Cassandra's Sister Read Free Page B

she and Cassandra had both their parents living, and all their brothers too, despite the hazards of the masculine world. Five of these six brothers, including fourteen-year-old Charles, who was at naval college and would take great exception to being overlooked from the list, enjoyed a rudeness of health and brightness of prospect remarked on by many Hampshire friends. James, the eldest, was a clergyman like Papa, and lived close by with his wife and baby girl, while Edward, who was next to Henry in age, had also married and begun his family. Frank, whose place between his sisters made him especially approved of by both, was doing well as a naval lieutenant.
    The remaining brother, George, who had a condition similar to that from which Hastings suffered, and had to be cared for away from home, was no less cherished by Mama and Papa than his more robust brothers. For all this Jenny daily thanked God. But a large part of her gratitude was reserved for what she considered an equally great blessing: Steventon itself.
    The day after Eliza’s arrival she rose early and, leaving Cassandra sleeping, went out into the June morning. She breathed the calm air, surveying the view. However often she saw it, she would not be deflected from the opinion that the landscape of southern England was unequalled in its beauty. Nothing she had seen in art or life could compete with the spring-renewed glory spread before her. Born to it as she was, it never failed to awaken in her a reverence deep enough to be a passion.
    The house was only a country rectory, surrounded by a garden which was only a vegetable plot, a few flower-beds, a pigsty and a run for Mama’s chickens. Papa’s school had room for only a few boys, though, as Mama frequently reminded him, they made up in high spirits what they lacked in numbers. Steventon was only a village like many another, containing the usual mixture of inhabitants, some delightful, some not. But the contentment that this small world gave Jenny was so profound, she could not imagine how she would bear its loss when – if – a young gentleman should ever come to take her away to
his
world.
    She wandered up and down the lines of raspberry and gooseberry bushes, holding her skirt away from the ripening fruit. Kitty, in her milking apron, a bucket in each hand, emerged from the dairy and crossed the yard. The sour smell of manure mixed with the sweeter one of the bakehouse. From the kitchen came the sound of Mrs Travers alternately scolding Kitty and singing while she prepared breakfast. Jenny picked a handful of raspberries and leaned against the sun-warmed garden wall. She crushed a berry against the roof of her mouth, aware that each of her senses felt more than usually alert. The world had never seemed more beautiful, and, mindful of yesterday’s heart-stabbing news, she had never been more relieved to be in it.
    I am simply the luckiest girl alive
, she told herself.
    â€œI would so love to see the Lloyds again” were the words with which Eliza addressed her aunt after breakfast. “Dear Martha and Mary! And Mrs Lloyd, of course.”
    Scarcely a day went by when Jenny and Cass did not walk to nearby Deane Parsonage. Their particular friend was the elder Lloyd sister, Martha, whose simplicity of nature and keen intelligence had recommended her to them from the day the Lloyds had entered the neighbourhood.
    â€œI am sure a visit can be arranged,” said Mama, contemplating the cluttered remains on the table. She could not rise until Hastings had finished, and Eliza was still patiently feeding him porridge.
    â€œLet us go today!” suggested Jenny.
    â€œBut they do not expect us,” objected Cass calmly. “One cannot go calling on people without notice.”
    â€œOh, the Lloyds never mind about that.”
    â€œJenny!” cautioned Mama. “You forget, this will not be the usual sort of visit. We are in mourning, and must adhere to the formalities,