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Item 55

Posted on Monday, 23 June 2008

'I shall be very lonely, shall I not, when you are all off reading on newer and fancier boards, and I remain here all alone ...' - M.M.

55. Verena's Tale - continued.

I had been sent to school some years before. At that time, I was attending Frau Reimann’s Preparatory Lyceum for Girls in Koenigsberg. My brother travelled there under an assumed name - it was the first time of many that the two of us used our mother’s maiden name as our own, in the hope that an English couple (as which we posed) - or in his case, a gentleman - would not be brought into connection with the Vampire Hunters. My brother reached Koenigsberg in October. He was lucky that Frau Reimann had not yet heard of our parents’ arrest and therefore had no qualms about allowing him to visit me.
When he told me what had happened, I was shocked beyond anything. I had not had letters from anyone in my family for several weeks then, but as they all had had to work under-cover at times, I had not yet been overly worried. I simply could not believe it when my brother told me that there was little hope that they would be released soon - [the certain person] was far too powerful. I did not think that possible. Yes, I may have been naïve, but keep in mind that I was then but sixteen years old.

My brother told me that I could not remain at Frau Reimann’s - once she found out what had happened, and she would, she was bound to send me back to Vienna, care of the Imperial Government. I asked my brother where I was to go. We had had a great-aunt in a small town in Koenigsberg, who would certainly have taken me in, but she had died a couple of years ago. Apart from our parents, we had no living relatives, and no one to turn to for help. Arnold suggested that I go to England. It was our mother’s country and I knew the language, and my good friend Charlotte Lucas - now Lady Metcalfe - had just returned to England and would certainly have invited me into her family’s home. Yes, Lady Metcalfe and I went to school together, Mrs Bingley. It was she who started calling me Lizzy because she could not pronounce Verena the way I did. In addition to that, Arnold added, he had contacts with the V.D., who would certainly give me protection if he wrote to them. I asked him whether he did not plan to go to England with me; surely he did not want to Vienna where he would certainly be arrested. Arnold replied that that was exactly his plan. He said that however great the danger for himself was, our parents were in even greater danger and it was his duty to return to Vienna and try whatever he could to free them. Furthermore, he said, he and some of his colleagues had decided, now that the Vampire Hunters were in the process of being disbanded, to continue their work in secret, lest more people died without reason.
I told him that in that case, I would return to Vienna with him. I said that they were my parents as well as his and that I would not shrink from that duty. He first refused to take me with him - he said I knew not what I might be facing and that I should not underestimate [that certain person]. I remained stubborn. I told him I was no longer a child. I had been confirmed the previous spring and now considered myself, to all intents and purposes, an adult. Arnold, of course, would hear nothing of that. He said that he had long ago promised our parents that should anything happen to them, he would take care of me. Of course I had not known about that, but I argued that surely, he could not take care of me when I was in a different country. I begged him to take me with him; I told him I would not be bale to bear losing him as well - Arnold was just as stubborn as I was. He told me that most certainly he would not take me with him, for however grown-up I might consider myself, and however well I had been educated, I had no idea of the tasks that lay before and of the things he had to do.

We debated the whole afternoon as we sat in a small, old-fashioned coffee-house that was overlooking a grey Prussian square with the obligatory statues of military leaders standing in puddles of rain. Whenever I think of Koenigsberg, this square is the first picture that comes to my mind.
In the end, the decision was made for us. As I returned to Frau Reimann’s school, having agreed that we would both sleep a night over the matter and make our decision in the morning, one of the maids informed me that a letter from Vienna had arrived for Frau Reimann and that everyone knew it was concerning me. Sure enough, as I came to the Common Room, the prefect informed me that Frau Reimann wished to see me as soon as I had returned. I did not hesitate. Pretending that I had to use the bathroom, I excused myself for a moment, got a small bag with my dearest possessions and a change of clothes from the dormitory (packed in anticipation of a weekend trip to a friend’s country house) and left the same through the windows, thanks to an obliging apple tree.

I found Arnold in the small hotel where he was staying. Praising my luck that I was not dressed in the school’s uniform, I hastily put a ring I had inherited from my godmother onto my finger and asked the concierge to please inform Arnold that his wife had come a day earlier. The concierge eyed me sceptically, but in the end sent one of the boys for Arnold.
When Arnold came downstairs, I enquired very loudly whether he had not received my telegram that I was coming and complained that I had had to leave my baggage at the train station because he had not been there to help me with it. Arnold luckily realised my intention and said just as loudly that no telegram had reached him, but surely I was tired, and suggested that we retire to our room and collect my belongings in the morning. The concierge was satisfied with our charade and after Arnold had given him a Mark for all his efforts, was happy to confirm that Arnold’s room had been booked for two persons all along. Arnold had explained, with a rakish wink, that he was not yet quite used to having a wife, and such a young one as that, that he must have forgot to inform anyone of my arrival. The concierge had nodded understandingly and answered with an equally rakish wink.

Once we were upstairs, however, Arnold’s demeanour changed completely. As soon as he had closed the door behind us, he grabbed my shoulders and hissed ‘What on earth did you think you were doing coming here and posing as my wife?’, shaking me while he did so. He released me then and ran a hand through his hair.
‘Do you not realise,’ he said, ripping at his tie, his collar and his cuffs, as he always did when he was nervous - oh, you have seen him done the same, Col. Brandon. You will realise what a complete mess he looked after only a few seconds. ‘Do you not realise that the two of us are in grave danger already? What have you done now?’
‘I fled from school,’ I said, trying to stay calm even though I was shaking inside.
‘You what?’ he roared.
I tried to explain what had happened. Before I had even mentioned how I had made my way to his hotel, Arnold had pulled me in a crushing hug.
‘I am so sorry,’ he whispered, ‘you must know how afraid I was for you.’
‘Will you take me back to Vienna with you then?’ I asked. ‘I doubt I could get to England without considerable trouble now, and I had rather be with you.’
I swallowed hard, but then told him what had been on my mind anyway.

‘I just had a glimpse of what me life could be like from now on and I am terribly afraid. I do not think I could manage that on my own.’
‘Do not worry,’ Arnold said and stroked my hair. ‘We will go back together.’
He concierge entered the room in that moment, carrying a tray with tea and bread. He took one glance at Arnold, collarless and dishevelled, holding me tight, then gave us a lewd wink and disappeared again. It was not the last time we saw that knowing smile on the face of a landlord or concierge.

We left Koenigsberg the next morning and made our way to Vienna through small villages and little towns, posing as an eccentric English couple on their honeymoon, as siblings trying to find their eloped sister, as a German historian searching old churches accompanied by his wife, and on one memorable occasion, as a Catholic priest and a nun, travelling on church business. The disguise as the eccentric honeymooners worked best, for it explained our desire to keep to ourselves and no one questioned our right to be alone together. More observant people could not fail to notice that I was still very young to be married, and once or twice, I heard horrible abuses of my brother whispered behind his back. In a small town near Prague, an elderly lady staying in the same hotel, to whom we had introduced ourselves as Dr Kerner, the historian, and his wife, offered me - in private - help to get in contact with the local authorities in case my husband ‘had blackmailed me into the marriage.’ Most people, however, accepted what we told them, an if they thought Arnold a brute who had forced me, they did not care enough to let anything on.

It took us about a month to reach Vienna. We avoided the main roads, the railway and the larger cities and instead travelled almost leisurely, as if we feared reaching Vienna and what we might learn there. During the days, we hiked to our next stop or accepted rides on farmers’ carts or tradesmen’s carriages. I often wished we could travel faster, but at the same time dreaded what news should await us upon our return to Vienna. Not even I in my youthful naiveté could persuade myself that they were likely to be good news.
The subject was hardly ever touched upon by either Arnold or myself. We had painstakingly discussed all possible outcomes that dreadful afternoon in the coffeehouse and were resistant to mention anything again for fear of cutting open wounds that had not even begun to heal - forgive my metaphors. During the nights, Arnold kept tossing and moaning in his sleep. I knew he was having nightmares although he denied it when he woke screaming and sweating. I tried to keep awake at night, for in my dreams I found myself running through rainy Koenigsberg, pursued by a nameless fear as I crossed bleak places or tried to make my way through cold grey puddles. I woke out of breath, with a heavy weight pressing on my chest and the nameless fear still looming over me.

We hardly spoke at all during the days. If one of us said anything, it was a remark about the weather or the food or, if we had company, one of the forcedly cheerful conversations about churches and castles we pretended to have visited. Those were the evenings I hated most, when I knew I had to appear interested in my environments and show enjoyment and pleasure at the prospect of travel. What I said sounded stiff and wooden to my ears and the strain of the conversation tired me more than a day’s hiking. At the same time, spending the evenings with strangers meant not having to return to a cold and lonely room after a hastily taken dinner, with no company but my taciturn brother and my haunting nightmares.
We reached Vienna on All Soul’s Day.

