Edgar Allan Poe and the London Monster Read Online Free Page A

designs on someone associated with the Royalty. Indeed, she was adamant that the lady was in pursuit of your attentions.
    When I confessed that I really could not place Mrs. Wright at all, Miss Cole obliged me with a description: “Scrawnier than a drowned cat, but with feet as large as an elephant’s and a pockmarked face shaped like that of a horse.” This melange from the animal kingdom did little to focus the woman in my mind’s eye, but when Annie added that the lady in question had been wearing a blue and yellow ensemble and a necklace of large blue stones set in what looked to be gold, I instantly knew of whom she was speaking. The dress was an unattractive combination of cerulean blue and canary yellow, made more vulgar with threeflounces around the hem, lace ruffles on the sleeves and neckline, and an unfashionable red sash.
    Mr. Blanchard confirmed your lengthy dalliance with Mrs. Wright. He had been obliged to make small talk with her spinster sister while Mrs. Wright regaled you with fascinating tales of her deceased husband’s stationery shop on Watling Street, where she spends her afternoons assisting customers. How sorry I am to have missed such delightful conversation. Mr. Blanchard also rescued me from the intolerable embarrassment of confessing to all assembled that I did not have the price of my supper in my pocket. I have assured him that you will reimburse him in full tomorrow. I trust you will create a splendid story to explain your absence to Mr. Blanchard and will ensure that my dignity is not damaged further.
    Your Wife,
    Elizabeth
    27 Bury Street, London
Friday, 21 March 1788
    My dear Elizabeth,
    Please forgive my delay in responding, but I have only just found your letter tucked under a flask of gin on the shelf. If my thirst had not got the better of me, I might not have discovered it at all!
    First, I am sorry I failed to escort you to the chophouse on Tuesday night, but have no fear—your reputation is intact with Mr. Blanchard. He was most concerned when I informed him that a pickpocketaccosted me outside the theatre and when I gave chase, the ruffian clouted me about the head. The blows left me disoriented, and I had no recourse but to proceed home for fear of ending up senseless in the street. Mr. Blanchard agreed to accept reimbursement for your supper after wages are distributed at the theatre.
    As for Mrs. Wright, I am once more wounded by the envenomed tongue of slander. But unlike Lady Sneerwell, I take no pleasure in reducing others to the level of my own injured reputation. I really cannot say whose attentions Mrs. Wright was pursuing on Tuesday night, but yesterday evening she was courted in a most pointed manner. The tantalising theatrical unfolded thusly:
    Mrs. Wright locked up her stationer’s shop, walked down Watling Street and turned into Bow Lane. She had progressed a short distance when she felt someone brush against her and a sharp scratch upon her haunches. As she cried out, a man in red breeches, black surtout and a cocked hat with high brim and a cockade ran like the Devil down Bow Lane. Worse still, the culprit was laughing, and Mrs. Wright fell to the ground dizzy with fear and pain. She struggled back to the shop to collect herself and discovered to her distress that the backside of her dress had been slashed. That dress of cerulean blue and canary yellow you disliked so much is tattered, as is Mrs. Wright’s posterior. She is quite unable to salve her nerves.
    It is particularly disconcerting to note that details of Mrs. Wright’s ordeal have a startling similarity to the assault upon Miss Cole—a slash across the hindquarters, a ruined dress and the danger of a ruined reputation. And is it not peculiar that both women hadbeen to the Royalty before they were attacked? This makes me fear for your safety, my dear, as these violent escapades occurred in broad daylight, were completely unprovoked, and, inexplicably, the ladies were not