Rich boys poor girl: a reverse harem high school bully romance (rich boys poor girl book 1) 1st edit
Rich Boys Poor Girl: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Rich Boys Poor Girl Book 1) 1st Edition Mia Belle
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The Bullies Who Loved Me: A Reverse Harem High School
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to real life, movies, television, games, or books is entirely coincidental and was not intended by the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter One
This isn’t a house. It’s a palace.
As I weave through the plethora of guests, balancing a tray on my palm and offering hors d’oeuvres I can’t even pronounce, my gaze roams around the ballroom. My mouth practically reaches the floor, my brain trying to comprehend that people actually live this way.
Chandeliers are suspended from the ceiling, their crystals sparkling across the walls and bouncing off the expensive jewelry on the guests. The marble floor is so polished I can practically see my reflection. The tables are set with crisp white, elegant tablecloths, the dishes and utensils glittering, and the guests are dressed in their finest.
We’ve catered to the wealthy before, but this is a whole other ball game.
And the guest of honor? None other than sixteen-year-old Declan Worthington, the sole heir to the Worthington Empire. His dad is Asher Worthington, the richest man alive. He owns practically the whole world, no joke. From hotel chains to tech companies, sports teams, international enterprises, you name it.
It seems he couldn’t make it to his only son’s birthday party, hence the new entertainment system at the corner of the room, still wrapped in its blue bow.
Declan Worthington is at the center of the ballroom, chatting to a man three times his age. His hands are stuffed into his expensive black slacks, his head twisted to the side like he’d rather run himself
over ten times than listen to the older man. His russet-colored hair falls over his face in the perfect bad boy fashion.
“Danica,” a voice hisses from behind me. When I turn around, I spot Andy, my boss and owner of Loew’s Catering, tilting his head toward Declan. “Offer him some food. You’re here to work, not ogle the main attraction.”
Trying not to roll my eyes, I salute before making my way over to Declan and the older man. I hold out the tray, plastering on a smile equal to the value of this palace.
Declan hardly looks my way, choosing to focus on the man standing before him as though he’s the most important person in the world. It’s almost like I’m not worthy enough to be acknowledged, like I’m the scum beneath his expensive shoes. All because I’m part of the working class.
“Something to eat?” I say, sliding the tray a bit closer to him and widening my million-watt smile. Flicking his hair from his face, the guy still doesn’t look my way. I might as well be wallpaper, except my plain pale yellow server uniform would totally ruin the elegant design.
I shift the tray toward the older man. “Sir?”
He offers me a thankful smile, says, “Oh, no thank you, dear,” before turning back to Declan, who’s now wearing an irritated expression on his face.
“What your father and I discussed…” the older man continues. His words fly over my head, my focus on the rich guy standing only inches from me. I’ve never really gotten a good look at him, since my nose isn’t buried in the magazines kids at school obsess over. But damn, he’s hot. A thousand degrees. Seriously, you can
probably boil an egg on his face—and get some yummy flavor, too. The guy’s got it all: looks, money, and a shit-tone of charisma. It oozes out of him just by standing there and rolling his eyes at the older man. And his tall body dressed in that pressed black suit and slacks only add points in his favor.
Why are rich people always good-looking? So unfair.
Declan’s head suddenly snaps to mine. “Is there a reason you’re still here?”
I catch my boss Andy eye-signaling me to get my ass away from there. As a server, my job is to serve. Not to stare at the heir to the Worthington Empire.
Tossing Declan and the older man another million-watt smile, I scurry away, careful not to lose hold of the tray, which, by the way, is still full of hors d’oeuvres.
“What was that?” Andy hisses, catching the tray before it splatters to the floor. His eyes flick behind me, and when I spin around I catch Declan’s striking blue eyes on mine. For a second only. I bet he thought I’d trip and fall, providing entertainment for this bummer of a party. Sure the people are eating and dancing, but no one really seems to wantto be here.
“Nothing.” I shrug. “I’m here to work.”
“You bet you are. Get back out there.”
I do my rounds, steering clear of the guy of the hour and exchanging smiles with the other servers, whom haven’t either worked in such a setting. Some of the guests are thankful for the food so they don’t have to stand there bored out of their minds. A part of me feels a little sorry for the guy. Are all his birthday parties like this? Where are his friends?
After an hour, a man with graying hair who looks like he’s in his mid-forties raises a glass. “I’d like to make a toast.”
Finally, I get a break. But Andy keeps me busy preparing more hors d’oeuvres, so I only catch bits and pieces of the toast, and then his speech. From what I gather, the man works for Asher Worthington and is speaking on his behalf. Craning my neck, I manage a glimpse at Declan, who stands straight with his hands to his sides, not a crease in his suit, his russet hair still falling over his eyes in that perfect bad-boy manner, looking ever so composed. That’s got to be an act. What kid isn’t hurt by his father’s absence on his own birthday?
“Danica!” Andy scolds.
I snap back in and gather the newly-loaded tray. The man is still droning on about Declan’s accomplishments as I strut back into the ballroom. I steal another glance at him—no emotion in his eyes. He might as well be watching a mouse chasing a piece of cheese. No, even thatwould be more interesting than that dry speech.
Most of the guests aren’t interested in more food, and my feet are on fire from all this parading around. The trays of the other servers are full, too. I’m about to return to the kitchen and tell Andy not to bother preparing any more food, when I catch sight of a man dressed in black from head to toe standing at the far left of the massive ballroom. I don’t know why he caught my attention, maybe because of the way he’s lurking in the shadows all alone or the way he’s stealthily reaching into his pocket and producing a— Holy shit. A gun.
And it’s pointed directly at Declan Worthington.
I push through the throngs of people. “Look out!” Launching myself at Declan, I shove him and myself to the ground as the gunshot echoes in my ears. I hit the floor with such a blow that the wind gets knocked out of me. The left side of my body throbs.
