Eternal Flame ~ A Pemberley Fairy Tale

Chapter Two - part 2

Now Liz was here, Mrs Ellis seemed less happy with the arrangement. "I accept the building is your primary interest, but you must appreciate this is a family home, not a museum exhibit. Mr. Bingley is a private man, unused to receiving visitors. He has asked that I make you familiar with the library and the estate manager's office, where we keep the bulk of the records, but I hope you will refrain from wandering around the house like a tourist. He will be happy to show you some of the rooms himself, and answer any questions you might have, but you will have to be patient. He is very busy."

Mrs Ellis paused a moment, waiting for her acceptance of the house rules. When Liz agreed, she said, "I do not expect you will see Mr. Bingley often, but when you do I would ask you to remember that it is this house you have come to see, not its owner. Neither are we a dating service. If you are here looking for a rich husband then you might as well go home now."

Liz almost laughed out loud. She'd never had much to do with boys her own age, let alone one old enough to be her grandfather. "I only want to find out more about the house, Mrs Ellis. I have no ulterior motive for being here."

"Perhaps," she said, unconvinced. "Please refrain from asking him any personal questions unconnected with the history of the property. His life has not been easy and I do not want you upsetting him."

She accepted the secretary's strictures, making a mental note to be careful how she spoke to Mr. Bingley. The last thing she wanted was to anger the old gentleman to the point of bringing on a stroke or a heart attack.

The secretary took out a second sheet of paper and laid it on the desk. Liz scanned through the confidentiality document, which restricted her from writing about, or otherwise communicating, any aspect of the current owner's life. However, it did allow her to publish her research into the history of Pemberley, as long as Mr. Bingley could approve the manuscript before she offered it to any publishing house.

Liz signed her name on the dotted line and handed it back, considering her agreement a small price to pay. By stepping through the door of Pemberley, so many of her dreams had already come true, so she didn't think they were asking too much of her.

On the way to her bedroom, Mrs Ellis moved so briskly Liz sometimes had to run to keep up. Once they had climbed to the first floor, they walked along a corridor, turned a corner, and continued along a slightly worn carpet. Eventually, the secretary stopped at a door that looked very much like all the others.

Mrs Ellis led her through into a spacious bedroom where an antique four poster bed, draped with green and cream brocade, dominated the room. Liz wandered across to the windows, which looked over the rear prospect. The lights from the house illuminated a graceful swathe of manicured lawn dotted with large trees that faded into the darkness. She'd half expected to find an overgrown wilderness but instead had discovered perfection. "What a lovely view, and a beautiful room too."

"Mr. Bingley chose it." Mrs Ellis's words held an element of reluctance, as though she would have put her somewhere entirely different, such as the attics or next to the kitchen.

Liz smiled. It really would not have mattered if she had been above the stables. The location was perfect. If she was lucky she would be able to watch the sunrise in the morning.

Just being at Pemberley was all her dreams come true.

When the older woman left, Liz began unpacking her bag. She hung her clothes in the Chippendale wardrobe, placed her hair brush and gel on the delicate mahogany dressing table and dropped her battered copy of Jane Eyre on the night table.

Digging her mobile phone out of her pocket, she held it up as she walked around the room, but found no hint of a signal. She wasn't surprised. Why would anyone bother to build antennas in such a remote location? Liz dropped the useless device on the dressing table, pulled out her laptop and plugged it into a socket to recharge. Then she kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed, stretching her legs out in front of her.

Liz closed her eyes, listening hard. No car alarms crying for attention, no drunks shouting in the street and no sirens blaring. Just the wind gently buffeting the windows and the odd creaks and groans that she would expect in such an old house.

It was peaceful and calm. A perfect place to work.

* * * * *

He stood in the shadows of the second-floor landing as the secretary showed the young woman to her room. Could this be Elizabeth? From this distance, it was hard to tell. Having waited so long, he did not wish to raise his hopes too far, only to have them dashed as they had been so many times before.

Despite sharing the same Christian name, she looked nothing like his Elizabeth. Her cropped blonde hair stuck out at all angles, as though she had suffered an electric shock. It made her look more like a boy than a girl. Her clinging blue t-shirt highlighted her protruding collarbones and ribs, as though she was half-starved like the wretches he had once seen cowering in the gutters of London.

A statement of fashion? Or evidence of a harsh life already lived? He didn't yet know but that alone was enough to pique his curiosity.

He was well aware how much England had changed in the last one hundred and ninety-five years. Although many of the alterations were for the better, such as the astonishing advances in medicine and social reform, he shook his head at the fragmentation of families and the demolition of polite society.

As she'd climbed the stairs, the young woman suddenly lifted her face and he drifted back into the darkness. He had hoped to find something familiar in her, something to tell him she was the one he'd been waiting for, but he could not reveal himself...yet.

He wished he were close enough to see into her eyes. Surely he would be able to recognise those fine eyes, even after all this time.