Chapter 27
On the Road to Wrayburn
Sussex
Elizabeth swayed gently into her mother as the carriage rounded a curve in the road.
Across from them, there was not even a pause in the industrious clacking of Maggie’s needles, as the stolid maid continued her pursuit impervious to any minor movement of the carriage.
Mrs. Bennet was entirely absorbed in the landscape surrounding her childhood home, exclaiming over how much had changed and how much had stayed the same, and Elizabeth’s full focus was on her mother’s reminiscences.
Wrayburn, the estate where Mrs. Bennet had grown up, lay but two miles distant, and both ladies were extremely eager to see it.
They had left Longbourn the previous morning and journeyed to Cheapside to spend the night with the Gardiners. She and her mother had been enthusiastically welcomed in Gracechurch Street and had passed a most convivial evening with Jane’s aunt and uncle.
The ride today had been longer but not unpleasant.
Elizabeth had been grateful for a chance to sit and rest instead of frantically rushing to cross off the next task on a list of what needed to be done before the Season.
Whatever was left to do, Jane was cheerfully managing; the eldest Miss Bennet’s spirits were high indeed with the anticipation of the coming spring.
It was a relief that Jane had been able to take over management of the move, as upon departing from Wrayburn, Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth would travel straight to London and the hired house.
Elizabeth leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction.
They had hired an excellent carriage with good springs and thick squabs.
The road was good, without either mud or over-much dust, the sky clear and the sun warm.
The further south they traveled, the deeper into springtime they went.
Snowdrops poked up their pedaled heads in the shade beneath the eaves of the woods, daffodils spread across fields and the verges of the road like patches of sunbeams fallen to earth.
The earliest spring leaves hazed the branches of gray-barked trees green, the first sprouts of grass and winter wheat poking up through the dark soil of fields and pastures.
For one very tired of winter, it was a heartening view.
“We are getting very close now, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet said eagerly, and Elizabeth turned a fond look on her mother.
The mistress of Longbourn had toiled diligently these last months as she managed the estate with her usual skill, while also working with her girls toward the upcoming Season.
Jane and Elizabeth had both been fitted and measured for a full wardrobe of clothing, and letters had scurried between Gracechurch Street and Longbourn regarding obtaining a hired house, and the necessary servants for the house, and so on and so forth.
In the midst of all the hustle and bustle, Mrs. Bennet’s conversation often drifted to Wrayburn, her childhood estate.
Elizabeth felt as if she could already imagine the house in her mind’s eye, with its turrets on the east end, and the ballroom on the back of the house, which had been added by the second viscount.
It was odd, and a trifle embarrassing, that Elizabeth had never even thought to question her mother about her childhood; somehow Mrs. Bennet was just her mother, and imagining her as a young girl, growing up in a house a long way from Meryton, seemed well-nigh impossible.
She had brought that up one evening in her mother’s dressing room, during one of their periodic tea parties, and Mrs. Bennet had laughed and said, “It is quite all right, my dear. I remember thinking that my own parents doubtless entered the world as adults.”
“The lodge is just around this bend now,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, drawing Elizabeth’s attention, and she found herself craning her neck to look out the window on her mother’s side of the carriage.
Two minutes later, the lodge came into view, and Elizabeth found herself gasping in harmony with her mother.
The lodge no longer had a roof, and one of the walls had fallen down entirely.
Grass grew everywhere, and she could just glimpse stepping stones leading to the door, which had itself fallen off, or been removed, from the hinges, and was leaning in a drunken fashion against the stone porch.
She tore her eyes away from the damaged lodge and looked at her mother, who was craning her head to look behind the carriage as it continued down the road toward Wrayburn.
“Mamma?” she asked gently, reaching out to touch her mother’s arm.
Mrs. Bennet turned toward her, and her eyes were filled with tears.