Guests gasp, yell, and flee. It’s total chaos. Amidst people nearly trampling me to death, I catch four men tackling the shooter to the floor. The bullet is lodged in the wall behind us.
Declan shifts from underneath me. My eyes snap to him, finding his mesmerizing blue ones locked on mine. I finally see an emotion peeking out from his hard eyes: fear.
The shooter yells over the panicked crowd as the four security guards drag him away. I can’t make out the words, but it’s definitely a threat. Staff members usher the guests out of the house. Andy and my coworkers escape, not giving me a second glance.
The party has officially ended.
“Mr. Worthington.” A hand extends toward Declan. “Are you all right?” It’s the guy who made the speech, eyes bulging with worry. A handful of security guards surround us.
I look at the young master crushed beneath me. The fear is still there, though it’s nearly masked now.
“Sir?”
Declan blinks, the fear completely vanishing from his eyes. He shoves me aside and stands, slapping the dirt off his pants.
“Get her out of here.”
“Sir?”
“Getheroutofhere.”
Gray Hair gives me an apologetic look as he holds out his arm. “Miss, may I escort you out?”
I let him lead me out of the room, but not before catching one more look at Declan. His hard gaze is dead-set on mine.
Chapter Two
Ugh, why do I feel like I was run over by a train? The whole left side of my body throbs.
My eyes flash open when it hits me. Declan Worthington’s party last night. The shooter. Declan nearly getting killed. My tackling him to the floor. His ungrateful behavior toward me.
It’s not like I saved his life or anything. Whatever.
Groaning through the pain, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stuff my feet into my slippers. Voices from outside carry into my open window, and when I wobble over and pull the curtain aside, I see a crowd gathered around my house. Cameramen and reporters.
“What…the hell?”
I rub my eyes. Nope, they’re still there.
My door bursts open and Mom rushes inside. “Danica, get dressed and come to the living room. Quickly.”
“What’s going on?”
“Get dressed. Now.”
“Why—”
She slams the door after her.
“Seriously, what on Earth?” I open the door and peek out, straining my ears. There’s a strange voice in the living room. Another reporter? Does this have anything to do with my saving Declan Worthington’s life?
“She’ll be here in a minute,” Mom says with a nervous laugh.
I shut the door and stare blankly at the spot in front of me. I’m in too much pain to sort any of this out. Dragging myself to my
closet, I choose an outfit—jeans and a light purple top—and get dressed, make my hair decent and then open the door again. It’s strangely quiet now, as though the visitor isn’t doing anything but waiting for my arrival. I stop by the bathroom to pop two pills before making my way to the living room. And I freeze in place. Gray Hair is sitting there.
I step inside. Mom and Dad stand. “Danica.” Mom gestures to Gray Hair, who also gets to his feet. “This is Henry Miles. He works for Mr. Asher Worthington.”
“Yeah, we sort of met yesterday at the party. Hi.”
He shakes my hand. “Pleasure to see you again, Miss Stewart.”
“Honey, please sit down,” Dad says.
“Okay,” I say unsurely as I lower myself on the sofa near Mom.
“Am I in trouble?”
“Of course not, sweetie.” Mom motions toward Gray Hair. “Mr. Miles is here to talk to you.”
“Is Declan okay? I hope I didn’t hurt him.”
“Mr. Worthington is fine,” he assures me. “I’m here on behalf of Mr. Asher Worthington.”
“His father?”
“Yes. He’s very appreciative of your heroics last night and wishes to offer you his gratitude.” He reaches for a dark brown leather briefcase on the coffee table and flicks it open.
My eyes bug out and my chest tightens. I’ve never had so many one-hundred dollar bills shoved in my face before.
I tear my eyes away. “I didn’t save his life for money.”
“Of course not. But Mr. Worthington would like to compensate you nonetheless.”
My gaze slips to Mom and Dad, who desperately clutch each other’s hands. Money’s been very tight the past year, with Dad losing his job and Mom’s hours getting cut. We could really use…
I press my lips together and shake my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept his money. It wouldn’t feel right.”
With a nod, Mr. Miles snaps the briefcase shut. “He thought you might react this way, which is why there’s another offer.”
I raise a brow.
“He would like to offer you admission to Queenswood Academy this September.”
My jaw nearly sweeps the floor. “Qu…Queenswood Academy?”
“He’s offering a full scholarship, including room and board, all expenses paid. Queenswood Academy is ranked number one in the country…”
He continues praising the school, but all I hear is the blood rushing to my head. With an education at Queenswood Academy, my future could be set. My life could change forever. College has always been an unattainable dream, since I figured I’d have to stay here and help keep my family afloat. But with this scholarship…
“Mr. Worthington would be very pleased if you were to accept his offer,” Mr. Miles concludes, a smile standing strong on his lips.
Mom squeals, grabbing my hands. “Danica. Danica. Danica!” She flings her arms around me, smashing my face to her chest. “This September. That’s only a few weeks away. We’ll need to buy uniforms, school supplies…”
“Mom, I haven’t even accepted yet.”
Mr. Miles nods kindly. “Your uniforms and school supplies and everything else you’ll need will be covered by Mr. Worthington as
well.”
“Danica,” Mom hisses. “What are you waiting for? Accept the offer.”
My cheeks hurting from the large smile conquering my face, I say, “I accept!”
The boxes arrive within hours.
Six pairs of uniforms. Six. What do I need so many for? And every single school supply I can think of, even ones I know I’ll never use (what teenager uses a glue stick?). I have to admit I’m a mix of emotions. First, I’m not even sure my mind has actually grasped the reality. And then I feel excited, because I’ll be going to a prestigious school with the best of the best. I could have any future I want, any dream I want.
And then I feel like a charity case.
Mom tells me I shouldn’t feel this way, that opportunities like this come once in a lifetime—if ever at all. It’s not the time to be prideful. I’d be nuts to back out.
