Love, Lovecraft and Mr. Darcy: A Gothic Pride and Prejudice Variation (Oddball Pride and Prejudice Variations and Sequels) by Violet King

Author:Violet King [King, Violet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pemberly Playground Press
Published: 2023-05-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

They followed the tunnel downward. With each step, the stone walls seemed to close in tighter around them. The musty air felt heavy and grasping, as if the shadows themselves sought to smother her cries.

Elizabeth walked alongside Mr. Darcy, clasping her hand firmly in his. The walls were carved with twisted symbols and archaic script. With trembling fingers, Elizabeth traced the strange etchings, foul as open wounds. Their alien curves and spirals seemed to slither under her touch.

She shuddered. “Such charming decor. One wonders how the previous tenants came upon such insipid taste.”

The quip did little to mask her disquiet, a fact not lost on her companion.

Mr. Darcy’s mouth quirked into a grim smile. “I fear the former occupants’ tastes were not meant to delight tender sensibilities.” His thumb traced soothing circles on her skin.

Elizabeth raised a brow. “Your skills at understatement remain unparalleled, Mr. Darcy.”

“One of us must keep their wits about them.” Noting Elizabeth’s hand resting on the rough stone wall, Mr. Darcy added. “While your curiosity is admirable, Miss Elizabeth, perhaps it would be best not to caress these foul markings with such interest?”

Elizabeth, realizing she was still, quite without her will, tracing the symbols, yanked her fingers away as though burned. “As you say.”

“I meant no criticism.”

“You have more familiarity with such places than I.”

“I wish I did not.”

Soon they stood before a staircase leading into shadows black as pitch.

Elizabeth glanced back over her shoulder. “Perhaps we could…?” Memories of the demon wolf prowling at the stone door above them ended any thoughts she had of returning the way they’d come. “We have no other choice, do we?”

Mr. Darcy gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Right.” Elizabeth squared her shoulders. “Who said heroines venture where only fiends and madmen dare tread?”

“So, what am I? A fiend? A madman?”

“A gentleman, I suppose.”

Mr. Darcy chuckled, and the sound took some of the heaviness from the air. “Down it is. Fortune favors the bold.”

“And foolish.”

“Then we are surely blessed.”

As Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy descended into darkness, an unnatural chill grew deeper, seeping into their bones.

They emerged in a massive chamber, lit by a pale glow that kindled in the stones underfoot. An altar of dark, pitted stone stood at the chamber’s center, its surface awash in black stains that wept and shimmered with a viscous sheen. From it wafted a sulfurous reek. Hard bile rose in Elizabeth’s throat, her heart pounding so loudly she feared what else might hear. Only the warmth of Mr. Darcy’s hand anchoring her own kept the claws of panic at bay.

Above, covering the vaulted ceiling, sprawled a monstrous mural. There, rendered in grotesque detail, were strange, bloated creatures descending upon a world in thrall. But were they beasts or something altogether other? Their distorted features and sagging flesh were the stuff of deepest nightmare but held no logical form.

Elizabeth’s heart seized at the sight, a chill clawing through her veins. “What is this?” she gasped, voice trembling. Her legs threatened to give way beneath her, stomach churning with panic.

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