In the Dark With You

by Moxie

~{~}~{~}~

Prologue

The day Lord Angelus of the dark house on the cliff died, it was said that the devil himself drove the carriage that took him to hell. As he had for each of his children, in turn. Their souls being the price, it was said, for the terrible power that Lord Angelus wielded in life. He gave them willingly, all save one. The golden- haired child with the face of an angel, he would not part with. Hid him away and substituted another in his stead. The devil, was not pleased and came for the child, but he was protected by a spell so powerful that he could not take him. So, in a terrible rage he brought hell to earth instead and cursed the child with pain and torment so dreadful that hell might seem like paradise in contrast.

And the devil waited. Waited for the child to beg to be allowed into hell, that his pain might be less, that his torment might be tolerable. But the child had learned from a master, and he laughed at the devil. Challenged him that there was nothing he could do that would ever make him his. And to this day they are locked in a battle that will go on till the end of time. Or until one of them wins the challenge.

Neither has won yet. They fight still.

~{~}~{~}~

Fifteen year old Elizabeth Summers looked up from the daisy chain she was making, her yellow hair blowing about her face. "Oh Willow. Where do you get such stories. I saw him once, and he looked perfectly normal to me."

"You saw him? " Willow crossed her fingers and looked towards the dark mansion. "But when? They say he never leaves the house."

"When I was ten. I took a dare and sneaked into the grounds. He stood at the window and looked directly at me. And I am still here to tell the tale."

"You are so brave Elizabeth. Willow leaned forward and whispered, as if he might hear her. "It is said he drinks the blood of, virgins." She blushed as she said it. "And that the merest shaft of sunlight would burn him to ashes."

Elizabeth looked towards the mansion on the cliff, then she leapt to her feet, dropping her daisy chain and smoothing down her long skirts.

"Those are tales told to frighten children Willow, and best not repeated. All this nonsense about vampires." She offered her cousin her hand and pulled her up. "That's all it is. I'm going to America with Aunt Joan tomorrow, and I intend to meet and marry a rich young man who will keep me better than this." She pointed to the drab, faded material of her dress. "Poor papa, he is such a fool with money, always investing in some scheme, that never pays. Mama is quite at her wit's end."

The two girls made their way along the cliff path that led to the Summer's family home, modest by some standards, grand by others. As they passed the old mansion, Elizabeth found her step becoming a little quicker and her fingers straying to the cross she wore on the chain around her neck. She didn't believe the tales whispered by the villagers about the golden haired monster who lived there, but it didn't hurt to be sure. She took Willow’s hand and they ran as fast as they could, unaware that they were being watched by someone with dark blue eyes, and white-blond hair who was neither a monster nor a vampire. But who was perfectly happy to let anyone who cared, think he was.

~{~}~{~}~

Chapter One

Four years later

"Aunt Joan, it is so good to be back in England. Are you not glad?"

"Indeed, my child." The plump, middle aged woman leaned back against the padded carriage seat and fanned herself with her handkerchief. "What a journey, I am quite exhausted. But you my dear. Are you not disappointed that you did not secure yourself a husband in America? You were quite the belle of the ball."

Elizabeth leaned out of the window, eager to get the first view of the Summer’s family home as the cliff path turned inland. "Quite the opposite, aunt. I never met a duller group of young men in all my life. I had believed myself capable of marrying a fortune, but I know now that I will only marry for love. Oh, there it is. I cannot wait to see Dawnie. She will be so grown up I will not recognise her."

Her aunt smiled indulgently at her. "Ahh, youngsters today. A fortune will warm you better than any young buck you might take your fancy to. Mark my words."

Elizabeth blushed slightly at her aunt’s words, sitting down as the house disappeared from view. She should be used to her aunt’s outspokenness by now, but she never knew what the woman was going to say next. "You are one to talk. Was your first marriage not for love, aunt?"

Her aunt chuckled as she remembered. "He ran off with a tavern wench, once he had spent my inheritance of course. Fine pair of legs, as I remember." She stopped and contemplated her young charge. "I have been indulgent with you, Elizabeth, you have always been my favourite, as you know. I do not believe you should be forced into a marriage not of your choice, but your father will not be quite so. He will expect you to make a good marriage. And soon. Why, you are nearly twenty years of age. Were it not for your beauty, one might consider you too old."

"Then I shall die an old maid. Look, the Angelus mansion." Elizabeth deftly changed the subject. "How scared we used to be of the place when we were children." Four years since she’d last set eyes on it, and it still looked as grim and dark as it ever had.

"And with good reason." Her aunt crossed herself vigorously, nodding at Elizabeth to do the same. "Lord Angelus was a monster. Evil to the core." She crossed herself again just to make sure. "They say that when he died..."

"Yes aunt, I have heard this story many times. They say that the devil himself came for him."

"It is true my dear, and you would do well not to mock."

Elizabeth laughed, leaning forward to touch her aunt’s arm. "Calm yourself aunt. Surely you do not believe these stories. Did anybody see the devil when he came?"

"Several of the villagers claim to have seen the coach glowing in the dark, and cloven hoofprints were found near the gate." Her aunt’s hand covered hers. "You may laugh, Elizabeth, but what does one make of a family that never show themselves? Of children that never grow to manhood? And a wife that simply disappears? Such strange comings and goings."

"But there was a son that lived, was there not? I saw him at the window once."

"There were rumours that a child survived. They say that he had the face of an angel, but that his soul was so black that even the devil did not want it." Her aunt let go of Elizabeth’s hand and retrieved her handkerchief. "Lord it is so hot, and we have arrived. How do I look, my dear?"

Elizabeth was already opening the door to the coach as it rattled to a stop in the gravelled drive. "You look like a woman who has just sold all her American estates and is returning a rich widow."

