The Prince of Eden Read Online Free PDF

turning away from the window when he saw the man himself, walking quite leisurely down the path which led in from the street. Sir Claudius blinked and looked again, believing for a moment that the dead do rise. With the exception of the fair hair, a gift from Marianne, it could have been

    Lord Thomas Eden himself, back from the grave. The figure was the same, tall and erect, the way a man ought to look, an easy, confident stride. Sir Claudius peered closer. There was someone with him. A child? It was, female, soiled beyond definition, walking close beside Edward as though for protection. Great God! This was something new. He'd never brought his scum here before.
    As the two disappeared beneath the eaves. Sir Claudius turned rapidly to the door, as though the threat were already before him. He considered hastily the proper position, seated or standing?
    Seated. No, a position of weakness. Standing? His paunch would be clearly visible. In a surge of self-contempt, he scolded himself. He was Sir Claudius Potter, past Lord Mayor of London, now acting locum tenens, one of the most respected barristers in the empire. What difference did it make whether he sat or stood in the presence of Lord Thomas Eden's bastard?
    Then Johnson reappeared, his normally harassed face appearing even more harassed. "He's—here, sir," he whispered, "in the company of a—"
    "I know, I know," snapped Sir Claudius. "Show him in. But keep the baggage out there. I don't intend to—"
    But Edward was already there, standing in the doorway. Johnson retreated, his hand over his nose, the female child standing between them, eyes wide. At that moment. Sir Claudius caught sight of her mutilated hand, withered, fingers missing. God forbid!
    He felt the hastily consumed croissant rise in his stomach. Endure! One had to endure! He managed a weak smile. "Edward, may I suggest that your—friend wait outside. Obviously we have business to discuss, and I'm sure you will agree—"
    But apparently Edward did not agree. Instead he whispered something to Johnson, then gently put his arm around the girl and guided her to a far chair near the wall of law volumes. Over his shoulder, he said to no one in particular, "Her name is Elizabeth and she's very tired. I think she'll be quite comfortable here."
    As the two had passed by Sir Claudius, he'd caught the odor, a sickening smell of urine and defecation, of soiled linen and— Again the croissant turned queasily in his stomach. He withrew his handkerchief and pressed it lightly against his nostrils. Such an odor spoke of pestilence and disease. He would have to have the chambers aired.
    A few moments later, Johnson reappeared, bearing the silver coffee tray and the remains of Sir Claudius's breakfast, three croissants and the very cup that Sir Claudius had used. Speechless, he watched as Edward filled the cup, added large portions of sugar and cream, and handed it to the female.

    The girl seemed beside herself with fear, her one good hand trembling visibly, her face like chalk, the ruined hand now blessedly out of sight beneath the rags which served as her dress.
    Edward appeared to soothe her and again forced the cup into her good hand. Sir Claudius watched appalled as she drank greedily from his cup. The three croissants disappeared in less than five gulps, and when at last she had consumed everything in sight, Edward arranged her tenderly in the chair, her filthy head resting on the brocade arm cushion, her skeletal body at last relaxing into an attitude of sleep.
    Throughout the entire ordeal Sir Claudius watched, transfixed with horror. The odor was increasing. In some surprise, he now stirred himself out of his trance and saw Edward standing before his desk, a smile on his face, his own clothes as soiled as the girl's, the odor now emanating from him.
    Weakly Sir Claudius waved the handkerchief before his nose. "My God," he gasped, "in what stable did you pass the night?"
    Edward laughed outright. "No stable. Sir