The Secret of Ashton Manor House

About the Book

It was a wild, cold night. The wind caught up the dry dead leaves and whirled them round the walls of the house, and along the deserted garden walks. Within the pleasant, comfortable, old-fashioned Manor House the lights had been extinguished by the sleepy servants an hour ago, all save the tall wax candles on the dining room table. Standing near that blazing fire was a woman, small, thin, and wrinkled-faced. Her sharp, loud voice was giving utterance to vindictive, scornful words, as her wrathful glance fell upon a young girl sitting with bowed head on the other side of the hearth.

As the torrent of angry words flowed faster and faster, so the girl's head drooped lower and lower, until the hard eyes watching her could no longer witness the effect produced by those harsh, cruel speeches.

Thus begins the story of Marjorie Mowbray, Miss Maria Macnab, and Mr. Absalom Marsh, soap and candle-maker to the Queen, editor of a paper called Cleanliness, and the greatest and most religious man in the town of Market Hawley.

The Secret of

Ashton Manor House

by

Eliza Kerr

White Tree Publishing

Abridged Edition

Original book first published c1884

This abridged edition ©Chris Wright 2018

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-11-7

Published by

White Tree Publishing

Bristol

UNITED KINGDOM

wtpbristol@gmail.com

Full list of books and updates on

www.whitetreepublishing.com

The Secret of Ashton Manor House is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this abridged edition.

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Book

Introduction

Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

About White Tree Publishing

More Books from White Tree Publishing

Christian non-fiction

Christian Fiction

Younger Readers

Introduction

There were many prolific Christian writers in the last part of the nineteenth century and the early twentieth. The majority of these books were fairly heavy-handed moral tales and warnings to young people, rather than romances. Two writers spring to mind who wrote romantic fiction for adults -- Mrs. O. F. Walton and Margaret S. Haycraft, whose works are still popular today. Our White Tree Publishing editions from these authors have been sensitively abridged and edited to make them much more acceptable to today's general readers, rather than publishing them unedited for students of Victorian prose. The characters and storyline are always left intact.

Eliza Kerr is less well known than Mrs. Walton and Margaret Haycraft, but she wrote similar books, but with perhaps less emphasis on romance, but in a similar style to the books of Walton and Haycraft, and we welcome Eliza Kerr to our catalogue. We will be publishing more books from this author in 2018. The titles and release dates will be announced on our website.

Victorian and early twentieth century books by Christian and secular writers can be over-sentimental, referring throughout, for example, to a mother as the dear, sweet mother, and a child as the darling little child. In our abridged editions overindulgent descriptions of people have been shortened to make a more robust story, but the characters and storylines are always unchanged.

A problem of Victorian writers is the tendency to insert intrusive comments concerning what is going to happen later in the story. Today we call them spoilers. They are usually along the lines of: Little did he/she know that.... I have removed these when appropriate.

£200 in the late 1800s may not sound much, but in income value it is worth about £24,000 pounds today (about US $30,000). I mention this in case the mention of money in this book sounds insignificant!

Chris Wright

Editor

NOTE

There are 15 chapters in this book. In the second half are advertisements for our other books, so the story may end earlier than expected! The last chapter is marked as such. We aim to make our eBooks free or for a nominal cost, and cannot invest in other forms of advertising. However, word of mouth by satisfied readers will also help get our books more widely known. When the story ends, please take a look at what we publish: Christian non-fiction, Christian fiction, and books for younger readers, and go to our website www.whitetreepublishing.com.

Chapter 1

One Night

The Past

It was a wild, cold night. The wind caught up the dry dead leaves and whirled them round the walls of the house, and along the deserted garden walks. Within the pleasant, comfortable, old-fashioned Manor House the lights had been extinguished by the sleepy servants an hour ago, all save the tall wax candles on the dining room table. Standing near that blazing fire was a woman, small, thin, and wrinkled-faced. Her sharp, loud voice was giving utterance to vindictive, scornful words, as her wrathful glance fell upon a young girl sitting with bowed head on the other side of the hearth.

As the torrent of angry words flowed faster and faster, so the girl's head drooped lower and lower, until the hard eyes watching her could no longer witness the effect produced by those harsh, cruel speeches.

By-and-by the girl rose up and left the room, never looking back once, nor halting when she was bidden to return. She ascended the wide, thickly carpeted steps that led to the sleeping rooms above, and entered one of them, where a child three years old slumbered peacefully in a small white cot. She stooped down and kissed the little one softly, hesitated a moment, then raised her up and dressed her in warm garments. Then she gathered up various articles of clothing and crushed them into a bag.

Finally, she wrapped herself in a long fur cloak and taking the child on one arm and the bag on the other, slowly descended the stairs. She met no one on the way, for the servants were all sleeping soundly, according to the manner of those who engage in physical labour, and the woman whose sharp, loud voice had filled the dining room an hour previously, heard no footstep through the silent house: had no presentiment of coming ill as she sat by the dying fire.

