A Pemberley of My Own

You know that scene in BBC’s Pride and the Prejudice series where Elizabeth, along with her Aunt and Uncle, are in the carriage and pass a section of trees to reveal Pemberley? I LOVE that scene. I LOVE that house. Actually, the word house doesn’t justify it. Manor. Estate. Castle maybe…  

Since first seeing Pemberley I have dreamt of running away to Europe with my husband, leaving urban life behind to buy an old, run down manor which we would restore to its original grandeur.  Actually, something the size of Lyme Hall would be ridiculously big and impossible to restore without having millions in the bank. But of the same flavour. Maybe French instead, with luxurious gardens and architectural details along every window and door. A long gravel driveway lined with trees would lead up to a solid and heavy front door. Wisteria and ivy, meticulously maintained, would be growing up the walls.

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