Believe it or not, it was actually cheaper in this time period to build a new house than fix an old one! I suppose in many areas that is still true, as starter homes are cheaper and smaller than established homes, sometimes. But large mansions and estates? It’s usually better to renovate than build new. It was fascinating looking up old building records and learning all about it. – Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 5 - The Heart of Marriage, Book 6 of the Moralities of Marriage, a Pride & Prejudice Variation
Buxton Manor, an early Baroque-styled English country house, stood in need of great repair. The manor remained recognizable as a house, thanks to a heroic effort by the head groundskeeper, who cut back the ivy from its assault on the bricks and mortar. Newly inherited by John Blackvale, styled as Lord Buxton, few were surprised when the large estate was promptly put up for sale. The previous Lord Buxton had allowed the home to fall victim to broken windows and crumbling chimneys. Neither he nor his son supported festivals and businesses in the village as their predecessors had, resulting in the townspeople turning to a new source of financial stability: a spa town.
The waters of St. Anne’s spring bubbled up faithfully from a deep geothermal spring as warm as bath water. A bustling inn, numerous shops, and a thriving community greeted the Bingley carriage as it traveled through town.
“We won’t ever have to holiday in Bath, my dear. It will be right outside our front doorstep!” Mr. Bingley said, happily marveling at all of the fresh vistas out the window. He reached down to grasp his wife Jane’s hand, as she yawned.
“The distance does not appear to be too great from Pemberley, either. It’s scarcely noon,” she pointed out, reinforcing the most paramount aspect of their search. She wanted to live close to the Darcys, though just about any home they chose would be a ten-fold increase in proximity than Netherfield Park in Hertfordshire had been.
Word must have spread about the visit of the interested parties to the old estate as villagers and their children lined the road leading out of town and to Buxton Manor. The Bingleys graciously waved to those who might become their neighbors, or perhaps even dependent on the Bingleys for their livelihoods. The genial nature of the grand couple pleased those straining for a glimpse of who might become the next great lord of Buxton.
Lord Buxton and his land agent met the Bingleys are the front gate on horseback, intercepting the carriage before it could drive too far. The gentleman that appeared to outage Mr. Bingley by two decades or more, tilted his hat in the direction of the carriage and explained the predicament.
“I’m afraid the bridge is washed out on the main drive, but follow me and my man and we will take you around the gamekeeper’s trail, through the park. It’s a lovely way to see the outer perimeter of the lands,” Lord Buxton explained and the change in plans delighted Mr. Bingley.
“Capital, capital!” he exclaimed, then closed the window so the carriage driver could follow the two men on horseback. “Is this not wonderful Jane? We can see more of the property than we planned.”
Jane’s anxiety rose in her chest. The very idea of a washed-out bridge made her nervous. She wanted to point out to her husband that such a circumstance ought to be more worrying than comforting. Unfortunately, Mr. Bingley was too happy to point out all of the features he could spy from the window, including a large gaming lodge and several tenant farms that they passed.
After driving nearly three extra miles to make use of a crossing most often used by farm wagons, not grand carriages, they finally arrived at the front of the house. Squinting up at the tall facade of the home, the manor remained recognizable as a house, thanks to a heroic effort by the head groundskeeper, who cut back the ivy from its assault on the bricks and mortar.
The Bingleys stepped up into what might once have been a great hall, flanked by enormous pillars and adorned with stunning tapestries. A large hearth burned with a roaring fire, and Lord Buxton was already there to welcome them more formally.
“I am glad you have chosen our home, Mr. Bingley,” Lord Buxton said warmly, as he clasped Mr. Bingley’s hand in greeting. “May I introduce my land agent, Mr. Sainsbury? I’m sure he will be able to answer any questions you might have.”
Mr. Bingley nodded and greeted the men, before turning to Jane and introducing her formally. Jane curtsied graciously, as was her habit. Mr. Sainsbury coughed awkwardly and shot a glare at Lord Buxton, but did not say anything about the odd practice of bringing one’s wife along to choose a house.
“I wonder if you might have a room where I might freshen up?” Mrs. Bingley asked, politely, nodding to her maid that had stood at the far corner of the entryway, awaiting her orders.
The two men anxious to sell Buxton exchanged uncomfortable expressions. Lord Buxton took the lead, showing Mrs. Bingley down the hall, with her maid in tow, towards the grand dining hall. He quickly recalled that a small chamber had been fashioned by his mother, to provide ladies a small modicum of privacy during grand balls conducted on the first floor.
“Certainly, Mrs. Bingley, how thoughtless of me. When I received the letter from your husband, I had expected Mr. Darcy to come with him to inspect the house. I do beg your apologies that we were not anticipating a guest of the fairer sex,” Lord Buxton pleaded, to his dismay, the room he had to offer had not been cleaned in many years.