Her aunt smiled a satisfied smile. "A fortune part of which you will inherit one day, young lady. I have named a sum in trust for you on my death, as you know, but I intend to live for a good while yet."

"And so you will aunt Joan. Look, there they are." Elizabeth jumped out of the carriage in a most unladylike fashion, and ran past the surprised groom who was waiting to put up the steps. "Dawnie, look at you, why you are taller than me, and what a beauty you have become."

"Buffy." Dawn ran to her sister in an equally unladylike fashion and squealed as she was engulfed in a hug. "You must tell me everything. What was it like? Did you have a beau? Oh Buffy, it's so good to have you back."

Elizabeth let go of her sister and stood back to look at her properly. "Look at us both. You are sixteen and I am nearly twenty. We are not Dawnie and Buffy any more, we are Miss Elizabeth and Miss Dawn." They both dissolved into a fit of giggles, then she linked her arm in her sister's and turned. "Mama."

"Elizabeth." Her mother offered her a cheek to kiss. "You are looking well, my dear."

"And you mama." She kissed her mother's thin cheek, not surprised at the formality of the welcome. She could tell that her mother's nervous disposition had not improved in her absence. She stepped back, dropping Dawn's arm and stood demurely for inspection. Her mother gave her a slight nod, then turned her attention to Aunt Joan, who was huffing towards them. "I should have thought her married by now, Joan. After all, was that not the purpose of the visit?"

Aunt Joan stopped to recover her breath and waved her hand in a dismissive fashion. "I tried my best, but you know Elizabeth. She has vowed to marry for love, or die an old maid, or some such nonsense. Now where is that brother of mine. I need to talk with him."

Elizabeth blushed crimson at her aunt's words, suddenly feeling like a prize cow on display at the marketplace. She didn't miss her mother's small scowl of disapproval, or Dawn's look of concern. Her little adventure was over, she realised with a sinking heart. She'd gone to America with high hopes of meeting a dashing, and of course, very rich man, and had been quite prepared to make a life in which her major concern would be which dress to wear to the next ball.

But the reality had not matched the dream. Dull as dishwater the lot of them. Her aunt had wheeled them out one after the other, but none had caught her fancy. There was always something missing, but she did not know what it was. She had even let one of them kiss her, unknown to her aunt, and it had been so horrible that it had almost put her off men altogether. She shuddered as she remembered how his lips had crushed hers. And his tongue...Well she had no idea what he had been trying to do with it, but she knew she would never let a man do that to her again.

She followed the little party into the house, only half listening to her mother's prattling. Now that she was back her days of freedom were numbered. Despite her protestation to her aunt in the coach, she knew she would have no say in her inevitable marriage. All she could hope for was that her father would choose a half-way decent man who she could at least tolerate. And who knows, perhaps he would be handsome, and rich - the combination must exist somewhere, she reasoned. Perhaps she should have married in America after all. At least then it would have been to her choice.

She patted her hair and pinched at her cheeks to bring some colour into them. Meeting with her father always made her nervous and now more so than ever. He'd set great store by this trip to America. Had more or less instructed her to marry the richest man she could find. He wasn't bothered that she come back, only that some of the fortune might filter its way back to England to finance his latest schemes. She wiped her hands on her skirt, and took a deep breath, stopping as she looked with trepidation down the corridor that led to his study.

"Come along Elizabeth," her mother chided. "Your father is anxious to talk with you.

She followed her mother until they were standing outside the door and she raised her hand to knock, looking at her mother as she did so. "How is he?"

Her mother reached forward and tucked a stray lock of hair back into place for her. "He is not pleased, Elizabeth. Not pleased at all."

~{~}~{~}~

From the journals of Lord William Angelus. Year of Our Lord Eighteen Thirty Five

I am not a monster, yet I cannot be a proper man, and this loneliness eats at my soul. I would that the tales were true and that the devil would come for me, yet even he mocks me with his disdain and does not heed my call. And God abandoned me long ago. So, I shall once again find solace in my cups and lose myself in the forgetfulness of a drunken stupor. For it is my only friend.

William snapped the journal closed and threw the quill pen into the inkpot. A blot of ink splashed onto the front of the leather-bound book and, leaning his aching head carefully onto the desk, he watched it spread. It was by far the most interesting thing that had happened today, he thought miserably. He dipped his finger in the blot and stirred it around, wondering why he didn’t seem to be able to get drunk enough tonight to reach that blissful state of oblivion that he craved. He’d reached the self pity stage, but had been unable to get any further. More wine, that’s what he needed. Reaching for the cup was easy, but picking it up was quite another matter. He lifted his head and tried to decide which of the two cups that now floated before his vision was the real cup and then he knocked it over.

The red wine ran and dripped over the side of the desk and onto his lap. He sprang back in alarm, also knocking over his chair and staggered over to the bell-pull.

"Tara." The shouting was completely unnecessary since she couldn’t have heard him from where she was, but he did it anyway. "Tara. Stupid woman, where are you?" Turning to the sound of footsteps behind him he tried to focus on the person that had entered his room.

"You are not Tara," he observed with difficulty, screwing up his eyes and looking the young man up and down. "You don’t have those...woman’s things..." He clamped his hands over the front of his chest, letting out a giggle as he did so, then he staggered sideways again. The young man rushed forward, hooked him under the arms and hoisted him up.

"It’s Alex, my lord. Mother will be here in a moment. Let’s get you over to the bed shall we?"

"Al-ex-an-der." William said it slowly, almost mockingly. "Are you scared of me Al-ex-an-der?" He allowed the lad to manoeuvre him to the bed and flopped back, flinging his arms wide.

"No, my lord."

"Why not?" William stuck his lip out. "Am I not remotely scary to you?"

Alex got to work on William’s trousers, undoing them and pulling them off. "No,my lord."

"Do you enjoy doing this, Alex?"