Once there, Arnold contacted an old friend of his, Father Kaufmann of St. Sebastian’s Parish - yes, of course you know him - who was able to find us lodgings in the flat of an old seamstress, Frau Glickstein. Having been harassed by the government for more times than she cared to count, she was more than ready to support the Vampire Hunters now that they had fallen from grace. Not only did she demand far less rent from Arnold and me than she could have, but she also made me her protégée. It was she who taught me how to cook, how to iron shirts and mend stockings, and she looked after us almost like a mother and even took the trouble of sewing me some of the prettiest gowns I ever possessed, for which she would accept no money at all, arguing that Arnold and I were practically family.
When I did not cook or clean with Frau Glickstein, or assisted her in her sewing business - for I felt that cutting out or assembling her patterns and other small tasks was the least I could do to thank her for her kindness - I spent my time learning. Unexpected at least by me, Arnold had decreed that if I could not be kept away from his work, I shouln at least properly learn what I might be facing. For most of my first year in Vienna, I poured over books for a large part of the day. I read everything Arnold gave me with an almost feverish zeal and spent hours quizzing him and asking him to explain details.
I began with the basics - Anselm of Wolverhampton, of course, and Johnson - and of course your father’s book, Mr Darcy. My brother taught me more - he told me all those things that are never written down, but passed on only to those who need to know. I learnt the truth behind superstitions and old wives’ stories; I learnt the tales of old, the lore of blood - yes, I understand, Mr Darcy. You do not believe in this - I know it is crude and revolting, but I think we need to know - but Arnold told me that things are done slightly differently here in England.
I also spent many hours with Father Kaufmann in the church - he knew about the old traditions and he could acquaint me with not only with the history of the Hunters, but also with the close links between the Hunting and the religion - the subtle ways in which it is possible to gain a certain amount of protection -

You may think that the diligence with which I furthered my studies was admirable. I assure you it was far from that. Spending all my wake moments doing something, anything, not allowing myself any time to let my thoughts wander, was the only way I could keep myself sane in those first months and I suspect that Arnold felt the same, although we never really talked about it. From our parents there were no news, and we could hardly convince ourselves that this was good news. Arnold tried his old contacts, but no one was able to tell him anything and we grew more and more desperate as the months passed and spring came.

In May, one of Arnold’s old colleagues moved in with us, having lost his lodgings with his post at the ministry. Frau Glickstein, wonderful as she was, allowed him to share Arnold’s room, and although the flat was now more cramped than ever, none of us would have wanted to miss Tomasz - that was his name. He was amazing in every respect and cheered us up countless times. Tomasz came from Silesia; he was Arnold’s age and very dedicated to his work. I often admired how he could remain so cheerful after all the horrors he had to face every day. We spent a lot of time together in that summer, many hours reading and discussing in Frau Glickstein’s kitchen, but we sometimes also took time off from studying and just strolled through the narrow streets or sat by the Danube. During these walks, I learnt that there also was a very serious side to Tomasz. I found out that he strongly believed in the Great and Good in the world and would do everything to protect it. My respect for him grew with every hours we spent together and for a while I even hoped that maybe - but never mind.
In October, it became too dangerous for Tomasz in Vienna and he went back to Breslau, where he soon married his beautiful and intelligent fiancée who had waited for him for five years and was infinitely more worthy of him.

Posted on 2008-07-27

‘I am afraid this cannot be anything but frivolous; I am glad not to take part in it.’ - F.P.

56. From the journal of Col. The Hon. John S. Fitzwilliam

17th May, much later - When came back from the village, found house in an uproar. Not without good cause, though, for It had managed to escape from the attic again and apparently sneaked up on Miss Bennet, who, it then turned out, was not Miss Bennet at all, but Arnold Dohnanyi’s little sister, Verena, who had had to leave Austria, although how she ended up at Pemberley of all places still a mystery to me. Found everyone in the attic upon my return where It had just crawled back into Its coffin. Caroline in tears and threw her arms around me at once sobbing uncontrollably. Had been fearing for my life, it transpired. Never thought she cared that much.
Tried my best to comfort her and think I succeeded for she soon calmed down and became her wonderful self again. Must say am more touched by her affection than previously thought I should. Only wish I could make her see -
It was soon decided we should all spend the night upstairs so Caroline and I went downstairs with Darcy and Miss Dohnanyi to collect some things.
Wanted to ask Caroline about her apparent change of attitude since the morning, which I had already noted when she helped me get ready for my trip into the village, but was interrupted by voices from the room across the hall. First was alarmed then realised it was Darcy and Miss Dohnanyi in Miss Dohnanyi’s room, getting her things ready. Was just about to suggest to Caroline that we remove to a more private place when she put a hand on my arm and whispered, ‘what are they talking?’
Listened again and noticed, this time, that they were speaking German. Never realised Caroline does not speak it. Must try to teach it to her some time.
‘He is apologising for ransacking her belongings,’ I explained to Caroline in a whisper. ‘He is telling her he is sorry we removed the pictures of her brother’s funeral from the Curse and hands them back to her.’
In the mirror over Caroline’s vanity, we could see Miss Dohnanyi accepting the pictures from Darcy and stowing them back into the book that way lying on her desk. Miss Dohnanyi then asked Darcy something in a low voice and Caroline looked questioningly at me.
‘She is asking Darcy whether he knew that this was her brother’s copy. It is one of very few items of his she managed to take with her, she explains.’
We saw a rare spark of emotion flit across Darcy’s face before he spoke again. Without any further prompting from Caroline, I translated in a whisper.
‘He says he had no idea, and that she is an incredibly brave woman,’ I said, ‘and now he is asking her whether she knew it was his father who wrote that book. Dear me, he is looking quite smug, is he not?’
We watched as Miss Dohnanyi gave a little shriek of amazement, clapped her hand to her mouth, then jabbed away in rapid German.
‘She says she had no idea,’ I translated, ‘but that she should have realised all along. She marvels how she could have been so ignorant at what was going on around her when the truth has been directly in front of her all the time.’
We saw Darcy take Miss Dohnanyi’s hand and squeeze it .
‘He is saying that he himself has been blind to quite a lot of things,’ I translated. ‘And now he is saying -’
Caroline interrupted me.
‘I suppose we better not tell them we were eavesdropping,’ she muttered. ‘They might take it in the wrong way.’
She took my arm and gestured towards the door.
Left the room with Caroline then, still with no opportunity to discuss the recent events with her.
Must say, quite astonished at Caroline’s room though. Quite the contrast to her room at Hurst Park. That was very orderly and elegant. This here is much more Caroline. A little more messy, with her books and other belonging lying all around, but infinitely more comfortable for it. The furniture is not as new and styled after the latest fashion as the one at Hurst Park is, but looks older, more used. Recognised the armchair by the window as an old favourite from the nursery. There is a throw on the bed which I know Mina once made for her, and some photographs of all of us scattered around the room.
Realised, with a jolt, that this is probably the closest to home she has had since her father died and they had to sell the townhouse. Suddenly thought how hard it must be for her to always be someone’s guest. However welcome she is at her brother’s or her sister’s place it cannot be the same as having a home of one’s own to come to. Felt incredibly sorry for her but knew not how I could tell her this so just put an arm around her and steered her towards the stairs.
Knew not that once had the boldness to touch Caroline, would not be able not to touch her anymore. Only wonder what I am supposed to do now.

After Tomasz had left, my outlook on the future became rather bleak again. As the winter approached, things took a turn for the worse. In November we received intelligence that our mother had contracted tuberculosis in prison and was gravely ill. W were not able to visit her as our presence in Vienna had to be concealed, but Father Kaufmann received permission to see her. I think the news that Arnold and I were alive and well greatly relieved her. Father Kaufmann told us later that she thanked him profoundly for his visit an sent us all her love. She died two days later, leaving Arnold and me her prayer book and her rosary, her only remaining personal items.
Our father died of the same illness a few days later and luckily, Father Kaufmann was also able to see him for a last time. Father Kaufmann received permission to bury them outside the prison walls and we laid them side by side on a small, almost forgotten graveyard, in the shadows of a large birch.
Arnold kept even more to himself after the funeral. He hardly spoke to us at all and often disappeared for hours, when not even Father Kaufmann would be able to tell us where he was. I knew that he blamed himself for all that had happened, but he never spoke to me about it. The only person he seemed to be able to talk to was Rivka, Frau Glickstein’s daughter, who had come to live with us with her infant son after her husband’s death. Arnold confided in Rivka, although what they spoke about, I know not. I only touched upon the subject with Rivka once. She said that Arnold was so worked up with feeling guilty that he did not allow himself to grieve. Then I knew not what she meant, but today I understand her.

