Mr. Darcy, Vampyre

Chapter 17

The way to the ruin lay along sleepy lanes bordered by olive groves and vineyards. Despite the circumstances, Elizabeth took pleasure in her surroundings and in the steady trot of the horse and in the feel of Darcy’s arms around her as he held the reins. He rode well, with an experience born of a lifetime in the saddle, and guided his horse with no more than a gentle pressure of the heel every now and again or a slight movement of the reins. Elizabeth, who was an indifferent horsewoman, thought how different it was to see the world from horseback when she did not have to guide the animal herself.

They passed citrus trees and red-roofed houses and always, on their left hand side, lay the calm blue waters of the sea.

After awhile Darcy turned inland and the cart followed as they traversed a narrow country lane. Some twenty minutes later they left the lane and turned off onto a rough track. It climbed a hill, and once at its summit, Elizabeth could look down to see a ruin far below. It was set in a grassy hollow and it was flanked to the east by the cliff wall and to the west by a further steep drop to the sea. Stretching great branches over it was an old and gnarled tree.

The light was fading as the horse picked its way down the hill and the cart rumbled along behind. As they drew closer she could see that the ruin was large with arched doorways that had fallen in and a collapsed roof. Partial walls still stood, and beneath them lay the stones which had fallen. Long grasses grew between the stones and wildflowers ran riot through them.

Darcy brought his horse to a halt by the side of the ruin and dismounted, then lifted Elizabeth from the saddle, and beside them the cart too rolled to a halt. He tethered the horse to the lower branches of the tree and it began to nibble the grass.

Darcy looked with some apprehension towards the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, spreading bands of red across the sky. He walked briskly towards the ruin, stepping over its tumbled stone walls and striding across its broken floor until he reached a point beyond one of the door arches and stood looking about him, as if trying to recall a distant memory. He walked a few steps further forwards and then knelt down, parting the long grasses that had grown through the tumbled stones in an effort to find the way down.

Elizabeth watched him, and as the sun’s colours became more vibrant and more splendid, he started to change. He was no longer entirely solid. His outline was shimmering in the evening light, giving him an ethereal quality, and as she watched in fear and wonderment she saw him becoming transparent. As he faded, she had a sudden urge to reach out and touch him. To her relief, he felt real. She could rest her hand on his shoulder and feel the muscle beneath, but she had the uncanny feeling that if he lost any more form, her hand could slip straight through.

He gave a sudden cry, saying, ‘Here!’ and she pulled her hand back as he began to tug more vigorously at the grasses, ripping them up in huge handfuls to reveal the dark passage into the earth that lay beneath.

Georgio left the cart, where he had been seeing to the horse, and went to help him, his large brawny muscles making quick work of the debris that was clogging the opening. Once it had been cleared, Elizabeth saw a ramp leading down into the bowels of the earth. It was very dark, and the end of the ramp could not be seen. Georgio went back to the cart and returned with torches. He lit them, first one for Elizabeth and then one for Darcy, and then he went over to his father and helped him out of the cart. Nicolei leaned on his arm and together the four of them proceeded cautiously down the ramp, with Darcy leading the way.

They found themselves in an underground passage with a low roof. Strange shadows flickered on the walls and the drip, drip of water could be heard. Down went the ramp. Down and down. Then, just as Elizabeth thought she could stand the confined space no longer, the ramp led into the cellar, where a few bottles of wine were still lying on a wooden rack, coated thickly with dust.

Darcy went forwards slowly, motioning her to stay back. The reason for this soon became clear. In the floor towards the end of the cellar was a gaping black hole where the floor had caved in.

‘There must have been a disturbance of the earth some time ago which damaged the foundations and brought the building down,’ said Darcy. He looked down into the hole, holding his torch low the better to see. ‘This bit will not be easy,’ he said to Elizabeth and Nicolei. ‘Are you still determined to come?’

‘I am,’ said Elizabeth.

‘I too,’ said Nicolei.

Darcy gave a reluctant nod. Then, handing his torch to Georgio, he lowered himself into the hole.

There was silence, with only the steady drip, drip to mark the passage of time. Then Darcy’s voice called up, ‘It’s all right, you can come down.’

