Clarissa and the Poor Relations Read Online Free PDF Page A

warm nuncheon at a cosy inn, he considered further
    Upon reflection, he thought that the papers in his pocket were unlikely to be signed by a young lady at outs with her brother. He did not doubt his will over hers in the long-term, but he wished to expedite matters.
    The state of Ashcroft, the neglect of the house and grounds, and the general disorder of the estate would not be the home that Clarissa and her four companions might hope for. Even he did not have the expertise needed to revive such a big estate, so he almost laughed when he thought of what Clarissa’s feelings might be. His man of business had advised him that making the estate profitable would cost a great deal of time and money; and when he had visited it he had believed him. Much better to sell it to one of the newly rich merchants, with a penchant for an historic house in the country and with the wealth to do something with it or to Lord Staines from a neighbouring estate who had declared a flattering interest when he had been in Hertfordshire.
    He would drive home and hope that by allowing Clarissa a month in that miserable place she would see what she was up against and return home with her brother a chastened young lady, ready to sign the papers. He trusted that the ladies would find, on their travels, that they were very unwise to have set out without a man to guide them.
    Had he but known it, the posting inn at which they had stopped for the night had offered them a small adventure - one that might not occurred if he had accompanied them.
    It’s taproom had been occupied by a crowd of young gentlemen who had no doubt come to witness some sporting event in the area but now had nothing better to do than drink the landlord’s excellent brandy and gin. Miss Micklethwaite took in the situation at a glance and made sure to stand guard at the door whist the rest of the party were ushered upstairs by the landlady. She was perceived to be to be an honest countrywoman who appeared honoured by the ladies’ visit and bobbed so many curtsies to them that Clarissa laughed under her breath and whispered to Miss Petersham, ‘See what attentions a sable muff will bring you.’
    Oriana was reminded that she had left her muff in the carriage and broke away from the others to retrieve it. As she came back, one of the young bucks that had just left the taproom set eyes on her and exclaimed, ‘Miss Petersham.’ The gentleman in the shadows behind him raised his head quickly, as did the redoubtable Miss Micklethwaite.
    Oriana was so startled that she dropped her reticule. Her voice had its icy cool, however when she replied, ‘Mr Booth. How strange to encounter you,’ as she recognized a young admirer from her London season.
    Mr Booth was about twenty-four years old and his eyes were red and glittering from the spirits that he had imbibed, ‘How strange, ma’am, for me to encounter an angel .’ he countered, with a distinct slur in his voice. He proceeded to remove his hat and sweep a magnificent bow before her, quite barring her way from entering the inn. It seemed that the other, older gentleman must have moved forward but before he did, Miss Micklethwaite swept forward knocking the young man’s hat into the mud (perhaps accidentally) and desiring him to stop making a cake of himself. ‘Goodnight to you, sir.’  She said, drawing Oriana forward, ‘and if you were a gentleman you would know better than to go about addressing young ladies in common inn-yards.’
    ‘But ... I am acquainted with this young lady…’ Protested Mr Booth in vain, for the ladies had entered the inn.
    ‘Alas, Charles, you should not address young ladies - even if acquainted with them - when you are three parts drunk.’
    Mr Booth turned to look at the gentleman who had thus addressed him. He was a man in his early thirties, his height of over six foot enough to draw attention as did the elegance of his attire, even in his topboots and buckskins, making it evident he was both