The Manse

By Meredith E Resce

Kate has a secret she doesn’t want anyone to know, especially the new minister – the man who has taken her father’s position.

John Laslett has just arrived in Green Valley as the new parish minister. He has been employed by the patron lady, Vera Wallace, and she has seen to his every need. But there is something strange

• Language: English
• Publisher: Golden Grain Publishing
• Release date: May 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9780977592791

Meredith E Resce

South Australian Author, Meredith Resce, has been writing since 1991, and has had books in the Australian market since 1997. Following the Australian success of her "Heart of Green Valley" series, they were released in the UK and USA. She recently released her 17th project, 'Echoes in the Valley'. Apart from writing, Meredith also takes the opportunity to speak to groups on issues relevant to relationships and emotional and spiritual growth. Meredith has also been co-writer and co-producer in the 2007 feature film production, "Twin Rivers". With her husband, Nick, Meredith has worked in Christian ministry since 1983. Meredith and Nick have three adult children, one daughter and two sons. www.meredithresce.com

Book preview

Cover.jpg

The Manse – Fourth Edition

Copyright © 2016 Meredith Resce

First edition published 1997

Second edition published 1998

Third edition published 2003

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without written permission of the author or publisher except in the case of brief quotations within critical articles and reviews.

PO Box 880 Unley SA 5061

The National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication Information:

Creator: Resce, Meredith, 1963- author.

Title: The manse / Meredith Resce.

Edition: 4th edition.

ISBN: 9780994578617 (paperback)

ISBN: 9780977592791 (ebook)

Series: Resce, Meredith, 1963- Heart of Green Valley ; 1

Subjects: Historical fiction.

Romance fiction.

Australia--Fiction.

Dewey Number: A823.3

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This edition of The Manse is a complete re-write of the original, first published in 1997. It has also been rewritten to celebrate twenty years since the beginning of the Heart of Green Valley series. The Manse first appeared in serialised form in the SACWA magazine in 1995. In the years between 1998 and 2002 Meredith Resce wrote 5 titles in the Heart of Green Valley series. In 2015, she wrote and released a sixth title, Echoes in the Valley.

The Heart of Green Valley series includes:

The Manse

Green Valley

Through the Valley of Shadows

Wallace Hill

Beyond the Valley

Echoes in the Valley

Please keep in touch through facebook to see when each of these titles will be released to eBook. Thank you for your continuing support.

About the Author

South Australian Author, Meredith Resce, has been writing since 1991, and has had books in the Australian market since 1997.

Following the Australian success of her Heart of Green Valley series, they were released in the UK and USA.

She recently released her 17th project, Echoes in the Valley.

Apart from writing, Meredith also takes opportunity to speak to groups on issues relevant to relationships and emotional and spiritual growth.

Meredith has also been co-writer and co-producer in the 2007 feature film production, Twin Rivers.

With her husband, Nick, Meredith has worked in Christian ministry since 1983.

Meredith and Nick have three adult children, one daughter and two sons.

Please read more about Meredith Resce on her website, or connect on her facebook page

Meredith Resce – Author

www.meredithresce.com

Table of Contents

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

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 1

Melbourne, Australia 1880

The moment John Laslett walked into the drawing room his anxiety increased. He saw the lavish afternoon tea set out and the important guests his mother had invited, already engaging in polite conversation together. Instead of anticipating the enjoyment of either the food or the company, John’s appetite fled and he wished that he could flee as well.

‘Ah! Here he is—the new minister himself.’

John cringed as his mother drew attention to his entrance.

‘John, darling, you’ll want to meet our guest of honour.’ She tucked her arm beneath his and drew him across the room towards a tall, heavy-set man, dressed in clergyman’s attire. The grey hair indicated his mother’s guest was older and his stern countenance gave John the impression he was being judged.

‘Reverend Thatcher, this is my newly ordained son, John Edward Laslett.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Reverend.’ John shook the man’s hand without conviction.

‘Well, John Edward Laslett—’

‘You may call me John.’

