A Touch of Night Read online

  A Touch of Night

  by

  Sarah A. Hoyt & Sofie Skapski

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Naked Reader, LLC

  A Touch of Night

  Copyright (c) 2010 by Sarah A. Hoyt & Sofie Skapski

  ISBN 978-1-61136-001-4

  Cover art copyright (c) 2010 by Sarah A. Hoyt

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Netherfield is let at last!

  Chapter One

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man of clean lineage and respectable fortune must be in need of a wife.

  Upon entering any country neighborhood, this man will be viewed as the rightful property of this or that daughter of the local families and each one will make haste to claim him by all means available within the bounds of propriety.

  "My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to this gentleman, over tea in the small blue parlor of the Longbourne house. "Have you heard that Netherfield is let at last?"

  Ensconced in his comfortable chair by the fire, book grasped firmly in hands and gaze set on said book with equal firmness, the gentleman replied without looking up, "No, I have not."

  His second daughter, Elizabeth, recovering from a startled tremble thanked the heavens he'd missed her reaction. Doubtless his book was too engrossing to allow him to notice such insignificant creatures as people.

  That her mother didn't realize Elizabeth had shaken and spilled the best portion of her teacup all over her saucer did not surprise the girl. Dutiful daughter though she tried to be, she entertained no illusions about her mother, who was a woman of mean understanding and little education. Mrs. Bennet's life work was the marriage of her five daughters, its solace visiting and gossip.

  So, Lizzy set about cleaning her saucer, while listening to her mother.

  "Do you not want to know who has taken it?" Mrs. Bennet asked her husband, impatiently.

  "You wish to tell me and I have no objection to hearing it."

  This was invitation enough.

  "Why, my dear. Mrs. Long says it has been taken by a young man of large fortune from the North of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four and was so much delighted with the place that he settled on the price immediately. He's taking possession immediately and his servants have been busy about the place for a week."

  "The North of England," Mr. Bennet said, looking over his book with such a grave expression only the daughter who understood him best could discern the impish twinkling in his eyes. "A well known place for blood lines that throw out a were every other generation."

  "A were !" Mrs. Bennet said in startled alarm. "I hope not. Our neighborhood has never had any of the foul fiends, and I swear my nerves will carry me off if a were-beast were to settle within easy distance of us!"

  "I daresay," Mr. Bennet said, his expression graver and the twinkle in his eyes more pronounced. "That they have to live somewhere."

  "Oh, no, Mr. Bennet, they must not," his wife said. "For you know the law says they are to be killed at once."

  "Only if caught, Mrs. Bennet, only if caught."

  In the welling up of distress from her esteemed mother, Elizabeth was able to put her teacup down and leave the room without attracting attention.

  She shut the door quietly and climbed the stairs with a heavy heart. She was filled with trepidation. How would she tell Jane the news? How could she? Oh, it was all very distressing and Jane, the kindest, sweetest sister in the whole world was so far from deserving the dreadful curse she suffered.

  She opened the door to Jane's room and found her sister sitting by the window, a notebook in her lap, a pen in her hand. She had claimed a headache which might very well be true, to absent herself from the family tea.

  Jane was the most beautiful of the five daughters: curls like spun gold, classical features, porcelain complexion and an elegant figure. Sitting by the window in the small, dark room, she looked like an angel and very far above her setting -- the simple country house of impoverished gentry. Jane deserved to be enshrined in a stately mansion and showered with all the riches of the world -- but that was never to be -- and all because of the terrible accident of her birth.

  Jane looked up from her notebook and at Lizzy. Her sweet face held an expression of fear that made Lizzy's heart shrink in her chest.

  "What is it, Lizzy?" she said, putting her pen back into the inkwell she'd rested on the windowsill. "Why is mama shrieking so?"

  "Netherfield," Lizzy said, and had to swallow to build up the courage to continue. She knew what a blow her next words would be to her beloved sister. "Is let at last."

  Jane gave a small shriek and her beautiful, pale hand went up to cover her mouth. "Oh, no." She moaned. She hunched against the window embrasure, trembling, filtering moonlight casting ghostly shadows upon her stricken face.

  Elizabeth hurried to relay the rest of the news. "Kitty and Lydia say that it was rented to a rich gentleman from the North. His name is Bingley. He's said to be very handsome and they find it most impressive that he has a blue jacket. He's due to arrive soon, with a large party. Seven ladies and five gentlemen." She paused and then continued ruefully, "It pleased our father to convince our mother that the gentleman was likely a were-animal , and change her transports into tremblings."

