If Jane had donned a paper crown and declared herself Queen of England, Elizabeth would have been less astonished than she was at that moment. It took several heartbeats too long to form a response.

"A… a vampire? What an absurd thing to say! I never heard such foolishness!"

Jane fixed her with the patient but disapproving look she usually reserved for moments Elizabeth allowed her quick judgements to lean toward the unkind.

"Now, Lizzy," she said. "I trust you will not play the fool with me, of all people?"

Elizabeth fumbled with words which had become suddenly clumsy on her tongue. It was impossible to say what confounded her more, that her sister could somehow know of Mr. Darcy's dark secret – or her casual acceptance of it.

"But… how came you by this knowledge?" was the most sensible reply Elizabeth could muster.

Jane dropped her gaze. Tucking her legs beneath herself, she adjusted her shift.

"You remember the fever that struck me at Netherfield?" she began. "After being caught in that dreadful storm?"

Remember? How could Elizabeth forget the week she had been obliged to spend in the company of Mr. Bingley's sisters? Her only consolation during those long, insufferable days was that the Superior Sisters seemed to enjoy her company even less than she enjoyed theirs.

If such a thing were possible.

"Indeed." Elizabeth thought back to Jane's ashen pallor and her clammy, trembling limbs. "You gave me ever such a fright," she scolded, taking her sister's hand.

"Oh, Lizzy…" Jane's breath caught. She squeezed Elizabeth's hand. "It was so very much worse than you know. That night Mr. Bingley sent for the apothecary, as you were well aware, but…" Her words drifted away, lost somewhere in the memory.

"Yes?"

Jane gave herself a gentle shake. "I drifted in and out of consciousness for some time," she explained. "But I did hear Mr. Jones tell Mr. Bingley that he could offer no assistance. That a physician ought to be sent for instead – though it was unlikely one would reach Netherfield in time." She paused to draw in a shaky breath. "That it would be wisest to send for a priest."

Elizabeth couldn't help the gasp that escaped her at Jane's confession. She had known, of course – had seen, that her sister had been very ill indeed. But to have been that ill… And that she, Elizabeth, had been just a few rooms down the hall, none the wiser…

A shiver ran through her.

"Jane, no," she said, shaking her head. She simply refused to accept it. Refused to imagine any world in which her sister could be so cruelly taken from her. "Clearly Mr. Jones was mistaken. I saw you the next morning and already you were much improved." She certainly had not been knocking at death's door.

A corner of Jane's mouth quirked up. She nodded. "Indeed – though it had nothing to do with Mr. Jones."

"Then…?"

"It was Mr. Bingley," Jane explained. "Oh, you should have heard him, Lizzy," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "He sat at my bedside and wept."

Mr. Bingley – who had, until she learned of his "affliction" as Mr. Darcy called it, been one of the most amiable men of her acquaintance – went up in Elizabeth's estimation.

Monster, indeed, she thought to herself.

"Go on," she urged aloud.

"I know not how much time passed," Jane continued, "but when next I came back to myself, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were embroiled in a rather heated disagreement.

"'If you will not do it for me,' Mr. Bingley was saying to Mr. Darcy, 'Then do it for Elizabeth. If you care for her at all, you will not allow her sister to die. She might one day find it in her heart to forgive you for being a vampire, but she would never forgive you for that.'"

Well, Elizabeth thought, Mr. Bingley is wiser than I thought. He was right in thinking that Elizabeth would never have forgiven Mr. Darcy if he had allowed Jane to die so long as he possessed a way to prevent it. As for whether she could forgive his being a vampire…

That was yet to be seen.

She did her best not to think about the other part… the revelation that Mr. Darcy had cared for her all that time…

Her heart thumped heavily in her chest.

No, she would not give that thought.

"Mr. Darcy made the strangest noise then," Jane said with a quick shudder, "like an angry cat. The next thing I knew, I was choking on something hot and wet."

Elizabeth's hand flew up to cover her mouth as it dropped open in surprise.

"Mr. Darcy made you… drink his blood?" She could scarce believe it. Even after having that same man steal the blood from her own veins, the thought remained somehow unreal.

Jane toyed with the edge of her housecoat as twin spots of colour kissed her cheeks.

"Yes," she breathed.