"No, my lord."

"God, you’re boring." William sat up and pulled his shirt over his head himself. "Go light a fire or something, and get me Tara. Where is that bloody woman?"

"I’m here, William, don’t you go fretting yourself now." A plump woman, of about fifty years hurried into the room. William’s face lit up. "Where were you? I want to go to bed."

"And so you shall, so you shall." The old woman finished knotting up her hair and secured it with a pin. Then she went over to the bed and started fussing with the bedclothes and plumping up the pillows. She turned to Alex who stood dumbly watching her. "I think the sleeping draught tonight." She glared at him. "Don’t just stand there, you know where it is."

Alex went for the draught, mumbling under his breath and Tara returned her attention to her charge. "Come here my sweet, let me see if I can soothe that head of yours."

William leaned his head gratefully onto her ample lap and relaxed for the first time as her hand stroked his hair.

"I think that tomorrow I shall stand in the sun again."

"No, you will not stand in the sun." She sighed and continued to stroke his head, as if she were used to having this conversation. "You know what it would do to you."

"But maybe I am cured?" William lifted his head, a spark of hope in his eyes. "The ointment from Arabia. It worked a little, I could feel it."

"Tis but temporary, and look at your skin." She smoothed her hand over his sunburnt cheeks. "I will put more ointment on this tomorrow, but you must promise me to stay inside."

He flopped his head back down. "They say I am a vampire."

"Idle gossip my lamb. Ahh, there you are." Tara took the sleeping draught from Alex and lifted William’s head as he drank it. "There now, drink it all up." She settled him back against the pillows and stood up. "Now go to sleep, and tomorrow, perhaps less of the wine?"

"’Tis my only friend, apart from you." William lay, an arm thrown across his eyes. "I wrote a poem, would you like to read it?"

"Tomorrow, sleep now William." Tara arranged herself in the rocking chair by the bed. "Would you like me to sing to you?"

"No. Am I cursed, Tara?"

"No you are not. Just an unfortunate accident of birth. ‘tis very unfair, but you are not cursed."

"Was my father?"

"Sleep, my pet." She started singing softly. An old folk song that she knew he liked.

"You never answer that question," he said drowsily, feeling the draught taking effect. This was the best part of the day. When oblivion overtook him and he didn’t have to think about anything but the welcoming blackness that came with it. "I think I am cursed," he mumbled as sleep overtook him at last.

~{~}~{~}~

Tara stood up stiffly and smoothed out her skirts. "Fetch a cloth and clean up that mess." She indicated toward the wine stain. "I wish he would not talk about going out into the sun. It worries me quite to death." She started to bustle about, picking up William’s discarded clothes and folding them neatly, and then she stopped and thought for a moment. "I think his melancholy increases, do you not think so?" She held up the wine-stained trousers and bundled them up in her hand.

Alex looked up from his cleaning. "I think he’s mad, if that’s what you’re asking. And you don’t help, mother. You treat him like a baby. ‘Tis nauseating."

"For twenty one years, I have sat and watched over him." She looked at William fondly as he slept, then reached down to pull the quilt over his bare shoulders. "And I will continue to do so while I have breath in my body. Make sure you extinguish the candle when you leave. Goodnight, Alex."

"Goodnight mother." Alex continued dabbing at the wine stain until his mother’s footsteps faded, then he got up and reached for the candle stick. He took a moment to look at William, shaking his head as he did so, then he opened the drawer to the desk and felt about at the back, for the slim volume he knew was kept there. He opened it and angled the pages toward the candle light, unable to read a word, but fully appreciative of the illustrations therein. His eyes grew wide as saucers as he flicked through it, turning the book, and sometimes his head to get a better view. Then William stirred and started mumbling in his sleep so Alex snapped "The Gentleman's Book of Love" shut and hastily replaced it in its hiding place.

He extinguished the candle and made his way back to his room, rubbing at the front of his breeches. Damn, but he was going to have to visit a certain lady in the next village and get this itch scratched once and for all. Then Lord William would have to show him some respect. He would make sure he knew about it, would taunt him with it because, along with going out into the sun. it was something he was never going to get to do. What woman would bed a vampire? Alex laughed softly and shook his head. Vampires indeed. If only they knew what really lurked within these walls, they'd be weak with laughter, not with fright.
 

TBC

 

In the Dark With You

by Moxie

~{~}~{~}~

Prologue

The day Lord Angelus of the dark house on the cliff died, it was said that the devil himself drove the carriage that took him to hell. As he had for each of his children, in turn. Their souls being the price, it was said, for the terrible power that Lord Angelus wielded in life. He gave them willingly, all save one. The golden- haired child with the face of an angel, he would not part with. Hid him away and substituted another in his stead. The devil, was not pleased and came for the child, but he was protected by a spell so powerful that he could not take him. So, in a terrible rage he brought hell to earth instead and cursed the child with pain and torment so dreadful that hell might seem like paradise in contrast.

And the devil waited. Waited for the child to beg to be allowed into hell, that his pain might be less, that his torment might be tolerable. But the child had learned from a master, and he laughed at the devil. Challenged him that there was nothing he could do that would ever make him his. And to this day they are locked in a battle that will go on till the end of time. Or until one of them wins the challenge.

Neither has won yet. They fight still.

~{~}~{~}~

Fifteen year old Elizabeth Summers looked up from the daisy chain she was making, her yellow hair blowing about her face. "Oh Willow. Where do you get such stories. I saw him once, and he looked perfectly normal to me."

"You saw him? " Willow crossed her fingers and looked towards the dark mansion. "But when? They say he never leaves the house."

"When I was ten. I took a dare and sneaked into the grounds. He stood at the window and looked directly at me. And I am still here to tell the tale."

