The Pemberley Vampire Hunters Page 2

  “I pray you let her sleep in peace, this one last night,” Captain Fitzwilliam said, “for what harm can come from waiting? It was only this morning that Miss Wickham mentioned to me that her brother has lately left London and was expected home either today, or early tomorrow at the latest.” He paused. “It may be that he will arrive soon enough to be of some comfort to her. If not, I should prefer to inform her myself.”

  Darcy regarded his cousin with a raised eyebrow. “You are certain that you wish this responsibility?”

  “I am certain that you do not wish it.”

  Darcy shrugged. “We shall see if Mr Wickham returns in time. In the meantime, I agree with you. We should let her sleep this one last night in peace.”

  An expression of unease came over Captain Fitzwilliam’s face. “Even so … shall we not at least send to assure ourselves that all is well with her? I felt nothing but relief at her absence from the crypt, and thought it needless to worry further. But now…”

  “You are quite right,” Darcy said.

  Captain Fitzwilliam rose from his chair and went to operate the bell-pull.

  To Bingley’s surprise, it was Doctor Adler who first spoke to the footman when he arrived. “We wish to enquire after the health of Miss Ada Wickham,” the physician said. “Please send to ensure she is resting peacefully in her bed, but without waking her.”

  The footman looked askance at Darcy, who nodded. “She is at the Lodge. Do as he says, Stoker.”

  “Of course, sir. I shall make the enquiry and return directly.” The footman bowed and then departed.

  Doctor Adler was now full of apologies. “I must beg your pardon, Mr Darcy, for being so forward as to issue instructions to your man,” he said, “but there is a form to be followed that is more important than social niceties.”

  “I have not the pleasure of understanding you,” Darcy said.

  “I shall explain more fully later, but for the moment we cannot be too careful of the safety of any person on this estate, no matter how low his position or how remote his involvement in this unfortunate business might be.” Dr Adler took another puff on his pipe. “Now, I pray that you should tell me more of this document that Miss Wickham discovered.”

  “It was the strangest thing,” Darcy said. “The manuscript was written in a most singular form of German, one with which Miss Wickham’s dictionaries and primers proved to be of little use, and so she showed it to her friend Miss de Bourgh, who is fluent in several languages. Once its import became clear, Miss de Bourgh quite properly brought it to my father, who gave it to me — and a short while later, the events that brought you into Derbyshire began to unfold.”

  “I see. May I examine this manuscript?”

  Captain Fitzwilliam got to his feet again. “Allow me to ring for—”

  “Please, no,” Doctor Adler said. “To expose another to this knowledge, would be to place him in the most deadly danger. If you have not taken your servants into your confidence already, I must beg you to refrain from involving them now.”

  Darcy glanced at his cousin, then at Bingley. “We sometimes talked openly of the matter, did we not? We thought it no more than a curiosity.” His eyes narrowed. “Yet now I think on it, those servants who might have overheard, were the very ones who lost their lives … I left it in my study, Fitzwilliam, if you would be so kind. You will find it in the top drawer of the cabinet near the desk.”

  Captain Fitzwilliam returned a few minutes later bearing the manuscript. Doctor Adler put on a pair of eyeglasses and then accepted the document carefully — almost reverently, Bingley thought.

  The mottled leather binding was brittle with age and the vellum pages had long since come unstitched, so the doctor opened it on his lap and took out the ragged sheets one by one. “Mittelhochdeutsch,” he muttered to himself. “An ancient form of the language. Miss de Bourgh did well to unriddle this, though her choice of subject could have been a happier one.” He spent a few moments studying one of the pages more closely.

  “How old is it?” Darcy asked. “When would it have been placed in the library?”

  “This was written some hundreds of years ago, I would say. As for the matter of its placement, the only certainty is that it should rather have been burned. When you and your friends have absorbed what it has to impart, I urge you to correct that error, Mr Darcy.”