Elizabeth sat on the side of the hole and then gingerly lowered herself down, with Darcy catching hold of her and helping her to finish her descent.

She found herself in an underground cavern which was lit by a weird green light, and she felt a sense of awe as she looked about her, taking in the sublime remnant of antiquity. The temple was large and circular. Roman columns, grooved and topped with elaborate scrollwork, could dimly be seen in the shadows, ringing the temple at the eight points of the compass. Most of them were still standing, but two had fallen and lay broken on the floor. Within that ring, six statues were set, all made of marble, standing on plinths that made them some twelve feet high. She walked round, holding her torch aloft, and upon examining them, she found that they were similar to the statues she had seen in museums when visiting her aunt and uncle in London, portraying as they did the old Roman gods. Behind her, Darcy and Georgio, with great difficulty, managed to lower Nicolei through the hole.

She paused in front of the first statue and recognised him as Neptune, god of the sea. He had a toga half draped across his torso, a long, curling beard, and in his hand he held a trident. Beside him, at his feet, was a monster from the deep. Next to him was Apollo, god of the sun, young and beardless, holding his bow and arrow, with his lyre beside him. Then came Minerva, goddess of wisdom, an owl perched on her outstretched hand. After her was Jupiter, her father, lord of the skies, and then Pluto, god of the underworld. He wore a fearsome aspect and beside him was his three-headed dog Cerberus. After him, completing the circle, opposite the goddess Minerva with her love of learning, came an unsettling image of Bacchus, god of wine, lord of chaos, with an impudent satyr curled around his legs.

Nicolei was at last lowered through the hole and Georgio swiftly followed, until at last they all stood together in the centre of the temple.

‘What now?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘There is a chamber beneath us, if we are in the right place,’ said Nicolei, ‘and that is the chamber we seek.’

‘Then we must look for it,’ said Darcy.

Georgio lit two more torches, and with the better light, they could see that there were passages beyond the columns, radiating outwards. Whilst the others examined the passages, Nicolei rested himself on one of the broken columns.

‘This leads down,’ said Darcy.

‘And this,’ said Georgio, who had gone to one of the other passages.

‘And this,’ said Elizabeth, from the mouth of a third.

‘Do you know which one we should follow?’ Darcy asked Nicolei.

Nicolei, breathing noisily still with the effort of the descent, shook his head.

‘No, Old One.’

‘Then I will have to try them one by one.’

‘We will go together,’ said Elizabeth.

‘No,’ Darcy said. ‘We do not know what is lurking in the darkness. You will stay here with Nicolei. I will take Georgio with me. Never fear,’ he said, ‘once I find the way down, I will return for you.’

He kissed her on her forehead and then he was gone, disappearing down one of the passages with Georgio behind him.

Elizabeth watched him go, but when he had disappeared from view, she went to sit with Nicolei on the fallen column.

‘Where do they come from, the vampyres?’ she asked. She knew so little about them, but Nicolei seemed to know more. ‘Did they have their genesis here, near Rome?’

‘I do not know,’ he said. ‘I only know that they are revered among my people and that they are very old.’

‘Darcy said that he first met your people when he saved the life of the head man as he was travelling to another village to arrange a marriage.’

‘Yes, that is so. The man he saved was my great-grandfather, and the marriage he was arranging was that of his son, my grandfather. If the Old One had not saved him, then the marriage would not have gone ahead and there would have been war between our villages. It would have been thought that the neighbouring people had refused my great grandfather’s proposals and had killed him in pride and anger. But because of the help of the Old One, our villages became united and flourished in peace and prosperity for many years. My whole village is grateful to him for this. And I am grateful to him because, without his help, my grandfather would not have married my grandmother and I, and Georgio, would not be here.’

Elizabeth sat in thought but at last she said, ‘Do you know what lies in the chamber we are seeking?’

‘No,’ Nicolei said.

‘But it is older than the temple?’

‘Much, much older. It is from a time when nature was greater than man, but also more in harmony with him. The vampyre embodies this, for he is both man and beast.’

‘What will you do when Darcy is no longer a vampyre?’ asked Elizabeth, saying when and not if in an attempt to will it to be so. ‘Who will protect your village?’

