Chapter seventeen



Darcy’s footsteps echoed as he crossed the black and white tiled hall and he acknowledged the bell boy’s cheery “good morning” with a smile. He pushed the heavy revolving door and stepped out onto Brook Street, a place that was once as familiar as his own home. The taxi he’d ordered was waiting by the kerb and he climbed inside, giving Liz’s address to the driver.

The night had been long enough. He wasn’t prepared to waste precious minutes looking for a place to park his car.

A short drive later they arrived outside Liz’s house. Although the roads around Mayfair had been moderately busy, there were no cars or people moving on this quiet residential street.

Darcy paid the driver before climbing the three shallow steps to the front door. Remembering Liz’s instructions from the previous evening he fitted the brass key in the lock and let himself into the silent house. He paused, listening for movement, but heard nothing. One of the stairs creaked as he climbed to the top floor and knocked on Liz’s door. After a moment he knocked again, a little louder this time, and waited.

He bent his head to the woodwork, listening for sounds inside the flat, but everything was quiet, as though he was the only person awake. Darcy looked at his watch. Seven thirty on a Sunday morning. He would usually be in the stables about now. Romulus and Remus would have to live without him for a couple of days. Was it too early for Liz?

The keys weighed heavily in his pocket as he considered unlocking the door himself. It didn’t seem right that he should enter a lady’s bedroom unannounced, but she had given him permission.

He just hadn’t realised at the time that he might need it.

The grey dawn, diffusing through a skylight above, reflected off the silver key as he turned it. He eased the door open, expecting Liz to be hovering around the kitchen area or sitting at her desk, but there was no movement. Closing the door, Darcy walked across the room and stood by the bed.

In repose, Liz’s face bore none of the fascinating expressions that had enchanted him at Pemberley. Her blue eyes were hidden, her lips still and silent. A blonde halo circled her head like the corona of the sun rising behind a mountain. Darcy reached out with one hand, capturing a lock of her hair.

The silky smooth strands slid between his fingers and thumb, triggering a memory over one hundred and ninety years old. He’d found Mrs Grant comforting Amilie, Elizabeth’s French maid, in the hallway outside Elizabeth’s room. The young girl had sobbed, consumed with grief, but in those first hours he had made no sound, numbed by the news he’d refused to believe. He remembered touching Elizabeth’s cold lips and fingering her long chestnut curls. Her cheeks were colourless, her skin taking on a waxen appearance in death. He’d laid a hand on her heart, feeling the stillness in her chest, but that wasn’t what convinced him Elizabeth had gone. No, he’d noticed something missing as soon as he walked into the room. The connection they’d shared had faded almost to nothing. She’d taken his heart to a place he could not follow, even though he’d still felt it beating.

The unpleasant memories stirred panic within him, and his gaze fell on Liz’s chest. The quilt rose slightly then fell, her breathing strong and steady.

He moved the chair from her desk to the side of the bed and sat for some minutes watching Liz sleep, not wanting to disturb her. Had she slept well or tossed and turned all night as he had? Darcy hoped it was the latter. Not that he was so uncharitable to wish a poor night’s rest on anyone, but he hoped she was as affected by his leaving as he had been leaving her. He hadn’t realised how much comfort he’d taken from having her safe within the walls of Pemberley. Imagining Liz sleeping alone, in a strange flat miles from his hotel, had tested his resolve to its limits.

Liz moaned, her head rolling towards him. He waited, expecting her to wake, but then she settled again. A few minutes later she gasped, as though dreaming, and her breath came faster as her right arm flew out from beneath the quilt, clasping the cover to her chest and leaving her shoulder exposed to the cold air.

At first Darcy thought Liz was naked under the covers, but then he noticed the silky peach strap, half the width of his fingernail, lying against her collar bone. He permitted his imagination to wander beneath the bedcovers for a moment before he brought his thoughts under control. He’d spent decades alone, most of them abstinent. Not because he’d never been tempted, but because any sort of relationship with the wrong woman might cause him to miss the very person he’d been looking for. He’d received offers from some surprising quarters—both male and female—but now he’d found Liz he considered it all worth the wait.

He leaned across the bed, his eyes closed as he pressed his lips to hers, a sweet kiss to wake his sleeping beauty. When he pulled away Liz sighed. Heartened by her reaction he kissed her again, exulting as her lips parted for him, welcoming him in. A moment later her arms wrapped around his neck as she returned his kiss with enthusiasm.

After a minute she relaxed her grip and opened her eyes, smiling at him. “Will you promise to wake me like that every morning?”

“Yes, if you wish.” Hadn’t she learned yet that he could deny her nothing?

Liz yawned as she stretched her arms then rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I must look a sight.”

“A beautiful one.”

She turned on her side, propping her elbow on the pillow. “I need to get up. Can I make you a drink or anything?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get it.” Darcy wandered across to the other side of the room and filled the kettle.

“I never imagined you’d be so domesticated. I mean, you have Kelly and Mr. Reynolds. I wasn’t sure you’d know how to make tea and coffee.”

“Once upon a time I didn’t, but during my travels overseas I found it a definite advantage to be able to look after myself.”

“I’m surprised you left Pemberley at all. From what you said last night I thought it was your refuge … your hiding place.”

“It was to begin with, but as much as I loved my nephews and nieces, their families were not always easy to live with. One in particular—Mary Bingley, William’s wife—was so obnoxious I had to get away before I did something I might regret. She was one family member who did not know my secret, because we couldn’t trust her to keep it. It was during her occupation and renovation of Pemberley that I had the attic converted, but I also spent a number of years travelling overseas. Only then did I realise how much I enjoyed the freedom and the challenge of warfare. My cousin Richard would have laughed himself sick if he’d known about it, but he had long retired from the army by the time I first joined, as Thomas Bingley of course. I was in Crimea in the 1850’s, Africa in the 1880’s, Belgium and France during World War One, as you remembered yourself.”

“They weren’t holidays, then.”

“No. I preferred to put my … affliction to use for the benefit of others, and could think of nothing better than serving my country. Despite that, by the time I demobbed in 1918 I was sick of fighting, even if it was for the greater good. I spent thirty-nine to forty-five as a medic on a troop transport ship sailing around the Mediterranean.” He flicked the switch, setting the kettle to boil. When he turned around he choked as he caught sight of Liz sitting on the edge of the bed, the quilt thrown back. “What are you wearing?”

She looked down. “You don’t like it?”

He took in a sharp breath, averting his eyes from the tiny shorts and silky top. “What I can see is very pretty, but…”

“What?”

“There’s hardly enough of it to base a judgement on.” He recalled his honeymoon night in 1812. The first night he’d spent with Elizabeth. He’d found her sitting on the edge of the bed then, fiddling with the braid hanging over her shoulders. Her embroidered lawn nightdress covered her from neck to toe, but she’d still covered it with a dressing gown. He’d enjoyed unwrapping his wedding present that night.

If Liz wore something like this peach concoction for their wedding night the unwrapping would take no time at all.

She skipped across the room. “If the sight of my pyjamas makes you uncomfortable, perhaps I should change?”

Those remnants were pyjamas? One of the narrow straps of Liz’s top fell off her shoulder. He pushed it back up with one finger, feeling her shiver at his touch. “I can cope with it if you can.” His hand dropped to her waist. The satin slid beneath his fingers as he pulled her towards him and he bent his head for a kiss.

Their lips came together and Liz ran her hand under his jacket, her palm flat as she caressed the cotton, teasing the muscles beneath. Then she crooked her fingers through his belt loops, pulling him closer as she welded herself to him.

As the kettle came to the boil behind them, the steam billowing from the spout, Darcy wrenched himself away. “Or perhaps not. I think I should wait outside.”

“No, don’t go,” Liz whispered. “I’ll change into something less tempting if you’ll stay.”

He kissed the worried frown from her forehead. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

While Liz whisked a change of clothes into the bathroom, sliding the door behind her, Darcy made himself a strong black coffee, more for the sake of something to occupy his mind than a desire for the caffeine.

He followed a crack in the plaster with his eyes. The sound of running water in the other room distracted him and he wondered what she was doing. He’d never fully got to grips with the preparations women made behind closed doors. He’d only ever benefitted from their labours. Elizabeth had always smelled so wonderful after a bath, like a bouquet of roses, and he wondered if Liz would be equally delectable. And if so, would he be able to resist again?