Ever careful to never insult another, Jane thanked him for his kindness.
Returning to the hall, Lord Buxton arrived in time to hear the tail end of Mr. Bingley speaking about his family.
The land agent responded, starting to recap what his lordship had missed. “Twins, Mr. Bingley? How extraordinary! And your wife’s three sisters and parents are also moving to the area?”
Mr. Bingley corrected the land agent. “There are living here now, sir, and your Lordship, at Pemberley.”
Lord Buxton nodded to his land agent, holding his walking stick in front of him and resting two hands upon it. The land agent began to detail all of the rooms of Buxton Hall and led Mr. Bingley on a tour.
Almost immediately, Mr. Bingley stopped and inquired about his wife.
His Lordship responded.
“If it pleases you, Mr. Bingley, I would like to offer to escort your lovely wife to the gardens, with her maid, of course. My land agent here will be able to answer all of your questions, I’m certain, but I have a feeling that Mrs. Bingley will have more questions about the history of my family and the surrounding neighborhood. Besides, I’m afraid the house is damn drafty and dusty. We were not expecting a lady,” his lordship explained.
Mr. Bingley looked around him at the parts of the home he could see and found his lordship was speaking truthfully. “I believe my wife will enjoy that, very much, sir. She is keen to return home to Pemberley before nightfall.”
“Oh, you will not be staying at the Crescent or Old Hall Hotel?” Lord Buxton inquired.
Mr. Bingley shook his head. “Perhaps, if our children were older. Mrs. Bingley was quite adamant that we return this evening.”
The land agent cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Bingley, but let me send a note for you to have a room ready at the Crescent. The road between here and Pemberley is not safe at night, sir.”
Mr. Bingley’s eyes widened to hear such intelligence, and his lordship quickly smoothed things over. “Nothing out of the ordinary, a bunch of ragamuffin bandits. But unfortunately, my man speaks true, that due to the high volume of tourists coming for the waters, a fancy carriage leaving alone at night would attract notice as an easy mark,” Lord Buxton explained.
Mrs. Bingley appeared in the hall just then, and her husband imparted that they had been advised to spend the night in town, at the Crescent. Disappointed by the change in plans, Jane Bingley remained quiet and only her mouth twitched slightly to signal her high annoyance that she would not return to her children that evening. Agreeing to the suggestion shared by Mr. Sainsbury, Mr. Bingley also alerted his wife about the suggestion of splitting up.
“The rooms are quite dusty and unkept, I’m afraid. Lord Buxton has offered to escort you in the gardens with your maid so you can ask him about the house’s past,” Mr. Bingley said, his eyes wandering up the grand staircases that he was anxious to explore with the land agent, Mr. Sainsbury.
“Oh, that would be lovely,” Mrs. Bingley responded, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of learning more about Buxton from its current owner.
NEW RELEASE
For the Love of a Bennet
What if Elizabeth Bennet traveled with Lydia to Brighton?
A reimagining of Jane Austen’s most beloved tale, Pride & Prejudice, join author Elizabeth Ann West as she writes the romantic adventure story she always wanted! When Lizzy and Lydia arrive in Brighton, it’s very clear that the younger Bennet sister came with very serious plans towards Mr. Wickham. Thankfully, an old ally is also in town, with problems of his own to solve. After Mr. Darcy, himself, is summoned to Brighton to hopefully solve two dilemmas with one wealthy member of the gentry, the whole militia is thrown into an uproar by Wickham’s most dastardly deed, yet. Together, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy have to save Lydia from her own undoing, or it will mean more than just mere reputations are ruined.
For the Love of a Bennet is a novel length story, currently being posted chapter by chapter on Elizabeth’s author site. This story was originally conceptualized in 2019 as a part of the All Go to Brighton challenge.
Chapter 5 - The Heart of Marriage, Book 6 of the Moralities of Marriage, a Pride & Prejudice Variation
As they made their way down the hall, Mrs. Bingley couldn’t help but notice the many portraits of people long ago that adorned the walls. “Your family has been here a long time, Lord Buxton,” she remarked.
“Oh, yes, my family has been in Derbyshire since the 12th century,” he replied proudly. “My ancestors were knights who fought in the Crusades and later Norman lords who took this land from the Saxons. Where does your family hail from, Mrs. Bingley?”
Jane smiled as his lordship opened a set of doors that led to a gravel path to the overgrown gardens of Buxton Hall. Her senses were assaulted with the musk of earth, an aroma of decaying grass, and a hint of flowers that had ceased to bloom. The autumn air was thick with sounds of rustling leaves and dirt, and moisture from the morning’s rain.
“My family lived in Hertfordshire for over ten generations, at Longbourn. I’m afraid it was lost to fire a few months ago,” she said.
“Terrible tragedy. I hope no one was hurt.”
