Vampire and Prejudice

Chapter 19 - Darcy

Christmas at Pemberley was beautiful, but the people assembled were unequal to enjoy it. I was as wretched as I had never been in my life; Georgiana was her cold and distant self; Bingley was so miserable it was painful to watch. We all attempted to put on a cheerful show, at least for the sake of others around us, but from where I stood, our efforts were futile.

My heart felt frozen over, turning heavier and colder with each passing moment. I had promised Mr. Lamb and myself that I would get better, that my heartache would not impact my health, but it seemed I was unable to keep my word. What was worse, I did not care to keep it. I had a distinct wish to simply fall apart and rot in the garden.

Georgiana was acting like Georgiana: she flinched ever so slightly whenever someone came too close to her; she endured Miss Bingley's chatter and Mrs. Hurst's exultations about London; she sat meekly and nodded, saying a word or two in response to appear present, but otherwise she was locked in her fortress of self, unwilling to come out. There were moments of ease for her, but they were few and far between. Sitting down at the pianoforte was Georgiana's favorite place to be—it put much distance between her and the rest of the party.

Bingley had tried to deal with his sorrows in London, but it was evident he still had his pockets full of them. The best way to describe it would be to say that my friend seemed wilted. His usual cheerful manners were forced and his face utterly fell the moment he thought nobody was watching. He drank a lot more than I would have liked to, and Miss Bingley reported it had been much worse in London, where there was nobody to check him. I hated to be the one responsible for Bingley's conduct, seeing as my own spirits were decidedly poor. He behaved well enough, however, even if he was uncustomarily gloomy. I would not have allowed him in the house with Georgiana otherwise.

A few choice friends joined us from Hartfield and Somersetshire, but our party was small. Had it been any bigger, I was sure never to see Georgiana downstairs. She utterly shrunk any duties of being a hostess, but Miss Bingley eagerly filled that role as much as I would allow. I kept her on a tight leash, stopping her when she endeavored to overstep an invisible line.

My blood intake had become marginally better, but I still struggled with it. Mr. Lamb was not happy with me. He needn't have bothered; I was perfectly unhappy with myself without encouragement. I could hardly go to him with my heart troubles, and Bingley's medicine of choice—however ineffectual—was of no use to me. Technically, I could get inebriated, but the methods of accomplishing that seemed like too much of a hassle in my present state. Instead, I spent my late evenings watching Bingley drink his fill until he was all but passed out and listening to his monologs on heartbreak. I could not join in, maintaining the facade that I was not intimately familiar with the condition.

"A heart breaking differs from a bone breaking," he said on one occasion around midnight. "A bone can be set, can heel, in time can provide similar if not the same functionality. But a heart once broken shrinks upon itself, never gaining back its full volume. Where there has been love and hope of love, now there is nothing. A nothing which is filled with the most dreadful things that cannot be suctioned out. No blood letting will help this ailment, mark my words, no matter what Mr. Lamb tells you."

Mr. Lamb, of course, had told me absolutely nothing on the subject and I was rather grateful that he was not privy to this conversation. Perhaps he would have some words of wisdom to impart, or just box Bingley's ears and send him to bed. Either would be welcome.

"I don't believe I will ever fall in love again—it is a dreadful business. Like flinging oneself off a cliff. The feeling is exhilarating, suddenly you know what it is like to fly, but the end is too unpleasant to try it another time. Love cripples. Beware of it, my friend. I need not the same advice, for when you have loved once and lost that gamble so pitifully as I have, there is no chance of catching that feeling again. I proclaim myself immune, inoculated for the rest of my life."