No, now he had his future happiness within reach, his resolve was firm. He was determined to do things the right way.

Darcy leant across the desk, reading some of the post-it notes Liz had stuck to the wall. They included telephone numbers, appointments and the occasional book title she didn’t want to forget. A faded photograph, stuck to one side, showed a young girl with blonde pigtails giggling in the arms of an older man. He pulled the pin out to look more closely at the child. She seemed a slight, awkward creature, all elbows and knees like a newborn foal. Only her smile hinted at the beauty she would one day become.

The bathroom door rasped as it slid back on its runners and Liz returned dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She came across to see what he was looking at, folding her arms around his shoulders. “That’s me and Dad.”

“I thought it might be.” The scent of coconut swirled in the air around him. He’d expected something more floral, but it was sweet and intoxicating, just like Liz. “Do you have any pictures of Amanda?”

He felt Liz shrink back a little. “No, I don’t.”

“Is your mother really that bad?”

“She’s my stepmother.”

“That doesn’t automatically make her an evil witch.”

“Oh no, I’m sure some stepmothers are quite delightful, but mine …” Liz released a deep breath as she turned away. “Do I have to talk about her now?”

“I’d like to know what to expect. Do you think she’ll have any problem accepting me as your fiancé?”

“I’m sure she will love you.”

He didn’t miss her emphasis. “And I have no doubt she will be proud of you for landing such a spectacular catch. I’ve often found that having money in the bank makes you attractive to everyone.”

She made the bed, smoothing the quilt cover with her hands, her back towards him. “You don’t really think I fell in love with your fortune, do you?”

Warned by the muted tone of her voice he circled her waist with his hands as he whispered in her ear. “God, no. You weren’t impressed by my income the first time we met and within five minutes of meeting you last week I knew that part of your personality hadn’t changed.”

“I don’t need your money. You’re everything I want.” Liz turned to face him, lacing her fingers behind his neck as she pulled his face down to kiss him. “I wish I could remember that first meeting. Who could fail to be impressed by Fitzwilliam Darcy?”

He smiled and sat down on the bed, pulling her onto his knee. “Only you, it seems, although if I’m honest it was my manners that formed your initial dislike.” He stroked her hair back from her face. Despite the centuries that had passed, there were still some things he would not let himself forget. “I didn’t deserve you then.”

“Oh, you couldn’t have been that bad.”

“You’d be surprised.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, settling her in a more comfortable position. “Charles had rented a house in Hertfordshire and he invited me to join him. He found out that the locals were holding an assembly in the nearest town and Charles always did enjoy a dance, so we went along. At that time I was a bit of a pompous ass, too aware of my own importance, and above being pleased by such provincial company when I was used to mingling with men of status in town. My parents, you must understand, were good people, but they raised me as a Darcy. My father and tutors instilled in me my responsibilities to my name, my family and our estate—in that order—encouraging me to believe myself superior to any not of my social circle.” He chuckled to himself and closed his eyes as he buried his nose in her damp hair.

“I’m surprised Elizabeth didn’t pity you such an upbringing. I would have.”

“Today things are very different. This country is now a melting pot of races, cultures and different levels of society, all mingling with little restriction. Two centuries ago it was rigid and formal. You mixed with those of your own class, looked up to those above you and down on those below. I considered your—Elizabeth’s—family and her acquaintances to be my inferiors and behaved accordingly. As soon as Charles set eyes on Jane he asked her to dance, and when he suggested I should partner Jane’s sister … well, I had no intention of dancing anyway that evening, but my reply was less than diplomatic. I cannot remember my exact words after all this time, but she overheard them and quite rightly took offense.”

Liz laughed. “Good for her. But you must have redeemed yourself if you later married.”

“Because she found me too irresistible to refuse. Another trait you both share.” He kissed her ear, following the line along her jaw until she turned, offering her mouth in its place. Their kiss lasted for some minutes before he heard her stomach rumble. “What are we having for breakfast?” he whispered against her lips.

Her eyes darted towards the kitchen. “Um … well, there’s some cheese in the fridge and I think there’s a packet of crackers in the cupboard. You know I haven’t had time to go shopping and I’ve been away all week.”

He threw back the dregs of his lukewarm coffee. “Right, put some shoes on and grab your coat. We’ll eat at my hotel.”

Once Liz was ready they walked to the end of the street, where Darcy hailed the passing cab that whisked them back to Mayfair. As they climbed out the other end he nodded to the doorman and took Liz’s hand, pulling her towards the entrance.

“I can’t …” she hissed, tugging him back. “I can’t go in there.” She lifted her eyes to the red brick façade, her eyes wide. “I’m not dressed for it.”

“It’s just a hotel, Liz. I’m sure they’ve seen plenty of people here wearing jeans before.”

He could feel her reluctance through her tense little hand, but he gave what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze before tugging her through the door and into the foyer. Liz remained silent as they climbed the grand staircase, her gaze darting this way and that as she took in the art deco finishes and details.

As they entered his suite, Liz crossed the vestibule into the sitting room. He followed behind, watching her as he picked up the phone to order breakfast. She wandered around, her hand trailing across the back of the settee. She paused by the piano, pressing a couple of keys before she moved to the window. She twitched back the sheer curtains to peek at the street below.

He soon joined her, his arm curling around her waist as she observed the sleek Daimlers and Mercedes arriving and departing from the front of the building.

Liz turned within his embrace. “I always wondered what this place looked like inside.”

“And now you know.”

“Do you stay here often?”

“Once or twice a year.” Darcy kissed her forehead, her cheek, then moved to her lips, briefly losing himself in their connection. Liz didn’t relax as he’d hoped. She was still tense, wary, and he knew it was more than just being in an unfamiliar hotel and feeling out of place.

She jumped as a noise came from beyond the sitting room door. “What’s that?”

“Food.” Taking her hand, Darcy drew her across to the double doors in the opposite wall. Opening them revealed a small dining room and a table with six chairs. One of the hotel staff was filling the table with enough food to feed a small army.

“Is all this for the two of us?”

Darcy smiled as he pulled out one of the chairs for Liz to sit. “I don’t know about you but if I’m going to meet your stepmother I’ll need a decent breakfast first.”

~~<>@<>~~

Chapter eighteen

That afternoon she directed him to a tree-lined street full of large semi-detached houses deep in the north London suburbs. “Pull in there, behind the green car.”

As Darcy turned off the ignition he noticed Liz rubbing her palms against her jeans. “Are you alright? I can go in on my own if you’d prefer.”

“No, no. I’ll be fine. I’ve not been here for a while.” She sighed. “The last time I saw Amanda it didn’t end well.”

William watched her fidget, clasping her hands into fists before letting them go. He reached out, stroking a finger down her back, trying to lighten her mood. “Relax. No matter how bad Amanda might be I’m sure I’ve met worse.”

She lifted one corner of her mouth in a rueful smile. “I doubt it.”

“If I can cope with the first Mrs Bennet as a mother-in-law, I think I can handle another.”

Liz stared through the window, frowning. After a few seconds she said, “What was Elizabeth’s mother like?”

“She was a typical nineteenth century matriarch, whose only occupation was finding husbands for all her daughters. She had less polish than the females I’d encountered in town, although like them she lived and breathed gossip. She could be a little silly at times, but her heart was in the right place.”

“Was she … did Elizabeth get on with her?”

“Well enough. Mrs Bennet’s behaviour exasperated her at times. She tended to show a preference for Jane and Lydia, her youngest, but Elizabeth was closest to her father. I grew rather fond of him myself. When we married, Mrs Bennet was so proud of her for managing to ensnare such a rich husband, I thought she might burst.”

She dropped her gaze to her hands. “That sounds nice. I doubt I could do anything that would impress Amanda.”

“Why do you care what she thinks?”

Liz shrugged, but said nothing, leaving Darcy to imagine what memories might be replaying behind her closed expression.

They left the car and walked hand in hand down the empty driveway. Liz rang the doorbell and stepped back as the Big Ben chimes echoed inside.

