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Authors: Victoria Holt
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Janet and Amelia. Neither of them exactly doted on me, but I think Janet was fond of me in her way, though she would never admit it. They were both quick and eager to tell me of my faults. But I was happier, I think, yes, a great deal happier than Jessamy.
The fact was that Jessamy was decidedly what kind people call omelyand those uncomfortable people like Janet, who could never tell a lie however much it might save someone feelings being hurt, called downright plain.
ever mind,Janet used to say. er father will buy a nice husband for her. You, Miss Anabel, will have to find your own.
Janet pursed her lips when she said this as though she was certain that my hopes of finding one were very frail. Dear Janet, she was the best soul in the world but she was obsessed by her own unshakable veracity from which she would never diverge.
t a good thing youe not brought up before the Inquisition, Janet,I said to her once. ou still stick out for the silliest little truth in face of the stake.
ow what are you talking about, Miss Anabel?she replied. never knew anyone who took such flights of fancy. And, mark my words, youl come a cropper one of these days.
She had seen that prophecy come true; but that was later.
So there I was in my vicarage home with my absent-minded father, down-to-earth honest Janet and Amelia, who was every bit as virtuous as Janet and even more aware of it.
Some people might wonder how I could enjoy life thoroughly but I did. There was so much to do. There was interest all around me. I helped my father quite a bit. I even wrote a sermon for him once and he was halfway through it before he realized it was not the kind of sermon his parishioners wanted to hear. It was all about what constituted a good person and I had unwittingly illustrated my meaning by describing some of the failings of the people who were sitting in the pews listening. Fortunately Father changed to one he kept in a drawer about God gifts to the land, which was really one for the harvest festival, but as he changed over before my revolutionary words had aroused the congregation from its usual slumber, no one noticed.
I was not allowed to write sermons after that. It was a pity. I should have liked to.
I remember Sundays well. The Seton family were always there in the family pew right in the front under the lectern. They were the big family who lived in the manor and it was to them my father owed his living. They were related to us. Lady Seton was my aunt, for she and my mother had been sisters. Amy Jane had married ellwhen she took Sir Timothy Seton, for he was a rich man owning a great deal of land and, I believe, had many possessions as well. It was a very satisfactory match apart from one thing. They had no son to carry on the illustrious Seton name and their hopes rested on their only daughter, Jessamy. Jessamy was constantly indulged, but oddly enough that did not spoil her. She was a rather timid child and I always got the better of her when we were alone. Of course when we were not and there were adults present, they always saw fair play, which meant putting Jessamy in the ascendant.
When we were young and before Jessamy had a governess, she came to the vicarage for lessons because then my father had a curate who used to teach us.
Let me start at the beginning though. There were two sisters-Amy Jane and Susan Ellen. They were the daughters of a parson and when they grew up the younger of the two, Susan Ellen, fell in love with the curate who came to assist her father. He was poor and not in a position to marry but Susan Ellen had never been one to consider the practical side of life. Acting against the advice of her father, the entire village community and her forceful sister, she eloped with the curate. They were very poor because he had no living and they opened a little school and taught in it for a while. Meanwhile Amy Jane, the wise virgin, had made the acquaintance of the wealthy Sir Timothy Seton. He was a widower with no
The fact was that Jessamy was decidedly what kind people call omelyand those uncomfortable people like Janet, who could never tell a lie however much it might save someone feelings being hurt, called downright plain.
ever mind,Janet used to say. er father will buy a nice husband for her. You, Miss Anabel, will have to find your own.
Janet pursed her lips when she said this as though she was certain that my hopes of finding one were very frail. Dear Janet, she was the best soul in the world but she was obsessed by her own unshakable veracity from which she would never diverge.
t a good thing youe not brought up before the Inquisition, Janet,I said to her once. ou still stick out for the silliest little truth in face of the stake.
ow what are you talking about, Miss Anabel?she replied. never knew anyone who took such flights of fancy. And, mark my words, youl come a cropper one of these days.
She had seen that prophecy come true; but that was later.
So there I was in my vicarage home with my absent-minded father, down-to-earth honest Janet and Amelia, who was every bit as virtuous as Janet and even more aware of it.
Some people might wonder how I could enjoy life thoroughly but I did. There was so much to do. There was interest all around me. I helped my father quite a bit. I even wrote a sermon for him once and he was halfway through it before he realized it was not the kind of sermon his parishioners wanted to hear. It was all about what constituted a good person and I had unwittingly illustrated my meaning by describing some of the failings of the people who were sitting in the pews listening. Fortunately Father changed to one he kept in a drawer about God gifts to the land, which was really one for the harvest festival, but as he changed over before my revolutionary words had aroused the congregation from its usual slumber, no one noticed.
I was not allowed to write sermons after that. It was a pity. I should have liked to.
I remember Sundays well. The Seton family were always there in the family pew right in the front under the lectern. They were the big family who lived in the manor and it was to them my father owed his living. They were related to us. Lady Seton was my aunt, for she and my mother had been sisters. Amy Jane had married ellwhen she took Sir Timothy Seton, for he was a rich man owning a great deal of land and, I believe, had many possessions as well. It was a very satisfactory match apart from one thing. They had no son to carry on the illustrious Seton name and their hopes rested on their only daughter, Jessamy. Jessamy was constantly indulged, but oddly enough that did not spoil her. She was a rather timid child and I always got the better of her when we were alone. Of course when we were not and there were adults present, they always saw fair play, which meant putting Jessamy in the ascendant.
When we were young and before Jessamy had a governess, she came to the vicarage for lessons because then my father had a curate who used to teach us.
Let me start at the beginning though. There were two sisters-Amy Jane and Susan Ellen. They were the daughters of a parson and when they grew up the younger of the two, Susan Ellen, fell in love with the curate who came to assist her father. He was poor and not in a position to marry but Susan Ellen had never been one to consider the practical side of life. Acting against the advice of her father, the entire village community and her forceful sister, she eloped with the curate. They were very poor because he had no living and they opened a little school and taught in it for a while. Meanwhile Amy Jane, the wise virgin, had made the acquaintance of the wealthy Sir Timothy Seton. He was a widower with no
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