"Are you…" Elizabeth swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. "Jane, are you a…" she could barely bring the word to her lips, "vampire?"

Jane laughed, the sound as pure and wholesome as ever it had been. "Lizzy!"

It was Elizabeth's turn to blush. "I confess I am no great expert on such matters," she said defensively. "I know only what Mr. Darcy has told me." She waved the letter by way of explanation.

"Yes," Jane said, sobering. She sat up, more alert. "I would like very much to know what Mr. Darcy could have to say to bring you in here in such a state…"

Elizabeth jerked the rumpled letter out of her sister's reach. "Not until you explain yourself!"

There was that look again.

"Now, Lizzy. Do I look like a vampire?"

Jane narrowed her fair eyebrows in a serious expression, then ruined it by snapping her teeth together playfully.

"No," Elizabeth laughed, "though I must admit to having only three vampires with which to compare you!"

Sobering again, Jane leaned forward. "Three? You mean to tell me there are two others in our acquaintance besides Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth pressed her lips together and shook her head. "You have not answered my question," she insisted.

Jane raised her eyebrows but acquiesced. "No, Mr. Darcy did not pass his curse on to me," she said. "He came to me early the next morning before the sun had fully risen and explained what he was and what he had done to save my life. He begged me to keep his secret in return and I agreed – even from you, dear Lizzy. I hope you will forgive me?"

The knowledge that her sister and dearest friend could keep such a secret from her did sting, she could not deny it. But if Jane had told her of Mr. Darcy's curse…? Would she have believed her – or would she have thought her a raving madwoman?

"Oh, Jane," she said, holding out her arms to embrace the other woman. "I would forgive you anything, as you well know. But of course you were right to keep Mr. Darcy's secret."

"I knew you would see the wisdom of it," Jane said a little tremulously, returning Elizabeth's hug. "Though it felt wrong keeping it from you." She pulled back to finish her tale. "I confess I felt awful queer for a day or two after drinking… well, after Mr. Darcy saved me."

Elizabeth had a strange passing thought herself at Jane's words. She felt a pang of envy that her sister would have shared such an intimacy with Mr. Darcy. Even stranger still, she wondered what drinking his blood might have tasted like…

Jane brought her back to the moment as she went on. "Everything irritated me greatly, either being too loud or too bright. I also felt weak as a new-born babe, then strong as an ox in turns. Mr. Darcy explained that it was the effect of the infection in his blood working its way out of my body and, once it had done so, I would be myself again. As you see."

Before Elizabeth could remark that her sister had not been exactly herself since Mr. Bingley had quitted Netherfield, Jane went on.

"Now that you have heard all that I know," she said, full of eagerness "do please tell me all that you know. Who are these mysterious creatures of darkness lurking among our social sphere?"

I might have simply handed her the letter when I entered… Elizabeth reminded herself. She did not look forward to enlightening Jane of her favourite's affliction.

"Well," Elizabeth began, "you know, of course, of Mr. Darcy…"

"Lizzy…"

"And it was Mr. Wickham who, during their time at Cambridge, passed along the curse that Mr. Darcy now and forever bears."

Jane's reaction was similar to Elizabeth's own upon hearing the news. Her hand clutched her housecoat tight about her breast. "Mr. Wickham? But… his manner is so easy full of charm!"

Meaning, it would seem, that Mr. Darcy's being a vampire seemed more logical because of his bearing. That his disagreeable manner and brooding nature fit more easily the idea one had of a monster.

Oh, dear. Wait until she hears the rest…

Elizabeth took a steadying breath and continued. "Finally," she said, "It was some years later that, when his reckless actions began to draw unwanted attention, Mr. Wickham made the decision to create another of their kind to draw suspicions away…"

Jane leaned forward, listening intently. "Who, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth hesitated. Would there was any way she could tell all without revealing his name! If she could leave her sister a glimmer of hope…

"Lizzy…"

She sighed.

I am so very sorry, Jane.

"Charles Bingley."

Jane's mouth fell open in an expression of horrified surprise so profound it made Elizabeth's chest ache. Her sister stared a full moment in silence. Then, snapping her jaw shut, Jane swiped a single tear from her cheek and turned her face away.

"Kindly remove yourself from my room," she said in a hard voice, "At once."