The person who answered didn’t look old enough to be Liz’s stepmother. She was the physical opposite of Liz and he doubted she’d ever missed a meal through lack of money. A tight black vest top finished at the bottom of her ribs, showing off the silver skull hanging from her navel and her stomach hanging over the top of her jeans. Limp, raven black hair hung around her face while a strong square jaw worked the gum in her mouth like a cow chewing the cud.

Her voice held not the slightest hint of curiosity or surprise. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes drifted towards William and he bore her inspection in silence before she looked away.

“I need to speak to Amanda. Is she home?”

“No.”

“When do you expect her back?”

The girl shrugged. “Don’t know. Ten, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.”

Liz sighed, although whether her disappointment stemmed from her stepmother’s absence or her sister’s reticence wasn’t clear. “Would it be okay if we waited for her?”

It annoyed him that she even had to ask. From what Liz had said, the house had belonged to her father and she had lived here for the better part of eighteen years. What had happened between Liz and her stepmother that she no longer felt welcome in her childhood home?

“If you want.” The girl wandered away, the open door as much of an invitation as they were likely to get.

Liz stepped through the doorway, signalling with a tip of her head that he should join her. She nodded towards the girl’s retreating back and lowered her voice. “That’s Michelle. Shelly. We’ve never been very sister-like. Are you okay waiting for Amanda, or would you rather come back later?”

He grabbed Liz’s restless hands, although it didn’t stop her shivering. “Let’s wait and get it over with.” He ran a finger down her pale cheek, wishing he could say something to make her more comfortable. “She won’t do anything to you with me here. It’s not as though you’re standing trial for murder.”

“I wish I was. A jury would be more sympathetic.”

“Aren’t mothers usually ecstatic when they discover their daughter is getting married?”

“She isn’t my mother.”

He wrapped his arm around Liz, pulling her close. “Whatever her reaction, never forget I love you. Once all this is over, we’ll go back to Pemberley and you won’t have to see her again.”

As her eyes lifted to meet his, William felt the familiar tug in his gut. It amazed him that she still had the power to affect him, even after all these years. He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, relishing the sound of her sigh.

“Do you promise?”

Hearing the pleading tone in her voice, he wondered what sort of consolation Amanda Bennett could have given to a young girl who had lost a beloved father. “Absolutely.”

Liz led the way down a short hall and opened a door at the end that opened into a square sitting room. Chintz roses on the walls fought for space with dozens of china plates depicting countryside scenes, while lace doilies covered every horizontal surface. The riot of colour was enough to give anyone a headache.

In the corner of the room, Shelly had curled in a wide armchair like a fat cat, painting her fingernails. She nodded in time with the rock music leaking around her tiny ear buds. The girl glanced up at them for a second when they entered, but like any other disinterested feline she soon returned her attention to herself.

Darcy turned his attention back to Liz. Even dressed casually, in simple t-shirt and jeans, she looked delicious. He drew her to one side, his hand on her waist as he spoke into her ear. “Have I told you today how beautiful you are?”

She shook her head, her gaze dropping to the carpet as the blush reached her ears.

He leaned closer. “And did I mention how much I’m looking forward to waking up with you in my bed every morning when we’re married?”

Liz’s eyes widened and she shot a fearful look at Michelle, but Darcy doubted the sister would be able to hear an air raid siren, let alone his whisper.

“Don’t forget, no matter what your stepmother says, I love you and I always will. This is just a formality. I’ll ask her blessing then we’ll leave. Alright?”

She nodded and motioned to the settee. “Would you like to sit down?”

Before he could answer the front door slammed, making them both jump. Liz tensed her shoulders and he rubbed her back, curious to see what kind of harridan could cause such fear.

The staccato of high heels on the parquet seemed to be a signal and Liz sprang away from him, putting at least four foot between them. William turned to look out of the window, preparing himself to meet his second mother-in-law.

The door opened and the footsteps paused, while a sickly-sweet voice cried, “Elizabeth! What on earth are you doing here?”

William spun towards the voice. Amanda Bennett filled the entrance, reminding him of some of the female weight lifters at the Olympic Games. She had what he would charitably call an imposing stature, and he could imagine how easily she might have depressed the spirits of a young girl, particularly one in mourning.

“Nice to see you too, Amanda.”

“Well, it’s been a while. Is there any wonder I’m surprised? You’re looking well. You seem to have put on a little weight.” She turned to William, her gaze lingering beyond what he considered polite. “And who is this?”

Deciding that to attack was better than to defend, he held out his hand. “William Bingley. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Bennett.”

She took his hand between hers, the long red nails digging into his skin like talons. “Oh, please, call me Amanda. Everyone else does.” She gave him the sort of assessing look that wouldn’t have been out of place among the matrons at Almack’s almost two centuries earlier. Mothers were a breed apart and time hadn’t changed them. “Well, this is a surprise. I was beginning to wonder about Elizabeth’s, ah…” She snickered like a schoolgirl. “I mean, twenty two and no boyfriend? Sooner or later you have to start considering the alternatives.”

Darcy heard a barking laugh behind them. Shelly had removed her earphones, finding her mother’s opinions more entertaining than her music. Although he’d been prepared to accept Liz’s family—no matter how awful they were—he realised they weren’t going to make it easy for him. “I don’t think—”

As Amanda put her handbag by one of the chairs, Liz coughed a warning. “William, Can I get you a drink?”

Before he could decline, her stepmother interrupted. “So kind of you to offer, Elizabeth. I’ll have tea. I’m sure you remember how I like it. Shelly? Tell Elizabeth what you want.”

The girl barely looked up. “Hot chocolate, three sugars, cream on top, no marshmallows.”

He walked across to Liz, who was now waiting by the door for his order like some damned waitress. Lowering his voice, he said, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind, honest.” Her eyes pleaded with him not to make a scene. “Did you want a coffee?”

“Whatever is easiest for you.” He hated seeing her accept their demands so easily, as though she was falling back into habits ingrained over many years. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to return home.

“Oh, Elizabeth? Can you also feed the cat while you’re in the kitchen? I don’t think the poor thing has eaten today.”

Shelly waved her hand, drying her nail polish. “The bin’s full too.”

Amanda smiled at Liz. “You won’t mind sorting that for me as well, would you?”

Darcy watched, astonished, as Liz nodded her head and left the room. It reminded him of a housemaid’s curtsey. Of course, he’d paid the housemaids at Pemberley for their labours, as well as giving them a safe roof over their head and enough food to eat. He doubted whether Amanda had extended the same treatment to her stepdaughter.

Liz’s easy acceptance of their requests seemed out of character when compared to the curious, questioning young woman he had first met at Pemberley. Amanda’s easy assumption that Liz would treat their sweetly worded requests as the orders they were suggested a talent for manipulation.

Amanda invited him to sit and he settled at the furthest end of the sofa.

“So, William,” she said, choosing the seat next to him, “Tell me a little about yourself. I can’t imagine how Elizabeth met someone so good looking. My stepdaughter has always been more interested in old things and dead people.”

William coughed to cover his smile. “We have the same interests. I have a soft spot for old things as well.”

“I can’t understand her fascination with the past. Did you and Elizabeth meet at work?”

“Sort of. She’s been doing some research on my house.”

“Ah, that sounds about right. She’s always been a bit odd, raving about old buildings. The older the better. A couple of years ago she was mad keen on one place. She stuck a picture of it on her bedroom wall when she came home from university in the holidays. It was one of those gorgeous stately homes, must’ve had fifty bedrooms at least. You know, the sort of house she could never have, even in her dreams. It had a strange name... Pommerleigh, Pemer … Promb, no … Pemb …”

“Pemberley?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Do you know it? They’ve probably turned it into a hotel, or one of those business conference places. If not it’ll be falling to pieces by now. They must cost a fortune to maintain.”

He bristled at the idea that he would allow Pemberley to fall into ruin. “I know the house. It’s in excellent condition.”

“Where do you live?”

His habitual desire for privacy kept his answer vague. “Derbyshire.”

“I’ve never met anyone from that part of the country before. I hear the Peaks are stunning.” Amanda’s gaze travelled down his body as though she was thinking of buying him. She tapped her fingers on her knee. “Impressive … ah, rock formations, or so I’ve been told.” She raised her eyes and winked at him. “I doubt Elizabeth can fully appreciate the scenery. She’s not the outdoors type. Too busy burying herself in books to experience the wider world. What business are you in, William?”

