Eternal Flame ~ A Pemberley Fairy Tale

Chapter Thirteen - part 2

Ice cracked under the tyres as Liz drove towards the old black gates. She yawned and had to turn the windscreen demister up another notch so she could see enough to keep within the tracks.

The exhaustion didn’t surprise her. In fact Liz was more shocked that she’d woken up so early given the turbulent night she’d had. Her brain had been turning over and over, pondering the information William had revealed. He’d been right. She did love him and he was not married. Under normal circumstances that should be enough, but these circumstances were anything but normal.

In the cold light of morning, Liz still could not reconcile William’s story of living for hundreds of years—cursed like a mythical beast to an endless life of solitude—with what she knew about the real world. Immortality might be a popular plot device in films and novels but it didn’t exist outside the realms of those fictional narratives.

Just because she loved William it didn’t make it any easier to believe him.

Liz parked the car and pushed one of the gates open, wincing as the hinge squealed in protest. She followed the lane to the village, passing the shop and the pub before she paused outside the small stone cottage. Liz followed the crumbling path and knocked on the door.

The smile on Mrs Reynolds’ face wrinkled her skin like crazy paving. “Good morning, my dear. What a lovely surprise.” The older woman wore a quilted dressing gown. Pink fluffy slippers peeped from beneath the lacy hem.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s a little early for social calls. May I come in?”

“Of course.” She stepped back, waving Liz into the sitting room. “Shall I put the kettle on?” The old woman’s smile faded as she looked at Liz’s face. “Or I still have some of Miss Fisher’s elderflower wine if you need something stronger?”

Liz tried to smile. “Tea will be fine, thanks.” When her host left, she concentrated on the noises coming from the kitchen, finding them soothing, mundane even. The normal, everyday world hadn’t stopped just because she’d discovered strange, unbelievable things might also be possible.

“So,” Mrs Reynolds began as she brought in the tea and sat in her favourite armchair. “What can I do for you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The thought of other supernatural elements distracted Liz. “Are there ghosts at Pemberley as well?”

The former housekeeper added milk to the cups before pouring the tea. “There might be, but I’ve never seen one.”

Liz looked down at the carpet, unsure how to begin. She needed someone else to confirm William’s story. Mrs Reynolds had worked at the house for forty years and had been more welcoming than Mrs Ellis. Surely the people employed at Pemberley would have noticed if William hadn’t aged. Liz imagined asking the question and receiving only strange looks in response. Had it all been a lie? Perhaps William really did suffer from delusions and the thing with the knife was no more than a clever trick involving retractable blades and fake blood.

Mrs Reynolds passed her a cup and offered the sugar bowl. “You know, I’ve lived here my whole life, as did my parents before me. In fact, my great great grandfather Thomas Annabel came to Pemberley with the Bingleys. My husband’s family have been here even longer. The Reynolds’ have worked at the house since the eighteenth century. I can’t remember anyone ever mentioning ghosts.”

Liz took a moment to formulate a question in her mind, one that wouldn’t sound too crazy. “What is your earliest memory of Mr. Bingley?”

The old woman sank back into her chair, the lines on her face deepening. “What did he tell you?”