Vow of Blood and Starlight (a Pride and Prejudice retelling)

Chapter Twenty

*Note From Writer*  - Alright my little bloodsuckers and word devours. From here on things are going to get a little more iffy. In the realm of violence in many forms. So this is a TW for anything that might set someone off. But it is not in any graphic detail. The book will be more like that from this point on as we hit the climax and everything starts to go to shit. Send me a message if you have any questions and as always, happy reading. 

Chapter Twenty: 

Flustered, Elizabeth shouts to herself as she charges off the dance floor. Declaring such a thing impossible as she does not think of Darcy as anything more than a tall and attractive monster with a light god complex.

And smooth hands. 

Elizabeth finds herself rubbing her own hands together as she weaves in and out of the crowd of guests who dance and drink and mingle, to find her family. His hands were soft, but not soft in the way Mr. Collins hands are, as if he has never worked a day in his life, no. Soft in the way of certainty, as if his hands never did something without previous forethought, therefore never causing any harm to them. Even understanding the violent nature of his occupation she ponders the ever calculating rhythm of his body, his stance. As if every action required a meaning to be done. 

Even the harsh ones. She admitted to herself that the feelings she often kept locked and submerged under miles of stone, ripped a little when she was near him. When he yanked her from her stride and back into his arms. When his eyes softened just for her and he fought hard against a simile. 

What foolishness. Her sister perhaps would think more of it all, even Charlotte. But Elizabeth, ever the warrior, ever calculating. No. Elizabeth giggles at her own thoughts as she finds Jane and wills the heat to fall from her cheeks before speaking. Jane looks just as flustered as her sister as she rises from her spot on a lounge sofa to take her sister's arm.

"Don't you look happy." Marks Elizabeth as the two girls make their way to find the rest of the family.

Jane grins, "Oh Lizzie, I have never like anyone as much as I like him. Do... be happy for me won't you?" Jane says with a light air of concern.

"What would call me to not be happy for you dear Janie? He seems more than agreeable."

"Well." Jane laces her fingers with her sisters. "Mr. Darcy and you seem to have something of a, rivalry. Following of course your general emotional confusion." She giggles. 

Elizabeth does not respond, biting her lip against the memory of his fingers trailing icy hot lines down her spine. Confusion indeed. 

The two girls giggle as they make their way into a smaller dimly lit room, where the Bennet's sit on various stools and sofas. Mary, the most sober out of the bunch, glides her hands on a grand piano, producing a soft and eerie melody. Mrs. Bennet occupies a whole sofa with her elegant gown splayed about with her head on a soft looking silver pillow. Kitty and Lydia do not seem at all sober as they sit chuckling on the other side of the lounge.

Mr. Bennet sits in a large chair with his pipe and is the first to notice the two girls enter the space.

"How are you, girls? Bingley seems quite taken with you Jane." Remarks Mr. Bennet with a strong draw of his pipe.

Mrs. Bennet giggles sharply, "Indeed he does Mr. Bennet. I am expecting a wedding proposal very soon indeed! And Jane's marriage to Bingley will surely throw her sisters into the way of other advantages. It is all quite spectacular."

Elizabeth rolls her eyes as she picks up a glass of water and makes her way to her lounging adult. 

"There is more than just good breading and wealth that make a man of worth, mother. You sound shallow when you converse that way." Elizabeth places the cup in her mothers grasp.