His hand brushed tiny tendrils of hair away from her neck and his lips found her flesh again and he let out a murmur and her blood responded, coursing through her veins. Then the twigs on the fire shifted and the sound broke the spell and he lifted his mouth from her neck, slowly and unwillingly, pulling himself away from her with every ounce of his strength, his hands lingering on her shoulders until, with a groan he wrenched them away. His eyes were full of pain and his body was contorted with agony, but he forced himself to walk over to the far side of the fireplace where he collapsed into a chair out of temptation’s way. Elizabeth, her senses unclouding as he moved away, sank back on her heels.
‘That is why you must get away,’ he said, his voice low and haunted. ‘We vampyres are compelling. If I lose control, you will have no choice but to surrender. If only—but of what use are if onlys now? I let her do this to me; it is done.’
‘You said something like it once before,’ said Elizabeth, remembering the time he had spoken in such a way, as they had been running from the Count’s castle. ‘Did someone turn you into a vampyre? Is that what you are speaking of? Do you mean that you were not always this way? That there was a time when you were once human?’
‘Yes, there was, long ago.’
‘How did it happen?’ she asked.
He said nothing.
‘I want to know,’ she said.
‘Very well. You deserve that much. But you are cold,’ he said as she shivered. ‘You need a hot meal.’ He rang the bell and one of the lodge servants answered. Darcy gave him some instructions and the man bowed and departed. ‘We will eat first, and then I will tell you everything.’
Chapter 14
The servants returned at last to say that the meal was ready. Darcy led Elizabeth through to the dining room, where two places were laid. The silver cutlery sparkled against the dark wood of the table. Oddly assorted chairs were set on either side. There was a wood burning stove on one side of the room. A glow came from the grate and flames flickered fitfully there.
One of the servants held the chairs whilst Elizabeth and Darcy seated themselves and then carried a procession of silver platters into the room. It wasn’t until she saw them, and smelt the aromas of roast meat and vegetables, that Elizabeth realised how hungry she was. She had eaten nothing since breakfast that morning, and the time in between had been full of fear and foreboding. She picked up her knife and fork as a plate was set in front of her and Darcy bid her eat.
She needed no urging. Her hands were trembling with the after effects of the day and she felt new strength and energy flooding into her as she put the hot food into her mouth.
He watched her lovingly, tracing the rise and fall of the fork from her plate to her mouth, and each time she parted her lips, his eyes opened a little wider, as if to let more of the sight of her in.
He sat silently whilst she ate, and he did not speak until she had finished her glass of wine.
‘It was in the year 1665,’ he said, ‘the year of the Black Death. The plague was running riot through the streets of Europe, claiming millions of lives. Nowhere was safe. Towns, villages, and cities all felt its dread touch. There was panic on the streets and anyone with the signs of the plague on them was shunned. Doors were marked with crosses to show that they were plague houses, and in many cities the dead outnumbered the living.
‘I was in London when it started. My family were landed gentry, connected to the nobility without being noble themselves, and we had a house in town as well as a country estate. My father was looking for preferment and he decided that we would all move to the London house for a year. There was an outbreak of the plague shortly after we arrived, but it did not seem too alarming. It was in one of the poorer parts of London, and the rest of the city was untouched. But as the summer came, that began to change. It was one of the hottest summers I have ever known. The heat was trapped between the buildings,