Read Online Young Bloods by Simon Scarrow - Free Book Online Page A

and not for the first time she wished that her husband was not quite so gifted in his musical talents. Now, if he had only become a writer, that would have been far less of an imposition on the family. After all, the costs of being a writer were limited to pen and paper. A composer - as he had liked to style himself since taking that chair at Trinity - spent an inordinate amount of money on instruments, not to mention having to subsidise all the concerts he put on to air his new compositions. If only Garrett could make money from his talents, she considered. But he never would. Music was his first love in life, his true mistress, and he would go on spoiling her until he died. Or as long as the family’s fortune lasted.
    The family’s finances, like those of many other fine households in Ireland, were strained at present.While the income from land remained steady, the high rents, arrears and evictions were causing considerable unrest across the land. Several land agents had been murdered in the last month and the first ripple of landowners was quitting the island for the greater security of England. So land prices were falling. Worse still, Anne reflected, the trouble brewing in the American colonies was shaking the confidence of the London financial markets. Garrett had received some worrying letters from the family’s banker in the capital, warning him that the combined income of the Wesley investments had fallen sharply and Anne knew that she must trim her household budget to suit. It was all too frustrating. Between the troublesome Irish peasants and those disloyal fools in the colonies, they would ruin the fortunes of their betters. Anne frowned. What right had they to do that? To jeopardise her future, and that of her innocent children?
    Thought of which drew her attention to the faint shouts and laughter drifting up from the hall. Since it was cold and wet outside she had given the children permission to play there. The breakfast table had been dragged to one side, a net set up and the children were busy playing battledore. It should keep them busy for a few hours at least, she sighed, returning to her plans as the rain pattered against the window.
     
Richard stood poised, head tilted back and eyes following the arc of the shuttlecock as it reached the apex of its trajectory and fell towards him. On the other side young Arthur simply lowered his racquet in acceptance of his inevitable defeat. For a brief moment Richard considered fluffing the return shot, letting his brother take the point so that defeat would not be quite so severe. Then, before he could help himself, he flicked his racquet with perfect timing and the shuttlecock slammed on to the ground on the far side of the net.
    ‘Game!’ Richard cried out. ‘Who’s next?’
    ‘Me!’ Little Anne jumped up, ran across the hall and snatched the racquet from Arthur as he passed by on the way to the dining chairs at the side where the other children sat. Propped up on the end chair was a small blackboard taken from the nursery. Gerald was busy chalking up Richard’s latest victory. There were no marks beside Arthur’s name. Even Gerald, a year younger, had taken two games. Arthur took the seat at the far end of the line and slumped back.
    Arthur regarded his eldest brother with envy. Richard was a better person than he and Arthur knew he must try to accept that. That was the hand that fate had dealt the Wesley brothers. Richard was far more intelligent, far more popular and no doubt he would carve out a glittering career for himself, while Arthur just remained an unregarded entry on the family tree.
    ‘I need a rest,’ Richard announced. ‘William, you and Gerald can have a game.’ Richard paused a moment before taking his seat beside Arthur.
    ‘Not sulking, I hope.’
    ‘And why would I sulk?’
    Richard shrugged.‘We can’t all be good at everything, Arthur.’
    ‘Ah, you’ve come to offer me your pity.’
    Richard couldn’t help smiling.‘You