Eternal Flame ~ A Pemberley Fairy Tale

Chapter Twenty-three - part 2

William tightened his hold and took her hands in his, chafing them. “You’re cold. I don’t want you to catch a chill. Come on, let’s go back inside and warm you up.”

 

* * * * *

The whirlpool of tea spun inside the delicate china cup. She waited a moment for its force to subside before bringing the cup to her lips, blowing ripples across the surface.

Mrs Reynolds returned from the tiny kitchen with a plate of biscuits. She offered one to Liz and placed the remainder on the tea tray.

A small plastic tree stood on the floor in front of the window, while a battered old box lay by its side, filled with decorations. Outside a thick covering of snow had made the sleepy village seem almost deserted. “I can’t believe Christmas is here already.”

The old woman nodded. “It doesn’t seem like five minutes since the last one. How was your week in town?”

“We went to the theatre one night after work and I managed to finish most of my present shopping.”

“Considering what time you got back here on a Friday night, I wasn’t expecting to see you here so early.”

“William has taken Remus out for a ride. I think he feels guilty for neglecting his horses. I told him he doesn’t need to spend every week in London while I work. I managed on my own before we met and our new apartment is in a much safer location than my old one.”

Mrs Reynolds eased back into her chair. “You know he can’t bear to be parted from you. You didn’t see what he was like the weekend your friend came to visit and you drove her into Buxton to do some shopping. He wandered around the estate like a lost puppy, waiting for you to come home.”

Liz smiled. Since her marriage her friendship with Violet had grown until she was more like an honorary grandmother. When she and William had made their marriage official at the local register office, Mrs Reynolds and Natalie had accompanied them as their witnesses. Her driving licence and credit cards might now bear the name Elizabeth Bingley, but in her heart she’d always be Liz Darcy. Not Elizabeth. No, Elizabeth Darcy was a separate entity, a special set of nineteenth century memories that gave up their secrets when she least expected them.

There seemed to be no pattern to when or how they’d appear. Sometimes she experienced flashbacks, or odd bits of memory that came from a different lifetime, but most often they came to her in dreams.

Last night Liz had dreamed that William taught her to ride a horse—something she’d never attempted in this life. Elizabeth’s private riding lessons with William had revealed an intriguing side to her husband, leaving Liz with an urge to explore the finer points of equestrianism. She couldn’t mention it to Violet—the memory was far too personal—but there had been another brief experience she could share with her friend.

“I had another visit from Elizabeth this morning.” Liz tapped the side of her head with her fingertip. “In the music room.”

“In those days music was an important accomplishment for ladies. Did she play the piano for you?”

It always made Liz smile to see how accepting Violet was of her unusual episodes. “No, Georgiana was playing. Elizabeth turned the pages for her.” She’d been delighted the first time she’d seen her sister-in-law; a statuesque blonde with an innocence that spoke of a bygone age. William’s sister was delightful and they’d been fond friends.

That morning’s event had been memorable more for Fitzwilliam’s behaviour than Georgiana’s appearance. They were sitting in the music room with Charles and his miserable sisters. Despite the muted conversation, she’d had no problems understanding William’s silent communications towards Elizabeth; his look alone so adoring and tender it had wrung her heart and brought a tear to her eye.

She recognised the same abiding love in his sleepy eyes every morning.

Liz drained her cup and returned it to the tray. Violet reached out and picked it up. Peering into the dregs, she returned the cup, upside down, to its saucer and twisted it three times. “Do you want to know?”

After being married for just over seven weeks Liz had almost given up hope of William’s curse being broken. “I doubt the tea-leaves can tell me what I really want to hear.”

The old woman shrugged. “They never tell you what you want, only what is coming to you whether you like it or not.”

Imaging herself, grey haired and crooked, in the perfect arms of a young-looking William sent a shudder through her. “Then perhaps it’s better not to know too much in advance.”

“Can I take a peek?”

If she said no Violet would only wait for her to leave and then look anyway. “You can if you like.”

The old woman grinned and picked the cup up from its resting place, peering at the patterns left by the brown sludge. She paused a moment, then twisted the cup so she could inspect it from a new angle. After a few seconds she turned it back the other way.

“What does it say?”

Her lips twisted into a sly grin. “I thought you didn’t want to know.”

“Does it tell you about the curse?”

“No.”

“Then there’s no point knowing, is there?”

Violet returned the cup to its saucer with a loud rattle. “Stop that now, young lady. It’s bad enough that William’s despondent. He tries to hide how he’s feeling, but you and I both know he isn’t very good at it.”

Liz smiled, despite herself. On the face of things he seemed happy enough, but she’d caught him off-guard enough to realise it was a façade, concealing his fears. “I’m trying to be positive, for his sake, but it’s hard. I wanted it for him so much and I can’t stand to see him suffering.”

The older woman wrapped her arm around Liz’s shoulders; one of the simple motherly gestures Amanda had never shown her. “But you’re remembering more of Elizabeth’s memories every week. I have no doubt you are the key to solving the problem. Be patient, just a little while longer. It’ll work out. These things usually do, you know.”