Eternal Flame ~ A Pemberley Fairy Tale

Chapter Six

By the time Liz left the stables, she felt faint. Why did she always struggle to breathe around William? It was as though his presence sucked the oxygen out of the atmosphere, leaving her lightheaded.

She’d excused herself to return to her work, but almost turned back as she walked down the tiled hallway. Liz found it too easy to talk to him. They shared a fondness—she might go so far as to call it a passion—for his beautiful old house. His feelings were understandable; it was his home, after all. Her emotions were harder to explain.

Liz had always loved old things: antique furniture, nineteenth century literature, and even period dramas on television. Anything that showed life as they’d lived it in an earlier time. But since her first sight of the Bancroft print her interest in Pemberley had almost bordered on an obsession.

Was it right for her to have similar feelings about its owner?

She’d initially been overwhelmed by William’s proximity, but Liz realised she was becoming more comfortable in his company. His presence didn’t stun her as much now, unless he came too close, as had happened in the stables.

From the moment he’d held his hand out to her—urging her to meet his horses—the butterflies in her stomach had taken off, swooping in an intricate formation, setting off tremors like mini-earthquakes. She recalled again Mrs Ellis’ words of warning on her first night, and wondered what the old woman would say if she’d witnessed her employer asking her to dinner.

It wasn’t as though she’d come here expecting to find the owner attractive. It had been quite the opposite. She’d expected an elderly gent with white hair and a fondness for mints. When reality had revealed a tall, handsome man barely ten years older than herself, these strange treacherous thoughts and feelings had flown from somewhere deep inside her. Her heart was like Pandora’s Box, and William had held the key.

A frisson crawled along her shoulder and down her arm, following the path William’s hand had taken. Liz wondered if he’d felt the spark when he touched her or whether his hand had tingled as it trailed down her skin. She closed her eyes, remembering the moment, shivering as an icy draught mimicked his caress.

Liz hugged herself, wishing she’d worn something warmer. She jumped up to close the door before fetching one of the ledgers from the shelf and getting back to work. Despite having access to all the information she could ever wish for, she found it difficult to concentrate. Every few minutes she would turn in her chair, glancing around the room, half expecting William to be standing there, watching her.

She opened the book in front of her, smoothing the pages back against the desk. The steward’s crabbed handwriting recorded the seed he’d purchased, and which field it had been planted in. The yield from the clay pit and the quarry. The breeding stock bought, sold and mated. She found a fascinating family tree detailing the off-spring of Theseus, one of Pemberley’s finest stallions.

Liz wondered whether William had fathered any children. What had happened to his wife? She considered asking Mrs Ellis, but soon discarded that idea. The old woman wouldn’t appreciate her curiosity. But surely someone must know what happened to Mrs Bingley?

She continued perusing the pages, although the details barely registered anymore. Instead of the narrow copperplate hand, she imagined William’s eyes looking out from the paper; his stare holding her attention far easier than the dry ink ever could. His hot breath echoed against her ear as she again relived the moment when he’d asked her to dine with him. She smiled as she imagined the small dining room transformed into something more intimate for an evening meal, then blushed when she realised the tricks her mind had begun to play.

Shaking her head, Liz refocused on the ledger, combing through timber sales and purchase orders. She jotted down some notes, building up a picture of life at Pemberley in the nineteenth century.