‘Times are not as bad as they were. We are more prosperous now, and more numerous. We have many strong sons, and if need be, we can pay for others to help us. Now too the hills are safer than they were. There are bandits, yes, but they are not so many. We will survive,’ said Nicolei. ‘But something is passing, something of great majesty, and a power is going out of the world.’

They sat in silence.

At last Elizabeth could bear it no longer, and she relieved her spirits by walking around the chamber. Nicolei watched her, but then, curious as to his surroundings, he begged her for the use of her arm. She gave it gladly. They examined the statues more closely and then the columns, seeing that they had been sculpted by an artist of great talent. Behind the columns the wall appeared to be made of solid rock. Its surface was uneven and water trickled down it in a small, steady stream. Its colour was that of dry sand, shot through with occasional veins of green and rust which gleamed fitfully in the torchlight. Set into them at waist height, one between each two columns, was a basin. To begin with, Elizabeth thought the basins were natural, but they were so regular in their spacing that she gradually realised that they too had been carved.

They had gone some three quarters of the way round when at last she heard footsteps. They were so faint at first that she thought they were in her imagination, but then they became louder and stronger, and she ran to the mouth of the tunnel from which they came. The echoes were deceptive, and it was from another tunnel mouth that Darcy at last emerged.

He was looking dishevelled. His hair was rumpled, his coat was covered in a fine sandy powder, and his coat was ripped across the shoulder. His cravat was torn and hung from his neck in a tangle of linen. There was a hole in his breeches at the knee, and his boots were caked with mud. Georgio was hard on his heels, his face ashen.

‘What happened?’ asked Elizabeth, running over to him and lifting her hand to his cheek.

He took it and kissed it, but all he would say is, ‘That is not the way. We will have to try another passage.’

Georgio visibly blanched.

‘I cannot…’ he said in fear and trembling.

Darcy looked at him with sympathy. ‘I do not expect it. You have faced a challenge that few would have faced and acquitted yourself with great bravery, but the horrors of the passages are not for your kind. It is for me to face them alone.’

‘No!’ said Elizabeth.

‘My love, it is the only way. I have to do this. For you. For me. For us.’

‘And yet,’ said Nicolei speaking slowly, ‘it may not be necessary for anyone to go there. I think there is another way.’

Darcy looked at him enquiringly and Elizabeth followed his gaze. Nicolei was standing next to the wall at the eastern side of the temple, by one of the basins.

‘I have found… I think I have found…’ Nicolei said, ‘…writing.’

He rubbed the surface dirt away with his finger, and Elizabeth could see a fine flowing script underneath.

‘What does it say?’ she asked.

‘It is very old, a dialect. Few speak it now. It says… it says the way will be eased by a… by something close to the… I cannot read this word… something close to the hide… no, the skin… I think this word means father… no, not father, the one who makes. I think it means sire.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Elizabeth.

‘It means that if I have something worn by my sire, the vampyre who made me, it will smooth my way,’ said Darcy.

‘There is more,’ Nicolei went on, rubbing again with his finger. ‘It says rest in… no, lay in… lay in the hollow. It means, I think, put it in the hollow of the bowl.’

‘If only I had something,’ said Darcy regretfully, ‘but I have nothing. I will have to continue without it.’

‘Perhaps not,’ said Elizabeth, struggling to recall a slight memory. She turned to Darcy as it came back to her. ‘When you came to my rescue on the beach, when you thought Lady Catherine was attacking me and knocked her back, she left an indentation in the cliff, and caught in the indentation was her veil. It must have been embedded in the rock when she pulled herself free. I saw it blowing in the breeze.’

Darcy’s face brightened.

‘Then I will fetch it,’ he said energetically. ‘It will not take me long.’

‘It took us hours to get here,’ Elizabeth pointed out.

Darcy smiled, his eyes bright in the torchlight. ‘But I am a vampyre,’ he said.

There was a sudden brief stirring of wind and then, quicker than she would have thought possible, he was gone, a black and fluid form disappearing rapidly from view.

She could hardly take in what had happened and she sat down, her legs feeling suddenly weak. It was a day of marvels, fearful and terrible, yet wonderful and strange.

Nicolei resumed his seat next to her on one of the fallen columns, and Georgio sat on the other one, looking down at the floor silently. As Elizabeth recovered her composure, she found herself wanting to ask him what had happened, but she could not bring herself to speak of it. His colour had returned but when one of the torches sputtered and he lit a new torch from the old, his hands were still shaking.