“Oh Lizzy, I know it is only the lodge, but when I think of old Mr. and Mrs. Priday, who used to wave at me when I left and came home … I cannot understand how my father could have just left the building to fall apart! What was he thinking?”
Elizabeth had heard enough about the deceased viscount to guess that her grandfather had not thought at all. Furthermore, any man who would sell his daughter into an unwanted marriage was, in her mind, more or less evil, and she was glad that she had never met him.
“I am certain the mansion will be in better condition,” she said soothingly.
Three minutes later, the house came into view, and Elizabeth was relieved to see that yes, the manor was indeed in better condition than its lodge. There were no damaged roofs or crumbling walls, at least.
On the other hand…
“Oh, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet wailed, “look at the rose garden. My mother used to be so proud of it, and now there is grass everywhere! I know my father did not care particularly, but why has Stanley not done anything about it?”
The carriage had, of course, continued rolling onward, and Elizabeth, looking through the right-hand window and then the left, said quietly, “Given that Lord Langdon inherited less than a year ago, I suspect he is distributing his time and attention and funding on the greatest needs. The fencing, the stables…”
Mrs. Bennet looked to the left, where half the slats on a fence had fallen off, and then the carriage turned to the right and came to a halt next to a set of stables.
Elizabeth looked out of the window with a frown. The stables were far larger than those at Longbourn, but they needed painting, and there were at least two broken windows in sight.
She turned her head and reached one arm over to pull her mother close. “It is all right, Mamma,” she murmured. “It is all right.”
“My poor Wrayburn,” Mrs. Bennet sobbed.
***
Wrayburn
A Few Minutes Later
The front door opened as Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth reached the top of the steps. The man standing inside the vestibule was some five and forty years of age, dressed in country attire, his auburn locks streaked with silver.
“Stanley,” Mrs. Bennet breathed, stepping into the house with Elizabeth at her heels.
“Annabelle!” Lord Langdon murmured, his eyes fixed on the older lady’s face. “Can it truly be you?”
“My dear cousin,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Oh, how good it is to see you again.”
“You are as pretty as you ever were, my dear cousin.”
Mrs. Bennet managed a chuckle at these words and said, “That is kind of you, Stanley, but I am well aware that at my age, I have no need to think of beauty. But come, allow me to introduce you to my eldest daughter, Elizabeth. My dear, this is my cousin Stanley, Lord Lyndon.”
Elizabeth curtseyed, and Lord Langdon bowed, and then the pair stared at one another. She could see, easily, the family resemblance between her cousin and her mother, in the color of their hair and the shape of their noses.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Lord Langdon said with a smile, “you look so much like your mother did the last time I saw her. It is quite amazing.”
This was, Elizabeth knew, a compliment, and she smiled and said, “Thank you very much, sir.”
He smiled back at her and said, “Now, I know you came from London and naturally would like to refresh yourself before meeting the rest of the family. Mrs. Stimson will take you to your bedchambers, and perhaps we can meet in the drawing room in half an hour? Or an hour?”
Mrs. Bennet looked at Elizabeth and said, “Half an hour will be sufficient for both of us. Thank you.”
***
Wrayburn
Half An Hour Later
Wrayburn was not warm. Elizabeth was used to the coziness of Longbourn, with its tightly fitted windows and the abundance of wood.
Wrayburn was grand and imposing with all its stone walls and corridors, but the windows rattled whenever the wind blew, and there were drafts in the halls.
She was glad that she had opted to pack warm dresses and her large, heavy wool shawl despite the expectations of somewhat warmer weather.
She drew the shawl closer about her shoulders as she joined her mother in the corridor outside their rooms. Mrs. Bennet likewise was dressed for the chill, as was the maid who dropped them a curtsey.
“This way, if you please,” the girl said and led the way through the old house.
As they walked, Elizabeth looked about herself, observing her surroundings closely.
She was by nature a rather observant woman, but today, she was paying especial attention to all the details of the estate.
It was still strange to think it belonged to her kin.