Read Online A Wicked Pursuit by Isabella Bradford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Isabella Bradford
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from Julia, written in her loopy, schoolgirl’s hand. She’d done exactly as Papa had said, and fled to London.
The letter was very long, and filled with the overwrought phrases that Julia had doubtless borrowed from one of her favorite romantic novels: She was racked with Purest Agony, her Tender & Fluttering heart Tormented because of the unspeakable & cruel suffering of her Noble Beloved , until she could bear this Terrible Tedium No Longer, & must seek Succor & Relief elsewhere to preserve & restore Herself . Her sanctuary from all this dreadful Agony would be Aunt Abigail’s luxurious house on Portman Square, from which she likely intended to soothe herself with a fresh round of balls and parties.
“Do you know when she left?” Gus asked as she scanned the letter.
“Hours ago,” Papa said with gloomy imprecision. “That damned rogue Tom was her accomplice, taking her and her maid in the chaise, and it’s the last time he’ll ever show his face in my stable. I’ll see him charged with stealing my daughter and my horse—”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, Papa,” Gus said firmly. “You know poor Tom had no choice, not with Julia. She can be very persuasive.”
“She can be very wicked, the little baggage.” Papa dropped heavily into a nearby armchair and pulled off his nightcap in disgust. “Wicked and faithless! Look at that driveling letter she left. All she considers is herself, and scarce a word about Hargreave.”
Gus sighed. Everything he said was true, but what mattered more was trying to salvage the situation before it was too late.
“Did Julia leave his lordship a letter, too?” she asked, praying her sister hadn’t.
“Not that I’ve found,” Papa said, “and thank the Heavens she didn’t. Think of it, Gus, think of it. Here she has her chance at a dukedom, and what does she do? She throws it to the winds because she’s too damned impatient to wait for Hargreave to recover! What man would want her after that?”
“You must go after her, Papa,” Gus said, striving to remain calm herself. As he said, this could be disastrous for Julia. It would be bad enough if fashionable London learned that she’d simply refused an offer of marriage from Lord Hargreave. But to have her abandon him, broken and unconscious and injured in the process of proposing, would be far worse, and make her the talk of the town for all the wrong reasons. “You must catch her before she reaches London.”
“Oh, I’ll catch her, I will,” Papa said, rising to his feet with fresh determination. “I’ll catch her, and she’ll be sorry I did, the selfish little wretch, and then I’ll—”
“Go dress now, Papa,” she said firmly, taking him by the arm and steering him through the door. “Don’t squander any more time talking. I’ll ask William to go with you, and to have the horses ready.”
Papa nodded. “William’s a steady lad, not like that black dog Tom, stealing my daughter—”
“Papa, now,” Gus urged. “You must go after her now .”
“I’m going, Gus,” Papa said, charging off in a fury of fresh outrage. “You’ll see. I’ll have your sister back home by supper.”
Gus turned back to the little circle of servants, still waiting expectantly for her to address them. Papa so trusted the staff that he thought nothing of speaking freely—even rashly—before them, leaving it to Gus to offer the words of caution.
“You’ve all heard what my sister has done,” she said, her hands clasped before her, “and how the viscount is doing his best to rectify her impetuous actions. In the meantime, I trust you will not share this—this confidence with any outside the abbey, especially the attendants or servants of Sir Randolph Peterson and Mr. Leslie. My sister’s future happiness, and therefore the happiness of this entire household, rest upon your discretion. Is that clear?”
They murmured their agreement in unison, and Gus could only hope they meant it,
The letter was very long, and filled with the overwrought phrases that Julia had doubtless borrowed from one of her favorite romantic novels: She was racked with Purest Agony, her Tender & Fluttering heart Tormented because of the unspeakable & cruel suffering of her Noble Beloved , until she could bear this Terrible Tedium No Longer, & must seek Succor & Relief elsewhere to preserve & restore Herself . Her sanctuary from all this dreadful Agony would be Aunt Abigail’s luxurious house on Portman Square, from which she likely intended to soothe herself with a fresh round of balls and parties.
“Do you know when she left?” Gus asked as she scanned the letter.
“Hours ago,” Papa said with gloomy imprecision. “That damned rogue Tom was her accomplice, taking her and her maid in the chaise, and it’s the last time he’ll ever show his face in my stable. I’ll see him charged with stealing my daughter and my horse—”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, Papa,” Gus said firmly. “You know poor Tom had no choice, not with Julia. She can be very persuasive.”
“She can be very wicked, the little baggage.” Papa dropped heavily into a nearby armchair and pulled off his nightcap in disgust. “Wicked and faithless! Look at that driveling letter she left. All she considers is herself, and scarce a word about Hargreave.”
Gus sighed. Everything he said was true, but what mattered more was trying to salvage the situation before it was too late.
“Did Julia leave his lordship a letter, too?” she asked, praying her sister hadn’t.
“Not that I’ve found,” Papa said, “and thank the Heavens she didn’t. Think of it, Gus, think of it. Here she has her chance at a dukedom, and what does she do? She throws it to the winds because she’s too damned impatient to wait for Hargreave to recover! What man would want her after that?”
“You must go after her, Papa,” Gus said, striving to remain calm herself. As he said, this could be disastrous for Julia. It would be bad enough if fashionable London learned that she’d simply refused an offer of marriage from Lord Hargreave. But to have her abandon him, broken and unconscious and injured in the process of proposing, would be far worse, and make her the talk of the town for all the wrong reasons. “You must catch her before she reaches London.”
“Oh, I’ll catch her, I will,” Papa said, rising to his feet with fresh determination. “I’ll catch her, and she’ll be sorry I did, the selfish little wretch, and then I’ll—”
“Go dress now, Papa,” she said firmly, taking him by the arm and steering him through the door. “Don’t squander any more time talking. I’ll ask William to go with you, and to have the horses ready.”
Papa nodded. “William’s a steady lad, not like that black dog Tom, stealing my daughter—”
“Papa, now,” Gus urged. “You must go after her now .”
“I’m going, Gus,” Papa said, charging off in a fury of fresh outrage. “You’ll see. I’ll have your sister back home by supper.”
Gus turned back to the little circle of servants, still waiting expectantly for her to address them. Papa so trusted the staff that he thought nothing of speaking freely—even rashly—before them, leaving it to Gus to offer the words of caution.
“You’ve all heard what my sister has done,” she said, her hands clasped before her, “and how the viscount is doing his best to rectify her impetuous actions. In the meantime, I trust you will not share this—this confidence with any outside the abbey, especially the attendants or servants of Sir Randolph Peterson and Mr. Leslie. My sister’s future happiness, and therefore the happiness of this entire household, rest upon your discretion. Is that clear?”
They murmured their agreement in unison, and Gus could only hope they meant it,
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