“How did they even know my measurements?” I ask as I lay the uniform on the table. It’s actually pretty decent, as far as academy uniforms go. A light blue shirt and dark blue tie, a plaid blue skirt, and a dark blue blazer. Blue is my favorite color, so I’m not complaining. Plus, gazing down at the uniform kind of makes me feel important.
“Someone from Mr. Worthington’s office called during your interview for the article and asked for your measurements,” Mom says. “See if it fits.”
It’s like I’m carrying porcelain. I’m worried any wrong move might damage the thing. It probably costs more than my whole wardrobe.
And oh wow, it fits perfectly. I turn from one side to the other as I study myself in the full-length mirror in my room. I look…I look like a million bucks. All my doubts about accepting the offer fly out the window and I’m overcome with anticipation. I can’t wait to start at my new school.
Mom and Dad are over the moon when they see me. Dad actually has tears in his eyes. I guess he’s been worrying about my future ever since he had to dip into my college fund to pay for expenses. I assured him many times that it was okay, that I didn’t need to go to college. But now I’ll be given opportunities he’s always dreamed of giving me. I walk over to him and wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his chest.
I let them take a few pictures before shedding off the uniform so I don’t wreck it. Then we put the boxes aside. Preparing my backpack will be quite an experience.
I head to my room and flop down on the bed, my head still reeling from all of this. I’m still not sure if it’s fully settled in my mind. Maybe when I stand outside the academy gates?
Chapter Three
Those academy gates I’ve been looking forward to meeting smile at me from a distance, the words “Queenswood Academy” glimmering in golden letters. Mr. Worthington sent a limo to fetch me, and even after riding in it for over two hours, I still can’t get over it. We passed through some of the richest towns in Georgia, and as we draw closer to the building, I notice a massive forest behind it. It makes the school look even more beautiful. I’m practically bouncing in my seat as the driver pulls up to the gate and stops before the security booth.
The driver rolls down the windows. “Miss Danica Stewart.” He gestures to me.
The guard walks around to the back of the limo and peeks at me. He stretches his hand. “Your identification card, miss?”
Identification card? Oh, right. I rummage in my jacket pocket and retrieve the school ID that arrived via mail several days ago. I hand it to the guy, who scans it, then me, and the card again. After giving me a slight nod, he passes it to me. “You may enter,” he tells the driver.
The large golden gates part, allowing the limo entrance into the school courtyard. My head spins as I take it all in. From the large water fountain in front of the massive school building, to the trees and grass surrounding the area, to the many students dressed in blue uniforms prancing about.
“Wow,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m actually here.”
The driver stops the limo and climbs out. He makes his way to the back and opens the door, holding out a hand to me.
“Queenswood Academy, miss.”
I accept his hand, letting him help me out of the limo. My jaw practically drops to the ground as I get a better look at the building. The place is a mansion, Victorian style even though it doesn’t look very old. Just by looking at it, you can tell only the exclusive of the exclusive attend.
The driver gathers my bags from the trunk and helps me carry them to the building. I catch sight of the many guys and girls milling about, some laughing, many chatting, most definitely about their summer vacation.
As I pass a group of blonde-haired girls, their plaid blue uniform skirts rolled just a bit too high, they stop talking and pin their gazes on me. The girl in the center’s hazel eyes scan me from top to bottom and her lips curl into a snarl. I follow her gaze, but I don’t understand how her uniform is different from mine, aside from the fact that mine reaches just above my knees while hers barely covers the tops of her thighs.
“Hi,” she says, loud enough to hear her on Mars. “I’m Heather McLauren. You must be the peasant.”
“The peasant?”
Her friends burst into giggles. She turns up her nose like she smells something foul. “What else do you call a poor girl attending on scholarship?”
What in the world?
“Excuse me, miss,” the driver says. For a second, I forgot he’s still here. “May I escort you inside?”
The girls continue to snicker and giggle as I follow the man into the school building. He lays all my bags on the floor before the front
desk, wishes me a good day with a tip of his cap, and walks out of the building. I nearly gasp in wonder as my head once again spins around in all different directions. This room is huge. Many different portraits adorn the walls, the floor is polished so hard it sparkles. Two sets of wooden spiral staircases lead to the upper floors, and there’s a lounge area with a beautiful fireplace.
“Hi,” a voice says from behind me. “You must be Danica.”
Spinning around, I spot a girl with brown hair and glasses standing before me. Her skirt isn’t lifted like the other girls I encountered. She holds out her hand. “I’m Samantha—Sam—your student guide.”
I blink at her. “Student guide?”
“All new students receive a guide. Follow me and I’ll give you the grand tour.”
I reach for my bags, but she waves her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about them. The staff will bring them to your room.”
“Staff? My room? As in, I get my own room?”
She chuckles. “Well, yeah. You don’t expect to share a room, do you?”
Uh, I heard that’s pretty standard for most schools. Sam gives me a bright smile before starting the tour.
She begins talking about the history of the school. “In the early 1900s, three men had a dream to start a boarding school for boys. Their names were Albert Aldridge, Francis Montgomery, and Asher Worthington.” She beams at me. “Yep, you guessed it. The founders of the school are none other than the great grandfathers of the Queenswood Princes.”
I gape at her. “The what?”
Her brown eyes widen. “You’ve never heard of the Queenswood Princes?”
“Should I?”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Have you been living under a rock?” Then her gaze sweeps over me, taking me in from top to bottom. “Oh yeah, I guess you have.”
What the heck does she and the other girls see that I don’t? Our uniforms are identical.
She motions for me to follow her as we continue on with the tour. “If you’re planning to spend the next three years here, you should learn how things run. The Princes own Queenswood, literally and figuratively, though the school is mostly funded by the Worthington family. The guys are the princes, but really, Declan is the king.”
“So who are the other princes?” I ask.