The implications behind her words sickened him and he struggled to keep his voice even. “Oh, this and that. Some agriculture, a little property.”

“That sounds impressive. You can always measure a man’s worth by what he does for a living and how much money he makes. I hope you haven’t been affected too much by the recent economic downturn.” She leaned closer as her hand slipped across the space between them to rest on his thigh.

He dislodged it with a nonchalant brush of his hand and crossed his legs, hoping she wasn’t too obtuse to recognise his subtle hint. “I find everything goes in cycles and make a point never to enter into anything for short-term gain.”

She smiled. “Then I imagine you miss a lot of interesting challenges. Have you met my daughter Shelly?”

“Yes, I—”

“She finished a fashion design course earlier this year, but jobs are almost impossible to come by. I’ve always maintained a girl’s place is in the home. That’s what I used to tell Elizabeth. If she learned to cook and clean and do the laundry she didn’t need a fancy degree. Men are looking for girls who can keep them happy, not tell you when some stranger died or when they fought a silly war.”

“Actually, I believe extending university education to women was one of this country’s better ideas. Females with academic qualifications seem to possess qualities that lift them above the average.” He glanced at Shelly, who had returned her attention to her fingernails. “There is nothing worse than modern girls who are unable to offer even the most basic of conversation … or manners.”

As Liz struggled through the door, William jumped out of his seat to help her. He took the heavy tray out of her hands, setting it down on the table. As she brushed past him he grabbed her arm and pulled it to his chest, leaving Liz no option but to stand by his side. “I think the time has come to explain the reason for our visit.”

Amanda raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“I’ve asked Liz to marry me and we would like your blessing.” He stared at her, daring her to refuse.

She glared at them both, her lips pursed. After a moment of silence, she fixed her attention on Liz, her lip curling into a contemptuous snarl. “You stupid girl. You’re pregnant, aren’t you? I always knew it would come to this one day. You were an accident waiting to happen. Lord knows what the neighbours will say.”

Liz groaned, shooting an accusing glance towards William. “I told you that’s what she’d think.”

“Well, what other reason would any man have for marrying you? It can’t be for your body. You’ve always been a skinny little runt.”

She twisted out of his grasp, taking in a breath as she turned on the woman. “Just because you only married dad for his money, doesn’t mean everyone else marries for convenience and what they can get out of it.”

For a moment Amanda seemed stunned that Liz would answer back. She shook her head. “For your information, your father loved me very much. I was the whole world to him. He would do anything for me.”

“I know. That’s why he never saw any of your flaws. Thank God he died before he realised how little you really thought of him.”

Amanda rose from her chair, towering over Liz. “You have no idea what I felt about your father. You wanted him to yourself all the time and whined and snivelled when you didn’t get your own way. Daddy’s little girl couldn’t cope with a bit of competition.”

Despite her stepmother’s intimidating stance, he was pleased to see Liz fighting back. “I was a child! There was no need for any competition. He had enough love for us both, but you were greedy and wanted it all for yourself. You only ever saw me as a threat and an unpaid slave.”

“Unpaid? You had food to eat and a roof over your head. A lot of children in the world don’t even have that.”

“Yes I had food, only after you and Shelly had eaten. I had a bedroom where you’d banish me to every night after I’d done my chores. I couldn’t invite any friends around, or visit their homes.”

“You had no friends.”

“How would you know? You never cared enough to ask!”

As he followed their argument Darcy clenched his jaw. He’d been wrong. Amanda wasn’t simply manipulative and intimidating. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d met a more spiteful, jealous shrew. Although he recognised Liz’s need to purge her bad memories, he couldn’t wait to get her away from the oppressive atmosphere that pervaded the house. “If I might interrupt for one moment…?”

Both women fell silent as they turned towards him. He took a breath, trying to repress his animosity. Despite everything Amanda Bennett had done, he would not lower himself to her level. “I love Liz and I consider myself fortunate that she feels the same. No, she’s not pregnant … yet, but I can’t imagine anyone being a better mother one day.”

Amanda’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “Well, if you want her you’re welcome to her but don’t expect me to pay for the wedding, because I can’t afford it. My husband left me very little to live on.”

Liz jabbed her finger towards the woman, her courage gradually rising in a way Darcy recognised. “That’s rubbish. You did very well out of my dad, and you could have been comfortable living off the money he left you, but you blew it on holidays, bingo and other men.”

Her stepmother took a step closer, her face set in a sneer. “Resorting to lies again? Some things never change.”

“No, your precious Shelly told all the lies, and you believed every single one. Whenever she stole cash from your purse you punished me for it, but you never once found any money in my room, did you? What about when I left home? Did the thefts continue?”

Although Liz’s stepmother shook her head, Darcy noticed her furtive glance towards Shelly, who was cringing in her seat. “Ladies, please, enough!” He pulled Liz back to his side before facing the woman who would soon technically be his mother-in-law, whether he liked it or not. “We don’t need any money. I am more than able to look after Liz, so you won’t have to worry about her ever again.”

“She never started,” Liz hissed.

“Yes, I can see that now.” He took her hand, giving it a squeeze as he directed his attention to Amanda. “Your step daughter is intelligent, hard working, determined, benevolent and sociable, despite all your best efforts it seems. She is also charming and beautiful, both inside and out. Not only will she make a wonderful wife and mother for my children, but she will be an excellent mistress for Pemberley. My tenants and staff adore her already.”

“Pemberley?” Amanda Bennett’s jaw dropped. “You mean you own the big house, with the fifty bedrooms?”

As much as he wanted to say yes, Darcy’s natural honesty forbade him. “We’re not quite on the scale of Chatsworth. It’s closer to fifteen bedrooms, not including the staff apartments.”

Liz smiled for the first time since entering the house. “And it’s even more beautiful than its picture.”

Her stepmother’s expression morphed from horror into calculation before she seemed to relax. “Well, that is a surprise. Your house sounds lovely, William. It’s nice to think you have plenty of room for when we come to visit. You must let me have the address, so I can forward Elizabeth’s post.”

“There’s no need,” Liz answered. “I set up mail redirection to my flat ages ago. I’ll just change the forwarding address.”

“Still, we’ll see you at the wedding, won’t we?”

Darcy caught Liz’s eye, noting the tiny shake of her head. “Actually, we’re thinking of keeping the ceremony private. Just a handful of our closest friends. You know how expensive these things can get.”

“But we’re her only family. Shelly can be bridesmaid.”

“Look on the bright side,” he added. “At least you won’t need to buy us a wedding present. That will save you some money.”

Amanda Bennett was left bereft of words as Darcy put his arm around Liz’s waist. “Are you ready? I think we’re done here.”

Liz just nodded.

He guided her down the hall to the front door. Her shoulders were still shaking, but now it was more from anger than from fear. Under the circumstances he considered it an improvement.

As they passed out of sight of the house, Liz began to sob, quietly at first but growing more intense. When they reached the car he leaned against the passenger side door, cradling her head to his chest, waiting for her anger and frustration to subside. “Shhh. It’s over. You told her how you felt and got things off your chest. I’m so proud of you.” As her tears dissolved into sniffles, he said, “You won’t see them again.”

After a few moments she took in a determined breath. “N…no, I w…won’t.”

He tried to lighten her mood. “You’ll have me instead. I think that’s a pretty good swap.”

She burrowed against his shirt, her arms around his waist. “A th…thousand times better.”

“Let me take you home.” He opened the door and sat her down before walking around to the driver’s side. As they drove away he vowed to do everything in his power to make sure Amanda Bennett never found her way to Pemberley.

Liz had been right. Her stepmother had turned out to be an evil witch after all, and he would be damned before he’d allow that woman within fifty feet of them again.

~~<>@<>~~

Chapter nineteen

“Lizzy, what are you doing?”

There was something odd about the voice that called to her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what was wrong. “Daddy?”

Her father sounded angry. “Are you out of your senses, to be accepting this man? Have not you always hated him?”

How could she hate William? If it hadn’t been for him she would never have stood up to Amanda. His presence and love had given her the courage to take the words she’d whispered so many times in the silence of her own head and throw them in her stepmother’s face.

