically opening and closing her mouth like a fish. He was the first to recover.

"Well! We would be delighted! Wouldn't we, Madeleine? What say you, Jane? I expect you would be glad to see Mr Bingley and his sisters again?"

This, as Mr Gardiner well knew, was the understatement of the century.

"Oh, yes!" said Jane politely, but without showing any unbecoming enthusiasm. "That would be very nice." Inwardly, she was almost ready to faint with delight.

"Excellent!" said Darcy. "Then perhaps we could have a nuncheon* before you depart to retrieve your luggage?"

Mrs Reynolds hurried off, returning with a footman and a maid in a matter of twenty minutes, bearing trays of cheese, fruit and roast beef sandwiches as well as another pot of tea. It was towards the end of this repast that Mrs Gardiner indicated to her husband that they should soon be off if they were to return before nightfall. When Jane and Elizabeth got up to follow, Mrs Gardiner suggested there was no need for her nieces to accompany them if they wished to remain at Pemberley, for she was quite capable of packing up all their effects. It remained only for Darcy to offer his carriage for the return journey—for the hired barouche, with its leather top, had scant room for several trunks.

The entire party went out to the portico to wave the Gardiners off. They discovered on arriving there that it had stopped raining. Nonetheless the coachman had put the top of the barouche up to keep the interior dry during the previous downpour. This had the added benefit of allowing Mr and Mrs Gardiner private speech.

"Well!" said Mr Gardiner once they were safely ensconced inside and on their way. "Things could not have worked out better!"

"And did you notice?" asked Mrs Gardiner. "Lizzy was not resolutely ignoring him as she did in Kent. Do you think it is possible they came to some agreement in the folly?"

"I certainly hope so," said Mr Gardiner. "And to think! You were initially so annoyed with Lizzy when she ran off in the rain!" he chortled.

Mrs Gardiner merely smiled. She hoped that forwarding one niece's interests was not going to set the other one back.

The three bedchambers the Gardiner party were shown to on Mr and Mrs Gardiner's return were on the second floor, directly above the Darcy family bedchambers. These rooms had originally been intended for the Bingleys' occupation and thus required minimal preparation. The ceilings were not so high as those of the family bedchambers on the floor below but they were still furnished in the first style of elegance. In the revised arrangements, Darcy had asked Mrs Reynolds to prepare three additional bedchambers further along the first floor in the west wing—very grand rooms that were occasionally occupied by Darcy's aunt or uncle, more usually the former, for the earl did not often frequent his native shire. Things might get complicated if Lady Matlock decided to accompany Georgie when she returned on the morrow but Darcy did not think this likely—his aunt was generally very busy with estate management during her short stays at the Matlock country seat. The countess preferred dwelling in London or her smaller inherited home in Hampstead.

They all dressed to go down to dinner, which comprised of a roast, fish and vegetables, accompanied by a leek soup—in short the type of food that Elizabeth was used to at Longbourn, served in much the same manner of elegance without ostentation. There were none of the ragouts of Netherfield or gold plate and turtle soup* of Rosings. The only thing that set the meal apart from the food Lizzy typically enjoyed at Longbourn was the dessert—for in addition to the syllubub and the hedgehog*, there were plates of fresh cut fruit piled high around the top of a pineapple, which Elizabeth had never seen before. Its fruit was delicious. The Darcy estate clearly boasted a succession house.

The gentlemen did not dwell long over their wine and the party passed a pleasant evening in the salon. Jane played the

pianoforte, and Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner sang. They all admired a beautiful harp which nobody could play, not even the absent Georgiana—for it had belonged to Darcy's mother. Finally, Mrs Gardiner, not wishing to overtax their host, let out a faux yawn and declared herself ready to retire. The party broke up. Darcy surreptitiously drew a slip of paper from his waistcoat and palmed it, hoping to unobtrusively pass it to Elizabeth as she stood up, but there was no chance; her relatives clustered around her. After arranging a log on the fire so that it would not roll out of the hearth, Darcy took a branch of candles to light his visitors up the stairs. They reached the landing, bid each other goodnight, and parted. At the last moment Darcy saw his opportunity. Elizabeth lagged slightly to allow her sister to go before her on the stairs. She turned back to give him a parting glance. Her lips opened slightly in surprise as his ungloved hand touched hers. Then he felt her hand brush the folded note; her eyes registered his intention and the slip of paper passed unobtrusively from hand to hand. With a last imploring look directed at her, Darcy turned and retreated down the hallway.

