Read Online The Missing Manuscript of Jane Austen by Syrie James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Syrie James
Ads: Link
lively, intelligent, handsome, and accomplished young woman, Rebecca awakened every morning to glimpse the same prospect from her casement window—a lovely view of the grassy slope behind the rectory down which she used to roll as a child—a sight which never failed to make her smile.
Rebecca loved every thing about Elm Grove Rectory. It was not a perfect house; the walls had no cornices, the ceilings were plain plaster without a single ornately carved cherub, and the doorways were so low that many gentlemen had to stoop to move from one chamber to another. But with its balanced, two-storeyed Georgian front, it maintained a dignified, orderly appearance, and it had enoughbedrooms, parlours, pantries, offices, and attic chambers—resulting from the many improvements which her father had made over the years—to comfortably accommodate a household of eight, with ample space for guests. It included a glebe of sufficient size for one cow to graze, a neat, enclosed garden for the growing of fruits and vegetables, and surrounding woods which were very picturesque.
Rebecca loved the village of Elm Grove, too, and was content in the belief that she would spend all the days of her life within the confines of its borders, continuing in blissful ignorance of its many deficiencies. The village was very small, and at first glance, had little to recommend it. Its population numbered a mere twenty-seven families, and it was comprised of but a few outlying farms and a single row of cottages scattered for half a mile along a rutted lane. Only two houses were superior to those of the yeomen and labourers,—the manor-house and its park at one end, and the rectory (adjacent to the church) at the other. There was no inn, and not a single shop. Its residents were obliged to go to Atherton, three miles away, to find an apothecary or to buy cloth, ink, drawing paper, or a pair of gloves; and as the Stanhopes had no carriage, the women of the household had to make the most of infrequent visits from travelling salesmen to buy lace and stockings. The Stanhopes’ only true companionship in the parish were the Mountagues, who were first in consequence, wealthy, and much respected. None of these aspects, however, were seen as evils by Rebecca. To her, Elm Grove, with its many comforts, familiar walks, and friendly neighbours, was and always had been all perfection; an idyllic place which could not be superseded by any other—and her father shared her opinion.
Rebecca was the second daughter of the ReverendMr. William Stanhope, an amiable, scholarly, highly principled man with a bright and hopeful disposition. The only child of a country surgeon, whose money upon his death (through carelessness in not altering his will) had all gone to his second wife, the young Mr. Stanhope had not allowed his destitute position to dampen his spirits. As a young man, he travelled, worked where and when he could, and lived much in the world. At age two-and-twenty, through the grace of a Fellowship, he entered Oxford; and three years later, by joining energy of character to superior abilities, he earned a divinity degree.
Mr. Stanhope might have stayed a Fellow of St. John’s for ever, if not for his desire to marry; and though it took more than eight years to come about, through the patronage of an old school friend, Sir Percival Mountague, he was offered an incumbency at Elm Grove. He then sought the hand of the woman he loved, and married her. Margaret Parker was as beautiful and clever as she was kind; a gentle, well-informed woman of pleasing address and considerable conversational powers, who shared his values and interests, and returned his affections. She bore him two children; first Sarah, and three years later, Rebecca.
Mr. Stanhope was a model parish priest, entirely devoted to his community, and an excellent husband and father. Only two faults stood in the way of his being considered a truly flawless individual: he possessed a tendency towards being
Rebecca loved every thing about Elm Grove Rectory. It was not a perfect house; the walls had no cornices, the ceilings were plain plaster without a single ornately carved cherub, and the doorways were so low that many gentlemen had to stoop to move from one chamber to another. But with its balanced, two-storeyed Georgian front, it maintained a dignified, orderly appearance, and it had enoughbedrooms, parlours, pantries, offices, and attic chambers—resulting from the many improvements which her father had made over the years—to comfortably accommodate a household of eight, with ample space for guests. It included a glebe of sufficient size for one cow to graze, a neat, enclosed garden for the growing of fruits and vegetables, and surrounding woods which were very picturesque.
Rebecca loved the village of Elm Grove, too, and was content in the belief that she would spend all the days of her life within the confines of its borders, continuing in blissful ignorance of its many deficiencies. The village was very small, and at first glance, had little to recommend it. Its population numbered a mere twenty-seven families, and it was comprised of but a few outlying farms and a single row of cottages scattered for half a mile along a rutted lane. Only two houses were superior to those of the yeomen and labourers,—the manor-house and its park at one end, and the rectory (adjacent to the church) at the other. There was no inn, and not a single shop. Its residents were obliged to go to Atherton, three miles away, to find an apothecary or to buy cloth, ink, drawing paper, or a pair of gloves; and as the Stanhopes had no carriage, the women of the household had to make the most of infrequent visits from travelling salesmen to buy lace and stockings. The Stanhopes’ only true companionship in the parish were the Mountagues, who were first in consequence, wealthy, and much respected. None of these aspects, however, were seen as evils by Rebecca. To her, Elm Grove, with its many comforts, familiar walks, and friendly neighbours, was and always had been all perfection; an idyllic place which could not be superseded by any other—and her father shared her opinion.
Rebecca was the second daughter of the ReverendMr. William Stanhope, an amiable, scholarly, highly principled man with a bright and hopeful disposition. The only child of a country surgeon, whose money upon his death (through carelessness in not altering his will) had all gone to his second wife, the young Mr. Stanhope had not allowed his destitute position to dampen his spirits. As a young man, he travelled, worked where and when he could, and lived much in the world. At age two-and-twenty, through the grace of a Fellowship, he entered Oxford; and three years later, by joining energy of character to superior abilities, he earned a divinity degree.
Mr. Stanhope might have stayed a Fellow of St. John’s for ever, if not for his desire to marry; and though it took more than eight years to come about, through the patronage of an old school friend, Sir Percival Mountague, he was offered an incumbency at Elm Grove. He then sought the hand of the woman he loved, and married her. Margaret Parker was as beautiful and clever as she was kind; a gentle, well-informed woman of pleasing address and considerable conversational powers, who shared his values and interests, and returned his affections. She bore him two children; first Sarah, and three years later, Rebecca.
Mr. Stanhope was a model parish priest, entirely devoted to his community, and an excellent husband and father. Only two faults stood in the way of his being considered a truly flawless individual: he possessed a tendency towards being
Similar Books