Then she saw the owner of the voice standing in front of her. A short, stocky man, his hair almost grey, he seemed old before his time. It wasn’t her father … and yet she knew it was. She’d never seen him before in her life—at least not in this lifetime—but the style of his clothing and the look on his face seemed to overwhelm her with familiarity. She remembered William describing how Elizabeth’s feelings for him had altered and knew her answer. “Mr. Darcy is not the man he once was. If he can change his behaviour, it would be wrong for me to hold so vehemently to my previous opinions.”

“None at all. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man, but this would be nothing if you really liked him.”

“I do, I do like him,” she insisted as tears welled in her eyes. “I love him. He has no improper pride. With me he’s been nothing but friendly. You have no idea how much he has suffered.”

Mr Bennet sighed and his shoulders drooped. “I have given him my consent. He is the kind of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything he condescended to ask. I now give it to you, if you are resolved on having him.” The Regency gentleman in her dream shimmered, his form replaced by one taller, blonde haired but no less familiar. He looked down at her and smiled, his hand reaching to cradle her cheek. “Well, my dear, I have no more to say. If this is the case, he deserves you. I could not have parted with you, my precious princess, to anyone less worthy.”

Liz sobbed. “Daddy, I miss you.”

“So do I, Poppet, but you’re in safe hands now.” He stood for a moment longer, a sad smile playing about his lips, before his image started to fade.

Tears tickled as they ran down her cheek. “No … no, don’t go. Please don’t leave me again.”

“Shhh. It’s alright. I’m here. I won’t go anywhere.” 

She felt an arm around her shoulders and his lips pressed against her forehead. “W…William?”

“I’m here, love. You were dreaming.”

Liz opened her eyes, recognising her own room. She glanced bleary-eyed at the clock by her bed. 7:27am. The alarm would have woken her up in three minutes.

He sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, frowning. “You were dreaming about your father.”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“You seemed upset then you called out to him. You said ‘Don’t leave me again.’”

“I saw my dad, but … but I think I saw Elizabeth’s dad too.” When Liz described him, William nodded. “It almost felt like both of them were giving me their blessing, does that make sense?”

“Yes, I think so. Scientists would probably say it was your subconscious mind telling you it was okay to marry me.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think your dad was probably as proud of you for standing up to Amanda yesterday as I was.”

The radio switched itself on, playing the jingle that introduced the seven-thirty news bulletin. “I need to get ready for work.”

William squeezed her hand. “I know. That’s why I’m here. You didn’t buy any food yesterday and I don’t want you going to work on an empty stomach.”

He returned to the kitchen and Liz darted into the bathroom. She showered and washed her hair. Normally she would have walked around her flat in just a towel, while she made herself a coffee and decided what to wear that day, but she didn’t want to torture William unnecessarily. Still, a part of her longed for the heat of his touch. Too often his kisses would generate a heat in her stomach and she knew he was the only one who could quench it.

She buttoned the plain white blouse she had chosen over her grey trousers and slid back the bathroom door, curious to see what William would offer for breakfast.

He was lying on her bed, legs crossed at the ankles as he watched the morning news. Hearing her return he jumped up and pulled the chair out from under her desk. “Breakfast is served, Mademoiselle.”

“Why, thank you.” She returned his smile and sat down. He’d cleared all her papers into one corner and moved her laptop so he could set the table properly. A tea towel served as a table cloth and offered a continental-style breakfast: toast, some little pots of jam, a few slices of ham and cheese, and some crusty rolls, still warm. As she began to eat, she realised how hungry she was. She always had more of an appetite when someone else cooked. “This is wonderful.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t know Claridges room service extended to take-aways.” He made her a fresh mug of coffee and put it on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No … no, this is perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I only wish I could do more. Are you sure I can’t drive you to work?”

She shook her head. “I’m sure. It’ll be quicker if I get the bus, honestly. What will you do while I’m gone?”

“You mean apart from lying on your bed, sniffing your pillow and wishing you were here with me?” He grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

After breakfast, Liz finished up in the bathroom, grabbed her bag and met William by the door. He pulled her close, his kiss reminding her that beneath his calm exterior he held both passion and desire in a tentative grip.

By the time he let her go, Liz’s knees had begun to wobble and she wondered how she would manage a full day’s work, knowing he’d be waiting for her at home.

* * *

The editorial meeting went on for hours and Liz struggled to keep up. She didn’t usually have any trouble concentrating, but today her mind kept wandering to William as she imagined what he might be doing, wondering whether he was missing her as much as she missed him and remembering his goodbye kiss.

Natalie jabbed an elbow in her ribs and hissed, “Liz?”

She looked around the room. All eyes were turned towards her. “I’m sorry. What was the question?”

James sighed and repeated his query about an article she’d promised for the February issue, to coincide with Valentine’s Day. Luckily, she’d started work on it before her trip to Pemberley so she was able to update him on its progress and promise delivery before the deadline.

William would have to understand that she couldn’t just up and leave her job like that. She’d made commitments and she would see them through, regardless of his thoughts about having a working wife.

As the meeting broke up, James asked her to stay behind. Her editor had a reputation as a somewhat irascible old man, but Liz had discovered his avuncular concern early on in her employment. While the bluff Londoner might rant and yell when someone offered below standard work, she knew how seriously he took the welfare of his young staff members.

“Come on then, Liz. Spit it out. I know you’ve been on holiday but you’re usually more switched on than this first thing in the morning. You’re the one I rely on to stay awake and keep things going. Why do I get the feeling you weren’t always with us today?”

“I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Liz had promised William she would speak to James about giving notice at some point in the day, but she didn’t feel comfortable bringing up the subject while he was angry with her.

“It’s not like you to be living in fairyland.”

Liz nodded. She’d already apologised and didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t suppose it has anything to do with that sparkler on your finger.”

She’d forgotten about her ring. It was strange how quickly she’d got used to wearing it. She clenched her left hand into a fist and looked down at the diamond. “I … I got engaged.”

“I can see that. Anyone we know?”

The heat crept up her cheeks. “No, you don’t know him.”

“Well, congratulations anyway. When’s the wedding? I’ll mark it down on next year’s planner.”

She remembered the conversation they’d had, and William’s determination that they marry in a week. Had he been joking? Liz thought it unlikely. “Sooner than that, I think. I’ll let you know.” She needed to speak to William again before she said anything more about weddings and notice. His insistence on her leaving work worried her. She wasn’t sure she was ready to take that step, or even wanted to. It was something they would have to discuss tonight.

Liz left James’ office and made her way to her desk in the corner where she worked opposite Natalie. As she glanced across the room she saw a man chatting to her friend, his back towards her. Her heart started to beat a little faster. She would have known those shoulders anywhere. As she moved towards the pair she heard Natalie laugh.

“I didn’t expect to see you until later.”

William smiled. “I had some business in the city, and seeing as I was close I thought I might take you to a little place I know for lunch.”

Nat sighed. “That’s so romantic. The closest anyone has been to taking me out for lunch is buying me a pack of sandwiches and a bag of crisps.”

Liz glanced at her watch. It was almost twelve. “Let me fetch my coat. There’s something I need to talk to you about anyway.”

They left the office and walked a few streets away to a small restaurant tucked away down a side street. She raised her eyebrows when she realised William had made reservations. She thought his offer of lunch had been a spur of the moment decision, rather than premeditated. The fact he’d been so certain he could take her out of the office concerned her.

Once the waiter had gone, William relaxed back in his chair. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I can tell there is. Your nose twitches when you’re annoyed.”

She wasn’t even sure she knew what was making her angry. Something just didn’t seem right. “Why did you come to the office?”

“Because I missed you…”—he sipped from his glass of water—“and I wanted to check whether you’d told them you were leaving.”

“I never agreed that I’d leave work permanently. I might be able to renegotiate my contract to work from home or something. I can’t just up and go without giving any notice.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “You’re always thinking of other people. I wouldn’t mind you being selfish occasionally.”

“And would that be for my benefit or yours?”

“It just makes me angry when I think of all those years you were jumping at Amanda’s every whim.”

“You don’t understand.” She shook her head, picking the salt shaker from the table and twirling it between her fingers. “You know, it took me a while but eventually I learned that my life was easier when I did what she asked without arguing about it. If I complained it made things more difficult and I still ended up doing the work anyway. It never helped to fight against her, so in the end I stopped bothering. Don’t you think I am thinking about myself by wanting to continue working after we get married?”

