Epilogue
The wedding breakfast drew to a close. Thomas and Fanny Bennet, now Lord and Lady Meryton stood together outside the entrance to Longbourn, waving off their newly married second daughter.
“We have been blessed with plenitude my dear,” Mrs Bennet said to her husband.
“We have indeed,” he replied, “we have indeed.”
In the years that followed Elizabeth Darcy, birthed a daughter and Francis Anne Darcy after her grandmothers. Mary married Richard Fitzwilliam and birthed a son. Much to her mother’s delight. As the first son of the next generation he inherited his grandfather’s title and became the next Lord Meryton. Jane married the Viscount Winsdale and later become Lady Matlock and birthed one son and two daughters. Which both were the picture of their mother. Kitty, or Lady Catherine married the Earl of Warwick, Thomas Greville. And Lydia, given the freedom bestowed on her by her father, chose not to marry. She had been ever changed by the incident with Margo Meadows. Later her mother left her Longbourn on her decease. Lydia turned the house into a sanctuary for any woman, of any class, who found themselves in distress. She lived to be ninety-two years of age and Longbourn was left as a refuge for women.
The End
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Continue readings for the peak at Book 1 of the Misty Vale Mysteries series.
The Misty Vale Mysteries (5 book series) Kindle Edition
Chapter 1
It was so early in the morning that it was only one step removed from night. The mist rolled in from the sea. Abbey walked with a purposeful stride towards the cliffs, surrounded by mist. Muttering distractedly to herself.
Reaching the cliff edge, she stumbled. Looking down, she saw the body of a male. His eyes stared lifeless. She shuddered, knowing he was dead, but she bent towards him anyway. Her fingers stretched to check for a pulse. Her hand shook as she reached to touch his neck.
Before touching the skin, the mist eased, and she saw his stomach was ripped open and raw flesh was visible, with blood congealed around the gash. With a gasp, she pulled her hand back, reversing away from the male in horror, trying to suppress the need to vomit. She closed her eyes, but the image was superimposed behind her closed eyelids. It was then she realised she had recognized the male. Jimmy Jones, owner of the bar in Misty Vale.
Misty Vale lay one step beyond the mist. The door only opened at dusk and dawn when the mist rolled in from the sea. It wasa place for the Others to call home. Normals could notsee the door, even when the mist was thick. Or rather, most normals could not see the door. But Abbey could.
She had returned to Ballybunion as an adult. Trying to recapture the happiness she had experienced there as a child when she had walked this beach with her great aunt. Her great-aunt explaining to her that you could tell the time from the sun. She had squinted at the sun, trying to read it like a clock, before her great aunt explained it was the position of the sun which told the time.
She had walked the beach, her mind wandering as dawn splashed across the cliffs, and she had walked into the mist and found herself in Misty Vale. Witches, vampires, werewolves, and all types of supernaturals were drawn there, and occasionally a normal.
When they stepped through the first time, a home awaited them. Abbey had stepped through that December dawn and found herself outside a bungalow on the edge of the town. Misty Vale was a haven for the Others. The werewolves could shift without fear. The vampires could walk in the sun. And the witches could perform their magic openly. The homes, each perfectly suited to its occupant.
Abbey straightened her spine. Taking a deep breath and suppressing a shudder, she approached the body. He was a large male, and Abbey was five foot seven, slim, although her figure had been described previously as boyish. This, unfortunately, did not mean she had a man’s strength.
She examined the body, nodding to herself. She reached towards hisneck and shoulders. She should be able to drag him into Misty Vale if she got her grip right. Preparing to shift him, she shook her head at her foolishness. She stepped away and fished in her crossbody bag for her phone. She started taking photographs.
Stowing her phone, she looked at the body again. She approached, but this time at the foot of the body. She crouched down and grabbed the legs. Looking behind her, the door to Misty Vale was open. She pulled; he was a big male, and the going was slow, but she had no choice. She couldn't leave the body for the locals to find. An autopsy of the body would find more than the wound.
She stepped into Misty Vale, with only Jimmy’s legs through the doorway. She was already sweating with the effort, and she shouted out for help.
A large male followed her through the Mist from Ballybunion. She had never seen him before. He stepped back out of Misty Vale, picked up Jimmy’s body and carried him across the border.
Placing the body on the beach at Misty Vale. He turned his accusing blue eyes on her. “What did you do?” he said. He spoke with a deep timbre, but he had no distinctive accent.
“Do?” She gulped, her normally soft Irish accent sounding guttural in her shock. “I didn’t do anything. I found him on the beach.” She fished her phone from her bag and opened the photographs, passing him the phone.
He scrolled through the photographs. “Hmph,” he said, using his fingers to zoom in on the body. His eyes opened wider, but he didn’t say anything further, merely passed her back the phone.
“We should tell someone,” she said.
“Who?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in question. “There is no law in Misty Vale,” he told her.
“I know that,” she said, flushing bright red. “But we can’t just do nothing!”
