The Paper Princess by Marion Chesney Read Free Book Online Page A

with bottles and glasses and came back with two bumpers of brandy.
    He handed one to Bessie. “Now, how much?” he asked pleasantly.
    Bessie took a deep breath, her eyes glittering in the candlelight.
    “Five hundred pounds.”
    Mr. Palfrey stared. Five hundred pounds was a reasonable sum—very reasonable. But while he kept a smile on his face, his mind checked him by pointing out that Bessie would soon return for more. Like most of her class, she would probably drink to excess, drink would loosen her tongue, and before long the whole of the Duchy of Cornwall would know of his perfidy.
    But just to make sure ...
    “And for five hundred pounds you will give me that will?”
    “No,” said Bessie, an unlovely look of cunning crossing her plump features. She folded the single sheet of paper into a small square and thrust it into her bosom. “Reckon I'll hang onto it for a bit.”
    “As you will,” said Mr. Palfrey. “A toast to seal our bargain. And to seal a bargain you must drain it to the last drop. Probably too much for you,” he said with a little laugh.
    “Oh, I can take my drop,” grinned Bessie. She felt strong and powerful. She was now a lady of independent means. She would buy a silk dress and a carriage, and come calling on that housekeeper, Mrs. Jessop, and watch the old harridan's eyes pop out of her head.
    She tilted the contents of her glass straight down her throat and then laughed and spluttered and gasped.
    Mr. Palfrey laughed as well and patted her on her plump shoulders.
    “Now, wait here, Bessie,” he said, “while I go to the strongbox and fetch you the money.”
    He darted from the room, but only as far as the other side of the door. He waited, his heart thudding against his ribs until he heard the sound of a heavy body hitting the floor.
    His thin lips curled in satisfaction.
    He opened the door again and went in.

    Bessie Redhill lay with her head on the fender, as still as death. He bent over her and pried open one eye. “Still alive,” he muttered. “Better move fast.”
    He had tipped enough laudanum into her brandy to kill anyone of a less robust stature.
    He dressed himself in his traveling clothes, went downstairs, and roused his butler.
    “Have my traveling carriage brought round to the front,” he said. “I am going off on private business. I shall leave in about half an hour. I do not want any servant to be visible. Is that understood?”
    Anderson bowed. He saw nothing odd in the request. Mr. Palfrey was always complaining about the servants. Unless actually serving him with something, he expected them to be invisible.
    Mr. Palfrey went back upstairs, trying not to run. He took a large linen laundry sack out of a chest and with great difficulty, but with the strength of acute fear, managed to stuff Bessie's heavy body into it.
    The carriage having been brought round, the servants kept well out of sight but listened in amazement to the crashes and bumps from the staircase.
    Mr. Palfrey was not strong enough to lift Bessie on his back and so, piously thanking God for polished floors, he had slid his burden to the top of the stairs and proceeded to drag it down behind him.
    Once outside, he almost gave up and called for help. He thought he would never be able to get Bessie inside the carriage. But at last, with one superhuman heave, he stuffed her inside and slammed the door.
    He climbed up on the box and set off into the night. The snow had changed to sleet and drove into his face. But the madness of fear was on him, and he felt no discomfort.
    He was grateful that the port of Falmouth was not many miles away.
    In Falmouth, he went straight to a tavern he knew was frequented by sea captains and soon found the sort of character he wanted.
    Captain Ferguson was only too pleased to have the “present” of a fine, strong housemaid whom he could sell in America as a bonded servant. When Mr. Palfrey also gave him one hundred guineas, the captain swore lifelong friendship.
    He saw