Just as he expected, Thurman glanced at the inscription, HARRY GRONE, THE TATLER, and banged out of the house. “I’ll look for it, sir,” he said, heading to the back of the house so he could wrap up the silver teapot and a pair of candlesticks he’d always fancied.Īfter a reasonable period of time, when he had everything he wanted crated and tied in two large boxes, he brought Thurman the card. “The card!”Ĭooper had listened at the door just long enough, and then ducked into the back to wrap the silver in a cloth. Inside the house, Thurman was bellowing at Cooper. That Darlington, for instance, whom Eliot always talked of.

Eliot was raised to be the hope of the family, the young gentleman who was going to move into the aristocracy.

Of course, he had ruined young Eliot’s life. Henry Thurman stumbled out of the house, feeling as sick as a man could. “You’ll always have a home with us, Eliot. The only good thing about this is that I won’t ever have to listen to the foolish ravings of an imbecilic old man like yourself any longer! We were never of the same stock, never!”

“Out! You’ve taken my inheritance and destroyed my life. Perhaps you could be a secretary to a great man. “Not you, with all your friends from Rugby. “I’m trying not to worry about you,” his father said. And what are you to do then, Eliot? Have you an idea of a profession, lad? You must have learned a great deal off at those schools of yours.” You’d best tell your man to leave immediately. “Well, the rent is paid for the next week. “Me?” Thurman replied, still not quite following. He had kindly “spared” his mother’s jointure, and given them, as an act of charity, the money to buy his brother a commission. In the last week, Felton had bought up all of his father’s outstanding loans. “I didn’t know…he was always most kind, but then…” In five minutes Thurman saw it all. “How could you get yourself into the hands of someone like Felton?” “No, you shouldn’t have,” Thurman said sharply. But you…I shouldn’t have played ducks and drakes with your inheritance, son.” “Your mother and I will be happy in the village. Surely Felton had told him? Had told his family what he had done?īut Felton hadn’t, because his father was looking at him with a horrible expression of pain and pity and despair. Felton,” his father said, and the words filtered through the haze in Thurman’s brain, “has been kind enough to buy your youngest brother a commission in the army.” One of his brothers was entering the Church. He’d never felt sicker in his life, just sitting there and watching his father’s red face as he said that his mother’s jointure was secure, of course, and so they would be retiring into the village where she grew up because there was a small house. The man responsible for giving the Sausage her dowry.

Pleasure for Pleasure by Eloisa James