He seemed genuinely confused by her question. “But why would you want to work when you don’t have to?”

“Because I love what I do. It makes me grounded, connected with this country’s history. It reminds me that I’m a tiny part of something great. I want to celebrate that greatness and keep what was good about this country in the nation’s consciousness.

“Having my own income is important too. I don’t want to be just Mrs William Bingley, or even Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy. I need to keep my own sense of identity. I suppressed it for so long when I lived at home and it took me a while to find it again. I’m not ready to lose it yet. As much as I want to marry you and be a part of your life, if you demand I leave my job, you are no better than Amanda.”

He looked at her for a moment in silence then brushed the hair back from his face. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m the one who’s being selfish, trying to fit you into the wife-shaped hole I have in my life. I do try to keep up with all the modern trends, but my natural reaction will always be to protect you and provide for you.” He reached over to take her hand. “I’ve spent a long time getting my own way. You will have to be patient with me as I adjust. At the end of the day I want you to be happy, more than anything else. If that means you continuing to write, then you must do it.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t say it otherwise. Although, if you are going to work, I would be happier to see you based at Pemberley. You can have your own office. I’ll set you up with all the equipment you need. Perhaps we can sort something out with your boss once we’re married.”

“About the wedding. I’m not sure I can get time off on such short notice. We might have to wait—”

“Oh no. You can call me selfish, or any other name you like, but this is one thing I will not budge on. I want you as my wife. I’ve already spoken to the Reverend Phillips and he’s ready whenever we are. All we need is a week … no, two weeks. Do you think your boss will allow you to take that time off?”

Liz bit her nail. “I’m not sure. We usually have to let them know in advance.”

“Would you allow me to speak to him?”

The innocent way he asked the question made her pause. “Why? What would you say?”

He smiled. “I’d make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

* * *

Liz wrapped her hands around the mug, swirling the dregs of her cold coffee. “How much longer do you think they’ll be?”

Nat shrugged as she flattened a paperclip. “Who knows? Men are odd creatures at the best of times. James might give him a flat no and kick him out, or they could sit chatting for hours about the latest test match at Lords, or the Lions getting whitewashed at Twickenham or something equally baffling.”

She tapped her pen against the desktop as she glanced across to James’ office. William had already been inside for almost an hour and her nerves were on edge, wondering what they were talking about.

When the door opened the smiles on their faces as James shook William’s hand relieved her of her biggest worry. Surely one or both of them wouldn’t be smiling if they weren’t happy with the outcome of the discussion? She waited in her seat as William made his way over to them alone.

“I think we’re done here. Grab your coat. You’re officially on holiday as of now.”

“I am?”

Natalie laughed. “Oh, Liz. What I wouldn’t give for a take-charge guy like yours. You wouldn’t happen to have a brother by any chance?”

He grinned. “Sorry, I’m one of a kind.”

Liz frowned as she slipped her laptop into its bag and tidied her desk. “What did James say?”

William helped her with her coat. “You’ve got three weeks off work, starting today. At the end of that time he’s expecting you back in the office until the Christmas break. From January you’ll be working from home, with occasional visits to the office for monthly meetings and such.”

She gave Natalie a goodbye hug and they made their way to the lifts. “That sounds like a lot of concessions from James. What did you have to offer to get him to agree to this?”

“Well …” He wrinkled his nose. “There’s going to be a photographer coming sometime in January to take pictures for a five page spread about the hidden gems of Britain. Oh and James has offered you a regular column to record your day to day life in a stately home.”

“My own column? Wow, that’s … that’s amazing. I don’t know what to say.”

“I didn’t think you’d mind. If you build up a regular readership it’ll help with sales, for when you finish writing your book.”

With everything that had happened over the last week, Liz had almost forgotten her original reason for visiting Pemberley. It seemed he was serious about supporting her career, even at the expense of his own privacy. “Oh, William. I’m sorry. I know how much you hate the idea of strangers visiting the house.”

“I’ll get used to it. Besides, by that time we shouldn’t have anything to hide. We’ll be married and the curse will have ended.”

“You hope.”

“Hope is all I’ve had to keep me going these last hundred and ninety years. Hope and I are old friends now.” They reached the lobby and pushed through the main doors out into the street. William looked up and down, as though getting his bearings. “Right. We’ve sorted out work. Did you give notice on your flat?”

“Not yet, thank goodness. I’ll need somewhere to live when I come back to work.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll rent somewhere for both of us. You deserve better accommodations.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t—”

William stopped in the middle of the pavement, his expression serious. “Liz, you wanted to work after we married and I’ve accepted that. You also want the independence that comes with earning an income, even though I have enough money to keep us comfortable for two lifetimes. I agreed, because you explained how much it means to you. But if you’re going to be spending time in town, we’ll need a base here and your flat isn’t big enough for the two of us.”

Considering how many concessions he’d made, she could afford let him have this one. It wasn’t as though she was so attached to the bedsit. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He kissed the end of her nose. “Have I ever told you how adorable you are when you’re contrite? Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” He held up his hand to hail a taxi. “Now, before we drive home, it’s time we did a bit of shopping.”

“What for?”

“A wedding ring. We can’t get married without one.” A black cab pulled up in front of them, and William opened the door for her to climb in.

“I imagined you might have an old one knocking about that no one was using.”

“Oh no, it was always tradition in our family. We passed down gemstones but every new bride had her own wedding ring.” He directed the driver to the Burlington Arcade. “I had considered taking you to Garrards but I thought you might be more comfortable somewhere a little less formal.”

Liz shuddered, grateful that he’d changed his mind. She would have felt out of place in such an exclusive atmosphere. Walking into Claridges had been bad enough.

There were a number of jewellery shops in the old arcade, some specialising in watches or pearls while others offered the usual range of jewellery. She’d chosen a traditional plain gold band over the more expensive diamond studded designs and had refused any of the other pieces he’d tried to interest her in.

When they returned to Pimlico, William helped her pack some of her possessions and he carried them to his car so they could take them back to Derbyshire the following morning. Once they’d completed their work, Liz sank onto her bed, gazing at the half empty room that had been home for almost a year.

William sat beside her, taking her hand in his. “What are you thinking?”

“Everything is changing. My whole life … it’s turning upside down. I’m scared.”

He frowned. “Of me?”

“No, not of you. I’m scared that everything I know is changing.”

“Change can be a good thing, an improvement in circumstances. I know my life will be a hundred times better for being with you. It’s going to take a while for us to get used to being together. That’s only natural. But I promise that for the rest of my life, however long I have, I will do whatever I can to make you happy.” He lifted her chin with his finger, his kiss light and tender.

The knotted nerves in her stomach unravelled and melted as she returned his kiss eagerly. No matter what happened Liz knew there was no one who cared more about her wellbeing than William.

Not since her father’s death had she felt so loved and protected.

~~<>@<>~~

Chapter twenty

As William drove them back to Derbyshire on Tuesday morning Liz had plenty of time to dwell upon the abrupt change in direction her life had taken. She’d never been big on planning but every time she’d imagined what she might be doing in two or five years time, the most she’d ever hoped for was a larger apartment and perhaps seeing her book about Pemberley in print.

William seemed to recognise her need to think. Either that or he was so used to being on his own that he didn’t feel obliged to fill the silence. Instead he drove with his right hand on the steering wheel while his left—when it was not required to change gear—played with her fingers.

As they entered Pemberley village, she woke from her reverie as he drove past the road that ran in front of the green. Instead he continued on, parking the car against a low stone wall at the end of the village.

He pulled the key from the ignition. “Before we go home there’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

The squat stone chapel huddled on a rise, the land beyond sloping up into the trees. A scattering of gravestones leaned at angles, the inscribed names almost obscured by the lichens blooming on the limestone. William’s hand wrapped around hers, warming her chilled fingers as he urged her through the wrought iron gate and up the path.

“Did you build this as well?”

He smiled. “No, I only paid for it.” He stopped under the gothic archway, his hand brushing the carved stone. “The original church stood closer to the house but lightening struck the spire while I was in America. The resulting fire destroyed the roof and all the contents; it was one of the reasons I chose to come home. I decided to build a new chapel here where it was more convenient for the tenants and pensioners. It also meant more privacy for the house because we didn’t need to allow access to the church.”

