The Secret Pearl Read Online Free PDF Page B

to the Reverend Booth, he had discovered when he had pursued her to the parsonage. She must have come to London. It was the only possible destination she could have chosen. She would have thrown herself on the mercy of his mother or of some acquaintance, though she could not have many in town. She had not been from home a great deal during her life except for the five years when his mother had insisted on sending her away to school to be rid of her.
    He had found no trace of her, though he had searched for more than a month and made endless inquiries. And of course she had not run to his mother. It was stupid of him to have expected it.
    Finally he had been driven to desperate measures. The stocky, red-faced man standing feet astride in his parlor two mornings after Fleur left London, his cravat none too clean, his greasy-looking hat turning and turning in his hands, was a member of the Bow Street Runners. The two of them had been talking for some time.
    “That’s what will have happened, sir, mark my words,” Mr. Henry Snedburg assured him. He had refused to be seated, explaining that his time was a valuable commodity. “She will be hiding in the poorer quarters and looking for employment.”
    “The search will be hopeless, then,” Lord Brocklehurst said. “The proverbial needle in a haystack.”
    “No, no.” The Runner raised a hand to scratch the back of a large red neck. “I would not say that, sir. There are agencies. As a lady, she would have thought to try one or more of those. All I need is a list, which I daresay I have filed away somewhere, and off I go. Wanted for murder, you say, sir?”
    “And attempted theft,” Lord Brocklehurst said. “She tried to run off with the family jewels.”
    “Ah,” Mr. Snedburg said, “a nasty piece of work she is, then, sir. I will begin my search without any delay at all and with all caution. She will be a desperate young lady. We will have her in a twinkling, you may be sure. What names might she assume, may I ask?”
    Lord Brocklehurst frowned. “You think she will have changed her name?” he asked.
    “If she has a modicum of sense, she will, sir,” Mr. Snedburg said. “But I find that people rarely fabricate a wholly new name. You give me her full name, sir, and her mother’s name, and the names of some of the servants at your home and those of some of the young lady’s friends and acquaintances.”
    Lord Brocklehurst frowned in thought. “Her full name is Isabella Fleur Bradshaw,” he said. “Her mother’s name was Laura Maxwell, her personal maid’s, Annie Rowe, her closest friend’s, Miriam Booth.”
    “Your housekeeper’s, sir?”
    “Phyllis Matheson.”
    “The girl’s grandmothers?”
    Lord Brocklehurst thought. “Hamilton on the father’s side,” he said. “Lenora, I believe. I don’t know about the mother’s side.”
    “Your butler?”
    “Chapman.”
    “I’ll try these, sir,” Mr. Snedburg said finally. “I’ll come up with something. I don’t doubt. Now, I need a description of the young lady.”
    “Somewhat above average height,” Lord Brocklehurst said. “Slender. Brown eyes. Red-gold hair.”
    “Her crowning glory, would you say, sir?” the Runner asked, eyeing his client closely.
    “Yes.” Lord Brocklehurst gazed sightlessly across the room.“Her crowning glory. Like the sunshine and the sunset all tangled up together.”
    Mr. Snedburg coughed. “Exactly, sir,” he said. “A beauty, then, you would say?”
    “Oh, yes.” The other looked back to him. “A beauty, indeed. I want her found.”
    “As a justice of the peace, I understand, sir,” the Runner said. “Because, despite the fact that she is your cousin, she must stand trial for the murder of your personal servant.”
    “Yes, for that reason,” Lord Brocklehurst said, his hands opening and closing at his sides. “Find her.”
    Mr. Snedburg executed an inelegant bow and strode from the room without further ado.
    “M ISS H AMILTON?”
    Fleur turned