"You are so brave Elizabeth. Willow leaned forward and whispered, as if he might hear her. "It is said he drinks the blood of, virgins." She blushed as she said it. "And that the merest shaft of sunlight would burn him to ashes."

Elizabeth looked towards the mansion on the cliff, then she leapt to her feet, dropping her daisy chain and smoothing down her long skirts.

"Those are tales told to frighten children Willow, and best not repeated. All this nonsense about vampires." She offered her cousin her hand and pulled her up. "That's all it is. I'm going to America with Aunt Joan tomorrow, and I intend to meet and marry a rich young man who will keep me better than this." She pointed to the drab, faded material of her dress. "Poor papa, he is such a fool with money, always investing in some scheme, that never pays. Mama is quite at her wit's end."

The two girls made their way along the cliff path that led to the Summer's family home, modest by some standards, grand by others. As they passed the old mansion, Elizabeth found her step becoming a little quicker and her fingers straying to the cross she wore on the chain around her neck. She didn't believe the tales whispered by the villagers about the golden haired monster who lived there, but it didn't hurt to be sure. She took Willow’s hand and they ran as fast as they could, unaware that they were being watched by someone with dark blue eyes, and white-blond hair who was neither a monster nor a vampire. But who was perfectly happy to let anyone who cared, think he was.

~{~}~{~}~

Chapter One

Four years later

"Aunt Joan, it is so good to be back in England. Are you not glad?"

"Indeed, my child." The plump, middle aged woman leaned back against the padded carriage seat and fanned herself with her handkerchief. "What a journey, I am quite exhausted. But you my dear. Are you not disappointed that you did not secure yourself a husband in America? You were quite the belle of the ball."

Elizabeth leaned out of the window, eager to get the first view of the Summer’s family home as the cliff path turned inland. "Quite the opposite, aunt. I never met a duller group of young men in all my life. I had believed myself capable of marrying a fortune, but I know now that I will only marry for love. Oh, there it is. I cannot wait to see Dawnie. She will be so grown up I will not recognise her."

Her aunt smiled indulgently at her. "Ahh, youngsters today. A fortune will warm you better than any young buck you might take your fancy to. Mark my words."

Elizabeth blushed slightly at her aunt’s words, sitting down as the house disappeared from view. She should be used to her aunt’s outspokenness by now, but she never knew what the woman was going to say next. "You are one to talk. Was your first marriage not for love, aunt?"

Her aunt chuckled as she remembered. "He ran off with a tavern wench, once he had spent my inheritance of course. Fine pair of legs, as I remember." She stopped and contemplated her young charge. "I have been indulgent with you, Elizabeth, you have always been my favourite, as you know. I do not believe you should be forced into a marriage not of your choice, but your father will not be quite so. He will expect you to make a good marriage. And soon. Why, you are nearly twenty years of age. Were it not for your beauty, one might consider you too old."

"Then I shall die an old maid. Look, the Angelus mansion." Elizabeth deftly changed the subject. "How scared we used to be of the place when we were children." Four years since she’d last set eyes on it, and it still looked as grim and dark as it ever had.

"And with good reason." Her aunt crossed herself vigorously, nodding at Elizabeth to do the same. "Lord Angelus was a monster. Evil to the core." She crossed herself again just to make sure. "They say that when he died..."

"Yes aunt, I have heard this story many times. They say that the devil himself came for him."

"It is true my dear, and you would do well not to mock."

Elizabeth laughed, leaning forward to touch her aunt’s arm. "Calm yourself aunt. Surely you do not believe these stories. Did anybody see the devil when he came?"

"Several of the villagers claim to have seen the coach glowing in the dark, and cloven hoofprints were found near the gate." Her aunt’s hand covered hers. "You may laugh, Elizabeth, but what does one make of a family that never show themselves? Of children that never grow to manhood? And a wife that simply disappears? Such strange comings and goings."

"But there was a son that lived, was there not? I saw him at the window once."

"There were rumours that a child survived. They say that he had the face of an angel, but that his soul was so black that even the devil did not want it." Her aunt let go of Elizabeth’s hand and retrieved her handkerchief. "Lord it is so hot, and we have arrived. How do I look, my dear?"

Elizabeth was already opening the door to the coach as it rattled to a stop in the gravelled drive. "You look like a woman who has just sold all her American estates and is returning a rich widow."

Her aunt smiled a satisfied smile. "A fortune part of which you will inherit one day, young lady. I have named a sum in trust for you on my death, as you know, but I intend to live for a good while yet."

"And so you will aunt Joan. Look, there they are." Elizabeth jumped out of the carriage in a most unladylike fashion, and ran past the surprised groom who was waiting to put up the steps. "Dawnie, look at you, why you are taller than me, and what a beauty you have become."

"Buffy." Dawn ran to her sister in an equally unladylike fashion and squealed as she was engulfed in a hug. "You must tell me everything. What was it like? Did you have a beau? Oh Buffy, it's so good to have you back."

Elizabeth let go of her sister and stood back to look at her properly. "Look at us both. You are sixteen and I am nearly twenty. We are not Dawnie and Buffy any more, we are Miss Elizabeth and Miss Dawn." They both dissolved into a fit of giggles, then she linked her arm in her sister's and turned. "Mama."

"Elizabeth." Her mother offered her a cheek to kiss. "You are looking well, my dear."

"And you mama." She kissed her mother's thin cheek, not surprised at the formality of the welcome. She could tell that her mother's nervous disposition had not improved in her absence. She stepped back, dropping Dawn's arm and stood demurely for inspection. Her mother gave her a slight nod, then turned her attention to Aunt Joan, who was huffing towards them. "I should have thought her married by now, Joan. After all, was that not the purpose of the visit?"

Aunt Joan stopped to recover her breath and waved her hand in a dismissive fashion. "I tried my best, but you know Elizabeth. She has vowed to marry for love, or die an old maid, or some such nonsense. Now where is that brother of mine. I need to talk with him."