That winter, Arnold also thought about leaving Vienna for good and going to England. I know because I overheard him and Rivka talking in the kitchen one night. He was worrying that he perhaps ought to try to leave Austria and bring me to safety as long as he was still able to. In the end, however, we stayed in Vienna. Whether it was because of Rivka that Arnold was hesitant to leave, or whether he wanted to finish his work in Vienna, I know not. He offered me, however, that if I did not feel safe and wanted to leave, he would do all he could to help me escape. I wanted to stay. Arnold was the only family I had and I wanted to support his work in all ways I could. After much persuading from Rivka, Arnold grudgingly had to admit that I was no longer a child and that he had to accept my decision.
Spring came and saw me still pouring over my books. When I was not reading or studying with Father Kaufmann, I helped Rivka minding Yankele or took him outside when Rivka and her mother were sewing. Arnold had found work as a waiter in one of the many wine-houses and the money helped us greatly. Before our parents’ deaths, we had now and then been able to withdraw money from their bank accounts, with the help of a friendly teller, but after they had died, all the money had fallen to the crown and Arnold and I had suddenly found ourselves without any means whatsoever. Not even Frau Glickstein could afford not to demand any rent from us.
I wanted to contribute something as well, for even though Arnold’s wages kept us from destitution, we were far from doing well. Arnold forbade me to take work in a factory or as a serving girl, and this time Rivka did nothing to persuade him. What I had learnt at Frau Reimann’s was nothing that could be put to good use and as I could not use my own name, I had no references that would enable me to work as a governess for the genteel or as a schoolteacher. I could knit and crochet tolerably well, and sometimes, Frau Glickstein was able to find some work for me when she had special demands for her gowns, but apart from that, the only work I could find was the occasional writing or translating job which Father Kaufmann would find me, where I would usually help short-sighted elderly ladies compose letters to their families and friends, or translate letters of business from the United States for a coffee merchant.
For a few months, I did tolerably well when I assisted a lady who wrote sentimental novels and, having broken her arm, could not write very well. She was kind enough to allow me to practice on her typewrite in my free time, so that when I left her, it was with a very good letter of recommendation - if I may say so - and considerable skills in shorthand and typing. I felt competent enough now to seek employment in an office and about a year after our parents’ death, I had found a post as a secretary with an acquaintance of Father Kaufmann, Herr Leopold, a lawyer.
Arnold, meanwhile, had found better work; he was no longer a waiter, but now a concierge in a large hotel. I had suggested to him that he try and find a post similar to mine; surely, with his intelligence and skills, he could easily have become someone’s private secretary, but he preferred working in a place where many people would come. He argued that he needed to keep contact to the people if he wanted to notice unusual incidents.

Several years later, things were looking much better for us at Christmas than ever before, and for the first time since he had met me in Koenigsberg, Arnold had started to become optimistic about the future. He and Rivka now openly discussed the possibility of getting married and talked about finding a larger flat for the five of us, as the two rooms and the kitchen became more and more crowded ever since Yankele, now about to enter school, had started to walk.
You wonder about our other line of work, Mr Darcy? Even in that respect, things seemed to have become quiet. The chaos after the empress’ assassination had caused a mass outbreak of infestations, but these were now under control, if not wholly exterminated. After our third Christmas in Vienna, both Arnold and Fr. Kaufmann had said that they had told me all they knew, but so far, apart from minor crises, there had been no occasion for me to test my abilities.
A few weeks before Yankele was to start school, however, things changed. Arnold, I think, was the first to notice it. It was almost imperceptible in the beginning - a subtle change in the atmosphere, a darker aura - for lack of a better word - in some places; nothing, in short, that you could point your finger at. Then, on Ash Wednesday, a girl was attacked. She was not older than eleven; she never stood a chance. Soon after, both the girls’ sibling succumbed to the same illness that had, as the parents described it, befallen the girl. They had grown pale, restless and feverish, had become squeamish and panicked at the slightest uproar and looked constantly worse, weak and very ill, as if consumed from within; but upon their death, had radiated an almost angelic beauty. It was one of Frau Glickstein’s customers who told us the story and when Arnold and I had spoken with the parents our worst fears were confirmed. That what had haunted Vienna several years ago had come back, and it meant to stay.
I need hardly describe to you how things developed; you know how it happens. I do not want to go into details. You must know what I had to - what we were forced to - it was the most horrible thing I ever had to do, but of course we had no other choice.
That month before Easter was the strangest, most unreal time I have ever had. It was unusually warm for the time, even warmer than usually in July; the air was constantly humid and grew steadily staler from lack of wind, and most evenings, we saw rain and thunderstorms, which felt as if the world was torn asunder.
On Palm Sunday, the weather finally calmed and at Easter was normal again; but it did not matter, for on Maundy Thursday, the world broke apart for real.

Arnold and I had just left Church after the service and were about to go home and rest for an hour or two before setting out for that night’s work.
It all happened in an instant. We felt it coming to us from out of the shadows. How it managed to get so close to the church, I have no idea, but its creator must have given it powers we knew nothing about.
There was barely enough time to get ready to fight, but instead, Arnold pushed me back into the church, and, against my struggles, tried to close the door after me. The thing attacked him from behind. He had no chance. It was gone as soon as it had come; the only trace it left was my dying brother. Father Kaufmann and I carried him into the vestry, but there was nothing that could be done. We sent for Rivka, who came at once, and together, we waited at his side. He lingered until Friday noon. He regained consciousness once, around midnight, but was too weak to say much apart from farewell.
The only thing we can be grateful for is that he never transformed; by the time the poison began to work, he had already lost too much blood.
We buried him on Tuesday, next to our parents. All of his friends who could make it came to the funeral, which was a great comfort, but unfortunately alerted the authorities to my presence. The very next day, after morning prayers, Fr. Kaufmann told me of the danger I was in; that the church was being surrounded as we were speaking. I would not have left Vienna for the world, but I had no choice. Disguised as a nun, I left with two of Arnold’s friends. Two months later, I arrived at Lady Metcalfe’s house in London, with nothing but the clothes I was wearing and my little handbag.
I never even said goodbye to anyone

Posted on 2008-09-23

‘There is no way the author could have worded it that I could ever be prevailed on to read it.’ - E.B.

58. From the journal of Miss Caroline Bingley

17th May, later --- There was silence when Miss Dohnanyi had ended her tale. Mina had got up and pulled Miss Dohnanyi in one of her crushing hugs - obviously she was having one of her ursa maior-moments, as the Colonel calls them. The rest of us, it seemed, knew not what to do or say, including me. Miss Dohnanyi’s tale was so saddening that I was at a loss. Clearly, what she had had to go through had been more terrible than anything anyone of us had had to endure.
Darcy was the first to speak. ‘Thank you, Fraeulein Dohnanyi,’ he said and bowed slightly, a gesture that seemed ridiculously formal, especially after Mina’s embrace.

‘Lady Metcalfe was very kind to take you in without any further ado,’ Arthur suddenly said.
Miss Dohnanyi turned her head to him in surprise.
‘She is the kindest, most generous friend,’ she said. ‘I do not know I can ever repay her.’
‘Does she - know?’ Darcy asked.
‘Oh, yes, she does,’ Miss Dohnanyi answered with a faint smile. ‘I had to offer her some explanation when I turned up on her doorstep in a nun’s habit.’
‘Quite so,’ the Colonel muttered and I had to laugh before it struck me we were probably rather insensitive. I shot the Colonel a glance to shut him up.

After a pause, Harker asked hesitatingly, ‘The hymnals, Miss Dohnanyi - do you think they will help us against him?’
‘Against whom?’ Miss Dohnanyi asked, a look of confusion on her face. Then, comprehension seemed to dawn on her. ‘The vampire? Oh, no, not much, at least. No, they were meant for us, actually.’
‘To give us the spiritual strength to face the unfaceable?’ the Colonel asked. ‘Or are we meant to bash his head in with them?’
‘Well, if it helps you,’ Miss Dohnanyi retorted immediately.
I shot the Colonel another glance.
‘What?’ he mouthed.
‘Insensitive git,’ I mouthed back.
I know he does not mean it that way, but does he not realise how his constant flippant remarks must appear to an outsider?
Most unexpectedly, the Colonel patted my hand before turning to Miss Dohnanyi again.
‘I must apologise, Miss Dohnanyi,’ he said, ‘that was a most insensitive remark from an insensitive git just now. It is only - it is not easy -’

I was stunned. The Colonel admitted he found things difficult? And he chose Miss Dohnanyi to reveal this to? Of course, it would explain things … maybe he does not take everything as lightly as it seems after all. His constant joking then … was it meant to cover his uneasiness rather than to be simply obnoxious?
I chided myself for trying to analyse the Colonel’s mind from a few thoughtlessly uttered snippets, to a stranger no less. After all, I am no Doctor Fraud, or whatever he is called - this Austrian mentalist the Colonel told me about.
‘You are smiling,’ I said instead. ‘Are you laughing at us, Miss Dohnanyi?’
‘What?’ Miss Dohnanyi asked. ‘Oh, no, not at all. I only realised that Colonel Fitzwilliam was poking fun at my hymnals because he, like every one of us, I am sure, finds the situation very difficult, when the very reason why I suggested bringing them with us was to make us feel more at ease.’
‘How so?’ asked the Colonel, this time with no hint of teasing in his voice.
‘Because I have learnt that singing does help a lot when one is anxious,’ Miss Dohnanyi said, ‘it distracts and helps you focus on something different.
‘Believe me, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I have spent enough nights in this fashion to know that sooner or later, without fault, one reaches a point where suddenly everything appears to be overwhelming and one would like nothing better than to just give up no matter what comes next. I have often enough felt it myself. We chose to sing on many of these nights. Well, and as we usually were in churches or similar places, hymns just sort of offered themselves.’

‘What would you sing then?’ Darcy asked, with a strangely keen look in his eyes.
‘Well, I am not sure if you would know it,’ Miss Dohnanyi said hesitantly, ‘it actually was one of Arnold’s favourites -’
She started singing a choral, very softly first, but gaining more power when she realised her voice would not fail her. The text was German and I could not understand it, but the tune was somehow familiar; I thought it must be by a German composer, though not Mozart, and I was right.
Miss Dohnanyi’s singing was rather pleasing, I must say - her voice is not grand, but it has a very clear quality and she sung with true passion.
The delight in her singing was nothing, however, compared to my surprise when, after Miss Dohnanyi had finished, Arthur of all people stood up and continued singing. His song was altogether different - not so much a choral, but more in the manner of a recitativo, but it was obviously part of the same for as soon as Arthur had finished, the choral part - which seems to be a kind of a chorus - was picked up by - my surprise was complete now! - the Colonel and Colonel Brandon, and even Darcy joined in very soon.