  “My intention,” Darcy said with a shake of his head, “is rather to have it rendered into English and then published as widely as possible so that others may be warned. What possible purpose could be served by destroying it?”

  Doctor Adler looked over the rims of his eyeglasses at the earnest faces that regarded him, making sure that he caught each gaze in turn. “I must impress upon each of you,” he said, “that human knowledge of these creatures — these vampyres, let us no longer avoid the word — is the very thing that draws gentlemen such as ourselves into their world and them into ours. In short, the more we delve into their mysteries, the more vulnerable we become to them and the more they are compelled to seek us out.”

  “Yet still you study them,” Darcy observed.

  “I have little choice in the matter.”

  Bingley could not resist breaking his silence once more. “Are we to understand,” he asked, “that the these things — these vampyres, as you name them — prey only on those who know of them?”

  “Not precisely,” Doctor Adler replied. “They are drawn to every kind of darkness that they perceive in human souls. Their natural environment is therefore among the sinks and stews of our great cities, in the midst of squalor where corruption and dissolution is most easily to be found. But even those of us who begin in the brightest light can be drawn in to their shadowy realm, for once a man learns that such evil exists, how can he not dwell upon the matter?”

  “Then what must we do?”

  “By all means study this manuscript yourselves, and privately seek out other sources of information. You will require such knowledge for your own protection and for the protection of others, just as I did when I first encountered these things. But beyond that … keep it private.” He removed his eyeglasses and put them away. ”Who else is familiar with this business? You mentioned that Miss Wickham found it and that her friend Miss de Bourgh translated it. Did these young ladies show it to anyone else?”

  After a brief silence, Bingley asked, “Would Miss Darcy perhaps have discovered some detail or other?”

  “Happily, my sister had no reason to be curious about the document,” Darcy said, “and I am confident that she learned nothing of its contents. She is far too young to be exposed to such a disagreeable matter. Indeed, in a well-ordered world no member of the gentler sex would be so exposed.”

  “In a well-ordered world,” Doctor Adler replied, “no person at all would be so exposed. I congratulate you on keeping Miss Darcy ignorant of every detail; in doing so you have protected her from evil as well as any brother could. When you have reflected on your new situation, you may wish to consider sending her to some respectable establishment where her education can proceed in isolation from these matters. Are there any others who should concern us?”

  “Only one still living: Miss Wickham’s elder brother, who as you have heard has been away in London. He is—” Darcy caught himself and continued, “was my father’s protégé and godson.” His face grew troubled. “Mr Wickham was at Pemberley when we found this manuscript. At the time, it seemed no more than a fantastical diversion that interested him hardly at all.”

  “‘Hardly at all’ is not the same as ‘not at all’,” Doctor Adler observed.

  Darcy nodded. “I will not pretend that Mr Wickham is a stranger to these matters, though he has yet to be told of anything that has passed during his absence.”

  “Then Mr Wickham aside, I urge you in the strongest terms never to involve anyone outside tonight’s circle, or indeed anyone who does not already know. You will certainly be tempted but you must not do it.” The doctor spoke these last words ster
nly but his voice also held a note of regret.

  Darcy rose to his feet and began to pace around the library, crossing to the desk where he glanced unseeingly at the atlas, then returning, and so he went backward and forward as if deep in thought. “I have never made a study of deceit,” he said at last. “I do not believe it to be the proper pursuit of a gentleman.”

  “What is more important to you, sir? Your well-bred scruples, or the safety of your friends and neighbours? Your loved ones?” The doctor was clearly agitated. “By self-indulgence in this matter, you would only be drawing your confidantes into mortal danger — the very same danger, I might add, that has already cost you dearly.”

  Darcy ceased his pacing. “You are right. I would never have considered it so before the losses of tonight, but I see that the price of disclosure can sometimes be too high.” He held out his hand for Doctor Adler to shake. “I will keep this secret and I will impress the same on my cousin Miss de Bourgh, as soon as she is recovered sufficiently to hear me.”

