They ate what was left of their main course in silence, and Liz wondered whether her questions had ruined the mood of the evening. As Mr. Reynolds cleared away the plates, William said, “What did you think of the partridge?”
“Lovely. I really liked the flavour of the meat. In fact, you’ve spoiled me. Chicken will taste so bland by comparison.”
William relaxed back in his chair, his elbow on the arm-rest as his gaze rose to meet hers. “I hope you like your dessert.”
“Dessert? I couldn’t eat another thing, honestly. I’m completely stuffed.”
“You don’t have to finish it, but Violet would be disappointed if you didn’t at least try a little.”
Liz expected an intricate creation with an even longer French name, and she mentally prepared herself to force a mouthful down her throat, for Violet’s sake. She was surprised to see a simple bowl of ice cream set before her. “I love strawberry ice cream! How did you know?”
“Doesn’t everyone like ice cream?”
The dessert melted in her mouth. “I don’t know about that. I always ended up with the strawberry to myself because no one else liked it.” Liz looked down into the dish and realised her ice cream had gone. Had she finished it already? It tasted wonderful, and so light. “Did Violet make this?”
“Yes. A secret family recipe, handed down through the generations, although she might let you have a copy.” He pushed his chair away from the table and stretched his long legs in front of him. “What would you like to do now? We can take our coffee through to the salon and talk a little, or if you’re still interested I could show you around the rest of the house?”
Liz tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. As far as she knew the only rooms left to see were the long gallery and a number of bedrooms. She shivered inside, as though someone was quenching a fire in her chest with a hosepipe.
If she agreed, would he read something into her acceptance? No, that was one thing she was sure about. She was safe with him. She had no idea how she could feel so certain. It was a feeling as insubstantial as a whisper, like déjà vu.
William wouldn’t hurt her.
What reason did she have, then, for refusing his offer? None. Pemberley had been her dream for a long time and she wanted to experience every last inch. “I would love to see the rest of the house. Thank you.”
While they walked back towards the stairs, Liz wondered why he hadn’t instructed Mrs Ellis to show her around during the daytime. A busy man would have chosen to delegate the task but he had not, preferring to experience her delight for himself. Yes, that was it. William enjoyed seeing her curiosity and interest in his home.
He’d appreciated her knowledge of the families that had lived here in the past, but she sensed no vanity in him. He didn’t want to see her reaction to make him feel good about owning such a beautiful home, but because he wanted her to love Pemberley for itself, because it was something he loved.
They reached the bottom of the main staircase, when he asked, “First or second?”
Liz stood back. “I’ll let you go first. It’s your house, after all.”
Laughing, he pointed upwards. “No. Did you want to start with the first floor, or the second?”
Liz felt the telltale heat in her cheeks as she grinned back at him. “Your choice.”
“In that case, we’ll do the top floor first. Most of those rooms are empty these days, because I haven’t needed them. I’ll save the best for last.”
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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...