Vampire and Prejudice

Chapter 7 - Darcy

Miss Elizabeth had the unmistakable misfortune of having cut her finger. I did everything in my power not to look in her direction since looking had made me aware of the fact and being aware was dangerous. She did not strike me as someone prone to hysterics, but I had known her but a short while. She was discrete and quiet on the subject, and her departure gave me much relief.

I did not crave her blood. I was not famished. There was no reason for me to retrace her steps, looking for a stray drop just for me.

"I win again!" Mrs. Hurst cried. Her delight was, thankfully, distracting.

"To prefer books over cards—what nonsense. Miss Eliza has country manners and country joys." Miss Bingley's decision to renew that subject was even more distracting. Her fixation was becoming worrisome; I suspected it to be my fault. Had I not singled out Miss Elizabeth, I am sure Miss Bingley would find her much more palatable. For them to be friends might be a stretch of imagination—they were rather different—but I could not entirely disregard my wish for them to be friendly towards each other. To what end, I was not entirely sure.

"Do not you yourself take some pleasure in reading," I remarked.

"Not while in company. To neglect a party of people all assembled at a table and stand out by being so arrogantly employed—I would not think of such a thing, I would strive to be as amiable as possible."

There was nothing amiable about her, instead spiteful venom was pouring over an undeserving subject. I felt it was me she wanted to punish, but I was much harder to abuse directly, so she used other means at her disposal. If I started to ignore Miss Elizabeth, if I was indifferent to her, if I paid more attention to Miss Bingley, I was sure her crusade would stop.

I must admit, I was not as benevolent as that. I did not wish to hide my regard for Miss Elizabeth; I wished to know more of her; I wanted to hold a lecture on Miss Bingley's faults; I wanted to give her a good spanking and send her back to London. That, however, was Bingley's domain and responsibility, and I had to remain restrained. And Miss Elizabeth had to suffer.

"I do believe she did it for your benefit," Miss Bingley continued. "For your gaze to be drawn to her once again."

"Then perhaps you can perform the favor of sitting next to her, given the chance, so I can admire you both without straining my neck."

"And shall I also read? Will you pick my book for me? You are more familiar with books than I and can recommend one that would most improve me."

A list of severe suggestions entered my mind, but I remained silent on the subject. Mrs. Hurst urged us to play, and we did, until she had lost most thoroughly and Mr. Hurst had fallen asleep.

"Shall we play again?" I did not want to be left alone.

"It is late," Mrs. Hurst complained.

"I did not know you had such love of cards," said Miss Bingley.

"I don't."

My response was not encouraging enough to persuade even her, and it was a unanimous decision to go to bed. It would not be too strange for me to remain, but I left in favor of my room regardless where I took to pacing. Really, I should have gone for a walk, but I could not bear to leave the house.

I was not hungry, but I felt an uncomfortable wish to have some blood on my tongue. Ringing for blood at this hour would be a disturbance, so instead I paced the room and tried to dissuade myself of intrusive ideas that I had no wish to see fulfilled.

I was being undone by curiosity—that was it. Spilled blood presented itself to me, and I was sure to want a taste. I generally never wanted such a thing; blood was sustenance—I felt nothing in particular about my sustenance unless I went without it. I was well fed. I did not crave blood. I craved HER blood.