Lady Audleys Secret

Lady Audley's Secret

Project Gutenberg's Lady Audley's Secret, by Mary Elizabeth Braddon
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Title: Lady Audley's Secret
Author: Mary Elizabeth Braddon
Release Date: September, 2005 [EBook #8954] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on August 29,
2003]

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Language: English
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LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET
By
Mary Elizabeth Braddon
CHAPTER I.
LUCY.
It lay down in a hollow, rich with fine old timber and luxuriant pastures;
and you came upon it through an avenue of limes, bordered on either
side by meadows, over the high hedges of which the cattle looked
inquisitively at you as you passed, wondering, perhaps, what you
wanted; for there was no thorough-fare, and unless you were going to
the Court you had no business there at all.
At the end of this avenue there was an old arch and a clock tower, with
a stupid, bewildering clock, which had only one hand--and which
jumped straight from one hour to the next--and was therefore always in
extremes. Through this arch you walked straight into the gardens of
Audley Court.
A smooth lawn lay before you, dotted with groups of rhododendrons,
which grew in more perfection here than anywhere else in the county.

To the right there were the kitchen gardens, the fish-pond, and an
orchard bordered by a dry moat, and a broken ruin of a wall, in some
places thicker than it was high, and everywhere overgrown with trailing
ivy, yellow stonecrop, and dark moss. To the left there was a broad
graveled walk, down which, years ago, when the place had been a
convent, the quiet nuns had walked hand in hand; a wall bordered with
espaliers, and shadowed on one side by goodly oaks, which shut out the
flat landscape, and circled in the house and gardens with a darkening
shelter.
The house faced the arch, and occupied three sides of a quadrangle. It
was very old, and very irregular and rambling. The windows were
uneven; some small, some large, some with heavy stone mullions and
rich stained glass; others with frail lattices that rattled in every breeze;
others so modern that they might have been added only yesterday.
Great piles of chimneys rose up here and there behind the pointed
gables, and seemed as if they were so broken down by age and long
service that they must have fallen but for the straggling ivy which,
crawling up the walls and trailing even over the roof, wound itself
about them and supported them. The principal door was squeezed into a
corner of a turret at one angle of the building, as if it were in hiding
from dangerous visitors, and wished to keep itself a secret--a noble
door for all that--old oak, and studded with great square-headed iron
nails, and so thick that the sharp iron knocker struck upon it with a
muffled sound, and the visitor rung a clanging bell that dangled in a
corner among the ivy, lest the noise of the knocking should never
penetrate the stronghold.
A glorious old place. A place that visitors fell in raptures with; feeling a
yearning wish to have done with life, and to stay there forever, staring
into the cool fish-ponds and counting the bubbles as the roach and carp
rose to the surface of the water. A spot in which peace seemed to have
taken up her abode, setting her soothing hand on every tree and flower,
on the still ponds and quiet alleys, the shady corners of the
old-fashioned rooms, the deep window-seats behind the painted glass,
the low meadows and the stately avenues--ay, even upon the stagnant
well, which, cool and sheltered as all else in the old place, hid itself

away in a shrubbery behind the gardens, with an idle handle that was
never turned and