The Reverend Thatcher continued, not making any attempt to moderate his booming tone. ‘Your mother informs me that you are looking for a parish to begin your work.’

‘I’m sorry, but my mother has misinformed you, sir.’ John struggled to keep his tone even when all he felt was annoyance. ‘I have already accepted an appointment.’

‘Oh, pfft!’ Mrs Laslett overrode the comment. ‘My boy means well in accepting the position, but it’s of no account. Only a small congregation way out beyond civilisation. The bishop didn’t really expect him to take it.’

‘Indeed.’

John watched the reverend raise his eyebrows in surprise.

‘I intend to speak with the bishop and have him reconsider a placement for our boy in one of the Melbourne city churches.’

John abruptly turned and left the conversation, hardly caring if his withdrawal seemed rude. His mother’s overwhelming interference was so stifling it almost choked him. He found a quiet corner of the room, but was unable to find peace. He knew full well his mother would regroup and come after him, probably this time to fling him at the Reverend Thatcher’s daughter, Bernice. She’d already pre-empted this in recent conversations, the most recent being yesterday.

He recalled his mother’s words: ‘You’ll need a wife who is brought up to the position. Bernice Thatcher will be just the woman for you.’

At the time John had held his tongue, but inwardly he resisted her manipulative scheming.

‘And you need not worry that she’s three years older than you, dear. She is mature and ready for marriage straight away.’

John shuddered at the thought. He’d not yet met the young lady in question, but he had seen her. When his mother had first brought it up, he’d been afraid that she would be less than attractive, considering her age, and not yet spoken for. It wasn’t until John finally saw her that he began to understand why she’d not yet married.

Bernice Thatcher was a beautiful young woman, but dominated by her father. Obviously, the Reverend Thatcher had been hard to please in his search for a suitable son-in-law. John was not thrilled to realise that the Reverend Thatcher evidently deemed him, John Laslett, to be the first appropriate marriage candidate for his daughter.

John observed her again now. Bernice displayed her lack of confidence in the way she conducted herself. She did not lift her eyes from looking at the carpet; she did not speak beyond the polite ‘how-do-you-do’, and it appeared that she didn’t have the confidence to even decide what she would like to eat. She was a pathetic soul.

‘This would be the perfect opportunity to discuss engagement plans with the reverend.’ Mrs Laslett had come to John’s quiet corner, and just as John had predicted, set about her matchmaking. ‘He’s expecting you to approach him about it today.’

With a mammoth effort, John pushed down the feelings of frustration that rose up, and nodded.

‘Oh, and John, I know if you would only ask him, he will put in a good word for you with the bishop.’

He didn’t bother to protest this point either and watched his mother swish away and engage in conversation with some other guests.

You’ve got to make up your mind, John’s thoughts were a whirl as he indulged in self-talk. Bernice was rather beautiful to look at. He could be well set up here in Melbourne. Mother did have a lot of influence to exert. You only have to walk over to the Reverend Thatcher, propose to his daughter, ask for a relocation and you’ll have everything you could ever need.

Without thinking how it might appear to others in the room, John slapped his side in frustration. Everything I could ever need, but nothing of what I desire.

His thoughts galvanised, John moved forward, armed with the motivation to do what he knew he must do. For the first time in his twenty-four years, he was going to defy his mother.

***

Green Valley – Rural Victoria, Australia

Kate wiped the soft dusting cloth over the oak bookcase for the third time in an hour. Even though the rest of the house was in dire need of a good dusting, she felt closer to her father by just being in his office. She ran her fingers over the gold embossing on the leather volumes, mentally reading each title as she touched it. Then, when she came to the precious letters of The Holy Bible, her bottled emotions finally gave way to tears.

Her father’s absence was supposed to have been temporary. She knew he’d gone to her mother’s funeral—the mother who had deserted them both when she was no more than a year old; the mother she’d never known, and would now never know. He had left the manse only four weeks ago, and had assured his daughter it would be best if she stayed behind. Kate had not worried at the time. She’d expected he’d be home within the week. But instead of welcoming him home, she was shocked by another turn of events.

