Vampire and Prejudice

Chapter 1 - Darcy

My sister played the piano, and I tended to my correspondence—that was the general morning routine for the Darcys of Pemberley. Left alone with no company, we never bothered with breakfast; instead, a single large glass of red liquid was served for each of us—the only sustenance we needed anyway. I had finished my portion directly, but Georgiana still had her glass half full, and if the previous experience was to be believed, it was unlikely to get any emptier. Scolding Georgiana did little good these days, so I kept my thoughts on the subject to myself. There was another matter that would likely upset her, but keeping quiet on that front was not an option for long.

"Bingley has written," I said, keeping my eyes firmly set on the papers. Georgiana did hate to be studied, and I thought it the best course save for giving her the letter and abruptly leaving the room for her to experience her anxieties in solitude and without much need for composure. But then of course I would directly show my mistrust in her abilities which might serve only to hurt her further.

Georgiana kept playing without so much as an interested word in my direction. True, Bingley writing to us was hardly news, he or his sisters did so with some frequency.

"He has decided on a property in Hertfordshire and means to move in soon," I continued. There were many polite questions Georgiana might have asked, but she did not, keeping her fingers busy with the keys. The melody was even and lovely, unmarred by the news for now.

"He is asking for us to join him," I finally surrendered the crucial piece of information and sure enough the piano fell silent. I allowed myself to look at Georgiana, immediately being assaulted by her pain and evident feelings of betrayal. Directly, she communicated those feelings into words.

"So, you mean to leave me," she accused. I allowed myself a moment of composure, to stifle the want to go to her, to comfort her. Her usual response for such actions were hysterics and I rather save her—and myself— the embarrassment of a scene.

"You could always come with me," I suggested in the gentlest tone in my possession. She violently shook her head, declining to entertain the idea.

"Georgiana, please," I said and rose. She did the same, backing away from me, so I dared not approach.

"I cannot go," her voice had only the barest tremor. "I will not."

The look of her broke my heart. She had not improved these 10 years against all promises. If anything, she had gotten worse, time neglecting to bring her any solace from the memories of the unfortunate events of her youth. She had always been a shy child, and now she was a positively unsocial woman—a generous term, considering the circumstances— crippled with nervousness and anxiety. The wave of panic was clear on her face and her only hope of salvation was the assurance of staying where she was.

"Of course," I consented, and she seemed to relax just a little. "I can stay, too."

"No, you should go," said Georgiana in a small voice, suddenly embarrassed.

"Bingley will understand."

"You cannot keep declining his invitations," she said and sat back at the piano. I followed suit, sitting down at my desk. "He will start to think we do not like him and even someone as amiable as Mr. Bingley might take offence. I would hate for you to lose all of your friends because of me. Write to him that you are happy to go and in return secure his promise to visit us in Pemberley."

It was a pretty speech and she delivered it with the poise that could render her earlier behavior almost imagined. It was also a sensible decision on her part—she did not dare to venture into the world, but she could afford to let a little bit of the world into her home—but there was still fear in me that as soon as I left, she would start to degrade rapidly, and when I would come back, I would not find a ready hostess but an utter wreck.