Suddenly, I realised what Miss Dohnanyi had meant about the benefits of singing. I could not understand a word of what was sung, but the very fact that around me, people were singing did wonders to my spirit. I knew not what they were singing, but the fact that these young men could still lift their voices in song - the way their voices interacted, seeking harmony and finding it, was wonderfully calming.
‘I suppose you would not know the second recitativo, Mr Ferrars,’ Miss Dohnanyi said after they had finished.
‘It is in basso,’ Arthur said and shook his head.
‘Arnold always used to sing it,’ Colonel Brandon said. ‘It was his favourite part.’
‘I know not how many times we performed this,’ the Colonel added. ‘The nerve of Arnold to simply drag us to his choir practices because everybody loves Bach, do they not …’
‘You sang in St. Sebastian’s choir?’ Miss Dohnanyi asked. ‘Oh, how wonderful! Then you met Father Kaufmann as well - then you were the friends of Arnold who used to sing every Sunday! Oh, Father Kaufmann spoke so much about you. He missed you, a lot, did you know that? I dare say he was quite fond of you.’
The Colonel flinched in a way I have rarely ever seen him before, and cleared his throat.
‘I liked the old boy,’ he said hoarsely, ‘I suppose you would not know how he is these days?’
‘I have heard nothing from Vienna this past year,’ Miss Dohnanyi said, ‘but I refuse to believe that he is anything but perfectly alright.’
‘It is impossible to imagine him anything but perfectly alright,’ Col. Brandon added solemnly.

I was amazed to hear them all talk thus, and of someone I had never even heard of before this evening. I realised that there were probably a lot of people in the Colonel’s life that I had never heard of before and I wondered why that realisation surprised me so much.
‘Do you remember the lady who used to sing all the soprano parts?’ the Colonel asked. ‘Fraeulein Kramer? Now she had a beautiful voice - Arnold was quite sweet on her for a while, was he not?’
‘And so were you, John,’ Col. Brandon said, ‘and mind you, everyone else in the choir. She married quite a boring chap though - was he not an accountant or something with the treasury? Franz - Franz von something he was called, I think -’
‘Not Franz von Severin?’ Miss Dohnanyi exclaimed. ‘Why, he and his wife were some of the very few friends Arnold had in Vienna! Did you know Frau von Severin has the most beautiful twin boys and a little daughter? I sometimes met her in the park when I was walking there with Yankele - she is a most amazing woman.’
‘Annelie Kramer married with three children? Well, I never would have -’ the Colonel said rather insolently. It was obvious these questions were upsetting Miss Dohnanyi, and he should have had more tact than to interrogate her about the past. She put on a brave face and said nothing, but it was painfully clear that she was suffering very much from his questions.
‘Fraeulein Annelie a mother of three …’ Col. Brandon said with a chuckle. ‘Who would have thought that?’
There was nothing rude in his questions. It was quite clear that he only meant to inquire after an old friend and had no intention of paining Miss Dohnanyi with his reminiscences.
‘Twin boys, you said?’ Col. Brandon asked.
‘Most adorable ones at that,’ Fraeulein Dohnanyi added with a smile. ‘Why, they must be almost school-age now. I remember that Tomasz and I went to the baptism service together -’
‘Did you now?’ Darcy suddenly asked, as if he had just realised something. ‘John, are you wearing my favourite suit?’

The Colonel looked down with one of his sheepish expressions and patted that ugly green thing.
‘Why, yes, I am,’ the Colonel said. ‘I forgot. Caroline thought I -’
‘You put him into my suit?’ Darcy asked furiously. ‘Him - into my favourite suit?’
‘Not personally,’ I assured him. ‘I only helped him prepare for the secret mission.’
It was the wrong thing to say, for Darcy, as usual, was taking the news very badly.
‘Secret mission?’ he asked at once. ‘What secret mission? No one informed me of a secret mission. I did not approve of any such -’
‘Darcy, we do not need your approval for -’
Before I could tell Darcy exactly what I thought of this silly notion of his, I was interrupted by someone gently squeezing my shoulder.
‘There was no opportunity yet to inform you,’ the Colonel said. ‘If you will recall, we had that little inconvenience with your lodger earlier on -’
I had to chuckle in spite of myself at Darcy’s expression.
‘He is not my lodger - where were you?’
‘In the Lamb and Haddock, pretending to be an ornithologist,’ the Colonel explained. ‘Caroline and I agreed the situation needed investigating.’

I must admit that by this time, I was slightly curious about the Colonel’s tale myself. Unlike Darcy, I knew where the Colonel had been, but I still knew not what had happened, and if he had found anything.
‘Well, after that letter from the maid -’ the Colonel began, then added in the direction of Miss Dohnanyi, ‘- you see, we had a letter this morning, shortly after we … found … you in the village, from the parlour maid at the Lamb and Haddock, that a pair of gentlefolk - titled - had arrived in the village and were looking for friends; which Caroline and I thought rather fishy, especially considering there had not been any strangers in the village lately apart from us and - well, you.’
‘And at that time, you must know, we still thought that you were an agent for the government,’ I added, ‘we, uhm, misconstrued some circumstances - but, well, it turns out you were not, so please accept my apologies.’
Miss Dohnanyi smiled in what I hope was a genuine acceptance of my apology.
‘Yes, so Caroline suggested that I best disguise myself, for they might know me in the village, so I dressed up as an ornithologist,’ the Colonel continued.
‘I took this,’ he said and proudly showed us the book that was still in his pocket.
‘So Caroline is responsible for the abominable bird’s nest on your head,’ Col. Brandon asked with a grin. ‘I thought that a woman must have had a hand in that.’
‘Well, yes, that would be right,’ the Colonel answered, blushing (though I know not why; it was his idea after all.) and raked his hand through his curls, trying to return them to their previous state. ‘Oh, and she also gave me her spectacles -’
He took them off and handed them back to me, muttering, ‘Your eyesight is quite horrible, is it not?’
‘Thank God that is why he is looking like that,’ Mina whispered to Harker, which I thought rather inappropriate, especially in Mina.

‘So then I drove to Lambton again,’ the Colonel continued, ignoring Mina’s remark, ‘and parked the auto-mobile a little out of sight behind the smithy. I put on the spectacles and walked over to the Lamb and Haddock -’
‘Taking a detour through some muddy loch or other, I presume,’ Darcy muttered.
‘Well, I had to give the suit a worn look if I wanted to pretend that I had been hiking for several days, did I not?
‘So, I entered the Lamb and Haddock and upon identifying Miss King, introduced myself to her as a friend of Col. Brandon and asked her help in meeting the two strangers. Miss King, who is, I must say, remarkably clever, understood my intentions immediately. She took me to the private parlour that the foreign couple had taken and asked them whether they would mind my joining them, since I was looking for company whilst eating my lunch. (I must add that Miss King had no qualms in ordering the most expensive lunch for me, but that, obviously, was a price I was willing to pay.)
‘I introduced myself as Sir Hubert Percival-Fitzjohn (and I can only hope cousin Hubert never hears about this, you know how he abhors birds) and once more apologised for trespassing upon their privacy. We soon started talking and I volunteered the information that I was wandering the peaks in search of birds, having taken my yearly vacation from my boring but important post with the Treasury. It turned out that the chap was quite influential in the Home Office and asked me whether I knew this and that bloke. Luckily, I was able to divert his questions and instead asked whether he knew anything about trains in the area. Now it was his lordship’s turn to try to evade my questions, but it transpired that he and her ladyship had come on board the Edinburgh train. Well, you know that that stop here in Lambton was unscheduled so my curiosity was piqued even more.
‘I asked if they knew of any places in the area worth a visit or if they had any fixed plans yet - I offered to take them along for bird-watching in my willow hut -’
‘Oh, Colonel, you did not,’ I giggled before cursing myself inwardly.
‘You want to bet that I do not have one of those?’ he whispered before continuing in his normal voice, ‘Needless to say, they refused my kind invitation. His lordship explained that they had no fixed plans yet but that they were waiting to meet up with a couple of people. Lady Lucas said that she was afraid that a friend of her had got into trouble somewhere in the area -’

‘Lady Lucas?’ Miss Dohnanyi interrupted him. ‘A tall, statuesque lady? Golden hair, wound around her head in braids, has a dimple on her chin and a necklace with the Virgin Mary on it?’
The Colonel nodded in astonishment.
‘And Lord Lucas,’ Miss Dohnanyi continued, ‘has black curls, beautiful green eyes, has a signet ring with something like a triple cross on the fourth finger of his left hand and a scar beneath his right ear?’
‘Well, I do not know that I could call his eyes beautiful,’ the Colonel said with such a droll expression, ‘but they most certainly were green -’
‘That, I am afraid,’ Miss Dohnanyi said, ‘were Lord and Lady Metcalfe. Charlotte Lucas was Lady Metcalfe’s maiden name. I fear they are looking for me.’
‘You mean John was right?’ Darcy asked, wholly flabbergasted (as were we all, by this point, although for slightly different reasons). ‘They were involved in this affair after all and he did not borrow my green suit for nought?’
‘I received this telegram this morning,’ Miss Dohnanyi said and pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket (Note: cf. item 25. - W.J.B.) and showed it to us.