“Ethan Aldridge and Colt Montgomery.” She sighs wistfully. I get the impression that these Princes are the most popular guys at school, worshiped by all, and that half the girls at school are madly in love with them.
Sam continues with the tour, and my mind is boggled. There are so many rooms here, and that doesn’t even include the classrooms. I mean, they have a bowling alley in the recreation building. Building, not room. They have a whole building just for down time. Every bone in my body is already itching to tackle the arcade games and virtual reality. But I doubt I’ll have time to indulge—I’ll most likely be holed up in my room trying to catch up with schoolwork. I’m not the best student and this curriculum is tough.
The tour ends with Sam dropping me off at the girls’ dorm. I’m on the top floor, in a room all the way in the back that’s a little isolated from the rest of the rooms. Almost like it’s hardly ever used, and it doesn’t take long for me to understand why. It’s much smaller than the others, and I know this because I passed by a few rooms with open doors. But I’m not complaining. The fact that I’m able to attend this school with free room and board means the world to me.
“Thanks for the tour,” I tell Sam. “It’ll take forever until I know the place by heart. I’ll probably get lost a lot.”
“No prob. Don’t forget, orientation starts in an hour.”
My bags have already been brought up, stacked neatly near my bed. I start unpacking and by the time I’m done, I hear the corridor echoing with voices. Girls probably headed to orientation.
Considering I have no idea where the auditorium is, I hurry out of my room and follow closely behind.
A few girls turn their heads in my direction and get that disgusted face that girl Heather showered me with only an hour ago. But most of them pretend I don’t exist. They all file into the auditorium and choose seats toward the back, leaving a few free seats sprinkled around. I choose one toward the middle of the back, having no choice but to squeeze past other students’ feet, eliciting frustrated groans.
With a huff, I lower myself in my seat and lean back. The girl next to me, pretty, tall, with strawberry blond hair, twists her body to look at me.
“Hey,” I say, stretching out a hand. “I’m Danica Stewart.”
Her gaze drops to my hand and her nose twists as though maggots are attached to my skin. She, too, gives me a quick sweep
and doesn’t like what she finds. I’m about to pop a blood vessel, when I finally realize the difference between their uniforms and mine. Theirs is crisp, neatly pressed, and look like a million bucks. Mine? Well, it definitely doesn’t match up. I don’t understand why I took such good care of it the past few weeks. Maybe it got wrinkled on the way over here. I wasstuck in a limo for two hours.
There’s a sudden charge in the air. My whole body perks up, my eyes swiftly flicking around until I discover the source of that energy.
Three guys stroll into the auditorium, one of them none other than Declan Worthington. A guy with raven black hair that reaches just blow his shoulders flanks him on the right, and on his left is a guy with short, curly light brown hair.
The Queenswood Princes, I presume.
As they continue their leisure stroll into the auditorium, their shoulders raised high in importance, I swear their hair blows as though a soft breeze passes over them. Which is impossible because all the windows are closed and it’s a little stuffy. It’s almost like in those movies where soft music plays in the background as they march in slow-mo. Every single head is turned in their direction, utterly entrapped. Girls watch them with desperate longing in their eyes, guys stare at them with a mix of jealousy and respect.
The charge in the air intensifies the deeper they walk into the room. They stop by the middle row in the back section of the auditorium, and the kids sitting near the aisle quickly jump up to let them pass.
A collective sigh permeates through the room, all coming from the girls. I don’t blame them, the three of them are so damn goodlooking it should be illegal. And I have to admit that Declan is the
most good-looking of them all. I’m sure he’s the star of most of these girls’ fantasies.
The guy with the long raven hair, who gives off an aura of mystery, busies himself with his phone. Interesting, since we’re not allowed to use our phones during school hours. The one with the curly light brown hair starts flirting with the girls seated next to him, and Declan just sits there, staring ahead.
A few minutes later, he turns his head and studies the students surrounding him. His eyes sweep from right to left, back and forth, as though he’s looking for something. Or is it someone? As his beautiful piercing blue eyes survey the room, a satisfied smile teases the corner of his lips. He’s about to turn around, when his gaze lands on mine. His eyes narrow to slits, his lips pressed into a firm line, and he twists his head around. He leans to whisper to the ravenhaired guy. He, too, turns around to look at me, pinning me with eyes the most beautiful shade of green. Like emeralds. He doesn’t glare at me, just watches me curiously. Then he turns around just as Principal Hipskind walks into the auditorium and marches up to the stage.
The next hour is full of speeches, welcoming the students to another year at the academy and how they expect great things from us this year. We are, as he puts it, the future. Then we’re hit with the school rules, which I pay very close attention to, but the others look bored to death. He also mentions that there will be security guards surveying the premises and that the students might not be able to leave campus as often as they used to, which gets him some groans and curses. I wonder if this has anything to do with the assassination attempt on Declan Worthington. Even though they
caught the guy, he was just a hit man and he’s not talking. The guy pulling the strings is still out there.
Then we’re invited to the banquet in the cafeteria. A grand affair to welcome Queenswood’s prized students back to school. Truth is, I’m starving. I couldn’t get anything down this morning because I was a bundle of nerves.
As I fall in line with the other students making their way out of the auditorium, each of them impeccably dressed in their uniforms, someone stretches out a leg. I trip and glide on the polished floor, my palms and knees skidding across the room, my head slamming into the wall.
With a groan, I rub my head. Laughter breaks out all around me.
“Watch it, Peasant Girl,” a guy says, lightly kicking my ribs with his expensive black loafer.
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want you to hurtyourself,” that girl Heather says.
As she passes me, she steps on my hand. Actuallysteps on it. But she doesn’t put enough weight to break any fingers.
There’s a small group surrounding me, snickering and looking down at me like I’m lower than the ants on the floor. A few give me gentle kicks with their damn expensive shoes. But then I feel a pair of eyes burning into my skin, and when I raise my head, I find Declan Worthington standing a few feet away. Glaring at me like I’m even lower than the ants on the ground.