Nicolei too had fallen silent and appeared to be lost in thought.

Elizabeth prepared herself for a long wait, but before she thought there was any hope of Darcy returning, there was a beating of wings and a rushing of air and he stood once more before them. She saw that he was holding, in his left hand, Lady Catherine’s black veil.

‘You found it!’ she said. ‘I was afraid it might have blown away.’

‘No, it was just where you said it would be,’ he said with a warm smile. Then his face became serious. ‘And now we must see what it will do.’

He walked past the statue of Apollo and then passed between two of the fluted columns until he stood by the wall. The torches could not illuminate the ceiling—only a small portion of the wall around the basin—and the light flickered constantly. He looked at the flowing script for a moment before placing the veil inside. It lay there, slight and insubstantial, nothing more than a shadow in the hollow bowl.

Elizabeth watched it. But as nothing happened, she began to feel a fall in her spirits. It had done nothing. Nor had she, in her heart of hearts, expected it to.

And then, slowly, with a grating noise, the stone wall in front of them began to move. It swung smoothly open and Elizabeth found herself looking across a balcony of rock and into another, much larger cavern, a vast chamber hewn out of the living stone, set some twenty feet below them.

Darcy took the torch in one hand and Elizabeth in the other, and together they moved forward, going through the massive door and standing on the natural stone balcony, which ran around the circumference of the cavern.

Elizabeth looked down. At first she thought there were columns stretching from the ground far below them to the roof high above, but then she saw that they were not columns; they were trees, and their branches were supporting the roof.

‘A petrified forest,’ said Darcy.

Elizabeth looked at the petrified trees in awe, wondering how and when they had turned to stone. Some were exactly as they had been when they were growing, with thick branches supporting thinner branches and ending in twigs, the whole of them carrying petrified leaves that glistened with streaks of copper and green. Some had fallen and lay as stone logs across the forest floor. In between them were petrified ferns. The whole thing had an uncanny appearance, lit by an unnatural light, a bluish purple glow.

Hand in hand, Elizabeth and Darcy began to go down the broad flight of shallow steps that led to the forest floor. Nicolei, who, with the aid of his son, was following them very slowly down the steps, said breathlessly, ‘It is magnificent.’

‘The trees are glowing,’ said Elizabeth. She listened intently. ‘And humming.’

‘You’re right,’ said Darcy, standing still to listen.

Without the sound of their footsteps the hum could be heard more clearly, like the low buzzing of far-off bees.

Elizabeth and Darcy resumed their descent and came at last to the foot of the steps where they stood for a moment looking about them. Now that they were closer, they could see that some of the trees had been carved into strange creatures, neither man nor beast, startling relics of a long forgotten time. And yet the carvings were beautiful in their own way. They stood proudly in the centre of small, randomly spaced clearings or peered out from behind groups of trees, some hesitant, some mischievous, and some bizarre yet glorious to behold.

Elizabeth and Darcy began to move forward, picking their way carefully across the forest floor, stepping over fallen logs, and threading their way between stone ferns. By a strange trick of the light, it appeared as though purple and blue sunbeams were falling through the canopy above them and onto the forest floor, though no light entered the cavern from any opening. It seemed to be an effect of the torchlight reflecting from the minerals in the trees and walls.

They found themselves in a clearing in the centre of the forest, without ever having meant to arrive there, as though they had been led there by uncanny paths. In the centre of the clearing stood a broken trunk, and on top of it, illuminated by one of the weird and marvellous beams of purple light, was a stone tablet. They looked down at the tablet and saw that, etched across it, there were strange runes.

‘I have seen this kind of writing before, in the Count’s library,’ said Darcy, holding the torch closer, the better to see it.

‘Can you read what it says?’ asked Elizabeth.

‘Yes, I can, enough to understand the words at least. But I do not understand what they mean. They say something about falling… something will fall…’

As if in answer to his words there was a groaning and then a grating noise behind them. Elizabeth turned, just as a huge slab dropped from the ceiling, guided by mighty channels in the wall, until it completely covered the door. The earth beneath them shifted, disturbed by the impact, and small cracks began to appear in the forest floor. The statues rocked slowly backwards and forwards on their plinths, and Elizabeth held her breath, but gradually the earth began to settle, and after a sigh and a groan, it was still. With a last rattle the statues too came to rest.

