I was going to leave you all to stew for a while longer, but I'm going to be busy for the rest of the day and while I freely admit to my enjoying teasing you all cruelly, I just couldn't leave you hanging for that long. Not with Darcy's fate unresolved as it is. I warn you, however, his torment isn't completely over.

XOX OXO XOX OXO XOX OXO XOX

How long I lay there, I could not tell. With nothing but the ever-increasing pain for company, it felt like hours, but could well have been only minutes. I did not even realize my eyes had closed until they snapped open when I felt a cold, wet pressure on my cheek.

A large, black dog was standing over me. When I was young, my older cousins would frighten me with tales of the black dog, a ghostly specter that would appear at night as an omen of death. This creature did not look ghostly, and it was full daylight out, but my pain-addled mind found its appearance at this moment entirely appropriate.

When I opened my eyes, the dog gave what sounded like a happy whine and licked my face. Then it whined again, a more sorrowful sound this time.

I was beginning to think that the creature was actually tame when, still whining pitifully, it sank its teeth into my upper arm nearly to the bone and tore downward. This time, I could not stop the scream, and I surrendered to blissful unconsciousness before the creature's teeth reached my elbow.

I cannot tell what was real and what was a hallucination from that point. I seem to recall the sensation of being cradled in someone's arms as though I were a small child, but I cannot credit the memory since my mind insists it was Miss Elizabeth who carried me.

I remember pain, not just in my stomach but from the wounds that demon-possessed canine had inflicted on my limbs.

I remember Miss Elizabeth. Her voice alternately murmured soothing words as I cried out and urged me to drink water or broth she offered. Her hands pressed me back into the bed when I thrashed in pain and laid cool cloths on my head against the fever I could feel ravishing my battered body. But why, if I had survived to this point, was it Elizabeth caring for me and not a physician or even my valet?

Perhaps my injury had taken my wits from me as well as the use of my legs. Well, if the fantasy my brain had concocted involved Miss Elizabeth caring for me, I could hardly complain.

My next clear memory was of waking in a dingy cottage and looking straight into the eyes of the demon dog that had attacked me. Fear propelled me up and out of the bed, but I had moved too quickly and an overwhelming dizziness resulted in my crumpling to the floor in a heap.

The creature cocked its head at me curiously for a moment and then stood, shook itself, and padded out of the room.

Only after it had gone did I relax enough to notice several things. First, that I was dressed only in a pair of breeches. And second, I had miraculously regained control of my legs. Whoever had healed me, I would give them a small fortune for that alone.

When the dog did not immediately return, I attempted to regain the straw mattress. That small burst of exertion had left me feeling weak and lightheaded. I had managed to stand, supporting myself with the help of a scrubbed wooden table, and was wondering how I would cross the gap between myself and the bed when Miss Elizabeth entered.

She did not seem surprised to see me out of bed and without a shirt. "You should be more careful, Mr. Darcy. You are not yet entirely recovered," she said, moving to offer her shoulder for my support.

I accepted, for I had no other option, but I did my best to not overtax her slight frame. She noticed my efforts and laughed lightly.

"I am not made of glass, Mr. Darcy. And I am stronger than you might think. I did carry you here, after all."

"I. . .That was not a fever dream?"

"No."

"And Wickham?"

"Dead."

"But how?"

"I will tell you all, but first let me get you some food. You have not had anything solid for three days." She arranged the pillow so that I could sit up, and left.

She returned with two plates of some roasted meat. She offered me one plate and some serviceable cutlery and sat down next to my bed with the other. I had, at first, wondered why there were no vegetables, but the smell of the meat caused my mouth to water, and I tucked in without any further thought.

Elizabeth smiled somewhat sadly as she took my plate. "Well, if your recovery was not proof enough, your appetite should remove any further doubt," she muttered.

"Doubt about what?"

"Mr. Darcy, have you examined your scars?" she asked.

I looked down at my stomach, and then at my arm. They were devoid of any scars. Even the ones I had acquired many years ago in childhood scrapes were gone.

"And did it occur to you to wonder how it came to be that you once again have the use of your legs?

I nodded and stammered, "H-how?" half afraid of the answer.

"The creature that attacked you, the one in the room when you woke just now, was no normal dog." She closed her eyes. "Mr. Darcy, it was a werewolf. And now, so are you."

I stared at her, unable to believe her words.

"It was the only way!" she cried. "You would have died if I had not. . . I am so sorry. I would not wish this curse on anyone, but I could not just watch as you. . ."

"The dog. . . you are. . .?" it was too fantastical for words, but she nodded affirmation of my unfinished questions. "What will. . . ?" I could not complete this question either, but once again, she understood.

"You will need to change forms at least once every other week or so. Needing to change at the full moon is a myth, although it is pleasant to hunt in its light. The weakness to silver is, unfortunately, true, so you may be forced to wear gloves in conditions when you normally would not have. But beyond a comment at my fastidious nature, nobody has ever mentioned anything on my habits in this regard, so I do not imagine they will challenge you."

"So far, you have mentioned several problems, but none that are insurmountable. Yet, you call it a curse?"

"Yes, I do! I only ever wished for a normal life. For a home of my own and a family. But since I was attacked five years ago I have had to sneak around in fear of discovery. I have had to face questions about my mysterious habits of wandering off. Do you know, I took to changing during my morning walks because my sisters would often come to my room at night to talk and I could not risk them finding me gone. Meanwhile, my mother was pushing me at every available man in the neighborhood that was not good enough for Jane, while I knew I could never marry, for how could I ever hide such a thing from my husband? And, not least, it is a constant struggle to suppress the wolf's instincts and thoughts to not allow her to draw attention to us."

"The wolf's thoughts?" I asked. She had spoken as though she and the wolf were separate beings.

"He will make himself known shortly, I expect," she said. "I cannot explain it fully, but you will understand what I mean when he wakes.

"Actually, the most difficult challenge you face at this particular moment is coming up with a reason for your absence from Rosings these past three days."

"It has only been three days?" I glanced down at the scar-less skin where my injuries had been.

"Werewolves heal very quickly."

"That is why you were not scared of Wickham," I realized.

She nodded.

A thought occurred to me. "And you have been with me the entire time?"

"I have, except when I went out to hunt our dinner."

"And what will your excuse be for disappearing from the parsonage?"

She colored brightly and would not meet my eye. "I was only able to come up with one that would explain both our disappearances, but I do not know if you will find it acceptable."

"Yes?"

"Gretna Green," she whispered.

My heart skipped a beat. Elizabeth had just suggested we marry! A thought that was not quite my own echoed my pleasure from a wolfish perspective, She will be our mate!

I understood her words now. The wolf had indeed made himself known.

But there was still a slight flaw in her plans. "And my carriage vanishing from Rosings three days after our supposed departure would not raise suspicions?"

"Well, I had thought. . . that is, you need to learn how to be a wolf. I imagined we would travel primarily in that form. No one would notice us, we would not need to risk exposure by stopping at an inn, and," a gleam came into her eyes, "I could teach you to hunt."

The wolf in my head liked that idea as well. A hunt! The wolf's eagerness became my own.

"And you will teach me to control it?" I could not allow the wolf's instincts to rule over Pemberley.

"Yes."

The wolf pushed me to voice the thought that the gentleman I had been would never have spoken aloud, "And you will be our mate?"

A feral look came into Elizabeth's eyes at that. I knew it was both Elizabeth and her wolf who answered, "Yes, we will."

XOX OXO XOX OXO XOX OXO XOX

Sorry for the lack of sleep to those of you who read the first installment before bedtime last night. Can I come out of hiding now?