Page 93 of Midnight at Pemberley

Finding nothing above, the colonel returned to the kitchen. “Do you see anything?” he whispered, but she shook her head as she continued to search everything in sight.

Edward moved to the door and attempted physically to force the lock. “We must do something now,” he insisted, but Elizabeth ignored his urgency and continued her search.

“It has to be here.” Elizabeth turned over the kettle—and then she saw it, lodged between the logs set for a fire no one would use. “I have it!” She was all excitement.

Retrieving the key, she handed it to Edward, who quickly opened the root cellar door. And then Elizabeth saw her husband, slumped over, crumpled and broken. “William!” she exhaled his name as she bounded down the steps. Reaching him quickly, she cradled his head in her hands, covering his face with a battery of feather-light kisses. “Oh, William, speak to me,” she pleaded.

He rasped, “Are you real? I dreamed of you.”

“Very real, my love.” She kissed him again. “It is time to leave this place!”

The colonel worked on the locks of the shackles. At length, the colonel released the first lock and gingerly lowered Darcy’s arm to his side. “Easy, Darcy,” he whispered before moving on to the other lock.

Her husband’s movements were wooden. “Edward?” he mumbled softly as he slumped into Elizabeth’s waiting arms.

“In the flesh, Cousin.” Edward released the other binding before assisting Darcy to his feet. “Hopefully, your legs will hold you because I do not choose to carry you.” But the colonel bolstered his cousin’s weight and assisted Darcy’s unsure steps to the door. Elizabeth led the way, but as she reached the top stair, she halted suddenly.

Pushing her aside, Edward leaned Darcy against the frame as he assessed the room. Before him stood the girl from the previous evening, as well as another, older, temptress. “Take care of your husband, Elizabeth,” he murmured softly. “When I tell you, remove Darcy from this place.”

“You will take my lord’s prisoner nowhere,” the older woman hissed. She was beautifully handsome—buxomy, with raven black hair and pale violet eyes.

“Unfortunately, we differ on that fact,” he countered.

Before he could stop her, Elizabeth faced her sister. “Lydia, listen to me. You cannot do this.” When the apparition who once was her sister made no response, Elizabeth tried again. “I will not permit you to harm Colonel Fitzwilliam. I love you, Lyddie, but I will not allow you to destroy others.”

Lydia’s wraith turned her head slowly, as if observing a fly on the wall. “Then I will destroy you, Elizabeth.” The words were bone chilling, and the tone announced that nothing of her sister remained.

While Elizabeth and the colonel waited for the attack to come, without her notice, Darcy lifted his arms and turned once in place. “Heads down!” he ordered as the weak flow of energy temporarily blinded the two vampires. As she remained stunned by the ghostlike presence of her sister, the colonel’s instincts were better trained. He tackled Elizabeth about the waist, dragging her away from their assailants. He scrambled quickly to a defensive stance, wielding the sword above his head.

Too soon, Darcy’s arms lowered, and the energy waned. Instantly, the women attacked, first knocking the enfeebled Darcy from the way and then turning their full vengeance on the colonel.

Elizabeth watched in horror as Edward arced his sword through the air, hacking at arms and legs as sharp claws dug at his skin and clothing. “Get Darcy out!” he ordered between strikes, and Elizabeth scrambled to pull Darcy to his feet and towards the exit.

Jerking the door open with one hand, she shoved her husband through. He landed on all fours in the dirt, and then she turned back to the melee. “Lydia!” she screamed as she picked up a poker and challenged her sister.

Lydia turned immediately, providing the colonel a reprieve, the one thing for which Elizabeth had hoped. Behind Lydia, the colonel still fought with the frenzied older woman, but Elizabeth’s attention rested purely on the creature before her. Gaping stab wounds now crisscrossed the countenance she loved, and slash marks laced the girl’s arms. Elizabeth groaned in pain, witnessing the evil that controlled her younger sister.

Lydia advanced, backing Elizabeth to the wall. “You wanted me, Elizabeth?” Surprisingly, the sinister words drowned out the shrieks and grunts of the fight raging over Lydia’s shoulder. “My lord will welcome you among his followers.”

“Mama and Papa grieve for you, Lydia.” Feeling guilty, Elizabeth wished to reason rather than to vanquish her sister.

Lydia bared her fangs. “I grieve for no one.” The girl took a step closer. “I will not grieve for you, Sister.”

“But I will grieve for you, Lydia.” Elizabeth intuitively raised the poker in a defensive stance. “I will grieve for the girl whose hand I once held.”

Meanwhile, Edward fought for his life. With no experience in fighting vampires, at first, he underestimated the brute strength of the animals he encountered, seeing only a beautiful woman and a pretty girl. But a few well-placed blows from his attackers told him he fought more than the shell in which each was encased. He fought unearthly demons determined to strip him of his soul. Knowing Elizabeth’s life was in danger, he doubled his efforts. Finally, the woman charged, and he thrust at the same time.

When the sword pierced her heart, a blood-curdling shriek filled the room as her momentum impaled her to the blade’s hilt. Instinctively, Edward jerked upward, ensuring his hit incapacitated his opponent, and then he looked again into the violet eyes of the woman he had just killed. She had died before, but now she was at peace. A smile turned up the corners of her mouth as she closed her eyes and welcomed heaven.

“Lydia, no!” he heard Elizabeth’s warning behind him as he pushed hard on the woman’s body, following her to the floor.

Screams continued as Edward frantically wrestled with the woman’s limp form to free the sword. Finally placing his booted foot on her chest and yanking at the handle with all his might, the sword came free of her rapidly decaying form.

Darcy, hearing Elizabeth’s calls of distress, fought his way to his feet. Reeling from exhaustion and desiccation, he knew he must discover some means to reach her. He must prevent Elizabeth from being the one who destroyed her sister. She would never forgive herself, no matter how justified the action. Staggering through the open doorway, he battled for some sort of control.

Assuming she could rekindle the goodness she had once known in her sister, Elizabeth reacted too late to fend off Lydia’s attack. Darcy watched as she struggled to keep Lydia’s claws from tearing at her face and neck. Lydia’s unhuman like strength evidently surprised Elizabeth as his wife twisted and turned to wrench herself free of the viselike grip of Lydia’s hell-bent fury, but her sister’s demonic possession pushed Elizabeth against the wall, effectively pinning her and permitting Lydia the planned final mastication.

Elizabeth’s scream shattered the near silence of the room as Lydia lowered her head. Although weak, Darcy raised his arms, and everything moved in slow motion as Edward pulled the sword free and turned, preparing to charge across the room. Darcy reached his wife first, and the colonel instinctively released the metal, sending it turning end over end.