Elizabeth blushed crimson at her aunt's words, suddenly feeling like a prize cow on display at the marketplace. She didn't miss her mother's small scowl of disapproval, or Dawn's look of concern. Her little adventure was over, she realised with a sinking heart. She'd gone to America with high hopes of meeting a dashing, and of course, very rich man, and had been quite prepared to make a life in which her major concern would be which dress to wear to the next ball.

But the reality had not matched the dream. Dull as dishwater the lot of them. Her aunt had wheeled them out one after the other, but none had caught her fancy. There was always something missing, but she did not know what it was. She had even let one of them kiss her, unknown to her aunt, and it had been so horrible that it had almost put her off men altogether. She shuddered as she remembered how his lips had crushed hers. And his tongue...Well she had no idea what he had been trying to do with it, but she knew she would never let a man do that to her again.

She followed the little party into the house, only half listening to her mother's prattling. Now that she was back her days of freedom were numbered. Despite her protestation to her aunt in the coach, she knew she would have no say in her inevitable marriage. All she could hope for was that her father would choose a half-way decent man who she could at least tolerate. And who knows, perhaps he would be handsome, and rich - the combination must exist somewhere, she reasoned. Perhaps she should have married in America after all. At least then it would have been to her choice.

She patted her hair and pinched at her cheeks to bring some colour into them. Meeting with her father always made her nervous and now more so than ever. He'd set great store by this trip to America. Had more or less instructed her to marry the richest man she could find. He wasn't bothered that she come back, only that some of the fortune might filter its way back to England to finance his latest schemes. She wiped her hands on her skirt, and took a deep breath, stopping as she looked with trepidation down the corridor that led to his study.

"Come along Elizabeth," her mother chided. "Your father is anxious to talk with you.

She followed her mother until they were standing outside the door and she raised her hand to knock, looking at her mother as she did so. "How is he?"

Her mother reached forward and tucked a stray lock of hair back into place for her. "He is not pleased, Elizabeth. Not pleased at all."

~{~}~{~}~

From the journals of Lord William Angelus. Year of Our Lord Eighteen Thirty Five

I am not a monster, yet I cannot be a proper man, and this loneliness eats at my soul. I would that the tales were true and that the devil would come for me, yet even he mocks me with his disdain and does not heed my call. And God abandoned me long ago. So, I shall once again find solace in my cups and lose myself in the forgetfulness of a drunken stupor. For it is my only friend.

William snapped the journal closed and threw the quill pen into the inkpot. A blot of ink splashed onto the front of the leather-bound book and, leaning his aching head carefully onto the desk, he watched it spread. It was by far the most interesting thing that had happened today, he thought miserably. He dipped his finger in the blot and stirred it around, wondering why he didn’t seem to be able to get drunk enough tonight to reach that blissful state of oblivion that he craved. He’d reached the self pity stage, but had been unable to get any further. More wine, that’s what he needed. Reaching for the cup was easy, but picking it up was quite another matter. He lifted his head and tried to decide which of the two cups that now floated before his vision was the real cup and then he knocked it over.

The red wine ran and dripped over the side of the desk and onto his lap. He sprang back in alarm, also knocking over his chair and staggered over to the bell-pull.

"Tara." The shouting was completely unnecessary since she couldn’t have heard him from where she was, but he did it anyway. "Tara. Stupid woman, where are you?" Turning to the sound of footsteps behind him he tried to focus on the person that had entered his room.

"You are not Tara," he observed with difficulty, screwing up his eyes and looking the young man up and down. "You don’t have those...woman’s things..." He clamped his hands over the front of his chest, letting out a giggle as he did so, then he staggered sideways again. The young man rushed forward, hooked him under the arms and hoisted him up.

"It’s Alex, my lord. Mother will be here in a moment. Let’s get you over to the bed shall we?"

"Al-ex-an-der." William said it slowly, almost mockingly. "Are you scared of me Al-ex-an-der?" He allowed the lad to manoeuvre him to the bed and flopped back, flinging his arms wide.

"No, my lord."

"Why not?" William stuck his lip out. "Am I not remotely scary to you?"

Alex got to work on William’s trousers, undoing them and pulling them off. "No,my lord."

"Do you enjoy doing this, Alex?"

"No, my lord."

"God, you’re boring." William sat up and pulled his shirt over his head himself. "Go light a fire or something, and get me Tara. Where is that bloody woman?"

"I’m here, William, don’t you go fretting yourself now." A plump woman, of about fifty years hurried into the room. William’s face lit up. "Where were you? I want to go to bed."

"And so you shall, so you shall." The old woman finished knotting up her hair and secured it with a pin. Then she went over to the bed and started fussing with the bedclothes and plumping up the pillows. She turned to Alex who stood dumbly watching her. "I think the sleeping draught tonight." She glared at him. "Don’t just stand there, you know where it is."

Alex went for the draught, mumbling under his breath and Tara returned her attention to her charge. "Come here my sweet, let me see if I can soothe that head of yours."

William leaned his head gratefully onto her ample lap and relaxed for the first time as her hand stroked his hair.

"I think that tomorrow I shall stand in the sun again."

"No, you will not stand in the sun." She sighed and continued to stroke his head, as if she were used to having this conversation. "You know what it would do to you."

"But maybe I am cured?" William lifted his head, a spark of hope in his eyes. "The ointment from Arabia. It worked a little, I could feel it."

"Tis but temporary, and look at your skin." She smoothed her hand over his sunburnt cheeks. "I will put more ointment on this tomorrow, but you must promise me to stay inside."

He flopped his head back down. "They say I am a vampire."

"Idle gossip my lamb. Ahh, there you are." Tara took the sleeping draught from Alex and lifted William’s head as he drank it. "There now, drink it all up." She settled him back against the pillows and stood up. "Now go to sleep, and tomorrow, perhaps less of the wine?"