“I remember reading a little about the construction in the steward’s book. They were going to tear down the old building and reuse the stone.”

“They demolished the bell tower, because it was unsafe. Most of the nave remains but it’s tucked away behind the shrubbery now. Sometimes I go there when I want to get away from things for a while.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “It’s strange. I used to visit almost every day, but when you arrived I lost the urge to leave the house.”

Liz glanced at the thick oak door, which stood slightly ajar. “So when we argue, and you storm out of the house, I’ll know where you’re hiding?”

“You seem very sure we will quarrel.”

“Doesn’t everyone? Amanda and Shelly are the only people I spent any amount of time with and I fought with them all the time.”

“They were not me.” He pulled her closer, whispering in her ear. “I haven’t waited this long to waste precious time bickering. I’m sure you’ll find me a most indulgent husband.”

Husband. There, he’d said it. By the end of the month, possibly by the end of the week, she would be William’s wife—in the eyes of God, if not in the eyes of the Office of National Statistics. And she wasn’t marrying William Bingley but Fitzwilliam Darcy, son of George and Lady Anne Darcy; a man believed to have died almost two hundred years ago.

The hinges protested as William pushed the heavy door open and showed her through into the church. The thick stone blocked out the background sounds she hadn’t previously noticed: birds singing in the trees, and the rustle of the long grasses swaying in the wind. The space inside was simply furnished. Five rows of chairs faced a shallow apse, a plain yellow and red cloth draped over the altar.

A rounded individual walked towards them, his black clothes relieved only by the white collar around his neck and his bald head protruding through a wispy circle of grey hair. “Good morning.” He rubbed his hands together, blowing on the ends of his fingers. “A chilly one but at least we’re not expecting any rain today.”

William put his arm around her, urging her ahead of him. “Henry, I’d like you to meet Liz Bennett. Liz, this is Henry Phillips.”

“Ah yes, the astonishing Miss Bennett. So pleased to meet you, my dear.” He looked over the wire rim of his spectacles. “I am fortunate indeed to witness the miracle of your arrival.”

She smiled at him, not entirely sure she deserved to be called a miracle.

William chuckled. “Henry has been in a difficult position ever since he attended Theological College. I’ve lost count of the times we debated the Church’s position on reincarnation, but your arrival has laid at least one of his doubts to rest.”

The cleric grinned. “I would hardly call them debates.”

“What would you call them?”

He turned to Liz. “As a student I would come home, so full of my own importance and newly acquired knowledge. William would listen to my litany of youthful opinions and politely demolish each of my arguments in turn.”

“Merely opening your mind to alternatives. Giving you the benefit of my experience.” He gave Liz a squeeze. “Henry wants to ask you a few questions.”

She looked at the vicar. “Oh?”

“Considering the exceptional circumstances I would like to put my mind at rest on a few points.”

“He thinks I’ve coerced you into marrying me,” William suggested in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Given the alacrity of your decision I thought it only right to make enquiries.”

William tapped his fingers on the back of a chair. “I’ll wait outside. I wouldn’t want Henry accusing me of witness intimidation.”

They sat down on the front row, the Reverend Phillips spreading himself over two of the narrow chairs. “I’m just an old man satisfying himself that he’s doing the right thing.” He removed his glasses, wiping them with a cloth from his pocket. “Although considering how long William has been waiting for this I shouldn’t be surprised at his impatience.” He paused then, his sharp grey eyes finding hers. “It must have been a shock, learning about his extraordinary life.”

She remembered the moment in the attic, when she’d thought he was mad. “Yes, to begin with.”

“And he says you two met for the first time a little over a week ago?”

“That’s right.” Liz glanced over her shoulder towards the door, wishing she could be outside.

“I imagine it all came as quite a surprise to you. I was surprised you would accept his proposal so quickly, considering your short period of acquaintance.”

He’d made a good point, one that deserved an honest answer. “I said yes because I love him. I didn’t realise it to begin with, but I felt something for him the first time we met. It’s hard to describe. We’re connected in a way I’m not sure I fully understand, but I can’t imagine feeling this way with anyone else.” She looked down at her plaited fingers, remembering the warm glow in her stomach whenever he looked into her eyes. “My feelings for William seem so natural, as though I was born to love him. If I can free him from the shackles that have imprisoned him by becoming his wife, I’ll do it. I think he’s suffered long enough, don’t you?”

“Suffered? An interesting choice of words. William must have already shared his opinion with you regarding his immortality.”

“I know he sees himself as a freak.”

“Do you think he is?”

She shook her head.

“Based on the dictionary definition I suppose he is, but I prefer to think of the curse as a gift from God. His road has been long and he had to fight many of his own personal demons but the Fitzwilliam Darcy who resides with us today is a beacon in a troubled sea. He’s a good man, Miss Bennett, the likes of which we meet rarely these days. Although his unusual circumstances means he has to live in shadow he helps, supports and guides in so many different ways.”

“Mrs Reynolds told me about his godchildren.”

He sat back. “Yes, here in the village we are all fortunate to benefit from his benevolence first hand but the children of Pemberley were only the beginning. His charitable concerns now span the globe.”

“He never mentioned that.”

“William tends to shroud his good deeds in secrecy, for obvious reasons.” He paused, staring at the cross on the wall as though seeking divine inspiration. “We all looked up to him as one would a favourite uncle. As adults he became our adviser, confidante, even a close friend to some of us.” He shuffled on his chairs and cleared his throat. “My personal beliefs and training made it difficult for me to accept his conviction that reincarnation would provide his reward. It is not a tenet that sits easily with me. If you and he marry do you think he will receive the blessing he has so long wished for?”

The memories from her regression remained clear in her mind, clearer almost than those from her own childhood. She no longer doubted that she had been Elizabeth Darcy in a previous life, but would it be enough to end the curse? “I don’t know. Something led me to Pemberley for a reason, but what that reason was only time will tell.”

“That is a leap of faith, indeed.”

Liz nodded.

“And what about you? Are you happy with your choice? I would not want you to feel in any way obliged to marry William unless it is truly what you wish.”

“I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I can understand your concerns but you don’t need to worry. I wouldn’t have said yes if I hadn’t been sure it was the right thing for both of us.”

Henry stood up. “You have answered my concerns admirably, Miss Bennett. What day would you like me to perform the service?”

“Oh. I … I don’t know. We should ask William.”

“I can tell you his answer. He will ask me to do it now, but I assume you will want a little time to prepare. Shall I put you down for Thursday?”

Thursday? As much as she wanted to be William’s wife, discovering it would be a reality within forty-eight hours made her pause. She imagined a small, intimate service; the two of them, the vicar and a couple of witnesses. There would be no time to buy a dress, but she didn’t care about the pomp and ceremony. She only wanted to be his wife. “Thursday is fine. Thank you.”

As she left the chapel, Liz squealed as William rushed out from his hiding place behind the porch. He grabbed her waist and swung her around in a circle. Before her feet had touched the ground he was already kissing her.

When they separated he pulled her close. “So? When are we getting married?”

Liz smiled at his excitement. He was like a kid waiting to open his Christmas presents. “Thursday.”

“That long? Why not now?”

“I thought there might be a few things we need to do beforehand. You’ll have to find a couple of witnesses…”

“That won’t be a problem. I’ll need to talk to Kelly about organising the wedding breakfast and there’s plenty we can do to keep occupied for the next two days. To start with, I can drive you to Buxton to buy a dress.”

“A wedding dress? No, I’d rather you didn’t. It’s a lot of expense for a few hours wear. The important thing is the ceremony, not what I look like.”

He glanced at her for a moment, his eyes squinting against the pale autumn sun. “You’re going to have to get used to me spending money on you at some point.”

Liz only shrugged. She never wanted to be like Amanda, accepting gifts as though they were some kind of sacrificial offering. “What can I say? My frugal habits are hard to break.”

William shook his head, smiling. “Come on, let’s go home.” They returned to the car and he drove straight ahead, out of the village.

She looked back. “Aren’t you going the wrong way?”

“There’s more than one way into Pemberley. You only know the visitor’s entrance.”