The Gardiner party reached the top of the stairs. The first room had been allotted to Elizabeth and, after assuring Jane she would not be long, she slipped inside to retrieve her nightgown from her trunk. She found a candle burning on the bedside commode and unfolded the paper before it. A wave of indignation passed over her. It said simply:

As suggested, I will meet you at midnight,

Fitzwilliam

What did he mean, 'as suggested'. No permission had been sought, nor any meeting place indicated. Presumably he intended to creep up to her bedchamber. She looked at the pretty carriage clock on the mantel, it was just past ten thirty. Lizzy did not think it becoming to meet Darcy in her nightgown, so she simply pulled her wrap over her day gown and crept along to her sister's bedchamber to tell her of her revised plans. Jane seemed not much surprised at the change, agreeing the bedchambers were so beautiful that they should enjoy the luxury of their isolation.

It was Lizzy's intention to stay awake by reading a book. After the Gardiners had departed to retrieve their luggage, Darcy had led the Bennet sisters back to the library where he encouraged them to select a book of poetry or a novel for their entertainment. Elizabeth was rather surprised to discover that Pemberley's library boasted a large collection of Gothic romances, which Darcy hastily disclaimed ownership of.

"They are Georgiana's," he had explained. "My efforts to steer her towards books with less florid language and more respectable stories, like Mrs Burney's, have been to no avail. I blame my aunt for introducing her to them."

Jane had then very dutifully selected a volume of poetry but Lizzy had not been swayed by their host's disdain. There were several titles she had never had the opportunity to read before.

Lizzy lay down on the counterpane, retrieved The Midnight Bell by H D Symonds and opened the covers.

When she next opened her eyes it was to discover a tall figure looming over her. She gasped in fright and quickly scrambled upright on the bed only to recognise Darcy, fully kitted in his black garb.

"I beg your pardon," he whispered. "I did not mean to startle you. You had fallen asleep."

"I'm sorry," replied Elizabeth; "the late hour and the exertions of the day took their toll. Is it midnight already?"

"Yes. I did wonder if you would be up to it, but it was your suggestion."

"My suggestion?" repeated Lizzy incredulously.

"Was your selection of that novel not a signal?" Darcy asked.

Lizzy looked at the novel and laughed. "Oh! The Midnight Bell! When did you train as a spy?"

"I think I would make a pretty good spy—a nighttime one anyway. It was a favourite game of Richard's and mine. I am well versed in skip codes and invisible ink."

"Oh, well you will have to enlighten me. I spent my childhood making daisy chains."

"Would you like to talk here or on the roof?" asked Darcy. "It is a beautiful moonlit night."

"The roof sounds nice," replied Lizzy. "Then we need not worry about waking Jane. Just let me change my slippers for some more appropriate shoes."

On Darcy's advice, Lizzy pulled on some low-heeled kid boots. He then caused her considerable consternation when he headed for the window. Elizabeth finally noticed that the casement was flung wide.

"Did you come in that way? I left the door open for you. You surely don't expect me to climb out a second floor window with you?"

Darcy stopped at the sill. "Firstly, young ladies should not leave their bedchamber doors unlocked. Secondly, you can climb on my back, just like you did at Netherfield."

Lizzy stuck her head out the window to look dubiously at the ground below and shuddered.

"I suppose we could wander the corridors to run into your relatives or the servants," observed Darcy. "I thought you asked for discretion? Don't you trust me? All you have to do is hold on."

"Very well," said Lizzy after a moment's hesitation.

After quickly locking the door so her bedchamber would not be discovered empty, Darcy knelt down and Lizzy climbed on his back, holding his neck and twisting her legs around his torso on his suggestion. In a flash he was out the window and scaling the outside wall, grasping the gaps between the sandstone blocks with his fingers. She knew a moment of panic when he tilted her backward slightly as he climbed onto the roof, but it was over in a single hard beat of her heart. As he set her down, Lizzy saw they were on a flat portion of the roof behind a balustrade.