Flipping his russet hair with a flick of his head, he marches away.
Chapter Four
The banquet is stunning. Two long tables are decked with the most delicious-looking food I’ve ever seen. Most of the kids take only a dish or two, clearly not fazed by the amazingness of this food, but I’m not holding back. I grab a plate and load it up with dishes I’ve never seen before in my life.
I find an empty table and sit down, ignoring the pain in my left knee. There’s a small wound on both of them and on my palms, my hand stings, and I’m sure there’s a bump on my head. Maybe I should see the nurse? What the hell was that about, anyway?
This food is heaven. I don’t know what I should eat first, and scarf it all down as though I haven’t eaten in days.
“Enjoying yourself?” a cold voice says.
With my fork inches away from lips, some spaghetti and shrimp hanging off the sides, I raise my eyes and find Declan standing there with his friends flanking him on either side. A whole bunch of other students are surrounding them, too.
“What?” I ask.
He crosses his arms over his chest, not crinkling his shirt which must take a lot of skill, and pins harsh, blue eyes on me. “I said, are you enjoying yourself?”
“Um. Yeah?” I lower my fork to my plate, noticing how shaky my hand is.
Declan’s eyes grow even more furious. He takes a small step closer, causing his hair to fall over his left eye. “You think you have the right to eat that?”
“What?” I glance at everyone else. They stare at me as though I’m sewage. Well, except for the raven-haired guy. His expression is emotionless. Heather and her cronies, who stand near Declan, look like they want to claw at my face.
Declan tightens his arms over his chest. “I said, do you think you have the right to eat that?”
I lower my shaking hand to my lap and open my mouth, hoping my lips aren’t trembling, too. “I have the same right as anyone else here.”
He steps closer until he hits the table, his eyes harsher than before. “Do your parents pay for that food? Did they pay for that uniform? Do they fund this building?” He throws his hand toward the ceiling. “Have they paid for anything?”
It feels like cotton’s lodged in my throat. I look around at everyone else, noticing that their expressions have grown harsher as well.
I raise my head toward Declan. “I was invited here. By yourdad.”
“My father does a lot of stupid things.” He rests his palms on the table, leaning toward me until only a few inches remain between our faces. “You don’t belong here, Peasant Girl,” he says in a quiet, soft voice laced with so much malice that every hair on my body stands on edge. “No one wants you here. So get the hell out.”
I’m as still as a statue, hardly able to breathe. It seems like everyone else has gained on me as well, not leaving a lot of room between us.
I look back at Declan, noticing his eyes gleaming with hatred— pure, unadulterated hatred. For me.
He backs up a bit and narrows his eyes to slits. “This is your final warning, peasant. Get the hell out or we’ll make your time here in Queenswood Academy a living nightmare.”
He turns on his heel and strides out of the room. The two other Princes follow suit, not giving me a second glance.
A guy grabs my still-full plate off the table. He marches over to the nearby bin and chucks it inside. I’m on my feet in an instant. “Hey, that’s a waste of food.”
He plucks the bin off the floor and tosses it before me. “Go fishing, Peasant Girl. Because that’s the only food you’ll eat today.”
I look past him toward the buffet tables. They’ve set up a student blockade, cutting off any access to the food. I search for a teacher or staff member, but it looks like none of them are around.
The guy pushes the bin closer to me. “What are you waiting for? Dig inside like the trash you are.”
I once again gaze from one face to the other, hoping for—I don’t know—that someone would bail me out? But it looks like they’re all out for my blood. Then I notice Sam standing on the side, shifting from one foot to the other. When her eyes catch mine, she turns away.
Pushing away from the table, I make my way toward the exit of the cafeteria. But some guys, including the one with the bin, stand in my way. “Where are you off to?” he sneers. “You didn’t finish eating.”
“Can I pass?” I say.
He cups a hand over his ear. “What?”
I grit my teeth. “I said, can I pass?”
“I don’t think I heard a please. Chris, did you hear one?” he throws at the guy standing next to him. Chris is a big guy, all muscle and no fat. I’m sure he can snap my limbs in half like twigs.
With an amused grin, he says, “No, Jayson, I don’t think I heard a please.”
It takes all I have not to roll my eyes. “Can I pleasepass?”
“Get on your hands and knees and beg,” Jayson says. “What?”
“And while you’re at it, maybe you can shine my shoes. It’s been hours since they’ve gotten a decent polish.”
I just gape at him. “Are you for real?”
He points to the floor. “On your hands and knees, Peasant Girl.”
“If you think I’m going to give in to this lunacy, you’ve got another thing coming.”
His eyes flash with anger. “Who the helldo you think you are to talk back to me? You bit—” His mouth snaps shut when several teachers enter the room. He tosses me a death glare before stalking off, the others following behind.
I make a mad dash for the exit and hurry to the girls’ dorm. ***
Lying in bed with my stuffed camel squeezed to my chest, I try not to let what happed in the cafeteria consume me. But of course it’s the only thing I can think about. Spoiled, rotten little bullies. Who the hell do theythink they are? Just because they have money, they think they rule the world? That they can step on anyone they want and treat people like dirt?
I knew asshole Declan Worthington was behind it all. I freakin’ savedhis life. And this is how he repays me?
It’s clear I won’t have any allies in this school. Even my guide Sam turned her back on me.
There’s supposed to be entertainment right now, a famous band and dancing. There’s no way I can bring myself over there. I don’t need to subject myself to any more humiliation. I don’t know how I’ll get through my days here.
Sweeping up my phone, I video chat my parents.
“Danica!” Mom’s bright face comes into view, and my whole body deflates with relief. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy to see her. “Marcus!” she calls. “Marcus, Danica’s on the phone!”
It doesn’t take long before Dad’s beaming face joins my mother. “There’s our Queenswood girl. Tell us, sweetheart, how was your first day? Was it as wonderful as you imagined?”
