Chapter Four #2
“She did,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “Not immediately. Her father opposed the match, and my grandfather would not ask her to share a life of uncertainty. It was only after Lord Matlock died that her brother gave his consent. By then they had waited years. I always thought that rather romantic.”
“And were they happy?”
“Very. At least, that is what everyone said afterward. My grandmother had scarcely been married a year when my father was born. She adored him.”
“She had scarcely recovered from his birth when the fire came.”
Elizabeth turned quickly to her. “A fire?”
“Yes. It began in the west servants' wing, though no one ever discovered how. The house was old and ill-kept, and the flames spread quickly. My grandparents tried to escape, but they were trapped. My father was in the nursery. His nurse carried him out through a back stair. They say the flames had nearly reached her sleeves.”
“How dreadful.”
“Most of the household perished. A few servants escaped, but it was the nurse who mattered most. She would not let my father out of her sight for weeks afterward.”
Mrs. Gardiner glanced toward the village.
“Uncle Frederick lost his sister, his closest friend, and nearly their son in a single night. The estate could not be saved. In the end he sold what remained and brought my father home to Matlock.”
“To be raised with Lord Matlock and the others?”
“Yes. Uncle Henry was scarcely a year older than my father, and Lady Catherine was already a toddler. My father grew up among them. Aunt Anne came later and was devoted to him from the beginning. It was through her that he later came to Lambton.”
“So that is how he became a clergyman?”
“In part. But it was their grandmother, my great-grandmother Lady Eleanor, who saw the beginning of it.
She took a special interest in my father's schooling. She said he possessed a quiet strength and a mind suited to steadiness and duty. He reminded her of her own father, who had been a clergyman as well. She made certain he had every opportunity to pursue holy orders and remained his greatest advocate. I believe it was one reason she left her townhouse to him.”
Mrs. Gardiner smiled faintly.
“My father never spoke of any of it often. But when he did, it was always with gratitude. He believed himself fortunate to have been loved by so many people.”
Elizabeth looked once more toward the hill, where nothing remained now but summer grass and a few weathered stones. Then the carriage crested a rise and the sea appeared, a broad grey gleam along the horizon, and the scent of salt reached them all at once.
“We shall reach the cottage before sundown,” Mr. Gardiner said. “I believe I smell the coast already.”
It was not long before the air grew sharper, touched with brine and the faint roar of waves below the hills.
The carriage turned down a lane lined with wind-leaning hawthorns and passed through a gate that opened into a gravelled drive.
The cottage itself stood at the edge of a wide bluff, two stories high and square in proportion, its stone front softened by ivy and its windows brightened with the last light of day.
Elizabeth stepped out first and looked up. The house faced the ocean without obstruction, and from the upper windows one could see the breakers curling white along the shore. Though it was called a cottage, the house was larger than Longbourn and considerably better kept.
The housekeeper, a respectable woman named Mrs. Pierce, greeted them with a slight curtsey and a manner both orderly and calm.
The cook, already busy with supper, gave a brief nod from the kitchen door, and a maid led them up to view their rooms. Their trunks had arrived ahead of them and been placed in readiness.
Everything was clean and well kept, though plainly furnished.
Mrs. Gardiner declared it more than comfortable, and Mr. Gardiner pronounced himself satisfied that he might endure the sea air if he had a steady supply of ink and tea.
Elizabeth stood for a moment in the upper hall before following her aunt into their shared room.
The salt wind stirred the curtains, and the sound of the waves rose steadily from below.
There was no carriage rumble, no clatter of hooves, no city noise at all.
Only the sea, the wind, and the stillness between. She crossed to the window.
“I believe I understand now why people speak so fondly of the coast.”
Mrs. Gardiner laughed as she removed her bonnet.
“Wait until tomorrow. You have only seen it from a distance.”
“I mean to remedy that as soon as possible.”
“Do I hear a plan forming?”
“I should like to walk along the shore before breakfast.”
Mrs. Gardiner gave her an approving look.
“Then you shall. Though Edward will insist upon sending a footman with you.”
Elizabeth smiled.
“For once, I do not think I shall argue.”
“An encouraging development.”
“I only hope the poor man does not object to being dragged from his bed at dawn.”
“If he values his position,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “he will learn to admire sunrises.”