"’Tis my only friend, apart from you." William lay, an arm thrown across his eyes. "I wrote a poem, would you like to read it?"

"Tomorrow, sleep now William." Tara arranged herself in the rocking chair by the bed. "Would you like me to sing to you?"

"No. Am I cursed, Tara?"

"No you are not. Just an unfortunate accident of birth. ‘tis very unfair, but you are not cursed."

"Was my father?"

"Sleep, my pet." She started singing softly. An old folk song that she knew he liked.

"You never answer that question," he said drowsily, feeling the draught taking effect. This was the best part of the day. When oblivion overtook him and he didn’t have to think about anything but the welcoming blackness that came with it. "I think I am cursed," he mumbled as sleep overtook him at last.

~{~}~{~}~

Tara stood up stiffly and smoothed out her skirts. "Fetch a cloth and clean up that mess." She indicated toward the wine stain. "I wish he would not talk about going out into the sun. It worries me quite to death." She started to bustle about, picking up William’s discarded clothes and folding them neatly, and then she stopped and thought for a moment. "I think his melancholy increases, do you not think so?" She held up the wine-stained trousers and bundled them up in her hand.

Alex looked up from his cleaning. "I think he’s mad, if that’s what you’re asking. And you don’t help, mother. You treat him like a baby. ‘Tis nauseating."

"For twenty one years, I have sat and watched over him." She looked at William fondly as he slept, then reached down to pull the quilt over his bare shoulders. "And I will continue to do so while I have breath in my body. Make sure you extinguish the candle when you leave. Goodnight, Alex."

"Goodnight mother." Alex continued dabbing at the wine stain until his mother’s footsteps faded, then he got up and reached for the candle stick. He took a moment to look at William, shaking his head as he did so, then he opened the drawer to the desk and felt about at the back, for the slim volume he knew was kept there. He opened it and angled the pages toward the candle light, unable to read a word, but fully appreciative of the illustrations therein. His eyes grew wide as saucers as he flicked through it, turning the book, and sometimes his head to get a better view. Then William stirred and started mumbling in his sleep so Alex snapped "The Gentleman's Book of Love" shut and hastily replaced it in its hiding place.

He extinguished the candle and made his way back to his room, rubbing at the front of his breeches. Damn, but he was going to have to visit a certain lady in the next village and get this itch scratched once and for all. Then Lord William would have to show him some respect. He would make sure he knew about it, would taunt him with it because, along with going out into the sun. it was something he was never going to get to do. What woman would bed a vampire? Alex laughed softly and shook his head. Vampires indeed. If only they knew what really lurked within these walls, they'd be weak with laughter, not with fright.
 

TBC

 

Chapter 2

 

“Willow, is that really you?” Elizabeth made her way through the crowd smiling broadly as she spotted her cousin.

“Elizabeth.” Willow turned and let out a small shriek. “I did not know you were back, why did you not call?”

“Mama has kept me busy this past week. Her nerves do not improve at all. But you?” She took her cousin’s hands and looked her up and down. “You are married now. Come, tell me all about it, where is your husband?”

“Over there,” Willow pointed out the rather short, red haired man making his way across the dance floor. “Oswald come, let me introduce cousin Elizabeth. She is just returned from America.”

Oswald took Elizabeth’s hand and winked at her. “I have heard such tales about you, and am very pleased to meet you at last.”

She looked at Willow, her eyes wide. “What have you been saying?”

Willow laughed and took her husband’s arm affectionately. “Take no notice of my husband, he likes to tease, don’t you my love?”

“Indeed I do.” He patted Willow’s hand and gave Elizabeth a small bow. “You will no doubt have much to talk about. From which I dearly hope you will let me be excused?”

“If you do not mind me stealing your wife for a while, I do have a lot of questions regarding a - certain institution.” Elizabeth gave him a coy smile.

“Then I definitely do not want to be here.” Oswald extracted himself from his wife’s embrace and took a step backwards. “Don’t frighten the girl too much, Willow dear.”

“As if I could frighten Elizabeth with anything. She has always been the brave one.”

The two girls giggled as they watched Oswald’s hasty retreat across the room. Then Elizabeth linked her arm in Willow’s and steered her through the french doors and out onto the balcony of the grand country house that hosted the dance they were attending.

“Oh Willow,” Elizabeth gave her a wistful look. “I swear you are glowing, are you very happy?”

“I am, cousin. Oswald is so...” She broke into a broad smile. “Come, let us sneak down to the garden and I will tell you all about it."

Elizabeth followed her, pleased that her cousin had found such happiness in marriage. Something she was beginning to think that she herself would never find. Perhaps she was being too fussy? Oswald seemed a nice man, witty and kind, and he and Willow very obviously adored each other. But what was it that made you attracted to a man? His looks? his wealth? She had indeed met many men who would be considered handsome, but apart from a superficial attraction, not one of them had managed to engage her interest further.

In fact the most feeling she had ever managed for a man had been a ridiculous yearning for one of the grooms when she had been fourteen. He was, as she remembered, plain, and pock-marked, but there had been something about him, something in the way he’d looked at her, that had made her want to go weak at the knees. She’d never felt it since and was beginning to despair of ever feeling it again.

The two girls sat themselves down on the swing chair, and for a few moments just contemplated the starry sky. Elizabeth sighed. “You are the brave one now. You are far ahead of me in this.”

“Was there no-one who took your fancy? You were so determined to marry a rich man. Do you remember what you said before you went?” Willow kicked her legs and the swing started gently back and forth.

“I do. But Willow, I believe now that there must be more than that. Surely you did not marry Oswald for his wealth?”

“No, but his five thousand a year does help.”

“But would you have married him without it?”