Nicolei had not been so lucky. He was still on the steps, but he had been toppled from his feet. Darcy started to move towards him in concern but Nicolei called out to him in a quavery voice, reassuring them that he was not hurt.

‘Go on!’ he called to Darcy, as Georgio helped him to his feet. ‘You must finish what you have started. It is the only way.’

Darcy nodded then turned his attention back to the tablet.

‘This word is break…’ he said.

There was another rumble from below and the earth shifted again, the small cracks widening and new cracks appearing. Something hit Elizabeth on the shoulder, and looking up, she saw that the movement of the earth had caused cracks to appear in the cavern roof too, and that small pieces of rock were falling.

‘Hurry,’ she said to Darcy.

‘All will be bright,’ said Darcy, reading, ‘if… if… choices…’

The ground rolled and Elizabeth was thrown forward. Darcy caught her and righted her, but there was no one to catch the statues which rocked with greater force, back and forth like giant pendulums, whilst large stones hailed down from above. More alarmingly, a tongue of flame darted up from one of the cracks and was followed by smaller flames from surrounding fissures.

Darcy and Elizabeth glanced at each other and then Darcy read, ‘…have no fright… no fear… starting to crumble… falling, breaking, destroying…’

The rumbling, which had been low and throaty, now broke forth into a roar as giant spurs of rock thrust their way up through the fissures, toppling the statues and sending them crashing to the ground, where they broke into petrified pieces, sending a cloud of dust whirling upwards into the flame-filled air.

There was a sickening cracking sound, and looking round as one, Elizabeth and Darcy saw that a giant chasm had opened halfway up the flight of stairs, cutting them off from the door. Nicolei, still supported by Georgio, was a small, frail figure on the other side.

‘We cannot go back now, even if we wanted to,’ said Elizabeth.

Darcy held the torch higher and moved a few steps to the side, the better to see the inscription.

‘Hold on…’ he read, as the roaring grew louder, drowning out the forest’s hum, ‘…hold on to the truth… no, hold on to that which is true.’

There was a great splintering sound and a deep fissure opened between Darcy and Elizabeth, widening with frightening speed until they were separated by a sea of molten lava, and another appeared, and then another, separating him from the tablet.

‘The inscription!’ cried Elizabeth.

‘It’s finished,’ shouted Darcy, above the noise of the flame. ‘That is all it said.’

‘Then do as it says,’ called Nicolei. ‘Hold on to that which is true. It is the tablet, Old One. The tablet is true.’

Darcy looked at the tablet. But as he was about to spring across the vast lava-filled chasm, he experienced a moment of calm, and whilst the tempest raged all around, a voice spoke in the quiet of his soul.

‘No,’ he said, ‘It’s Elizabeth. Elizabeth is true.’

He leapt to the opposite chasm and held on to her as the ground heaved and the mighty trees collapsed and roof began to fall. Huge pieces of stone rained down on them, and he cradled Elizabeth protectively to his chest, sheltering her head with his hands.

The ground was seething all around, a boiling mass of garish red, and a fierce wind sprang up with a wild roar, buffeting them and battering them, threatening to whip them from their island and cast them into the lava. Elizabeth clung to Darcy and he to her.

And then the waters appeared. Up from the newly made crevices they spurted, drawn from the deepest reaches of the earth, as an icy river started to rise.

Elizabeth watched in horrified fascination, torn between despair and hope as fire and water waged battle before her. The fire boiled the water into steam, but still the water rose, consuming the fires in a great hissing rasp.

‘It’s going to be all right,’ she said with wild hope as she saw the flames flicker and die.

But her hope was short-lived. As the fires died all around them, the waters kept on rising, creeping over the island of rock on which they stood with arms entwined and bodies pressed close together. It was over their feet, then over their knees, a blood-warm sea, rising quickly until she and Darcy were thigh deep in water.

‘It was the tablet,’ cried Nicolei sorrowfully, his voice barely audible above the tumult of cracking earth and sizzling fire and roaring wind. ‘You should have held on to the tablet, Old One. The tablet was true.’