  “As will I on my sister,” Bingley said. “I wish to have no part in bringing a similar catastrophe to others.”

  “Then we are all agreed,” Captain Fitzwilliam said.

  Doctor Adler knocked the dottle from his pipe and made to rise. “There is one last thing that should be done before we sleep tonight — perhaps one of you would be kind enough to escort me to where this goblet of blood is, so that I may secure it?”

  “Of course,” Captain Fitzwilliam said. “I should be glad to show you the way.”

  “That is very kind of you, sir. I plan to remain at the inn in Lambton for another week or so, and am thus available for further consultation if required. But thanks to your prompt actions, this business seems to be at an end, and so I must return to the comfort and tedium of London.”

  Bingley said, “My sister and I will also travel back there very soon.”

  “Am I to understand that you both reside in town? As for myself, I am very comfortably established on Grosvenor Street.” The doctor fished in his pocket and drew out a flat silver case from which he proffered his calling card.

  Bingley accepted it with pleasure, saying, “Why, we are not a stone’s throw from you, at Cavendish Square. I shall certainly call on you…” He had perused the card as he spoke, and now wondered if he had somehow misremembered the doctor’s name. “Mr Cornelius Hurst…?”

  “I have given you my London card that is reserved for the very different life that I must lead there. Rest assured, I am a doctor. Adler was my mother’s name and is the one I use when practising this peculiar profession … a necessary deception that I hope you will continue to indulge, considering our conversation tonight.” He put the silver card case back into his pocket. “I am gratified that I have no need to practise that deceit with anyone in this room, or indeed, Mr Bingley, with your sister.”

  A gentle tapping at the door signalled the return of the footman. Stoker entered the library in a state of some agitation, and the cause of his dismay became apparent as quickly as his message was delivered. “Sir, Miss Wickham was not in her chamber,” he stammered. “We searched the Lodge from top to bottom, and she is not there. Indeed, she is nowhere to be found.”

  On hearing this terrible news, Mr Darcy immediately ordered that the house be roused, with as many search parties being formed as the supply of lanterns would allow; those who had no lanterns went off in ones and twos to seek the young woman as best they could by moonlight.

  Darcy declared that he would begin his search at the crypt, both to secure the vampyres’ goblet and to ensure that Miss Wickham was not there; and so he and Captain Fitzwilliam set off together, accompanied by Darcy’s dogs. Only the females were left in their beds while Bingley and Doctor Adler (who now insisted he should stay where he could be quickly found if needed) kept watch in the passage outside the rooms where Miss Darcy and Miss de Bourgh were sleeping. Louisa, awakened by the disturbance, emerged from her chamber to find out what was going on, and then kept her brother company — as did Doctor Adler.

  Bingley, hearing the calls and halloos that sounded faintly through the darkness as men ranged through the gardens and the park, once again had cause to resent his lack of years which meant that he was left on guard duty instead of being able to assist his friends directly — but as dawn crept over Pemberley and the searchers returned, Bingley’s dreams of partaking in a triumphant outcome were dashed with one look at Darcy’s grim face. Captain Fitzwilliam was in even worse spirits, being very downcast, even accounting for his exhaustion.

  It transpired that the goblet had vanished entirely by the time they returned to the crypt; neither had any trace of Miss Wickham been found, excepting a scrap of torn silk caught on a thorn bush, and the imprint of a small bare foot in a muddy patch just outside the Lodge.

  Of the missing girl’s brother, however, there was indeed some most distressing news.

  III

  George Wickham rode through drifts of autumn leaves carpeting the twilit lane to Pemberley, taking the final miles at an easy pace. He’d roamed this landscape from childhood until he knew every copse, every meadow, every brook — yet now the place seemed oddly unfamiliar, almost alien.

  Perhaps it was his imagination, or perhaps he had been absent long enough for his riotous life in London to become familiar, and for the tranquillity of Pemberley to become strange.