My heart leaps into my throat. They look so happy, so hopeful, so glad I’m living the life they wanted to provide for me. Dad worked hard his whole life to set up a college fund for me so I wouldn’t have to deal with loans. But it all went to hell when he lost his job. I caught him so many times alone in the kitchen late at night, just sitting there with troubled thoughts. Worrying about my future, wishing he could provide me with a better one than he had himself.
And Mom. She’s always wanted me to follow my dreams. Since I was a kid, I’ve yearned to be a lawyer. I put an end to that dream when Dad lost his job and Mom’s hours were cut, but I opened the box only a few weeks ago. How can I bear telling them I want to lock it again? Lock it up and throw away the key.
As I stare into the smiling and hopeful faces of my parents, I get a sudden epiphany. Those privileged kids have no idea what it means to lose everything you have, to yearn for something so hard
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For this let men revile my name, I’d shun no cross, I’d fear no shame; All hail reproach!
I am glad that Mr. M――n and V――n returned safe. May an effectual door be opened for both! If so, they will have many adversaries. Will my dear Mr. H―― tell Mr. P――, that I expect every thing to be compleated by the first Sunday in October? If the weather should alter I may be in town; if not, I may range further.— This spiritual hunting is delightful sport, when the heart is in the work. I expect to hear of a blacker cloud in America, but I am glad the expedition was diverted. Our enemies may triumph for a while; C can soon put a hook in the leviathan’s jaws.
Thoughts are vain against the L , All subserves his sov’reign word; Wheels encircling wheels must run, Each in course to bring it on.
Happy for you, my dear Sir, that have fled to this G for refuge. The more you know of Him, the more vilely you will think of yourself. G bless you and your dear relations. I must conclude, or the letter cannot go. In great haste, but far greater love and respect, I subscribe myself, very dear Sir,
Yours, &c. in our common L ,
♦ “solders” replaced with “soldiers”
LETTER MCLXXV.
To Mr K――n.
Bristol, October 4, 1757.
My very dear Mr. K――n,
HAD you encouragement enough last journey, to induce you and yours to take another trip? My wife informs me so; she hath the rout. I expect a line from her at Gloucester, to inform me of your determination. Whatever it be, may it be for the glory of our common L ! I hope some souls that before were strangers to him, have begun to know him since we parted last. We have had pleasant seasons. L , what am I! G give us a warm winter! O how soon does the summer fly away! L J , pardon and quicken me, for thy mercy’s sake! Adieu. I must away. My hearty love awaits your whole self, and all enquiring friends. In great haste, I subscribe myself, my very dear Mr. K――,
Yours most affectionately in our common L ,
G. W.
LETTER MCLXXVI.
To the Reverend Mr. G――.
London, October 16, 1757.
IReverend and very dear Sir,
THANK you for your sympathizing letter sent to Ireland. The friend of sinners stood by me, or I had been stoned to death. They were
thrown at me, not for speaking against the Papists in particular, but for exciting all ranks to be faithful to King J , and to our dear sovereign King George, for his great name’s sake. L , what am I, that I should be honoured to suffer any degree of pain or shame in such a cause? Time will not permit me to descend to more particulars. A young man, who will bring you soon a few lines from me, can tell you the whole affair. He is a Methodist, and is coming from Dublin, (and from a Bishop’s family) to study at Glasgow. I know you will receive him gladly. O that G may qualify, and send forth thousands to blow the trumpet in Zion! Seven gospel ministers were together at Bristol, when the counsellor preached. A lawyer hath lately entered likewise into orders, and I humbly hope the blessed J will not give us up. Both at home and abroad we are in great danger. But the L lives, and will live and reign for ever. The awakenings in New-Jersey, &c. are tokens for good. L , prepare us for whatever thou hast prepared for us! We have had blessed seasons for these six weeks last past, at Plymouth, Exeter, Bristol, Gloucester, and Gloucestershire. This comes from my winter quarters. You will pray, that J may be with us. My most cordial respects and thanks await your whole self, and all dear friends who are so kind as to enquire after, my very dear Sir,
Yours, &c.
G. W.
Ever-honoured Madam,
To Lady H――.
London, October 21, 1757.
IBURNT, but I believe I shall never forget the contents of, your Ladyship’s letter. Who but the Redeemer himself, can possibly describe the yearnings of such a tender parent’s heart? Surely your Ladyship is called to cut off a right hand, and pluck out a right eye; “But it is the L , let him do what seemeth him good,” This was the language of Eli, whose sons were sinners before the L exceedingly. This hath often been the case of the best of people, and the greatest favourites of heaven; but none knows the bitterness of such a cup, but those who are called to drink it. If not sweetened with a sense of the love and mercy of G in C , who could abide it? O what physic, what strong physic do our strong affections oblige our heavenly Father to give us! What pruning knives do these luxuriant branches require, in order to preserve the fruit and delicacy of the vine. Blessed be G , there is a time coming, when these mysterious dignified providences shall be explained. I am glad Mr. L―― is with your Ladyship: he has a friendly heart. May the L J raise up your Ladyship many comforters! Above all, may he come himself. He will, he will. Mr. H―― ask’d most kindly after your Ladyship. On Thursday Sir John M――, I am told, was at chapel, and many others. The prospect brightens at that end of the town. O for warm winter quarters! O that I could bear part of your Ladyship’s heavy load! But I can only in my feeble way bear it on my heart, before him who came to heal our sicknesses and bear our infirmities. That your Ladyship may come out of these fiery trials, purged and purified like the brightest gold, is the earnest prayer of, ever-honoured Madam,
Your Ladyship’s most dutiful, obliged, sympathizing, and very ready servant for C ’s sake,
G. W. LETTER MCLXXVIII.
To Mrs. C――.
London, October 25, 1757.
