Free Jane Austen: Blood Persuasion by Janet Mullany

driveway of the Great House.
    Since it was early yet, she was not surprised to see lights at the windows although no sound came from the house. Apparently the Damned did not entertain tonight, preferring to dine quietly at home. To her annoyance she was assailed by sudden, deep hunger. For how long would she be able to conceal her condition? How long before she became a monster, all human feelings and decency discarded?
    At the front door of the house she raised the heavy knocker and brought it crashing down upon the ancient oak. The door swung open almost immediately to reveal William, in his shirtsleeves, his throat bare.
    “I was expecting you, Jane.”

Chapter 7
    “S o this is your idea of quiet country living—preying upon innocent women.”
    He stood aside and gestured to her. “Pray enter.”
    “Who was responsible for this outrage?” She stepped inside the house, anger flooding her with the full strength of the Damned.
    He looked at her, considering. “You should dine.”
    “No! First, you should tell me who it was who attacked Martha this evening.”
    “And then what?”
    “I shall kill him—or her.”
    “In that case you should definitely dine, although, Jane, I should not recommend your course of action. There are severe penalties among us for those who destroy their own kind.”
    She walked ahead of him into the small room lined with books where they had first met two nights before. A woman sat, or rather, sprawled in a chair, smiled and held out her hand to William as they entered.
    “Ah. She hungers, too?” The woman giggled and rolled her head back, exposing her neck to them. Jane recognized the euphoric tipsiness of a mortal pleasured and dined upon.
    “I beg your pardon, sir. I did not realize you dined.” Her words surprised her; she must be further developed as one of the Damned than she realized, to make an appropriate apology while she seethed with mortal anger.
    William took the woman’s hand and kissed her wrist. “A thousand apologies, cara, I must abandon you. You may visit Mr. Fuller, if you wish, or Mrs. Kettering.” He pushed her from the room and closed the door.
    “Now, Jane, we must talk. Sit.”
    She knew formalities must be observed. In the presence of her Creator, even though she believed he might be implicated in a heinous crime, she calmed and accepted a glass of wine. As she related her story, she hoped with all her heart that it was not he who was responsible.
    “You are quite right,” he said, settling in the chair opposite hers, a glass of wine in his hand. “It is indeed a heinous crime, and you must believe that neither I, nor any of this household, is guilty. But . . .” He leaned forward and prodded at a smoldering log in the fireplace. “But as for responsibility, I accept that fully.”
    The log fell into the glowing heart of the fire, sending sparks flying up the chimney. “I don’t understand,” Jane said. “Who attacked Martha?”
    “I am not sure precisely who it was, although I have my suspicions. Let me explain something to you, Jane. The Prince of Wales and the ton abhor our company in these changed times. This household is one of many where we attempt to live quietly, waiting for a return to favor, or possibly a time when we may travel abroad to a more hospitable country. It is how we have survived, for centuries. But others are angry at our fall from favor. They seek revenge on England’s displeasure by gaining sustenance, not through seduction but by force. This is a dreadful thing for us, Jane, we who have cleaved together for so long to be divided, households destroyed, and allegiances broken.
    “Some who have been cast out by their fellows now hunt alone, with no society, no loyalties to any others, little better than beasts, and I believe it may have been one of them. Or, more dangerous yet, Duval’s household embraces this most abhorrent behavior and welcomes those solitary creatures into their midst. We call them les Sales, the