  "A large party," Jane said, nodding forlornly, as though unable to command thought for more than repeating Lizzy's words. She looked at the notebook, which lay open on her lap, and then up towards the moon, which was just starting to show, a pale outline against the wintry sunset, and waxing towards its greatest fullness. "Oh, Lizzy, what shall I do? I've been used to having the liberty of Netherfield's preserves and parks. Now I shall be forced to go towards Merryton." She paled at such a terrible idea.

  Lizzy could do no more than nod. She watched Jane visibly pull herself together. "And yet," Jane said, smiling wanly, "Mama will be so happy at having new acquaintance."

  Lizzy sighed. "With five daughters to marry, any gentleman taking a house in the neighborhood must seem a godsend. For you know that any gentleman in possession of a large fortune must be in need of a wife."

  "Oh," Jane said. She jerked out of her hunched position to sit tall and defiant. "I hope she doesn't plan on his marrying me."

  "I'm sure she does," Lizzy said. "Since she has five dowerless daughters, and you are easily five times as pretty as the rest of us, she must plan exactly that. I know exactly how her mind works - she plans on you marrying Mr. Bingley, thereby throwing the rest of us girls into the path of other rich me
n."

  "But... Lizzy," Jane said in some agitation. "You know it can never be."

  "Yes," Lizzy said, nodding, her own gaze on the moon. "But Mama doesn't."

  "Oh," Jane said, putting her head down in her hands. "Mama shall push me at him, shamelessly. She shall do her utmost to cause me to capture his fancy."

  "Indeed."

  "Oh, Lizzy." Jane's lovely eyes were moist with tears. "What shall I do?"

  "When Mama is set upon a course of action, there is not much anyone can do. Even Father, for all his teasing and cajoling has never managed to control a single of her transports. However, I shall do my utmost to protect you," she said.

  "As you always have," Jane said, gratefully.

  "What else could I do?" Lizzy asked. "Your affliction is not of your making. How it pains me that you have to suffer and hide away in obscurity as you do. You have the heart of an angel, Jane. No one could wish for a better sister. You do not deserve this."

  "It is you who are the angel, always kind and willing to protect me as no one else would do."

  "What else would you have me do?" Lizzy asked. "Turn you in to the authorities?" She patted her sister on the shoulder. "Now don't worry too much about Netherfield. They can't very well patrol all the lands. Surely no one will make too much of your running in its preserves. We will survive this, as we've survived other adversity in the past. I will do everything in my power to ensure that nothing will happen to you."

  "I am very lucky to have you as a sister," Jane said, tears again moistening her lovely dark brown eyes.

  The sisters embraced and then Elizabeth departed from the room. She knew that Jane wished to be alone. Jane hated for anyone to see her distress. Lizzy, not feeling equal to sharing a scene that had progressed to nonsensical jubilation downstairs, repaired to her own bedchamber. Even from the privacy of her room, she could hear her mother shrieking with glee, "And Lydia, you shall dance with Mister Bingley."

  "I'm sure he'll pick me," Lydia, the youngest of the daughters, a strapping girl of fifteen, said. "For even though I'm the youngest, I'm the tallest!"

  Lizzy sat upon her bed, unable to shake the melancholy that was overpowering her. She removed her day clothes. True, she could have called on the maid to help with this, but she preferred her solitude and had long ago learned to take care of herself -- and Jane -- in these small ways.

  After undressing and putting her clothes away, she slipped into her nightgown and dressing gown, got her silver brush from the dresser and started brushing her hair. While doing so, she walked to the window, threw it open, and gazed out at the devious moon.

  It was very close to being full now. People with less internal fortitude than Jane would already be feeling its relentless pull. She looked at the brilliant satellite in the dark sky with near hatred. What problems the moon caused! She wished there were no moon.

  At that moment something dark and looming interposed between herself and the moon. Lizzy blinked to refocus, and realized it was a dragon, huge and a luminous green. She blinked again, and the beast had flown closer.

  It glided through the heavens with unerring grace, its flight like a ballet performed upon the rising currents. Its body was powerful, sinuous, less reptilian than fluid, as though someone had decanted fire into an animal shape and set it free upon the sky.

  The metaphor was more apt than not, because as the beast flew closer she could see that its green skin glowed with the captive fire of a million gold scales, flickering and shimmering. And its wings were iridescent, semi-transparent, seemingly made of golden flame, glittering and softly billowing with each movement.

  Lizzy became aware that she was holding her breath. She knew there existed were-serpents and werewolves and that were-tigers roamed the secret shadows of moonlit nights. All of them had, of course, to be killed as soon as they were found. It was the ancient law of Britain, dating back to pre-Roman times. Shape shifters were often dangerous while in their were form, and they must be destroyed. Lycanthropy was the only reason for which British law imposed death without trial. And yet, lycanthropes persisted.