Elizabeth looked up into Darcy’s eyes.

‘I shouldn’t have let you come,’ he said, turning all his attention to her and taking her face in his hands. ‘I should never have allowed it.’

‘It was not your fault; it was mine,’ she said. ‘I should have stayed behind. You tried to make me listen. I should not have gone against the portent.’

‘We could not have escaped it whatever we did, I see that now,’ said Darcy. ‘I only wish that you could have been spared and that you did not have to die with me.’

‘You are immortal,’ she said. ‘You will not die.’

‘I cannot die of old age, but even I can drown,’ he said. ‘But you should not have had to share my fate. You should be at home now, in Meryton, safe.’

‘I don’t regret anything,’ she said as the waters swirled around her waist and rose with frightening speed to her shoulders. ‘I don’t mind dying if I can die with you. Only kiss me and I will die happy.’

He turned up her face to his and kissed her fiercely, and she returned his kiss with passion as the waters swirled over their shoulders, and there amidst the noise and turmoil, they kissed and kissed again as they waited for the end.

But the end did not come. The waters started receding, going down slowly at first, retreating to their shoulders and then to their waist, then moving more rapidly, sinking to their knees, and then to their ankles before disappearing beneath the rocky floor as quickly as it had appeared. There was one final convulsion of the earth and a shower of rocks rained down from above, and then everything was silent. They stood amidst the dread and terrible wreckage, and yet miraculously the two of them were untouched.

Elizabeth lowered her hand from Darcy’s neck and as she did so she was filled with a sense of awe.

‘Your puncture marks. The bites,’ she said, running her fingers over the smooth skin of his neck. ‘They’ve gone. The water has washed them away.’

He lifted his hand to his neck and ran his fingers over the spot where they had been, then his eyes filled with profound wonderment.

‘What does it mean?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. I hope—’

He was interrupted by Georgio’s hail and looking round, they saw that Nicolei and Georgio were unharmed. The two men had climbed back up to the top of the steps and were standing by the door. Nicolei was leaning heavily on Georgio’s arm.

‘Go on,’ called Darcy across the chasm that separated them. ‘Don’t wait for us. I will find a way out for Elizabeth and myself. Go back to the lodge, we will meet you again there.’

Georgio waved in acknowledgement and he and Nicolei disappeared through the door.

‘And now, we must find a way out,’ said Darcy. They were surrounded by cracks and crevices and the way would not be easy. ‘I think, if we go this way,’ he said, indicating a path that could be negotiated by small jumps over narrow cracks, ‘we can approach the door more nearly.’

Elizabeth, having come to the same conclusion, agreed.

They began to jump across the cracks, but they had crossed only two of them when the earth rocked again and Elizabeth was nearly thrown from her feet. She righted herself quickly, then put her hands to her ears as there was a terrible rumble, and to her astonishment, the side of the cavern started to slide away.

She stared at it in amazement. Faster and faster it went, slipping downwards to reveal glimpses of blue skies and daylight. Before another minute had passed, she found herself in a newly-opened cave overlooking the bright blue waters of the Mediterranean. Darcy, beside her, let out an astounded exclamation, and the two of them looked out in wonderment.

‘It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,’ said Elizabeth.

The sun was rising on the horizon, spreading its golden light over the world. She hardly dared turn towards Darcy for fear of what she might see, but she did so at last and felt herself awash with relief.

‘You are not transparent!’ she said.

He looked down at himself.

‘So that is what the portent meant,’ he said. ‘The curse has been broken, the shadow lifted. You have caused my death after all, Lizzy, or at least a part of me. It was the death of the vampyre you caused.’

He turned his face to the sun then he stretched out his arms and threw back his head as he basked in the glow of the sunrise.

‘It is many, many years since I have done this,’ he said. ‘To see the dawn of a new day, without fear, is something wonderful indeed.’

She watched him with an overpowering love.

And then he turned towards her.

For the first time since she had known him there was no tension in him, no aloofness, no painful restraint. There was only a man without burdens or curses. Free.

His eyes darkened and they began to smoulder, and she felt her legs grow weak. He ran the back of his hand across her cheek and she began to tremble. And there by the sea, in the new light of morning, they came together as one.