‘Georgiana Darcy died two years ago?’ Darcy whispered. His face suddenly was drained of blood and had assumed the colour of chalk. ‘What is that supposed to mean? Georgiana is not dead.’
‘I saw the stone in the church,’ Miss Dohnanyi said instead of answering his question. ‘And I heard what the Reverend Younge had to say. I do think that I deserve an explanation, Mr Darcy. Does your sister still live?’
‘My sister cannot live,’ Darcy said hoarsely. ‘Nor can she die, as long as her brother is alive.’

Items 59-61

Posted on 2008-10-05

‘A boring plot and no grasp of reality - that is not bad literature, that is the worst.’ - W.W.E.

59. Daniel Saunderson, Esq., to William Richard Collins, Lord Metcalfe, c/o the Lamb and Haddock, Lambton

Old boy stop missive received stop situation alarming stop informed great-uncle george stop grandmother’s whereabouts unsafe stop aunt emma and cousin harriet heading your way stop please update great-uncle george about grandmother’s condition at once stop aunt emma will explain stop saunderson

60. William Richard Collins, Lord Metcalfe, to Sir H--- G---- S---, The Home Office (sent per express)

Lamb and Haddock, Lambton, 18th May

Sir,

Have received your orders from Saunderson and will await support staff.
Am currently lodging at Lamb and Haddock, local public house with dubious service and varying clientele.
Came here last night after visit to opera. Lady Metcalfe had received alarming letter from a friend - Miss Elizabeth Bennet - who was visiting in the area and had been lied to by hosts. Thought Lady Metcalfe to be overreacting but wanted to calm her in her current condition so boarded night train to Edinburgh and persuaded driver to let us out at Lambton. Am afraid had to use your name to achieve that.

Situation became more alarming when at Lambton no trace could be found of Miss Bennet in spite of Lady Metcalfe’s explicit instructions to her to wait in the church, sent by telegram. Lady Metcalfe quite insistent that Miss Bennet remain in church though have no idea why; Lady Metcalfe quite secretive about her friend but cannot say have found Miss Bennet anything but a charming, intelligent and reliable young lady. Am therefore quite worried by now on Miss Bennet’s behalf. Seems she was last seen by moronic parson whom she questioned about Pemberley fold. Parson claims Miss Bennet abducted by Pemberley killers but frankly find that idea absurd. Have encountered said parson; is man of questionable intelligence who seems to be of the opinion that Pemberley is populated by a group of murdering Satanists but personally suspect hyperbole.
According to service staff, no other strangers seen in area but visitors of Pemberley, about whom no one wished to talk, and wandering birdwatcher named Percival-Fitzjohn. Birdwatcher claims to be working for Treasury and seemed unsuspicious enough even if endowed with appalling sense of fashion and little to no manners. Nevertheless suppose should be cleared.
No other occurrences and no updates on Miss Bennet’s whereabouts.
Shall await further orders from you.

Yr servant, etc.

Metcalfe.

61. Miss Verena Elizabeth Dohnanyi to Charlotte Collins, Lady Metcalfe (continued)

Note: Apparently, Mrs Bingley or Miss Dohnanyi cut and rearranged parts of this letter so that it would make sense in the narrative. - Lina Hamilton

Charlotte, oh, Charlotte - so you are here, looking for me? Oh, what am I supposed to do? How can I reach you without alerting all of the men Collins has undoubtedly placed around Pemberley already. Now that I know what has really happened - and in what danger everyone is - and what you must think - oh, Charlotte! I know now that what you must think is wrong, so very wrong, but - Charlotte, you are my best, perhaps my only friend - how can I let you know so, without jeopardising our friendship, that is so incredibly dear to me?
But let me explain …

Mr Darcy, as I said, had persuaded me to tell my story, which I found myself doing to my own surprise. Soon afterwards, whilst we were discussing, the subject came up that Col. Fitzwilliam had been in the village to investigate the sudden appearance of a couple of strangers in the area and I realised from his description that it must be none other than you and Collins! I realised that you had come to find me, as you had said you would, but when you had come to the church, you must have found me already gone, abducted, if you want to call it thus, by Miss Bingley. Oh! What you must have suffered, dear, when you found me gone, and only that blubbering baboon left to report I had been there. Oh, you cannot know how sorry I am -
I informed the V.D. that I thought it must be you and that I feared you had come on my account. I showed them your telegram which I had been carrying around with me for most of the day. When Mr Darcy read what you had written about Georgiana Darcy, he was utterly shocked. Even I, who do not know him at all well, could easily see that.
‘Georgiana Darcy died -?’ He mumbled and I could see his lips tremble. ‘Georgiana is not dead.’
I told him that I had seen the stones in the church an heard what the Rev. Younge had had to say: this made it very hard to believe that Georgiana Darcy was indeed still alive.
‘Do I not deserve an explanation?’ I asked. ‘Does Miss Darcy still live?’
‘My sister cannot live,’ Mr Darcy said bitterly, ‘nor can she die, while her brother is still alive.’
I gasped. I was afraid I was beginning to understand what he meant to say.

‘She exists still, broken in body and soul, little more than a coil,’ Mr Darcy continued, ‘but unlike those who are truly gone, she cannot find rest in the world to come and must linger, belonging nowhere.’
‘Is she -?’ I asked, not even daring to finish that sentence.
‘And all,’ Mr Darcy continued, ‘all caused by her own family - her own brothers! The one, seeking to challenge God and his fathers, lost in his own habits, bringing this grief upon her - the other, fancying himself wiser than his siblings, ignorant in his pride to his surroundings, not understanding what had happened to her until it was too late - until she was gone - tied in the world of shadows together with her forsaken brother - lost, like him, for ever -’
‘That -’ I pointed at the coffin ‘- is your brother?’
It suddenly all made sense - the similarity in dress and elocution, Mr Darcy’s behaviour, his reluctance to explain things -
‘Your brother?’ I repeated.
Mr Darcy nodded.
‘John, could you - could you explain to Miss Dohnanyi how things came to be how they are?’ Mr Darcy whispered. Mrs Bingley walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, patting him somewhat awkwardly, obviously resisting to pull him into a bone-crushing hug as she did with everyone else.

‘My uncle Benedict,’ Col. Fitzwilliam began, ‘my father’s sister’s husband, had three surviving children - Darcy here, the younger son Gottlieb and little Georgiana, the youngest. My aunt and uncle, as you will undoubtedly know, were doing the same as we are now and they were rather successful, if I may say so. David here - Darcy, I mean (you must forgive, Miss Dohnanyi, but we always called him David, just as we called his brother Wolfgang and their sister Nancy) - showed an interest in their work and soon was taught by them, much as you were taught by your brother.
‘Wolfgang, however, shunned the responsibilities that the family of the Darcys have carried for generations, and ridiculed and belittled their traditions from early on, wishing to take no part in any of them. At first, I believe, he was motivated mainly by his desire to set himself apart from an overbearing elder brother, who was continuously praised by both mother and father and was always paraded as an example before young Wolfgang.
‘At some point, however, Wolfgang must have felt the lure of the evil his family fought for the first time, and what had begun as a rebellious play suddenly became earnest. Wolfgang grew ever more attracted to the promise of power and immortality, to the freedom from all morals and obligations. His mind succumbed and soon was actively seeking out evil.
‘None of us realised anything at that time. The only one in whom he confided parts of what he was up to was Nancy, and as he carefully concealed the true enormity of his plans from her, she, in true affection to a caring brother, kept his secrets until it was too late.
‘Wolfgang began to experiment. From my uncle, he stole samples of blood, taken at risk of life in the hope to find something conclusive in them, and began to examine them for his own purposes. How, I do not know, but he managed to extract those parts that react with human blood whenever a person is bitten. He distilled the venom and - in short, Miss Dohnanyi, he managed to dilute the essence of vampirism -’
He broke off. I was shocked. Slowly I began to grasp the whole, horrible truth about Wolfgang Darcy.

‘All my fault,’ moaned Mr Darcy, his face buried in his hands. ‘My own darned fault. If only I had been more of a brother towards him - if only I had understood -’
‘There, there, David,’ muttered Mrs Bingley, patting his shoulder again, obviously still wondering whether she should risk a quick hug. ‘Do not blame yourself. I assure you, no one could blame you -’
‘But he did not - he could not -’ I finally managed to stammer.
‘Oh, yes, he could, Fraeulein Verena, and he did,’ Mr Darcy said, lifting his head again. ‘Although no one of us was aware of what he was actually capable.’
‘Oh, my -’ I stuttered. ‘He voluntarily - he chose to - ?’
‘He did,’ Mr Darcy said. ‘He decided that the life of a man was not enough for him. He chose immortality. He injected the venom into his own veins.’
‘And Nancy, too?’ I gasped. ‘His own sister?’
Mr Darcy gave a bitter, hollow laugh. ‘No, Nancy - thankfully, I am forced to say - he made the ordinary way. He bit her. He bit his own little sister, in cold blood, with a calm mind, and that, we have to be thankful for, because this way, there is still hope for her. As long as she can cling to life - as long as her body remains strong enough to survive - there is still hope that we may be able to call her back, once we have defeated her brother. With every day that passes, however, that hope is dwindling, growing fainter. Every day is a battle for Nancy and we are no closer to vanquishing my brother than we were the day that we found her.’

