This picturesque and secluded abode was the residence of Lady Annabel
Herbert and her daughter, the young and beautiful Venetia, a child, at
the time when our history commences, of very tender age. It was nearly
seven years since Lady Annabel and her infant daughter had sought the
retired shades of Cherbury, which they had never since quitted. They
lived alone and for each other; the mother educated her child, and
the child interested her mother by her affectionate disposition,
the development of a mind of no ordinary promise, and a sort of
captivating grace and charming playfulness of temper, which were
extremely delightful. Lady Annabel was still young and lovely. That
she was wealthy her establishment clearly denoted, and she was a
daughter of one of the haughtiest houses in the kingdom. It was
strange then that, with all the brilliant accidents of birth, and
beauty, and fortune, she should still, as it were in the morning of
her life, have withdrawn to this secluded mansion, in a county where
she was personally unknown, distant from the metropolis, estranged
from all her own relatives and connexions, and without resource of
even a single neighbour, for the only place of importance in her
vicinity was uninhabited. The general impression of the villagers was
that Lady Annabel was a widow; and yet there were some speculators
who would shrewdly remark, that her ladyship had never worn weeds,
although her husband could not have been long dead when she first
arrived at Cherbury. On the whole, however, these good people were not
very inquisitive; and it was fortunate for them, for there was little
chance and slight means of gratifying their curiosity. The whole of
the establishment had been formed at Cherbury, with the exception of
her ladyship's waiting-woman, Mistress Pauncefort, and she was by far
too great a personage to condescend to reply to any question which was
not made to her by Lady Annabel herself.