Mr. Darcy Vampyre by Amanda Grange Page B

there were no mirrors to be had, for she shook her head emphatically and then withdrew.
    â€˜Well,’ said Annie, ‘folks are strange hereabouts and no mistake. First, all the talk in the servants’ hall, and now this. No mirror indeed! How do they expect a lady to dress without one?’
    â€˜Never mind,’ said Elizabeth, thinking that she would ask the Count on the morrow. ‘She probably did not understand me.’ She removed her cloak then asked curiously, ‘What talk in the servants’ hall?’
    â€˜Nothing but idle nonsense,’ said Annie. ‘Saying as how the axe falling means you’re to cause Mr Darcy’s death. Saying that it fell once before when the Count and his wife walked through the door and look what happened to her. Will you wear the blue dress or the lemon tonight, Ma’am?’
    â€˜Neither,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I will be having something in my room, so there is no need for me to dress for dinner. What do you mean, the axe falling means I will cause Mr Darcy’s death?’
    â€˜Well, Ma’am, they say that as the axe fell when you were both walking through the door, and it fell nearer to him than to you, that means you’re going to kill him or some such nonsense. They were all shaking their heads and muttering about it when I went into the kitchen. Most of them don’t speak a word of English, but Mr Darcy’s valet told me what it was all about. Heathenish nonsense, all of it.’
    â€˜I don’t think they’re heathens,’ said Elizabeth absently. ‘On the contrary, they seem to cross themselves a great deal. As we came to the castle, the local people crossed themselves every time the coach passed.’
    â€˜Even so, Ma’am, they’re not like the people at home.’
    â€˜No, they are not,’ said Elizabeth.
    She thought of all her friends and neighbours at home. Their absurdities did not seem so absurd at a distance; instead they felt reassuring. Even the memory of Mr Collins seemed endearing rather than ridiculous.
    Annie finished unpacking and then pulled the curtains across the windows. The fire had blazed up and the room was beginning to feel warmer. Elizabeth slipped out of her wet clothes and into a dry woollen dress and then stretched out her hands to the fire. They were very cold, but at last she felt them beginning to thaw.
    There was a timid knock at the door and a young maid entered, bearing a tray of something hot and appetising. She stayed as far away from Elizabeth as possible as she crossed the room and put the tray down on the writing table, looking at her with frightened eyes.
    â€˜What did I tell you?’ asked Annie in aggrieved accents as the maid hurried out of the room. ‘She’s one of the day servants. They’re the worst. They won’t even stay in the castle overnight; they say they see things, unnatural things.’
    Elizabeth walked over to the tray and looked down at the stew.
    â€˜It tastes better than it looks,’ Annie said. ‘I had some in the kitchen.’
    Elizabeth picked up the spoon that was set beside the bowl and tasted the dish, which was a kind of chicken stew with a distinctive flavour.
    â€˜Peppers, those are the things they put in it to make it taste like that,’ said Annie. ‘Better than all that garlic in Paris, this doesn’t taste so bad.’
    Elizabeth broke off a piece of bread and ate it with the stew. When she had finished, Annie removed the tray and Elizabeth, left alone, wandered round the room. She examined the few books that were placed on a bookcase by the window and gazed at the tapestries, but instead of soothing her before she went to sleep, the contents of the room unsettled her. The books were not like those in the Longbourn library, smelling richly of leather; they were damp and they smelt of mould.
    The tapestry too was unsettling. It displayed a bold picture worked in faded reds and