Willow contemplated her answer for a moment. “I would have married him had he been a pauper on the street. I love him Elizabeth. Have done since the moment I set eyes on him.”

“But how did you know? What drew you to him?” Elizabeth turned to her cousin. “I wish you would tell me, because I fear it will never happen to me.”

Willow chuckled. “It will cousin, and when you least expect it. Your heart will skip a beat and everything else will fade from sight until there is only him and nothing else. Now, do you want to know what goes on in the marriage bed, or don’t you?”
 

---------------------------------
 

”I have often wondered how it would feel to be in love. And I know that I never will be, condemned as I am to this life of solitude. For what woman of any sense would want to join me here in the dark? To live in the shadows? Were I to find such a woman, that would be love indeed.
 

William lay in bed listening to Tara’s retreating footsteps. He’d again refused the sleeping draught that she’d pressed upon him and he knew she was not pleased with him. She’d left the room shaking her head and muttering that she only had his best interests at heart, and that he wasn’t to mind offending her, since she was only a servant after all.

It cut him deeply when she spoke like that, she was after all the nearest thing to a mother that he could remember, but sometimes it became too much. Sometimes, even if it was only pretend, he needed to be a man and not the little boy she so fondly seemed to believe him to still be.

He knew he'd become dependant on the laudanum, having been given it for as long as he could remember and probably before that. It had been hard, but he’d found a determination within himself that he hadn’t know existed these past few weeks. And all at once, everything was starting to seem somehow sharper, and days that had once melted one into the other had started to separate, each with a morning, noon and night. And that’s when he’d realised just how empty and lonely his life really was.

He slid out of bed, shivering a little as he groped for his trousers. Pulling them on, he found his shirt and shrugged into it. Twenty one years and this was all he had to show for it. A pathetic creature who hid in the shadows and encouraged the tales of vampires and monsters because it gave him the respect he had no hope of earning otherwise. He wrote poetry that was never read, played music that nobody but Tara and sometimes that idiot Alex listened to, and got drunk. That was his life.

The fire had died down to embers but he was able to light a candle from one of the glowing coals and search around for his boots, which were nowhere to be found. He gave up the search, deciding that Tara had probably taken them for cleaning and tiptoed barefoot to the door. Having determined that no-one was about, he made his way along the corridor, passing room after room until he came to the main staircase. He descended quickly, then along more corridors until he came to the kitchen wing. Going out this way would attract the least attention, he reasoned to himself, feeling a little giddy from the feeling of freedom that this escapade was inducing.

Tara would be even less pleased to see him now, sneaking out at night, barefoot and without a coat. No doubt she would have some sermon for him regarding the evils of night air and how it would surely give him a chill, but right now he didn’t care. He couldn’t go out during the day, but there was nothing to stop him going out at night, only he hadn’t realised it until now. Since his head had started to clear, he was starting to realise a lot of things, and it was all very confusing. For a man of twenty one he had acquired no experience of life beyond these walls, but that was going to change. He was master here, knew he owned four large cotton mills, and an estate in the north of the country because he’d seen the deeds. He was probably a wealthy man, although he’d never actually seen any of his money.

He reached for the key to the kitchen door, thinking that maybe he ought to find out where it was and spend a sum on the house. Open up some of the rooms, buy some new furniture, that sort of thing. He turned the key in the lock then jumped nearly out of his skin as a shape stepped out of the shadows.

“And where might you be going? Master.”

William had spun himself around and flattened himself against the door before he realised who the figure was. He sagged against it as he let out the breath he'd been holding. “Bloody hell, Ethan, is that you?”

“It is. My lord.” The figure stepped out of the shadows, well over six foot tall, extremely stout and with an old Baker rifle slung over his shoulder. He cut a menacing figure in the flickering candlelight, as he advanced across the kitchen and put the gun down on the scrubbed pine table.

William shifted uncomfortably, his bravado rapidly evaporating as it always did when Ethan was around. He hated having to look up to him and he hated the way he said master, and my lord, always with a slightly mocking tone that was just enough to convey his total lack of respect.

“I was going for a walk.” He was master here, had every right to go for moonlit walks if he so chose.

“Well past the witching hour, master.” Ethan raised an eyebrow very pointedly, noticing his lack of shoes. “I wouldn’t go out like that. What would Tara say?”

William gave a nervous laugh, feeling more foolish by the moment. “Some such nonsense about catching chills no doubt.”

“And she’d be right.” Ethan spoke calmly and deliberately, his gaze unwavering.

“I will not go far,” William turned back to the door and reached for the handle, his hand trembling a little. Then, feeling a flash of courage, since he wasn’t looking at the man any more, he added in as masterful a voice as he could muster. “Get yourself off to bed. I won’t be needing you.”

He’d only got the door open a few inches when Ethan’s hand covered his and jerked it shut. William groaned inwardly and squeezed his eyes closed as he felt Ethan’s bulk behind him. The man didn’t even try to show him respect, and now the only way out of this humiliation was to beat a tactical retreat back to his room. He leaned his forehead against the door for a moment, gathering his wits as he heard Ethan move away. So much for breaking free.

“I’ve changed my mind.” He gave a small laugh as Ethan looked on impassively. “Bad idea, what was I thinking of?”

“Very wise, master.” Ethan picked up the gun and slung it back over his shoulder, then he walked over and re-locked the kitchen door. “We wouldn’t want to upset Tara now, would we? What with ‘er being so good to you an' all.”

“She is that,”

“Goodnight then, master.”

“Goodnight Ethan.”

He made his way back up the stairs, wiping at the foolish tears that he couldn’t stop and wondering where Tara kept the laudanum He needed it more than ever right now.
 

----------------------------
 

“Elizabeth!” She jumped as her father’s deep voice cut into her reverie. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

She hastily adjusted her skirts and jumped out of the swing. “Father?” Looking around, she located his voice on the balcony.