She turned around. "Oh, it is beautiful!" she exclaimed, viewing the wooded hills extending into the distance in the moonlight.

Darcy stood close and proceeded to point out Pemberley's boundaries, bringing his head close to hers and pointing over her shoulder. Her nearness was intoxicating. His flesh still tingled where her legs had wrapped around him, where she had scored slight indentations in his neck on reflexively grasping him in fright as they reached the roof. He felt an almost overwhelming desire to kiss her but he stood and pointed instead. Soon he could think of nothing more to show her and regretfully stepped away.

"I have a chair," he said, opening a door in a gable behind them.

He pulled a leather armchair out of a small room in the roof. Lizzy recognised it as matching the one in the crypt.

"Please sit," he urged her.

"No, no," said Lizzy. "If you have another milking stool or crate, I can sit on that. I will not rob you of your chair a second time."

Darcy hesitated. "Since we are courting, would you consent to sit on my lap?"

Elizabeth thought this very forward of him, but then recalled that the Ton were more permissive in courting. "Very well," she conceded.

Darcy seated himself and held out his arms. Lizzy sat down gingerly on his knees. This was not entirely what Darcy had hoped for but he resigned himself to a cup half full and rested his hands on the arms of the chair. He saw her relax slightly. There was a moment's awkwardness while each waited for the other to speak first.

"Tell me about yourself," said Lizzy.

"Well, there has been a Darcy on these lands since the twelfth century. We had a barony once but it was taken away by the Tudors and never restored. Nonetheless, we kept part of our land and the Fitzwilliams helped us reclaim most of what had originally been ours later. We have been great allies for centuries. My family have mostly been content to stay here farming in Derbyshire. The Fitzwilliams have always been more ambitious. They lost and regained their earldom twice and have always been close to the circles of power."

"This house does not look very old. What happened to the original manor house?"

"One wing of it burned down thirty-five years ago. My grandfather died fighting the blaze. My father originally intended to repair it but he was wooing my mother at the time. Grandfather Fitzwilliam—the eighth earl—wasn't keen on the match. There were far more advantageous matches he was eyeing for my mother, who was his second eldest daughter. So my father decided instead to build this house with money he had made from the new industries he had invested in—in the mines and in Sheffield. It is a far grander house than Ebsworth castle—the Matlock stronghold. Once he saw it, Grandfather Fitzwilliam relented."

"So the earl was not averse to money from trade?"

"No, he allowed Aunt Catherine to marry a banker. But I think he was very glad to get rid of her—she already had a terrible reputation as a shrew."

Lizzy laughed. "But Lady Catherine's husband was a baron, wasn't he?"

"A newly created one."

There was a short silence.

"Your parents died early," observed Lizzy soberly, remembering he had said something of his mother's death in the hut at Rosings.

"My mother died after the birth of Georgie—of puerperal fever. My father was never the same afterwards. He would sometimes forget to eat. He was a strong man. But he died just after I graduated from Cambridge. He caught a fever that swept through the nearby village. The doctor fully expected him to recover as did most of the others affected, but he did not; he told me once that if he had ever suspected anyone of dying of a broken heart, it was my father—an unusual admission from him, for he was a man of science."

"You must miss your parents," observed Elizabeth, remembering the flowers in the crypt.

"Every day," replied Darcy quietly.

Elizabeth suddenly felt incredibly sorry for him. Despite his riches, he seemed to have had an incredibly tragic life—first losing his parents and then being attacked by a vampire. She reached out her hand to touch his face. He grasped it and held it to his cheek. She could feel his flesh was cool and slightly rough with stubble. His other arm snaked round her and drew her to him. She let him draw her along his leg, closer to his chest. He sighed and clasped her loosely.

Lizzy leaned her head upon his shoulder. "Tell me what happened in Pest."

So Darcy related his trip to Vienna, the unlucky decision to venture off alone and an expurgated version of his encounters with the count.

"So that is how you met Mr Bingley?" asked Elizabeth.

