Eternal Flame ~ A Pemberley Fairy Tale

Chapter Sixteen - part 2

"I’m sorry there’s nowhere to sit except the bed," Liz said, making herself comfortable. "The room isn’t big enough for an arm chair as well. It’s not often a problem. Like you, I rarely have visitors.”

There was a fragile computer chair pushed under the desk, but Darcy wasn’t sure it would take his weight. Instead, he drank his coffee as his gaze drifted around the room, mentally cataloguing the contents. “Is this the sum of your belongings?”

“Yes, apart from a few bits in the bathroom, although the bed was second hand…”—she pushed down on the corner of the mattress and he heard the old springs protest—“and my clothes are the only thing holding the wardrobe up.”

“Well, at least it won’t take us long to pack the rest and take it home.” In these familiar surroundings Liz seemed more comfortable. She’d relaxed on the bed, one arm propped against her pillow. He sought another subject to discuss, something that might take his mind off where they were. It had been a while since he’d found himself alone with a woman in her bedroom. The fact she was his intended bride didn’t help. “What do you usually do when you’re home for the evening?”

“It depends. I often have one or two articles I’m working on, and I might type up my notes if I’ve been in the archives or at the library. For fun I’ll surf the internet or read.”

“That sounds like a typical night for me too.”

Liz’s attention fell to a loose thread hanging from her sleeve. “What did we do…you know, before?”

He perched on the end of the bed, as far from Liz as he could get. “Dark winter afternoons like these were your favourites. You had the idea for picnics in the gallery. You’d spread blankets in front of the fireplace and Mrs Reynolds would pack a basket with meat and fruit, and you would always order your favourite puddings for dessert. We’d drink champagne and watch the flames dance. And, of course, the servants were forbidden from entering for the rest of the evening.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Why?”

“Let’s just say it’s fortunate that the portraits hanging in the gallery back then couldn’t talk.”

She sighed. “I wish I could remember that. Outside of the regression, the only other things have returned as dreams and odd feelings of déjà vu.”

“You dreamt about me?”

Liz looked at him from beneath her long lashes. “Yes, but only one was a memory…or at least I think it was.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I can’t. It’s too embarrassing.”

Seeing the pink tinge growing on her cheek made him more curious. He moved a little closer, just close enough that he could reach for her hand. “How did you know it was a memory and not an ordinary dream?”

“I didn’t realise at first. I thought…” Liz shook her head. “I recognised the decoration when you showed me around the main suite.”

He cast his mind back to the previous Tuesday night. He’d arranged for dinner and shown her around the house, hoping the sight of something familiar might encourage another memory to surface, as it had in the herb garden. “You recognised your room?”

“The birds on the wallpaper. I’d already dreamed about them.” Her blush deepened. “You were there as well. We…we were together in that room.”

He circled his thumb across the back of her hand. “Yes, many times. You preferred your room over mine, and I was happy to be wherever you were. The wallpaper was your choice. That’s why I wouldn’t let anyone redecorate, why no one else ever slept in that suite. I hoped it might spark some kind of recognition, but when you fainted all that went out of my head. All I could think about was whether you were ill. It never occurred to me that the sight of the room had caused you to faint.”