Jane grimaced. “We lost a few people who were very loyal to my family, and my father was gravely injured.”
“I lost my mother when I was young, but she loved to oversee the gardens, though I’m afraid she would be heartbroken to see them like this,” he said, offering his hand as they both stepped over a large branch that blocked the main path.
Jane listened as Lord Buxton told her stories about his grandparents and great-grandparents, who had all lived in the house at one time or another. As they walked, Lord Buxton’s demeanor changed from one of sadness to one of joy as he spoke of happier times in his family’s history.
“If I were a younger man, Mrs. Bingley, I would have the adventurous spirit of your husband,” he said, and Jane blushed. “No, no, I can see it in his eyes, the moment he stepped onto the property. With you by his side, he will have the vision and passion for restoring Buxton Manor to its former glory!” He pointed out an area around the side of the home where he had once wished to make additions to the estate, such as the new greenhouses to help with the production of fruits and vegetables.
“I beg your pardon, Lord Buxton, and forgive the impertinence. But I must ask if you love this home so much, why do you not restore it as you remember it from your childhood, with your improvements?” Jane Bingley asked as they turned around to head back to the main house.
Lord Buxton sighed and shook his head. “I’m afraid the Buxton Manor legacy ends with me, my dear. My wife and I live happily in London, and the house is too far for us to enjoy traveling back and forth. I married late in life and my wife’s children and grandchildren all live within ten miles of Town. But you and Mr. Bingley, with your twins, and other children you are blessed with, can fill this house with love and laughter once more. If you enjoy entertaining, you will never have an end to it with the draw of the spa waters in the village.”
Jane nodded and thanked Lord Buxton for his candor and for sharing the estate with her. When he asked if she had any additional questions, she replied that she did not.
“But I take your words most sincerely, your Lordship, about renewing life here at Buxton Manor. And thank you for suggesting we stay in the village tonight, I believe it will be fortuitous for us to see more of the surrounding area,” she said, diplomatically.
By the time they reached the house, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Sainsbury awaited them back in the grand hall. The day was already getting darker, and everyone agreed it was time for the Bingleys to take their leave. Mr. Bingley thanked Lord Buxton for his hospitality and said that he would be in touch soon about purchasing the house.
Once a messenger was sent to Pemberley by horseback to relay the Bingleys’ plans, Jane and Charles found themselves enjoying one of the best rooms that the Crescent had to offer, overlooking the plaza below with a clear view of the small monument surrounding the spring.
“What say you, Janie? Are we to be the Bingleys of Buxton? Hmm, I wonder if I might be made a baron or higher?” Mr. Bingley mused, teasing his wife.
Jane smiled, as she chose her words carefully, and ultimately decided to ask her husband his thoughts about how many repairs needed to be made.
“I think we should at least speak with an architect about what needs to be done. He can tally a sense of the cost involved,” Jane replied. “But I must say, I am very intrigued by the idea of living in Buxton Manor. It is so different from anything we have experienced before.”
Mr. Bingley lifted his wife’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the top of it. “What a lucky man am I to have married a woman of such good sense. When we return to Pemberley, I’ll ask Darcy straight away if he has an architect to recommend.”
The two spent the rest of their evening making plans for Buxton Manor and by the time they went to bed, they were both certain that this was the right decision for them. Jane felt excited to tell her sister, Elizabeth, all about the property and small village, imagining the Darcys coming to Buxton to holiday and take the waters. She resolved to tell her husband that they ought to gather some of the water before leaving in the morning and take it back to share with their families.
As sleep finally overcame her, Jane Bingley took comfort that at long last her greatest hope was coming true: the Bingleys would stand independent of others.
You’ve been reading The Heart of Marriage.
Coming soon to stores.
Book 6 of the Moralities of Marriage Series.
The final book of the Moralities of Marriage Series sees Mr. and Mrs. Darcy fighting off scandal and family strife once and for all. Mr. Darcy is summoned to London to provide answers for Mr. Wickham’s crimes. Too many of High Society were hoodwinked by the mining scheme, and outside forces would relish plundering the Darcy coffers to compensate for their losses.
At Pemberley, Elizabeth is set on establishing herself as Mistress of the House, no matter what her mother believes. As the house goes into mourning for Mr. Darcy’s aunt, her sisters are despondent that the yuletide ball is cancelled. Especially when none of them knew the woman! The Bingleys try to distract the younger sisters by enlisting their aid in finding a home of their own.
The old scores of his parents’ generation keep Darcy in London longer than he planned. Not even his cousin is immune to the costs of past treacheries. Despite the machinations of Marlborough and Derby, Fitzwilliam is desperate to get home and see the birth of his first child.
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A Jane-of-all-trades, mistress to none! Elizabeth Ann West is the author of 8 novels and 11 novellas, 18 of which are story variations of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.