IMy dear Mrs. C――,
FIND by your last to your brother James, that you was in jeopardy. But I trust He that once drove away the Spaniards, will also preserve you and the rest of my dear family from a French invasion. G give you strength and courage! He will. Every thing seems to be in a critical situation. G knows the event.
Blest is faith that trusts C ’s pow’r, Blest are saints that wait His hour.
In the midst of all, the work goes on here. In Dublin I was like to be stoned to heaven: but I am on earth yet. We had glorious seasons both in Scotland and Ireland. O that the cloud pointed to America! But the Redeemer’s time is the best. He will bless you for taking care of his family in the wilderness. I wish it had been reduced more by the dismission of the R――s and B――l. But perhaps G may over rule all for the childrens future good. I hear that R―― is in a French prison; G give to him and his true repentance! They have acted an ungrateful part; but thus our L was used; and the servant must be as his L . The judgment-day will clear all. I wish Mr. B―― may be easy where he is. Mr P―― may agree upon terms with him, and with I―― H――. I love old friends and servants, and desire to bless G that my family hath got such a governess. Pray let me know if you want any apparel, &c. I shall be quite concerned if you abridge yourself of any thing. I cannot reward you: but the G whom I desire to serve, can and will. To his tender and never-failing mercy do I most humbly commit you, and beg the continuance of your prayers in behalf of, my dear Mrs. C――,
Your most affectionate, and obliged friend, and servant for C ’s sake,
LETTER MCLXXIX.
To Governor E――.
London, October 26, 1757.
IHonoured Sir,
AM glad to hear from my nephew and other hands, that your Excellency’s administration is so universally approved of. I pray G to make you a lasting blessing to that colony, which hath long wanted the blessing of an active, skilful and disinterested Governor. I thank your Excellency for honouring Bethesda with your company. Lord Hallifax informed me, that you would send him your sentiments concerning its being enlarged into a college. I have drawn out my proposals, and have delivered them to his Lordship; but the uncertainty of the times prevents my pushing that affair. However, Georgia’s welfare lies much on my heart; and it is my full design, if providence should open a way, and I am assured of meeting with proper encouragement, (which I make no doubt of) to serve that colony, and pay it another visit. In the mean while, my heart’s desire and prayer to G is and shall be, that you may have the honour and comfort of making the people, over whom divine providence hath called you to preside, happy and prosperous. I must not longer, dear Sir, detain you from the public, and shall therefore only beg your acceptance of this, as a token of respect, from, honoured Sir,
Your Excellency’s most obliged humble servant,
G. W.
LETTER MCLXXX.
To J―― B――, Esq.
London, October 26, 1757.
IMy dear Friend,
AM quite glad to hear, that you have met with encouragement to return again to poor Georgia, and that my nephew serves under you. I humbly hope that colony is not to be given over into the enemies hands; but G only knows what is before us. The cloud at present looks black; but it is always darkest before break of day. Our extremity may yet be G ’s opportunity to help and deliver us. In the midst of all, the work of G goes on among us. At both ends of the town we have blessed seasons. In Scotland and Ireland the word ran and was glorified. Who knows but we may meet once more in Georgia. Blessed be G for a well-grounded hope of meeting in heaven! My hearty love awaits all who are travelling thither, and are so kind as to enquire after, my dear friend,
Yours &c. in our common L ,
G. W.
LETTER MCLXXXI.
To the Reverend Mr. M――.
London, November 3, 1757.
YOUR kind letter was very acceptable. Ere now, I trust, the Redeemer hath given you the prospect of the barren wilderness being turned in a fruitful field. Never fear; J will
delight to honour you. Every clergyman’s name is Legion. Two more are lately ordained.
Satan letts and men object,
Yet the thing they thwart, effect
Thoughts are vain against the L ,
All subserves his standing word;
Wheels encircling wheels must run,
Each in course to bring it on.
You need not remind me of praying for the noble pair: surely they are not to be prisoners another Winter. The kingdom of G suffereth violence, and really if we would take it by force, we must do violence to our softest passions, and be content to be esteemed unkind by those whose idols we once were. This is hard work; but, Abba, Father, all things are possible with thee! Blessed be G for putting it into your heart to ask the pulpit for a week-day sermon. Are we not commanded to be instant in season and out of season? If dear Mrs. M―― will take my word for it, I will be answerable for your health. The joy resulting from doing good, will be a continual feast. G knows how long our time of working may last. This order undoes us. As affairs now stand, we must be disorderly or useless. O for more labourers. I am told thousands went away last Sunday evening from Tottenham-Court, for want of room. Every day produces fresh accounts of good being done, and at this end of the town the word runs and is glorified more and more. Last Friday we had a most solemn fast: I preached thrice; thousands attended, and I humbly hope our prayers entered the ears of the L of Sabaoth. More bad news from America about our fleet: G humble and reform us, for his infinite mercy’s sake! Go on, my dear Sir, and tell a sinful nation, that sin and unbelief is the accursed thing which prevents success. Thus at least we shall deliver our own souls, and be free from the blood of all men. But I forget: I suppose you are preparing for the
pulpit: I dare not detain you My best respects await Mrs. M――: your mother is well. That you may return to London in all the fulness of the blessings of the gospel of C , is and shall be the prayer of, dear Sir,
Yours, &c.
G. W.
LETTER MCLXXXII.
To Mr O――.
London, November 12, 1757.
IMy dear Mr. O――,
THANK you very kindly for visiting Bethesda family, and for administering the Lord’s-supper I am glad to hear that the Master of the feast was present. Ere long I hope we shall be called to the marriage-feast of the supper of the Lamb in heaven. G only knows what awaits us in our journey thither. I hope poor Georgia will be preserved. I trust the L of all lords hath said, “Destroy it not, for there is a blessing in it.” We are in equal jeopardy. J is our common refuge. Conviction and conversion work goes on amongst us. But I long to see America once more. O that I may never cease itinerating, till I sit down in heaven. My hearty love awaits all that are bound thither Hoping ere long to hear good news from you and yours, I haste to subscribe myself, my dear Mr. O――,
Yours, &c.
