Eternal Flame ~ A Pemberley Fairy Tale

Chapter Ten

Later that afternoon, Liz returned to the strong room, hoping to find the last box of receipts. She knew she could’ve asked William to help find it before he’d left but she’d had trouble thinking straight while he was there.

Reaching up on her tiptoes, she felt her way along one of the shelves until her fingers hooked around something smooth; a polished wooden case, its hinged lid fastened with a curved clasp at the front. She inched it closer to the edge to get a better grip and lifted it down.

Liz placed the box on one of the lower shelves and wiped away the thick layer of dust, curious to discover the contents. Lifting the lid, she found an old fashioned writing case with a drawer in the bottom for paper and bottles built into the back for ink. The silk-lined body of the case held two piles of letters, wrapped in dark purple ribbon. She picked up one stack and pulled at the bow.

There were no envelopes. The papers, folded upon themselves, still bore remnants of broken wax seals. The masculine copperplate hand slanting across the first letter she opened seemed familiar. It had come from Grosvenor Square in London and the date, written at the top of the page, read the fourteenth of September 1813. Liz skimmed to the bottom to read the valediction:

Forever yours, Fitzwilliam.

No wonder the writing looked so familiar. She’d seen enough correspondence in the steward’s files signed by this particular Master of Pemberley.

Liz settled on the floor, leaning back against the shelves. She felt a momentary guilt about reading such personal correspondence, but as the letter was almost two hundred years old, and the parties involved had long turned to dust in their graves, her natural curiosity won through.

My dearest Elizabeth,

Business delays me in London, as I feared it would, but know that I will be home on Friday. Your Aunt and Uncle were kind enough to invite me to dinner last night and they send their love. Little Edmund is growing so quickly I hardly recognised him, and young Jenny is becoming ever sweeter.

The days seem endless without your company and—

Hearing a sound in the office, she refolded the letter, hurrying to return it before anyone found her. There was something about the location of the box that made her think it had been hidden away on purpose and she wasn’t sure William would appreciate her snooping around among these personal papers.

As she lowered the lid of the box, the sound made her jump. It wasn’t the clunk of wood closing onto wood, but a deep metallic thunk. Liz turned, realising too late that someone had sealed the heavy door as the staccato tick of the spinning dial echoed around the small chamber.

Then the light went out.

Liz reached the door in two steps, beating against it with her fists but they hardly made a sound. “Hey! I’m in here. Open the door.” She slapped the heels of her palms against the solid iron. “Can you hear me?”

Her heart beat faster in the darkness. Surely this was a mistake. William knew she’d been working in here. Why would anyone shut her in? Was it a trick? She thought it unlikely. He hadn’t seemed the type to play practical jokes. She closed her eyes trying to remember whether she’d noticed any ventilation holes. They designed strong rooms to be fireproof. Were they also air tight? If so, how many minutes did she have left before she found it difficult to breathe? Her heart rate increased again and she renewed her ineffectual tattoo on the heavy door, each strike growing more frantic until she slumped, exhausted, against the shelves.

She leant her head against the cold iron, but heard nothing except the drumming in her ears. Was the room outside empty, or did sound not penetrate the thick metal?