They drove for a few miles through the countryside, William pointing out the farms occupied by families who had worked the surrounding land for decades. In the middle of nowhere he took a right turn through an open gate and down a narrow drive marked with a ‘private’ sign. After half a mile they rounded a corner and Liz recognised the roof of the house rising beyond the stables. “Oh, I know where we are now.”

“Much easier than opening those rusty old gates, don’t you think?” He drove into the yard and parked near a side door. “We’ll unload your belongings later. Right now, I’d like to show you something.”

Liz allowed him to lead her away from the house. “Where are we going?”

He sighed. “Always full of questions. You never did like surprises. Don’t worry, it’s only a short walk.”

“I know your idea of a short walk. I’ve never ached so much.”

He pulled her closer, whispering in her ear. “It’s not far. Just behind the shrubbery.”

They headed towards a copse surrounded by towering rhododendrons and dense laurels. As they followed the boundary of the foliage around a corner, Liz noticed a narrow gap. “Don’t tell me you have a secret garden hidden behind here.”

“Not a garden, and not really a secret either. I mentioned the old church ruins earlier and I thought you’d like to see them.”

They pushed through the encroaching branches down a thin path and into a clearing. Liz heard a soft bleat and spotted three sheep cropping the grass, eyeing her cautiously.

William tugged on her arm. “Don’t worry about them. They’re here to keep the grass down.” He drew her towards the remains of an ancient church.

Liz took in the building in front of her, amazed that none of the records she’d found had even hinted at the structure still standing within Pemberley’s grounds. The original church had been traditional in style, with a small chancel at one end. The stone walls now finished just above the top of the windows and in place of tile or slate, large sheets of glass formed the pitch of the roof. Where the bell tower would have once stood a large round conservatory enclosed the building. Beyond, the trees and shrubs fell back, offering stunning views across the valley.

They passed through the old porch into the space beyond. The thick stone supported a filigree of cast iron trusses that housed the glazed panels, flooding the room with daylight. “I had the idea to convert the ruins after visiting the Great Exhibition but it took a while to complete. You wouldn’t believe how popular these things became in the eighteen fifties. It cost a fortune but it was worth it, if only to get me out of the house for a while.”

When Liz managed to drag her attention from the web of ironwork, she took in the piles of canvases propped against the walls and two empty easels standing before the full length windows. “I didn’t know you painted.”

“When you have all the time in the world it’s hard to find entertainment that will fill the hours. Even a favoured pursuit becomes tiresome if you do it long enough.”

In what was once the chancel, paints and brushes covered the shelves and multicoloured splashes decorated a white butler’s sink, while splattered rags overflowed from a nearby basket. Two finished landscapes lay on a drying rack. Liz recognised the style. “Your pictures are everywhere at Pemberley. In the gallery … in my bedroom. They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“I can’t believe it. You’re so talented. Do you sell any of them?”

“Yes, occasionally, but they’re always dispersed through trusted third parties so they can’t be traced back to me. A few people in the art world have been getting curious about them lately so I’m now more careful what I sell and to whom. I don’t paint to make money—all the profits go to charity. I do it to keep me sane.” He crossed the room, reaching up for an old sketch book, one of many standing on the shelf. “And to remember.”

He passed Liz the book and she turned the pages, seeing a face she recognised. “Elizabeth Darcy. Your wife.”

“You.”

“Not entirely. I might share a part of Elizabeth, something deep inside, but on the outside we’re quite different.”

“You share more than you think.” He grabbed a newer book from the worktop, flicking through until he reached what he was searching for. “This is you.”

Pencil sketches covered the sheet as Liz’s face looked out from every direction. Some poses showed her working in the office, although the angle seemed odd. “When did you do these?”

William looked over her shoulder at the image she pointed to. “Ah … well, I …” He took her hand. “Don’t be angry but I sometimes watched you working … on the screen upstairs.” He glanced at her. “I know it was wrong, spying on you like that, but I couldn’t stop myself. It made me feel closer to you. Besides, you would have thought me odd if I’d sat in the corner of the office staring at you for hours on end.”

Liz would have once been horrified knowing he’d been watching her. Now, she knew how difficult it was to be apart from him. In his position she might have done the same. Looking down at the page she traced the pencil lines with the tip of her finger. “I almost look … pretty here.”

He growled and grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around to face him. “Pretty? And you thought me mad? You’re gorgeous.” He kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose before capturing her lips, as though his kiss alone could convince her.

When they separated, Liz smiled. “And you’re biased.” She slipped out of his grip as she pointed to a nearby canvas hanging on the wall. “You are good though.”

“I had a good teacher. Thomas Hudson, my brother-in-law, was a portrait artist. I’ve also had more than a hundred years of practice. It gives me an incredible sense of achievement when someone likes my work enough to pay for it.” He picked up the first book again, studying the pencil sketches. “It began as a way to remember Elizabeth. I didn’t want to forget what she looked like. Funny thing is, I haven’t thought of that part of my life for days now. Not since the night I showed you the pictures in the attic. Now my thoughts are most often turned towards the future … our future.”

Liz took the pad out of his hands and dropped it on the table. She circled his waist with her arms and leaned her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She’d been thinking about the same thing, wondering whether their marriage really did hold the key to his curse. Although Elizabeth had carved her love for William onto her soul in 1812 she still doubted whether the simple presence of a ring on her finger would be sufficient to break a spell that had lasted for almost two centuries. She wanted to ask him, to reassure herself that his love would endure regardless of what happened, but he seemed so convinced that their marriage would resolve everything and she didn’t want to spoil the moment.

When she released him William grabbed her hand, urging her towards the wall of glass. “Come and look at the view.”

The weak autumn sun highlighted the greens, yellow and browns of the fields and hillsides as it stretched down the valley, a row of stately poplars casting finger-like shadows across the ground. He stood behind her, pointing out sites of interest, from the sycamore he fell out of as a child to the bend in the stream where a family of otters lived.

“It’s all so beautiful.”

William placed his hands on her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head then her ear, before grazing his lips down her neck to her collar bone. “I agree,” he whispered, his breath raising goose bumps on her skin.

She sighed as his touch sent sparks crackling beneath her skin. She stood in quiet contemplation, relishing their time together. “Do you know…”

“What?”

“A couple of chairs would be great just here.”

His soft laughter echoed around the half empty room. “I was just thinking this place needed another piece of furniture, but it wasn’t chairs I had in mind.”

“In that case, we’d better go back to the house. I wouldn’t want to become a temptation.”

“You tempt me just by standing there.”

“Perhaps I should hide until Thursday?”

He squeezed her tighter. “Don’t you dare. You’re not going anywhere. You’ve been gone long enough.”

She heard an odd catch in his voice and looked up, noticing that the focus of his gaze had moved beyond the glass. She followed his line of sight. Beneath an old oak were two dark rectangles. She squinted and the shapes resolved into headstones, standing like silent sentinels in the green grass.

“Whose graves are those?”

William’s silence confirmed her suspicions. She left the studio and crossed the withering grass, ignoring the bleating sheep as they scurried from her path. Although she knew what she would find, something compelled her towards the silent monuments and she fell to her knees before them.

The stone on the left commemorated the deaths of George and Lady Anne Darcy. The memorial on the right bore a longer inscription:

Here lies the body of Elizabeth Darcy,
beloved wife of Fitzwilliam Darcy
who died 5th February 1817, in her 25th year.
Also their son Thomas, taken at birth
May they rest in Peace

Though the mountains be shaken
 and the hills be removed,
yet my unfailing love for you
 will not be shaken
 nor my covenant of peace be removed

The swish of footsteps in the grass alerted her to William’s presence and she turned to look up at him. “Thomas?”

“As we’d agreed. It was your father’s name.”

“A lovely name … and a beautiful verse.”

“I can’t take the credit for that. I was a mess after the funeral. Jane and Charles dealt with everything, but I couldn’t have chosen a more apt quotation. Once the gypsy told me I would see you again it gave me the peace and hope I needed to cope with the waiting.”

She stood, brushing the leaves from her knees as she glanced around the clearing, taking in the studio, the view and the headstones. “I understand now why you didn’t demolish the remains of the church, and why you’ve spent so much time here.” She reached for his hand. “But I’m here now. You don’t need to hide yourself away anymore.”

William folded his arms around her as he leant his forehead against hers. “No, I don’t. Here, with you, is the only place I want to be.”

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