The library appeared to be around half the size of the salon, but was still an impressive sight. Books covered the available wall space on three sides, while blinds shaded the high windows on the fourth wall to keep out any damaging sunlight. An oak desk stood near the fireplace, with a few neatly stacked papers on one side. Although tidy, the collection of pens and the silver letter-opener lying on the top suggested it was where Mr. Bingley answered his correspondence. Mrs Ellis indicated the far end of the room where two smaller rectangular tables stood together.
“Mr. Bingley ordered these tables set up for you to use while you are here. If you need to, you may use the library up to five o’clock in the afternoon. After that time, access will depend on Mr. Bingley. He prefers to work alone, you understand.”
They left the room and returned to the salon before opening the second of the doors. This led to a corridor and a short flight of steps descending into a narrow curved hallway that seemed bare compared to the rest of the house. Half way along they stopped at a simple panelled door, painted brown. Liz couldn’t imagine any of the rooms in the main house having plain brown doors, so she assumed they had entered one of the two service wings.
Mrs Ellis took a key from her pocket and turned it in the lock. The darkened room had only two dusty windows at the back providing meagre illumination. Then a harsh fluorescent strip flared into life.
Old books and ledgers covered one wall from floor to ceiling. Maps and estate plans almost entirely covered another. On the third wall, to Liz’s left, she saw a large metal door with a dial and a circular handle.
It was this door that Mrs Ellis went to next, shielding the dial with her body as though it contained the Crown jewels. Liz heard a clicking noise as the dial spun left and right. Eventually there was a clunk somewhere deep inside. The secretary turned the handle clockwise and pulled. The heavy door, over a foot thick, eased open. The strong room seemed almost as large as the office, lined with wide shelves filled with papers and filing boxes.
Mrs Ellis brushed dust from her hands. “I assume you know what you are looking for?”
“Yes, thank you.” Liz had no idea where to start but she’d work better without an audience.
“Then I will leave you to it.”
Thankful she was now on her own—Mrs Ellis creeped her out a little—Liz delved into the piles of paper and books, hoping to find something that might shed light on Pemberley’s hidden history.
She’d been in the office for little over an hour when a tingling sensation on the back of her neck made her turn around.
The man leaning against the door frame, watching her work, looked to be in his early thirties. His face—noble, with just a trace of hauteur—wouldn’t have been out of place on the pages of GQ, his poise and confidence distilled over generations. Above the black riding boots, fawn jodhpurs clung to his thighs like a second skin, and he’d rolled the sleeves of his plain white shirt casually up to his elbows. Only a genuine member of the gentry could carry off such intentional carelessness, while still appearing impeccably dressed.
In the silence that followed, he inspected her with an intensity that made her blush.
Liz jumped out of her chair to face him. “You surprised me. I didn't realise you were there.”
He frowned but said nothing. Liz put up with his silent appraisal for a few moments before raising her eyebrows. “Can I help you?”
He blinked, shaking his head, then he gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry. Please forgive my deplorable manners.”
She took a breath to calm her racing heart. That smile should come with a health warning. It brought his handsome features alive. Hoping to distract herself, she said, “I thought there might be something in my hair, or smudges on my face from all these dusty papers.”
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Eternal Flame ~ A Pemberley Fairy Tale
FanfictionThe house known as Pemberley stands in an isolated valley on the edge of the High Peak, as intriguing and inaccessible as Sleeping Beauty's briar-shrouded castle. To historian Liz Pargeter it's a mystery to be solved. How can a stately home of such...