How could they treat him like this? She’d asked herself this question a hundred times, but still didn’t have an answer.

When one of the church elders had come to the door and informed her that her father had been officially relieved of his duties to the parish, she was at first concerned. But when they’d added the words ‘shame and disgrace’ she had felt stunned. This momentary confusion was followed by humiliation. When had her loving and caring father ever done anything other than serve the people of the parish with a gentle and kind grace? The words just didn’t fit. After the messenger had left, Kate had tried to make sense of it, with little success.

The next day she’d received a short letter from a charity hospice in Melbourne. Someone had written on behalf of her father to let her know he’d taken ill and was being nursed in their care. As his only next of kin, Kate should have gone at once to retrieve him, but she didn’t have any money to find a fare, and didn’t feel confident to travel on her own in any case. She had approached some folks from the parish to see if they would help her, but they were barely civil. The message was clear. Your family is a disgrace.

Kate had returned to the manse frustrated, confused and hurting. The tears came again. It was all too much. She would never know her mother, but then she had never expected to know her. Worse was the loss of her father’s life work. He’d given his heart and soul to the people of the Green Valley parish. How could they do this to him?

She did not know how long she would have remained crying in front of the bookcase if she had not been drawn by a knock at the front door.

Taking a deep breath, Kate pulled herself up, swiped at the moisture on her face and went to open the door.

‘Good morning, Mr Hodges.’ She forced a smile she did not feel.

‘Miss Winston.’ He tipped his hat.

Immediately Kate was anxious. When had the Wallace Hill gatekeeper ever called her anything other than ‘Katie’? And she could see he was nervous by his fidgeting.

‘What is it?’

‘I ... ah ... I’ve been sent to inform you that you are to be out of the house by this afternoon.’

Kate felt like she’d been winded, and took a moment to regain her speech. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You’re to have your personal effects packed and out of the manse by one o’clock at the latest. I’m sorry Miss Winston.’

Kate knew she’d heard the words, but she struggled to believe it. Mr Hodges was one of her father’s closest friends. He and his wife were often at the manse for afternoon tea or delivering one message or another. But this!

She watched in shock as the older man turned and left as if he had the devil on his heels.

And so he must. How could he? Not Mr Hodges.

Then the message began to process in her mind and Kate called after him. ‘I can’t possibly have packed all my father’s books by then. And what of the furniture?’

Mr Hodges paused and turned back, his gaze on the ground. ‘Just your own clothing, Miss Winston. Everything else is part and parcel of the manse.’

‘But it all belongs to my father—the minister.’

‘I’m sorry, Katie, but there is a new minister set to arrive at week’s end, and Lady Vera wants the manse ready for cleaning out unwanted rubbish.’ He lifted his eyes and their gazes locked. ‘I’m sorry, Katie. That’s the message I’m supposed to have delivered to you.’

Kate watched, helpless, as Hodges turned and left. She stood staring at his departing figure until he was a long way down the drive, and may have stayed watching longer if the cold hadn’t driven her back indoors. It took some time for her mind to begin to function again, and when it did, despair crowded in. Her earlier tears hardly seemed worth it now.

She leaned back against the closed door, her eyes shut while she tried to gather her whirling thoughts. She had no money. She had no close family to turn to. Already she’d felt the cold stares of the parishioners, and she knew that they had already labelled her as part of the scandal that surrounded her father. She looked around the manse, at every beloved nook and cranny. This house was the only home she’d ever known. She’d been born in the master-bedroom a little over nineteen years ago, delivered by one of the local farmer’s wives.

The grandfather clock in the hall struck eleven o’clock, as if to remind her that she had but two hours to rearrange her entire life—she had two hours, and nothing more. There was little doubt in her mind that Lady Vera would have her people in to pull the house apart by two minutes past one. Lady Vera’s reputation was well established. Kate’s father had often excused her harsh, self-righteous actions as the normal pride of the privileged, but today Kate anticipated that pride would act without thought or feeling for anyone, much less the daughter of Reverend Winston, whose disgraceful behaviour had offended the pious lady.