He had begun to pace the room like a caged animal and was now running his hands through his hair, groaning softly.
‘It was horrible beyond imagination,’ he said, ‘it was a sight I shall never forget. I would not wish it on my greatest enemy to see that.’
He gave another bitter laugh.
‘But of course he did see it. After all, he had caused it. It was about a year after my mother’s death. She passed away such a short time after father, and during this horrible time, at some point, Wolfgang must have attempted his transformation, and succeeded. He disappeared from our lives, leaving us a letter claiming he had gone to America, but we never found any evidence that he had done so. Nor, however, could we find any traces of him here, so we concluded that he had indeed left for good. We had just found a new infestation - or so we thought - in the neighbourhood and thought that matter more pressing - little did we realise -
‘Nancy must have stayed in contact with him all the time though, and at one time, he must have planned for Nancy, apparently the only living creature about whom he cared at all, to become one of his kind. What exactly happened, I do not know - whether he got carried away in his frenzy, or whether Nancy put up more resistance than he had calculated with, or whether he was simply disturbed before he could carry out all of his plan -
‘When we found her, on the floor of her own room, in a pool of her own blood, she was barely conscious and unable to tell us what happened, and she never remembered afterwards. She knows nothing that happened that night, which is a small mercy, for if she were to recall how much she suffered - she had lost a lot of blood, and the venom was giving her horrible pain - she was screaming, writhing in agony - it was indescribable. At one point I almost prayed for her to die, to spare her further pain. Ironically, the venom that tortured her thus also kept her alive beyond human endurance, and probably saved her in the end, for it kept her heart beating until we had been able to stabilise her. She needed stitches, transfusions of blood -’

‘David gave her his own blood,’ Col. Fitzwilliam suddenly interrupted. ‘So much of it that he almost died himself. At four in the morning, I had Nancy finally breathing steadily again and asleep, but David was lying unconscious on the floor, grey-faced and barely breathing - had it not been for Caroline, we should have lost him.’
‘Caroline? What did Caroline do?’ Mr Darcy asked, surprised.
‘You never told him?’ Col. Fitzwilliam asked Miss Bingley.
‘I saw no point,’ Miss Bingley said shortly. ‘I did not want gratitude.’
‘I told Caroline how serious David’s situation was, and that I was not sure he should see the morning, even with the transfusions from Brandon and Harker, and what blood I could give him. She wasted not another word, but went and saddled her horse and rode out into the night, with no lights and no footman to accompany her.’
‘It was almost the full moon,’ Miss Bingley said, as if that explained things.
‘She raced her horse all the way to Kympton,’ Col. Fitzwilliam continued, ‘and woke Rupert - my brother, Miss Dohnanyi, and the only physician we could trust - and Rupert was here before six and he was able to save David, even if he had to take a great deal of blood from me and even from Mina.
‘Rupert was also able to restore Nancy enough so that we could attempt to bring her to Rosings, my aunt’s house in Kent - for we all agreed that it was unwise to keep her here, near Wolfgang, who would be obliged to remain within the old boundaries of Pemberley. Unfortunately, this was not until after some officious busy-body had caught sight of her, and reported in the village that Georgiana Darcy was gruesomely mutilated and killed. We were forced to stage a funeral and plant that stone you saw. Rupert had to sign a false certificate of death and it greatly weighs on his conscience. In the eyes of some, we probably still are considered brutal murderers.’

‘Oh, and Satanic heathens,’ I added, ‘or so that Rev. Younge told me.’
All that I had learnt from that man earlier now made sense, but in a very unexpected, horrible way, not at all what I had imagined it would be.
‘Does he now,’ Col. Fitzwilliam muttered bitterly.
‘I never thought to wonder how Rupert had come to be here so suddenly,’ Mr Darcy said. ‘Caroline, why did you never -’

A weird wheezing noise interrupted him. It came from Miss Bingley herself, whose head had fallen over the armrest of her chair and sunk onto Col. Fitzwilliam’s shoulder. I saw that like me, she clutched the cross on her necklace while sleeping; her other hand was lying on Col. Fitzwilliam’s armrest.
‘Poor thing has not properly slept in days,’ Col. Fitzwilliam muttered, ‘Miss Dohnanyi, could you - the blanket? Thank you ever so much.’
I helped him wrap the blanket around Miss Bingley’s sleeping form, noticing that he had put an arm around her and was pulling her even closer.

Items 62-64

Posted on 2009-01-30

'Capital offence. Capital!' - Sir W.L.

62. Charlotte Collins, Lady Metcalfe, to Miss Verena Elizabeth Dohnanyi

Lambton, 18th May, 190-

Lizzy, dear Lizzy!

I cannot sleep; so much do I worry about you. I am imagining all the things that might have befallen you, and where you might be now! Oh, that I could but hear that you are safe! I know not even what hour it is anymore, some dreadful hour of night, which I know you hate most, and I am writing to you as if I could thus call you to me again. If only they had a telephone at Pemberley!

But alas, at the post office they told us that Mr Darcy dislikes the new technology and did not have one installed. Now that itself strikes me as strongly suspicious for surely there is no instrument of our modern times more useful! Mr Darcy, however, apparently fears that the government will listen in to his secret conversations (I ask of you, why would he, if he did not have something to hide!).

Oh, Lizzy, I blame myself! I know not how I could be deceived thus in Jane Bingley! At first I thought that maybe she was dragged into this horrid affair just as you were. I have since learnt, however, that in the past she was actively involved in whatever it is that these people do.

Never was I more shocked than when I read Jane's name in the documents we were shown this night! There are few people indeed who I would have thought less likely to have a hand in - well, I suppose there is no hiding the truth from you: Murder, Lizzy! Plain, cold-blooded murder!

Even worse, there is a strong suspicion of treason as well. These people apparently have sworn themselves against the King, against the Crown, against England herself! I was not allowed to learn the particulars, but what I was told was enough to make me worry about you even more than before! Oh, what have I done! I have done you a bad friend's service. I should never have sent you to Derbyshire.

If anything happens to you - I could never forgive myself - if anything has already happened to you - no, I must not think about it.

Collins and the two other gentlemen are going to Pemberley this morning and - oh Lizzy! What if they take you hostage? What if they want to trade your life for their freedom? Collins is a man of principles, as you well know. He would never negotiate with traitors. Oh, I know they will shoot you! Collins keeps telling me that the welfare of our country, of all English people, must be my first priority, but how could it be when my best friend is concerned. I do know that people like that Mr Darcy are threatening the peace of our nation, but it is you they have kidnapped. Is it wrong that I care more for your than for England's safety?

Oh, if only I knew what was happening! If only I somehow could help you!

Yours, etc. Charlotte Collins.

63. Col. Quincey Montgomery Brandon to Mrs Quincey Montgomery Brandon

18th May

Dearest Marianne,

Just a couple of lines to let you know all is well with me. Everything is as usual here. Darcy still takes to his bed, but he says his arm feels much better now. We played Scrabble again today. In the morning, I have to admit, Darcy beat me by placing xyster on a triple word score. In the evening, however, I am pleased to say, I got the better of him with quartziferous. The food is acceptable although I miss our cosy meals alone.

How are you, dearest? Are you enjoying the visit of your mother and sisters? I do hope you enjoy yourself and I promise that I shall return home as soon as Darcy's health allows. Please assure Mrs and Miss Dashwood and Miss Margaret of my best wishes and know that you are much missed by your husband, etc.

Montgomery.

64. Miss Verena Elizabeth Dohnanyi to Charlotte Collins, Lady Metcalfe (continued)

Charlotte, dearest,

I have lost track of when I started this letter and what I told you last. This day, this night, has been lasting so long it feels like a lifetime. And yet, it has not been a day since I fled from Pemberley, believing Mr Darcy and his friends to be traitors, nay, murderers - and now! I realise now how much I was mistaken. How could I err so in my judgement? Now that this horrible, wonderful night has almost come to its end, I understand that I have hardly ever been closer to someone, that there is perhaps no other person in whom I have confided, whom I have trusted more than Mr Darcy.

Forgive me, Charlotte. This is the most devilish thing to say to one who has always been my best, my kindest, most caring friend. And yet - I would lie if I did not tell you that Mr Darcy understands me in a way no one else can, not even you - because you, blessedly, have never been forced to go through what I had to go through, to see what Mr Darcy had to see. Do not envy us! It is a heavy burden we carry, and I would wish it on no one, least of all you, dearest.

It may sound wondrous that I claim to be so close to Mr Darcy now when only a day ago, I held him in little esteem. Yet, such a night as we spent together will invariably force two people to bare their souls to each other until they can consider one another perfect equals. Seldom does fate grant you such a night, and whether it is to your benefit or your destruction, that is upon you to decide.

After Miss Bingley and Col. Fitzwilliam had fallen asleep in each other's arms, the room grew quiet. By some unspoken agreement, Mr Darcy and I had taken over the watch and soon, everyone else had fallen asleep.