The rain was beginning to fall now, slowly and steadily. The woman in the dining room of the Manor House drew back the curtains for one moment, and looked out on the dreary dark night, and shivered as she looked; while the tall fir trees swayed their branches like arms waving valedictory salutations.

Three miles away upon the dark road, the slight figure with the child sat down by the wayside to rest. She was not weeping, neither was she weary; but over her aspect there was a something desolate which might have spoken to the heart of a passer-by, had human eyes been there to see her young forlornness. But no sound of step broke the stillness of the night. The road unrolled itself dimly before her view, empty of all things except the narrow shadow of the hedge, which stretched out gloomily -- a long strip of darkness through which her way ran.

Chapter 2

Miss Macnab

The Present

IN the main street of Market Hawley, in a little two-storied house, dwelt Miss Macnab, a moderately well-to-do spinster past middle age. She called herself an old maid, and she had a beautiful black Persian cat and a large black Newfoundland dog as companions. She was such a cheerful, active, good-hearted little woman, that many of the townsfolk loved her well, although she could scold vigorously and say severe, cutting things whenever she detected meanness, or dishonesty, or backbiting among her neighbours.

She had built the house in which she dwelt. It was two stories lower than any other in the street, and was as unlike those pretentious mansions as the saucy little daisy is unlike the proud, conceited hollyhock. The great man of the town, Absalom Marsh, soap and candle-maker to the Queen, declared it spoiled the symmetry of the main street, for all the houses were four stories high except this one, and as he lived in the main street he wished Miss Macnab to improve her abode by adding the necessary two stories. She declined to do so, giving as a reason for her refusal that she saw no particular beauty in a row of houses like peas in a pod. So the pretty, assertive, snug little house remained two stories high only, and it was said in Market Hawley that house and mistress were much alike in many respects.

On a certain cold November evening, Miss Macnab sat in her comfortable parlour awaiting a visitor. On the table a bounteous meal was spread, and in the grate a bright fire was burning, which was duly appreciated by Lion, the Newfoundland dog, and by Tiger, the dignified Persian cat. Presently the parlour door was opened and the maid announced Miss Mowbray, the expected visitor. Miss Macnab jumped up with alacrity and held out her hand with a welcoming smile to the tall young woman who entered.

I am very glad to see you, Miss Marjorie, my dear, she said, in her rapid, energetic fashion. I have been waiting for you, and so have Lion and Tiger. She introduced her pets with a wave of her hand.

I am sorry I have delayed your tea, answered the newcomer, in a low, soft voice, as she smilingly glanced at Lion who had risen to his feet to inspect her more carefully.

Oh well, you haven't injured us very seriously. That will do, Lion. You need not be too curious, for this young lady and I are going to be friends, so you will have many opportunities of seeing her.

Lion walked back to his seat by the fire, and his mistress drew Marjorie Mowbray to the table.

I am glad you intend to be my friend, Miss Macnab. I did not expect to meet with such a luxury in Market Hawley.

And why not, my dear? You are not of a melancholy disposition, I trust. Ah, I see you are tired. Mrs. Newton's noisy youngsters were too much for you this afternoon.

Perhaps I am somewhat tired, but I ought to be accustomed to teaching now. I have done it for so many years. I don't think I am naturally inclined to melancholy, she added with a smile, but I believe a true friend to be a luxury.

"Well, a true friend is a nice thing to have, and it is not always to be got. So in that sense it is a luxury. Not that I am a nice thing to have by any means. I am sharp and prickly, and very strong in my dislikes. And I am also ... an old maid. There, are you disgusted and repelled? You see the cat and the dog, the typical old maid's companions, and you see me, the aforesaid old maid. Are you inclined to have us all three for your friends? I liked you when I saw you in Chapel on Sunday, and I knew you had no acquaintances in the town; for Mrs. Newton told me you had come here in answer to her and Mrs. West's advertisement for a visiting governess."

I shall be heartily glad to have you for my friends, was the earnest, sincere reply.

Marjorie Mowbray was fair to look upon in a serene, graceful way, and her dark hair and dark eyes were beautiful; but notwithstanding the bright smile that came and went, her face was sometimes a very sad one. Miss Macnab looked at her keenly once or twice, and then she asked abruptly, Are you all alone in the world, my dear?

I have one sister, Nettie, much younger than myself. We two are alone in the world. Nettie is studying in London to be a painter. She has great talent, and her masters tell her that she will one day be famous; but in the meantime she must work hard. She is only seventeen. I have been mother and father to her since her babyhood, so the more money I can earn, the happier we both are.

Then she does not teach?

"Oh no, she requires all her time for her work. She lodges in South Kensington, London, and attends classes there. When I saw the advertisement in The Standard for a visiting governess for two families in this country town, I determined I would try and obtain it. The salary offered was so much more than I was receiving in London, and I thought I could live more cheaply in a country town. That is why I left London, and why I am alone. Of course Nettie will come and see me during her vacations."

I understand, said Miss Macnab, nodding her head quickly, "but I can't quite understand why Miss Nettie should not earn something also. She is not