“Come up here this instant, I wish to talk with you.”

She recognised the tone and hurried up the steps to where he was standing. She’d almost fallen asleep on the swing, lost in a rather racy fantasy, induced by Willow’s elaborate description of her wedding night. To be fair, she hadn’t wanted to offer quite so much detail but Elizabeth had pressed her for it, assuring her that she would share when the time came. And now she knew, and it was both fascinating and alarming at the same time.

“I did not buy you a new dress so that you could skulk in the shadows young lady.” Her father looked her up and down, shaking his head as he did so. “You will pass. Come, you are to be introduced to the Reverend Caleb. He has expressed an interest in you.”

Elizabeth’s heart sank. Reverend? Could it get any worse. The reverends she’d met were the dullest of the lot. And to be condemned to the life of a minister’s wife, all charity work and polite talk? It made her shudder. And no man of God would surely want to indulge in any of the things that Willow had just been telling her about.

Her father missed none of it.

“He is an extremely wealthy and influential man, and has one of the better parishes. We are honoured indeed. Now put on your best smile, and do try to remember what is at stake.”

You did not buy me this dress, aunt Joan did. She wished she had the courage to say it out loud, but instead she turned and meekly followed her uncharacteristically excited father back into the ballroom, which she anxiously scanned for the shortest, ugliest, spottiest man, sporting quite probably with the biggest nose in England. For with her luck, that was surely what he would look like.

She was again snapped out of her musings by a voice, this time deep and cultured with a silky edge that sent a small shiver down her spine. She turned and came face to face with quite possibly the most handsome man she had ever met. The owner of the voice flashed her a smile that made her heart skip the very beat that Willow had mentioned and when he took her hand his firm, masterful grip almost made her swoon.

“Lovely, quite lovely. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Reverend Caleb and I am most honoured to make your acquaintance.”

Elizabeth just stared at him, her eyes wide and her wits scattered to the four winds. He was still holding her hand and doing something with his thumb that was making her insides turn to jelly. Her father looked on approvingly, mistaking her stupefied expression for one of a modest daughter doing her duty. And still, Caleb’s thumb was discretely caressing her palm, right under her father’s nose, she thought, savouring the thrill that alone gave her. And his eyes. He seemed to have her locked in his gaze, for she could not tear hers away from them.

She had prayed for this, a handsome, rich and desirable man and suddenly he was here, right in front of her, just as Willow had said. And showing an interest. Of all the beautiful ladies in the room, and there were a great many, he was expressing an interest in her.

The thought of all that competition returned her wits to her somewhat and she at last remembered to return his smile. Although I cannot imagine that mine is having anywhere near the impact on him that his is having on me, she thought giddily.

Caleb turned to her father, still keeping hold of her hand. “You did not exaggerate your daughter’s beauty, and I am indeed most interested.” He flashed her another smile, one that conveyed much more than its outward appearance. He seemed to have the ability to look right through her and everything about him seemed to promise so much more. Elizabeth’s fertile imagination was already racing ahead of her.

“You are indeed most kind sir, or do I call you reverend, or...” She blushed at the way the words tripped on her tongue, but he most gallantly came to her rescue.

“I’d rather you called me Caleb. Would you do that Elizabeth?”

“Of course, Caleb.”

He seemed satisfied with he way she’d said it, giving her the smallest hint of a wink of his eye.

Elizabeth swallowed down the surge of emotions that the meeting had induced in her. He was flirting with her, right in front of her father and her father seemed completely oblivious to the fact that anything was happening at all. She felt her mouth twitching into a grin. Oh, she was going to like Caleb. She was going to like him a lot.

And then he was taking his leave of her, an invitation having been issued for a small gathering at his house a week hence. Her father watched him leave, then turned to her.

“Well done Elizabeth, I believe he found you favourable, let us hope that he makes a formal enquiry as to your prospects, for this match would suit me quite well.”

So typical of her father to completely disregard her feelings in the matter, but for once she did not care, her mind still reeling as it was from the meeting. He strode away as Willow caught her eye and gave her a concerned look, hurrying across the floor to her.

“Elizabeth, is anything the matter? I declare you are looking quite flushed.”

“No, no, nothing is wrong.” She dropped her hand, realising that it was still where it was when Caleb had held it, and pressed it to her cheek, which was indeed hot, then she turned slowly to her cousin. “Oh Willow, I think I’m in love.”
 

---------------------------------
 

William couldn’t find the laudanum so he made do with a decanter of brandy. He woke up at dawn, sprawled across his writing desk and reeking of the stuff. As he lifted his pounding head and attempted to focus on the room about him, he thought that his life couldn’t get much worse than this.

Something had to get him soon. The alcohol, the laudanum or the sun. He didn’t really mind which it was, as long as he went out in a poetic blaze of glory. His stomach heaved as he tried to get up, so he slumped back down again. A legend required a legendary death, so he’d give them one. Something that would be talked about for generations to come. That would top that stupid tale about the devil coming for his father.

Someone had come for his father that fateful night. He remembered it well, hiding in the attic with Tara’s trembling arms wrapped around him. Alex blubbering beside them. Coming down the next morning and having Tara call him my lord for the first time. He’d never seen him again, didn’t even know if he was dead or he’d just abandoned them all. And then one by one all the servants had left and it had been just the four of them ever since. And the story had grown.

He grinned wickedly as he realised what he had to do. They thought him a vampire, and sometimes when he was so far gone that he couldn’t tell reality from fantasy, he even half believed himself to be one. So it was fitting that he die a vampire’s death. The next time he found himself alone, he was going to fall asleep in the sun, and he wasn’t going to wake up. Then in death he would become that big, scary vampire everyone thought him to be. And those stupid gossips would have something to talk about for generations to come.

 

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