As the clock finished striking the hour, Kate tried to corral her rushing thoughts.

What are the most important things to save?

Her father’s sermons, and some of the bric-a-brac he’d held dear? Where on earth was she going to store them, to save them from the impersonal sorting that was due?

What choice do I have? I’ll have to move now or lose everything.

***

Before the handsome clock had time to strike the first hour, Kate Winston had removed as many personal items as she was able, and carted them across the church yard. Having taken the iron key from beneath the doorstep flagstone, she opened the door into the church vestry. It was the best she could think of with such short notice. She hid as much as she could beneath the desk.

It will have to do until I’ve made room in the store shed.

Having achieved this much, Kate knew she still had a lot of work to do, clearing away the broken pews that crowded the store shed, hiding the rescued treasure, and making herself a temporary dwelling before night fell.

Just thinking about sleeping in the store shed brought a shiver.

If only I’d had time to grab a blanket.

Kate shook that thought. Things were bad enough already, having been branded by the repercussions of her father’s deception—like father like daughter. It would not do to be accused of being a thief as well. Her winter overcoat was going to have to do.

***

The emotional storm was over, but John could still hear the sound of angry accusation echoing in his memory. Having stood his ground thus far, he had been encouraged to press on as planned, despite the sharp words cast in his direction—words laden with guilt and designed to control. He could still see his mother’s face as it had changed from one of determination to shocked outrage.

‘John Laslett!’ She had used that tone of authority she’d always used when he was a child. ‘I will not have you speaking to your mother with such disrespect.’

‘I mean no disrespect, Mother, but these are the arrangements I have made, and I plan to follow them through.’

When it had become obvious that he didn’t mean to relent, she’d tried a new tactic.

‘What of me? Have you ever thought of anyone but yourself? Who is going to take care of me, now that your father is gone, God rest his soul?’

‘You have two other children, Mother, remember. Sandra and her husband are here all the time, and Pauline is only an hour’s drive across town.’

‘You expect me to put my life into the hands of complete strangers! What is Sandra’s husband to me? This would never happen if your father were still alive. He would have demanded you respect my wishes.’

John recalled his hen-pecked father well enough. He had loved his father, but knew that he’d resigned himself to saying just whatever his wife expected him to, every time she so ordered. John also thought of his two brothers-in-law, both of whom stood up to their mother-in-law. John knew that both of them thought him to be a spineless creature, unable to think or do for himself. Now that the subject had been brought up, he was suddenly determined to make a stand for himself.

‘And have you thought what a burden this will be for Bernice?’ Mrs Laslett continued her tirade. ‘Her father is not going to want her to be gallivanting off to Lord knows where—to a place where he is unable to handle her affairs.’

‘Bernice and I have already spoken, and we’ve decided that the time is not right to be considering a hasty marriage.’

At this point, Reverend Thatcher, who’d been monitoring the heated exchange, broke into the conversation.

‘What do you mean you’ve been talking with my daughter? Neither of you have the right to be making any decisions whatever. I won’t have it.’

John remembered casting a quick glance in Bernice’s direction, and seeing her trembling with fear. His heart melted with compassion again and he wondered if he might not have at least rescued her from the tyranny she lived under. But his mind just as quickly recovered. Marrying Bernice would not rescue her from tyranny, more than it would place them both under double the control they now experienced.

‘I won’t listen to you, John,’ his mother went on undeterred. ‘I will go to the bishop this afternoon and demand he give you a respectable position.’

‘Green Valley Parish is quite respectable, I assure you. The Lady Vera Wallace is the patron and she has already sent directions about my expected arrival. This is my decision, Mother. This is the choice I have made for my own life.’

John flushed again as he remembered his mother’s next step in her road to dominate. The indignation was followed by a dramatic performance that drew the attention of every person in the room. The hostess had fainted and the doctor had been summoned. With as much dignity as he’d been able to muster, John dismissed the remaining guests. He knew full well that the entire exchange had been heard by all. When he had seen the reverend and his daughter to