  Instead of dwelling on this uneasiness, he turned his mind to the agreeable prospect of seeing his sister Ada again, for she was the one person in Derbyshire with whom Wickham could be himself without any fear of reprimand. This was very different from his feelings for his father and for old Mr Darcy; when in the company of these two gentlemen, there were many things that Wickham found it necessary to conceal.

  Old Mr Darcy stood as Wickham’s godfather, but in truth he often seemed more like a well-meaning uncle whose gifts, tangible and otherwise, were not always as valuable as he imagined. Neither, in Wickham’s opinion, was Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, the old gentleman’s son.

  The favour that rankled most was the promise of a church living with its burden of piety and poverty. How little must the master of Pemberley comprehend the qualities of his godson, that he considered sermon-making a suitable occupation. Wickham’s long-settled opinion was that he deserved far more, but what else was a young gentleman of scant means to do?

  If only he could get his hands on sufficient capital he would be able to make a go of it in London; the small sums he scraped together always drained away too quickly at the gaming tables, denying Wickham of any opportunity to improve his fortunes decidedly.

  Still, something was better than nothing, and so for the sake of placating the father, Wickham silently promised himself that he would make a special effort to ingratiate himself with the son. Had not the two of them been companions-in-adventure as boys? Perhaps he would be able to repair that lapsed friendship; perhaps Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy might even be persuaded to advance the monies that Wickham needed to prosper.

  He hoped, too, that young Mr Darcy’s cousins might still be at Pemberley. Captain Fitzwilliam was surely not required by his regiment just yet, and it would be an even more particular blow if Miss de Bourgh had been collected by her mother, Lady Catherine, and taken back home to Kent.

  Even if these two cousins were gone there was still the possibility that Wickham might find both pleasure and profit at Pemberley, for he had recently received a letter from his father, informing him that a certain Mr Bingley was staying there with two of his offspring: Mr Charles Bingley and Miss Louisa Bingley. It seemed that Mr Bingley claimed an old acquaintance with Mr Darcy, and had brought his son and his elder daughter to show them something of the world.

  According to the letter, the younger Bingley was a most pleasant, companionable fellow; Wickham hoped that Miss Bingley — though she could hardly be expected to compare with the bewitching Miss de Bourgh — might also be an agreeable addition to the party. Perhaps they would all play at whist together; perhaps his d
rained pockets would soon be re-filled with a guinea or two.

  He wondered idly if Miss de Bourgh would ever become the mistress of Pemberley. Might Lady Catherine take this opportunity to press Mr Darcy to turn a life-long understanding into a formal engagement? The redoubtable dowager was determined enough to demand it, Wickham thought, even though Mr Darcy had never given the slightest hint of any great attachment on his own side. Considering the young lady’s many charms, such indifference was not something that Wickham could easily understand, but then he himself was very drawn to females of a certain kind — and had recently enjoyed the society of several of them during his time in London.

  Sometimes he entertained himself with the fancy that his sister might catch Mr Darcy’s eye, and thus raise the fortunes of all three Wickhams. He believed that his sister’s heart inclined rather to Captain Fitzwilliam, but the heir to Pemberley was a gentleman of far greater consequence; what sensible young lady would refuse him? Social propriety would be strongly against so unequal a match, of course, but to Wickham’s eye it seemed scarcely less likely than that Mr Darcy would choose to connect himself to his fair cousin.

  Mr Darcy’s failure to appreciate the qualities of Miss de Bourgh was not shared by Wickham. He found her to be an independent-minded sort of girl, very pretty, small of stature but possessed of a fiery spirit and a keen mind; how bitterly he regretted that their stations were not more equal so that he could have won her and had the pleasure of taming her! As things were, he was grateful that his fading respect for the generosity of old Mr Darcy had so far been sufficient to restrain him from a course of action that could lead to nothing but regret.

  Rational self-interest, however clearly perceived, could not prevent a lusty young man such as Wickham from having amorous feelings, though…