Read Online Desperate Acts by Don Gutteridge - Free Book Online Page A

taxicab, Mr.
Langford. The mare would’ve given you a good gallop down Front
Street on a such a beautiful evening.”
    Brodie smiled, still feeling awkward in his
relations with his servants, even though he and Celia had been
raised amongst them in New York City. Being master of a household
at nineteen (well, almost twenty) was something that would take
getting used to, especially by one who had been brought up to
revere the egalitarian ideals of the United States of America.
    Celia was still up, reading a book in her
study. Brodie poked his head in the doorway and said, “Time for
bed, don’t you think?”
    “I just wanted to finish this section. Miss
Tyson is giving me a tutorial on French irregular verbs tomorrow.”
Celia, as pale and blond as her brother, tried not to yawn as she
smiled up at Brodie, whose indulgence she felt guilty taking
advantage of, but did anyway.
    Brodie was justifiably proud of Celia’s
intellectual accomplishments and her rapid progress at Miss Tyson’s
Academy for Young Ladies under the active tutelage of its
headmistress. While he had not yet broached the notion to her,
Brodie had already visualized Celia operating her own academy some
day soon, and indeed he had purchased this large house with its
several wings and a spacious park-lot with a view to that end.
    “However, I think I’ll get up early and do it
in the morning,” Celia said, setting the French grammar aside.
    “A wise decision.”
    “By the way, Mrs. Crockett gave me this
letter.” She drew an envelope out of the folds of her frock. “It’s
addressed to you.”
    “Who delivered it?” Brodie said,
surprised.
    “Mrs. Crockett found it slipped under the
back door to the kitchen. She thought she saw a youngster
hightailing it around the barn.”
    One of the many street-urchins paid to run
errands, Brodie thought. But why the secrecy? “I’d better have a
look, then,” he said evenly.
    He took the envelope from Celia. His name was
printed in block capitals on the outside. It wasn’t sealed. He
pulled out the single sheet of ordinary writing-paper and read the
contents, printed also in crude upper-case.
     
     
    LANGFORD:
     
    I KNOW ALL ABOUT MISS RAMSAY’S DIRTY
    SECRET – AND THE WORLD WILL KNOW TOO UNLESS
    YOU BRING 5 1-POUND NOTES WRAPPED IN BUTCHERS
PAPER
    & LEAVE IT IN THE TRASH CAN NEAR THE BACK DOOR
TO
    THE SAILORS ARMS – NEXT WENSDAY EVENING AT 9-30.
BE
    THERE OR ELSE.
     
     
    “What’s wrong?” Celia said, getting up.
    Brodie knew better than to try to keep the
note away from his sister. They had shared so much, happy and
tragic, over the short span of their lives. He let her take it
while he strove to compose himself.
    “This is from an extortionist,” she said.
    “It is. But there’s nothing to worry about,”
he said not too convincingly. “Diana has no guilty secret she needs
to hide from the world.”
    “But it says – ”
    “It’s some opportunist taking a wild stab at
me where he thinks I’m most vulnerable. Remember, sis, that you and
I are wealthy residents of this town, and natural targets for all
sorts of schemes to get at our money. You wouldn’t believe the
harebrained financial offers and business proposals that have been
pressed upon me since Uncle died last spring. And, I suspect, that
if Horace Fullarton were not known to be my employer and protector,
I would have received much worse.”
    “I didn’t know, Brodie. You should have told
me.”
    The gentle rebuke hurt, but not nearly as
much as the truth. His beloved – his all-but-betrothed – did have a
terrible secret, one she had confided to him and thereby sealed the
bond between them forever, even though she had confessed to him
thinking that her revelation would destroy their relationship. Two
years ago she had become pregnant with a child fathered by a young
French-speaking Montrealer who had pledged his troth, but shortly
afterwards found himself embroiled in the rebellion. At the Battle
of St. Eustache he had