'You miss him,' Mr Darcy suddenly said to me, 'Sie vermissen ihn die ganze Zeit, nicht wahr?'

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak just then.

'I know this must sound ridiculous, coming from me,' Mr Darcy continued in German, 'but I know how you feel.'

He looked me fully into the eyes with such an intensity that I had to withdraw mine.

'My brother is not dead,' he said, 'and yet, I have lost him forever. He is haunting my memories, a boy of happier days, and his very body reminds me that he is not gone, that somewhere, out there, my brother is still there, mocking me.'

I took his hand in mine and imitated his gaze.

'Your brother is as dead as mine, Mr Darcy,' I said firmly. 'That - thing - is not your brother, and never was.'

Mr Darcy gave a hollow laugh and covered my hand with his other.

'You are trying to console me, and I appreciate that, but it is no use. We both know that my brother is not dead, even though I wish with all my heart that -'

He broke off, but I knew what he could not say; understanding hit me from nowhere. All at once, I understood not only why Mr Darcy insisted that his brother was not dead, but also why the vampire could not be vanquished.

'Mr Darcy -' I began, but he cut me off.

'Miss Verena, you are too gentle, too good a woman - you loved your brother too much to understand what is tormenting me - what has been tormenting me ever since I found Nancy and realised what my brother had done. Miss Verena! Do you not see! - that to save my sister, my beloved baby sister, I must commit a horrendous sin - I must kill my own brother! Could you have done that? Could anybody kill their mother's son? - and yet, if I do not - if I cannot find a way to kill him, I shall see my sister die, her death as certain as if I had her blood on my own hands -'

I looked down, allowing him some privacy, and it was a long time ere I spoke.

'There was a little girl,' I said. 'In Vienna, when Arnold - when Arnold was still alive and we were hunting, in the weeks before he died. I had seen her before in the park when I was walking with Yankele. She was a small, wiry sort of thing, with dark curls and large eyes. Her front teeth were missing and she always had scraped knees. Her legs were far too long and bony for her and when she thought no one noticed, she bit the ends of her braids. I always thought that if - if by some miracle, Tomek and I had had a daughter, she would have been like her. Margareta was her name, but her mother always called her Gretel.

'One night, when we were sitting in the vestry, waiting for we knew not what, a distraught teenage boy sought out Father Kaufmann, asking him to come immediately and perform the deathbed rites. Recognising the address as being in one of the most dangerous streets in the area, Arnold and I chose to accompany them, for we would not have F. Kaufmann or the boy venture out into the night alone.

'It was Gretel, of course. The moment we arrived we saw that she had been bitten and that she would not last the night. When Arnold had been introduced to the mother by F. Kaufmann as his adviser, she understood this to mean a physician, and grabbing my hands, she promised to pay whatever sum of money was asked if we could but give her daughter some of the good medicine, if the doctor would but heal her little Gretel.

'There was, however, nothing we could do for Gretel but to ease her sleep and spare her pain. We had shortly before been able to obtain a larger quantity of morphine which we now administered.

'It was the most horrible thing to do, telling this weak and tired woman that no money could buy a cure which would save her daughter. She did not believe us at first, pointing out to us that her daughter's cheeks were gaining colour again, that Gretel already began to look less worn, less drawn out. It was a sign of the venom getting stronger, of course, but how was she to know that?

'When, however, in spite of her insistence, F. Kaufmann began to perform the rites, the truth dawned upon her. You could see understanding creep into her face, maliciously, until all hope had left her and she crumbled, begging not the physician anymore, but the priest, to spare her innocent, suffering child.

'It was one of the longest nights I have ever spent. Gretel did not regain consciousness, but she clang to life long past midnight.

'The hardest part, however, still lay before us. Harder still than being confronted with the mother's cries, with the father's wordless grief, harder still than trying to tell her siblings what had happened and was still happening to Gretel. Gretel died in the middle of the night and we knew that not much time was left. Her body had to be moved, and soon. We did not dare wait, for the the longer we dallied, the greater was the risk for all of us.

'It was inhuman beyond consideration, but we decided to take her from her family as soon as possible. We could barely allow them time enough to say their farewells before we had to drag her away. We told her parent that we had to bury her at once, to prevent the illness from spreading. We would take her and find her a coffin, we explained, and treat the body in such ways as necessary, and F. Kaufmann would read the burial mass the next day. With Gretel carefully wrapped in a clean blanket, we left, her mother begging us not to burn Gretel like a heathen.

'Arnold carried her in his arms on our way back to the church. Had anyone asked, we would have told him that we were searching for a doctor. We met no one, however, and unseen by anyone, we brought her body into the old cellars beneath the altar. We placed her body in a plain wooden coffin and after F. Kaufmann had said the prayers, set upon our most gruesome duty.

'You, I am sure, will understand how I felt. The task was nearly impossible. There lay, before me, a small girl, beloved by her family, a girl who only a couple of days before had been happy and carefree - a girl, moreover, who was like the daughter I had always imagined I should have - and yet - had we not done what we had to, what could have happened? The girl, after all, was dead. What we saw before us was only a shell. The vampire who had taken possession of her body was not the girl anymore - was not Gretel. I took my knife and - in that moment, she opened her eyes.

'She sat up suddenly. She looked as if her health was fully restored - her cheeks flushed again - her eyes clear and bright - she looked better than she ever had. With a sweet smile, she bared her teeth and -

'When I saw that she was no longer missing her front teeth - this more than anything else made me realise that whatever this was, it was not Gretel anymore. More than the red gleam in her eyes, this gave me the strength to do what I had to do.

'She asked for her mother, in a sweet, pleasant voice - yet it was not her. Gretel had spoken in a dialect, coarse, unlearned, just as her family - the vampire, however, spoke accent-free and educated - 'Could you please ask my mother to see me?' it asked. I grabbed my knife firmly, raised the stake and - I destroyed the vampire.'

I had not realised it, but I had started to cry. Mr Darcy was still holding my hand.

'You are amazing,' he whispered, 'the bravest woman I ever met, but - do you not see that this is different? That it is my fault -?'

Slowly, I began to lose my patience.

'It was not easy, recounting these events,' I said. 'I would prefer it if you took such advice from my story as I meant to give you.'

He stared at me.

'Are you just stubborn, or do you not see?' I asked in exasperation. 'Do you not see what is happening here?'

'I am not stubborn,' Mr Darcy said indignantly. 'I simply do not have the pleasure of understanding you. I fear you are not seeing the consequences -'

'I fear you are not seeing what is happening,' I interjected. 'I do not blame you, but - Mr Darcy, have you ever asked yourself why that vampire cannot be destroyed like any other vampire? Why your sister lives still, when she should be long dead? Why that vampire could escape from this room assuming the shape of mice? - That vampire did not only drink the mice's blood to strengthen himself.'

'Of course he is not like any other vampire,' Mr Darcy said. 'He made himself. He chose to change. He does not adhere to the same rules as others.'

'I wonder, Mr Darcy,' I said. 'Did you ever study the lore of blood? I know that the English do not hold it in high esteem, but -'

'I am not English, I am Dutch,' Mr Darcy said. 'Of course I studied the lore of blood - it is nothing but that. Folk-lore, superstitions, old wives' tales - it does not allow for scientific results.'

'Of course it does not,' I agreed. 'It goes beyond science, beyond what logic can explain. No physician, not even the most learned one, could tell you what I say to you now. Your problem, and your conflict, Mr Darcy, lie within your own blood and that of the vampire. He chose to be what he is, as you said - he was not robbed of his human life. Unlike others, he can control what he is - and what is more, he managed to preserve his humanity. Not in the moral, I hasten to add, but only in the pure, biological sense of the word. Taking in the mice's blood has given him the choice to assume the shape of a mouse - and the human blood within him preserves traces of his human nature. In short, the fact that he chose to become what he is also gave him the choice to change his shape, provided he took in the blood. Your blood, however, keeps both him and your sister alive.'

'My blood?' Mr Darcy spluttered.

'That - thing - in the coffin once was your brother,' I said. 'To you, it still is. He is bound to Pemberley by more than just vampire law. To you, he still is family. Your blood and his, to you, are still akin. Thus, as long as you are alive and holding on to that, so will he be, and with him, your sister. Only when he has no longer any bond to you, when his blood is no more akin to any other blood, will he become 'any other' vampire. And then, he can be vanquished.'

Mr Darcy stared at me and said nothing.

'I know it does not make much sense,' I said apologetically. 'I never said it would.'

'So - you think this is the only way then?' he asked slowly.

'Yes, I do,' I answered. 'I am sorry. I know it must be difficult - maybe the hardest thing you have had to do so far, but ultimately -'

'What about Nancy though?' Mr Darcy asked. 'If I do - what you say and - will Nancy -'

'If the vampire is vanquished then, your sister has every chance of recovering. In fact, I think she shall improve the very minute he is destroyed.'

'Well, then,' Mr Darcy said. 'I know what to do. I think I should like to be alone for a moment. Would you mind if I stepped downstairs for a bit? I shall wake Arthur.'

I nodded in agreement and Mr Darcy stepped over and quietly woke Mr Ferrars. Then he returned to me, took my hand and said, 'Thank you for everything, Verena. You are a wonderful woman.'