  But were-dragons were very rare. Lizzy had never even heard of one outside legend. And she never imagined they would be so beautiful or so graceful. All the illustrations and folios made them look horrendous, with open mouth and menacingly displayed fangs. As she watched, transfixed, the dragon flew closer, as though as fascinated by her as she was by him.

  It stared at her with the clearest pair of dark green eyes she had ever seen. She felt as if they were boring into her very being -- reading all her innermost thoughts. She pulled the window closed and backed away into her room. When she looked out the window again, it was gone.

  Chapter Two

  After her unnerving experience with the dragon, Lizzie found it hard to go to sleep. Seeing a dragon at all would have been a shock. But his coming so close to her window, as if drawn to her. Her pulse beat fast, her heart drummed against her ribs and a sense of disturbed longing, of expectation filled her.

  This could be no natural beast. No dragon had ever been recorded, even in legend, who hadn't been the animal form of some human. And yet, if this were a were-beast , who could this were-dragon be? Why had he suddenly shown himself with such a lack of discretion? And what could he mean by flying here, like that, where anyone looking up could spy him? Surely he knew the law - certain death upon capture. The idea of such a magnificent creature being killed out of prejudice and fear chilled her heart.

  It never occurred to her the dragon might be a she. There had been something very masculine to the intent glance of the jade-green eyes in that fiery, reptilian head. And her response to them had been the response of a woman to an attractive member of the opposite sex.

  Perhaps he was a wild were, she thought, absently nibbling the nail of her right thumb. Perhaps he was so lost to everything human and to all danger that he was not aware of his trespass. But if he were a wild were...

  Elizabeth lay down upon her bed and tossed and turned, half expecting that at any time now she would find her window broken down by a reptilian head, and herself under attack by a powerful, fanged animal. Just because he looked beautiful in flight did not mean he could not bite her in half without effort. She had to remember that he was as dangerous as he was alluring.

  And also that any were-animal would assume any human of non-were kind was enimical. He had no way of knowing the sympathies she held for his kind. She rolled over in her bed again, tangling her sweat soaked coverings even further.

  It must have been quite late when she finally fell asleep because she almost didn't hear the pebbles pelting gently against the window. They penetrated her dreams, at last, as the faintest of sounds, and at long last -- as their pattering against her window had started to assume desperate intensity -- made her sit up, startled.

  Once she realized where the sounds came from, she cursed herself for an uncaring sister, got up, and opened the window. Jane stood on the path that ran below, looking quite concerned. Also, very cold, as she was completely naked in the wintry pre-dawn.

  Elizabeth looked up at the sky. Only the lightest glimmer of pink touched the horizon. They had a good hour before the servants arose to prepare breakfast. Which was good, for it would enable Jane to get at least a little sleep before breakfast. Between that and a furtive nap in the afternoon, she would be almost as good as new.

  While she thought this, Elizabeth quietly withdrew the rope ladder made from old sheets that she kept hidden beneath her mattress. Fortunately the house couldn't really afford that many servants, so the girls usually made their own beds and turned the mattress in the spring. She could only imagine what a servant would think upon finding the hidden ladder hidden. Doubtless that Elizabeth intended to elope. Or perhaps that she had a secret lover.

  Smiling at the idea, she secured the ladder to the large wardrobe near the window, then threw it down. Jane scrambled up, very fast, with the practice of years. Once inside Elizabeth's room, she took the nightgown
and dressing gown Elizabeth extended to her. They were doubles of the ones she wore to bed, and they would return to Elizabeth's room sometime during the day. This minimized the coming and going between the rooms at night and the chances someone would catch one of them where she wasn't supposed to be.

  While Jane dressed herself, Elizabeth pulled the ladder up and returned it to its hiding place, then closed the window.

  "You were such a long time, Lizzy," Jane said. "I almost despaired and thought I would have to break into the house and make my way up alone."

  "I'm sorry Jane," Elizabeth said. "Only I had trouble going to sleep." She wasn't sure she should tell Jane, but then she thought Jane was out there, all night at least a week a month. If the dragon were a wild one, he might very well attack Jane. "Did you see the dragon?"

  "No. A dragon? When? Where?"

  "Just after I left you, last night. There was a dragon in the sky. He was... Large and... He flew right close to the window." The thought of it caused a tingle of excitement to run down her spine. Or was it apprehension? She couldn't capture into words the strange enchantment of the sight, nor the attraction of the captive fire within his wings.

  Jane paled. "He must be either very daring or very lost," she said.

  "Or else a feral were-beast , gone insane," Elizabeth said. Why did those words hurt? "I fear for you out there when an unknown being is on the loose. A dragon may very well have vicious propensities."

  "Oh, Lizzy. You know I can't stay indoors these next few days."

  "Nor should you need to. Only beware of shadows in the sky."

  Jane sighed. She was combing her hair and braiding it. "Lizzy, there is another one, out there."