Bitter Eden Read Online Free PDF Page B

if you're here. That is why we'll.go to London. We can make up a story as to what happened ... an accident. No one will question that. We'll collect the girl, Callie Dawson, and make your mother happy, and at the same time take you out of harm's way." Suddenly James chuckled. "Your mother will think it was her prayers that moved me to charity." He bound Peter's arm, then watched warily as Peter stood unsteadily. "Perhaps it was."
    Slowly, with great care moving as though the floor too were in motion, Peter walked to the basin.
    "How is your head?" James asked.
    Peter made an unintelligible sound, then poured a pitcher of cold water over his head, washing the filth from his hair and face.
    "Can you see properly?" James persisted.
    "Yes . . ." Peter said. "I'm all right. I just had the wind knocked out of me. I'll be fine in a moment."
    James put his hand on Peter's shoulder. "I'll bring you some fresh clothes," he said, walking from the room,
    James climbed the stairs quietly. At the head of the upper hallway he saw Frank blinking sleepily in the dawn light. "Pa? What's wrong? What are you doing awake? What time is it anyway?"
    "Go back to sleep, Frank, it's nothing."
    Frank stretched and yawned. "I thought I heard ..."
    "You heard nothing but me getting a bite."
    Frank smiled agreeably. "Sounds good."
    James anxiously shuffled his feet, covering the noise Peter made below.
    "What was that?"
    "Nothing, only Peter. We're taking an early coach to London."
    Awake now, Frank looked suspiciously at his father.

    "I might have known. What's he done? Did they catch him at it tonight?"
    Tired, strained bevond the limits of his patience, James said testily, "Your brother is going to London with me to fetch Callie Dawson, a distant cousin of your mother's."
    "Albert will never believe that. No one wilL Who ever heard of this Callie Dawson?"
    James laughed harshly. "I'm sure Albert will have ... at least of her father. Ian Dawson was a labor organizer, fairly well known in London circles."
    "You're not bringing her here! Isn't one rabble-rouser enough? I won't have it. We'll have no reputation left. There is a limit . . ."
    "The girl is an orphan, and I will set the limits in this house. Now go back to bed before you awaken your mother and the rest of the household."
    Frank stood stubbornly in the middle of the hallway, glaring at James. "Side with Peter. You have always favored him over the rest of us, and we all accept that as our lot, but it is unfair of you to endanger the good name and prosperity of the whole family for him. He'll bring ruin to us. I'm right, Father. I know that, and although you deny it, I think you do too."
    Not answering, James went into Peter's dressing room and removed clothes from his cupboard. When he came into the hall again, Frank was still standing at the entrance to his room. Smirking, Frank said, "Peter needs your aid in dressing too, Father?"
    Still James did not speak. He walked down the hall to Stephen's room. He pushed the dark curling hair from Stephen's forehead and gently awakened his youngest son.
    Stephen opened his eyes. Uncomprehending, he stared at James, then said softly, "Pa? Is it time to get up?"

    James smiled. "I need you to drive Peter and me to the coach stop. We must make a trip into London this morning."
    Stephen sat up, rubbing his eyes. "I don't remember . . 7
    "Come downstairs quickly, son. I need you."
    Immediately alert, Stephen looked up at his father. "It's Peter, isn't it? Is he all right?"
    "He will be. Hurry, Stephen," he said and turned back to the stairs and the kitchen.
    Peter dressed, then stood looking out the kitchen window at the gray, bleak new day just beginning. "I should leave until this is over, Pa," he said as James cleared away the cider mugs. "Frank is right about one thing. I am a threat to the rest of the family."
    "Drivel," James snorted. "Where would you go? And what would you do about Rosalind? Will you hide her away in some little shanty while you ride