He kissed my hand and was gone before I could marvel at his strange behaviour. That was about fifteen minutes ago.

Mr Ferrars has just strolled over to the window and is gazing into the sky. Somewhere in the distance, an ever so faint red light can be seen beyond the hills. All the others are still asleep. I can hear Col. Brandon's snores under one of the windows and Miss Bingley's soft wheezing. I just stoked the fire.

'Do you realise,' Mr Ferrars suddenly says and I am surprised to hear him talk out of his own volition, 'that out there, another beautiful summer morning in a beautiful English village is about to begin?'

The grey is getting lighter now by the minute. As I walk over to the window, I realise the day is indeed about to begin.

'One of these days, very soon, another of these wonderful days will begin and it will be the last,' Mr Ferrars continues. 'All the time, even now, an evil is growing amongst us - an unnamed, unknown, unseen evil, breeding in our midst, taking over our minds and thought without us even realising. It is waxing, getting stronger, all over Europe, and it seeks bloodshed and destruction. When war comes - and it is only a matter of time now - it will be the end of all that we have known and kept dear, not only here, but everywhere.'

He sighs and turns away from me once more, as we both watch the sun rise between the hills.

'What is that?' Mr Ferrars suddenly asks. 'It looks as if someone is coming -'

I follow his pointing finger and notice, on the lawn far below us, a group of people marching up to Pemberley's front door.

Items 65-69

Posted on 2009-02-06

'I wish young ladies would not read it. It is not at all wholesome. Have some gruel instead.' - H.W.

65. From the journal of Miss Caroline Bingley

18th May --- Sunlight crept into the attic room through the easternmost windows. I rose out of the Colonel's arms and watched the rays of light wander slowly towards the coffin. Darcy and Miss Dohnanyi, I saw, were holding hands under one of the windows and talking softly, framed by Arthur and Col. Brandon, who were gazing into the distance. Mina and Harker, it appeared, had also just woken.

The light was crawling ever closer to the coffin. Suddenly alarmed, I nudged the Colonel and we both dug into our pockets and retrieved our darkened spectacles. The others followed our example, apart from Miss Dohnanyi, of course, who knew not what was going on. Darcy, realising the danger she was in just then, grabbed her firmly around the waist just as the sunlight reached the creature within the coffin. It was no use. Upon seeing it bathed in sunlight, Miss Dohnanyi struggled free, biting and scratching Darcy until he was forced to release her. She ran at once towards the coffin, the rotting contents of which I knew must look beyond beautiful and appealing to her.

Kissing the scabby grey hands, she bent low over the thing trying to embrace it. Col. Brandon tried to pull her back, but he was no match for her. Kicking wildly, she fell him and climbed into the coffin, curling up next to the disgusting thing.

'My darling,' she whispered. 'My precious.'

'I am sorry, Darce,' the Colonel said. 'There's nothing we can do anymore.'

He drew his sabre and with one swift move, cut off her head.

'Well, dearest,' he then said and put an arm around me, 'shall we have breakfast?'

I started to scream.

As I woke, I realised, to my horror, that I was indeed lying in the Colonel's arms. Was it my doing, I asked myself, or had the Colonel somehow moved me after I had fallen asleep for some unfathomable reason? Hastily, I moved away so that he should not notice where I had been, in case he did not know already.

It was Arthur, not Darcy, with whom Miss Dohnanyi had been talking under the window. Darcy, I now saw, was not even in the room. I asked them where he was.

'He wanted to be alone,' Miss Dohnanyi said and shrugged. 'I am not quite sure what he means to do, but he said he should not be long.'

Suddenly, I saw why they had been looking out of the window. A group of five persons was making their way towards the house.

'What can that mean?' I asked. Not wearing my spectacles, I could not see them very clearly, but it appeared that Miss Dohnanyi knew them.

'I have no idea whether this is good or bad,' Miss Dohnanyi said. 'It is Lord and Lady Metcalfe and that parson from Lambton - and the other two gentlemen, I believe, are with the government - I think I have seen them with Lord Metcalfe before.'

'From the government?' the Colonel said sharply. I had not heard him get up, but now he was standing directly behind me. 'Whether they mean to harm us or not, they must not see us with the vampire. Quick! Montgomery, Arthur, can you keep watch up here? The others, come downstairs! Quick! Mina, Harker, wake!'

We hurried to the nearest salon downstairs and sat down in front of the fire.

'Will it not looks suspicious if we are already awake at this hour, in evening dress?' Mina asked.

'It would,' the Colonel agreed, 'had we indeed just woken. In fact, though, we stayed up all night.'

With that, he grabbed my hand, pulled me up and walked over to the gramophone. Not bothering to check which record he was playing, he turned it on and as soon as the music began, put his arm around me and spun me about.

'One, two, three,' he counted in my ear, 'one, two, three - left foot, Caroline.'

Harker and Mina, I saw, soon joined us and Miss Dohnanyi, at the Colonel's gestures, pushed away the furniture so that it appeared as if we had been dancing all night.

'Where on earth is Darcy?' the Colonel asked. 'What is going on in his mind that he left in a moment like this?'

66. Mijnheer Fitzwilliam Augustus van Darcy to Miss Georgiana Catherine van Darcy (draft)

Pemberley, 18th May, 190-

Dearest Nancy,

When you read this, you will be healthy and safe again and I will be gone. Cry not for me, for it was my decision. It pains me much that I do not have the time anymore to bid you farewell, but the circumstances do not allow it. I am sure, however, that you know that I love you nonetheless. I do not do this with the intention of leaving you, but in the hope that you will be restored to the health and happiness you deserve to enjoy. I am convinced you will understand my decision. Do not blame yourself, for I act out of my own free will, with no other driving force but that I love you and cannot bear to see you reduced to a shadow of yourself anymore. What injustice you have had to suffer through my carelessness shall soon be amended, and wherever I shall then be, I shall delight in the knowledge that you shall, finally, be free again. Cry not for me then, but be happy, for that is my final wish, and know that I shall always love you.

I do not know when, or where, but one day, we shall meet again in the world to come.

Until then, I remain, your loving brother

David.

67. Mijnheer Fitzwilliam Augustus van Darcy to Col. The Hon. John S. Fitzwilliam (draft)

John,

Thank you for everything. You were the best friend I could ever have wished for. I am grateful that I was allowed to know you.

Please assure all the others that it pains me to leave you all. I am truly thankful for all your assistance and friendship these past years. Give all my best wishes to Anne and tell her thank you for everything she has done for my family.

I am sorry that it has to end thus, but it is my own decision. I have thought it through and I know it is for the best. My affairs are settled; I have left directions for my lawyer.

Fare you well, John, and be assured of my sincerest affection.

Fitzwilliam Darcy.

68. Mijnheer Fitzwilliam Augustus van Darcy to Miss Verena Elizabeth Dohnanyi (translated draft)

Miss Dohanyi - Verena -

If I may call you thus - I know that I have no claims upon you, no right to be writing you letters. I beg you to accept this missive nonetheless, for it eases my heart greatly to write to you in this hour.

Far too short a time I have known you, yet dearly I wish that our acquaintance could have been furthered. This night, I am sure you felt the same - that had but time permitted, we could have formed a strong bond. It was not to be, however, and it is no use to mourn things that never were, however desirable they seem.

I trust upon you to explain my decision to the others; but do not take any blame from them: It is my free will and I decided on my own.

Verena, I feel honoured that I was allowed to meet you. You are truly the bravest, kindest, most amazing, wonderful woman I have ever met and I shall treasure the memory of you always.

I will only add, God bless you,

Fitzwilliam Darcy.

69. From the journal of Miss Caroline Bingley (continued)

'I am sorry, Caroline,' the Colonel whispered in my ear, 'I would have wished for our first waltz to take place under happier circumstances.'

I turned my head.

'First waltz, and last,' I hissed back. It came out sharper than I had intended.

'I am sorry,' the Colonel said and swung me around. 'I cannot deny I like this, but you know I am not doing it for fun.'

'Look, can we not just forget all this?' I asked. 'Now that we know who Miss Dohnanyi is, can we not just tell everyone we are not engaged, and never were, and then things can again be as they always were?'

For a moment, the Colonel said nothing. I could feel the muscles in his arm stiffen and his grip on my back tighten. Then he sighed.

'Of course,' he said. 'I shall speak to Harker as soon as the visitors are gone again, and I shall explain to the others, just as I promised, and then you will be rid of me.'

I did not like how final this sounded. Was it that which caused the knot in my stomach or the dread of the visitors, who could only mean harm?

'I do not want to be rid of you,' I said. 'I wish we could be friends once more.'

'I am sorry, Caroline,' the Colonel said in response. 'I am truly sorry about all that I have put you through.'

I closed my eyes and for a moment, I felt inexplicably comforted and protected. The Colonel turned me around and I thought I was flying. Then Mina's voice brought me back to reality.

'I do wonder where Darcy is,' she said, 'I hope nothing has happened to him -'

'Do not worry, he shall be fine,' Harker said.

'In any case,' Mina replied, 'I think I should better search him; it would look odd if our host was missing while we are dancing away the night.'

With a determined look upon her face, she left the room.

'Well, Miss Dohnanyi,' Harker said and bowed, 'would you care for a dance?'

Downstairs, we could hear the bell ring.