The house was just as imposing as it had seemed before, looming over her as she looked up at it from the front steps, although from that angle, the smashed window made it seem very much as though it was winking down at her. She grinned back up at it. “Good day. I am back to admire you again.”
With the entrance cleared of all obstacles on her visit the day before, the door opened without resistance this time, making her arrival feel significantly more welcome. She picked her way through every room, committing to memory the layout and orientation ofeach. When she reached the stairs that her uncle had advised her against climbing the day before, she could not withstand the temptation to go up. They creaked alarmingly, and the landing, when she reached it, felt distinctly aslant, but her intrepidness was handsomely rewarded by the discovery of a roof terrace beyond the farthest door. Her stomach reeled when she stepped out, for it was vertiginously high, but her delight at the panorama before her was as limitless as the view itself.
“And who might you be?”
Elizabeth squawked loudly and gripped the iron railings at the edge of the terrace before turning to see who had addressed her.
An older lady of perhaps sixty or seventy years was seated at a little table on the roof of the neighbouring house. She looked inordinately displeased as she pressed, “Well?”
“I…I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Never heard of you. What are you doing up here?”
Recovering from her fright, Elizabeth let go of the railing and turned to address her properly. “Inspecting the house. I have recently inherited it.”
The woman gave no response other than to frown slightly and give Elizabeth an appraising look that took in her entire person.
“Do I have the pleasure of speaking to my new neighbour?” Elizabeth asked.
“Obviously we are neighbours. Whether you are pleased to be speaking to me, only you can be the judge.”
Not particularly,Elizabeth thought, though she kept smiling benignly. “Might I knowyourname?”
The woman grunted once then said, “LadyCordelia Preston. Mother to the Earl of Preston of Brighthelm Manor, but I live here now, because his wife hates me.”
“Indeed?” Elizabeth said, dipping a quick curtsey. “How strange.”
Her ladyship narrowed her eyes, though her mouth moved in a way that could almost have been the beginning of a smile. “You say you have inherited this house. I take it that means its previous owner is no longer with us.”
“That is correct.”
“Well that is no great loss to anyone. Agatha Bennet was a frightful old termagant.”
Her disrespect notwithstanding, the more Lady Preston said, the more she reminded Elizabeth of her aunt. No wonder Agatha had given up coming here, for she had clearly met her match.
“She was my aunt,” she said with a hint of admonishment in her tone.
“I do not see how that exonerates her from being a perennial curmudgeon. To carry my point, she has left you this catastrophe of a house.”
“I am rather coming to like it.”
“You should not. This is a dreadful place to live.”
Elizabeth laughed incredulously. “I cannot agree, with this charming view before me.”
“Make the most of it. You will not be able to see the sea, even from here, when it is howling a gale and lashing with rain, which it is most days.”
“I shall be sure to enjoy the clement weather while it lasts.”
Lady Preston pursed her lips. “You will not be able to do that without a struggle either, for whenever the sun comes out, so do the vexatious redcoats, marchingup and down with their preposterously loud boots. They are like ants. They are everywhere. You would do best to avoid them, if you can.”
Elizabeth began to back away. “Thank you for the advice.”
“I always give sound advice. Here is more—sell the house.”
“Pardon?”
“It is falling down. At its current rate of decline, it will be in the sea by Michaelmas.”