"Yes, my cousin used him as a courier, to advise me that he had left Vienna and to suggest a scenic route home. It was a fateful encounter. I had largely determined never to return to England before Bingley turned up, when I suddenly found myself forced to pretend that everything was all right. I couldn't shake Bingley off. Once he discovered that I was ill he insisted on staying with me until I was ready to return to England. As soon as the rumours reached us that Napoleon had escaped Elba and entered France, I realised Richard had been advising us not to return home overland and we set off for the coast."

"And Mr Bingley is aware that you are a vampire?"

"No, I told him merely that I was recovering from an illness that had made me sensitive to light. You and Richard are the only two I have told. The only other who knows my secret is my valet who discovered it himself. It is very difficult to keep anything from your valet."

"So Colonel Fitzwilliam is aware of your condition?"

"Yes, I told him at Rosings, once I discovered that he was courting Anne. He wanted me to get married so he could ask for Anne's hand. I tried to tell him why I couldn't."

"Ah! So you originally had decided not to marry."

"Of course not! How could I inflict myself on another in such a state? That was why I was so standoffish in Hertfordshire."

"I thought you were trying to preserve me from your bloodlust."

Darcy shuddered at her forthrightness. "At first I thought that was all it was, though I had never experienced such a dreadful desire before. The blood of some people is... for want of a better word... more tasty than others. The count taught me to discern this from their smell."

"So the Bingleys... they are not tasty?"

"You do not miss much, do you?"

"And you thought I would just be especially delicious?"

"You do have a way with words," sighed Darcy. "Yes, at first, ...until your cousin proposed. Then I realised I was jealous."

"Ah! So you knew he was not reciting poetry," said Elizabeth, embarrassed.

"Yes."

"Then what changed your mind about marriage?"

"Richard mostly. I have gained better control over my condition since Hertfordshire. He convinced me it might be possible to extend my ruse of normality into marriage. Still I baulked. I felt it would be wrong to offer for you without disclosing my condition."

Lizzy was overcome by his goodness. "Thank you. Indeed, I do not think it would be right to keep such a big secret from your wife." She became aware he was absentmindedly stroking her thigh over her gown. "Can vampires father children?"

"I believe so, yes."

"And are they vampires also?"

"No."

Lizzy nodded absently and tucked the crown of her head under his neck. He continued to hold her loosely, almost afraid to move now she was nestled so close to him, afraid she might take flight like a bird. Darcy wished he could keep her there forever. After some time, he heard a tiny sigh and then deeper breathing. He realised she had fallen asleep again.

Darcy continued to sit there with Elizabeth for sometime till he felt her shiver as the temperature continued to drop. Finally he scooped her up and rather than risk climbing one handed when she was asleep, slipped silently through the door in the gable and down the servants' stairs. Fishing the master key, from his waistcoat, Darcy entered her bedchamber. He locked the door after himself and, flipping the counterpane back, laid her down on the bed. He took off her shoes and covered her with the quilt. Then he took off his boots and lay down beside her on top of the counterpane, watching her sleep.

Footnotes

*Small talk - chit-chat, trifling conversation" (1751) first recorded in Chesterfield's "Letters."

mouser—a cat that is good at catching and killing mice.

*Cock and bull story — a fanciful, unbelieve tale. The phrase likely comes from old folk tales that featured magical animals. The early 17th century French term 'coq-a-l'âne' was glossed in Randle Cotgrave's A Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues, 1611 as meaning:

An incoherent story, passing from one subject to another.

The literal translation of 'du coq à l'âne' is 'from rooster to jackass', which nicely fits the meaning of the term. This was later taken up in Scots as "cockalayne", again with the same meaning. The first citation of 'cock and bull' stories in English is from Robert Burton's The Anatomy of Melancholy, 1621:

"Some mens whole delight is to talk of a Cock and Bull over a pot." Phrases–org–uk

*high-handed—presumptuous and bossy, making decisions on behalf of others without consulting them

*Nuncheon—a light midmorning or midafternoon snack, typically a cold collation.

*Turtle soup—a very expensive meal. Green sea turtles were typically used, imported, and costing around £20 a pop, roughly the annual wage of a chambermaid.

*hedgehog—a molded dessert with slivered almonds stuck into it to resemble a hedgehog.

succession house.—a greenhouse for growing exotic fruit.