G. W.
LETTER MCLXXXIII.
To Mr D――.
London, November 12, 1757.
IMy dear Mr. D――,
AM glad you have received my letter. I know not that I have one of yours left unanswered. Blessed be G , for causing Bethesda to prosper. May it do so in every sense more and more! I hope you will be preserved from the hands both of temporal and spiritual enemies. G prepare us for all events! Pray let me know the names of all the children. I wish they could be reduced this war time to the number of fifteen; and I wish my nephew was not so hasty; and that the persons you mention were (spiritually) shot through the heart. Many here seem to be wounded in that manner. At Tottenham-Court chapel, as well as the Tabernacle, the word runs and is glorified. I am glad you have the ordinance now and then. That the G of ordinances may bless you all evermore, is the earnest prayer of, my dear Mr. D――,
Yours most affectionately in our common L , G. W.
P. S. Pray be particular in the account of the family. The L J smiles upon us here. He can, and I trust will preserve you from French, Spaniards, and every hurtful foe. This is my constant prayer
LETTER MCLXXXIV.
To Mr. R――.
London, November 17, 1757.
Dear Sir,
YOUR letter to Mr. D―― gave me great satisfaction. The contents, no doubt, made angels to rejoice in heaven, and why not us embodied spirits here on earth. So many called out of one family, is a peculiar mercy. Blessed are the eyes that see the things which you see, and the ears that hear the things you hear. Grace, mercy, and peace be multiplied upon you all! Who knows but we may see each other on this side eternity? I am wishing every day for wings to fly to my dear America once more; but at present the way seems to be hedged up. A fresh work is breaking out here, and the Redeemer seems to be manifesting his glory in many souls. This, with what has been done on your side the water, may give us some hopes, that though the enemy may be permitted to break in like a flood, yet the Spirit of the L will lift up a standard against him. The death of Governor B―― and President Burr, are dark providences: but J lives and reigns. I thank you and yours most heartily for your kind invitation: G willing, I will accept it whenever I come over. L , hasten the time, if it be thy blessed will! Be pleased to remember me in the kindest manner to all enquiring friends. I entreat the continuance of your prayers in behalf of, my dear Sir,
Yours in our common L ,
To Mr. S――.
London, November 17, 1757.
My dear Mr S――,
IAM a letter in your debt: I should be glad to answer your last in person. The attraction towards America is as strong as ever, but at present I am stationed here. The word runs and is glorified. I fear the deaths of the Governor and President will hurt New-Jersey college: but J lives and reigns. When will my turn come to live and reign with him for evermore! Come, L J , come quickly! If young P―― should be sent from the Orphan-house to your college, be pleased to furnish him with plain necessaries. I am informed he is a promising youth. L , raise up Elisha’s in the room of ascended Elijah! The residue of the Spirit is in his hands. The late effusion was preparatory to your present trials. G make us ready for all events. Excuse great haste; I write in greater love, as being, my dear friend,
Yours most affectionately in our glorious Head,
G. W.
LETTER MCLXXXVI.
To Mr. M――.
London, November 26, 1757.
IMy very dear Sir,
AM very glad you have been so providentially detained at Thetford, and that your bow abode in such full strength. The L help you to give a good farewel stroke to-morrow! My poor feeble labours almost brought me to the grave this last week; but preaching yesterday three times on account of the Prussians late success, hath somewhat recovered me. It was a high day; thousands and thousands attended. Where the carcase is, there the eagles will
gather together The chapel is made a Bethel indeed I am glad you are coming to see. Spiritual routs are blessed entertainments. I must prepare for my throne. It is near five in the evening, and to-morrow I am to preach thrice. Mr. Jon―― said he would write this post. I was glad to hear by Mr. D――, that the noble pair were growing. That you all may increase with all the increase of G , is the earnest prayer of, my very dear Sir,
Yours most affectionately in our glorious Head, G. W.
LETTER MCLXXXVII.
To Mrs. B――.
London, December 14, 1757.
TDear Madam,
HE event only can prove, whether what I am going to mention, is of G . Blessed be his holy name, by new-year’s day I hope we shall be able to discharge our chapel debts. Every day proves more and more that it was built for the glory of J C , and the welfare of many precious and immortal souls. But my attendance on that, and the Tabernacle too, with a weak body, outward cares, and inward trials, have frequently brought me of late to the apprehensions of being near my wished-for port; but I am afraid I must keep out at sea some time longer. However, I am brought to the short allowance of preaching but once a day, and thrice on a Sunday. O that this feeble carcase could hold out more for G ! I want to begin to begin to do something for G . I shall be glad if he is pleased to bring our present design to a prosperous issue. You must know then, dear Madam, that round the chapel there is a most beautiful spot of ground, and some good folks have purposed
erecting alms-houses on each side, for some godly widows. I have a plan for twelve. The whole expence will be four hundred pounds: we have got one hundred. The widows are to have half-a-crown a week. The sacrament money, which will more than do, is to be devoted to this purpose. Thus will many godly widows be provided for, and a standing monument left, that the Methodists were not against good works. I beg you’ll mention this to good Lady C―― and Mrs. G――; for I would not have it public till the sum is raised, and we are sure of effecting the thing. If I did not know, dear Madam, your benevolent, disinterested heart, I should not thus make free. Be pleased to excuse, if you do not approve the motion. I only mention it, because I believe such a thing would much promote the glory of G . I leave this and all with him. I commit you and good Lady C―― to his protection, and beg a continued remembrance in your prayers, in behalf of, dear Madam,
Your most obliged and ready servant for C ’s sake,
G. W.
LETTER MCLXXXVIII.
To Doctor S――.
London, December 15, 1757.
IReverend and very dear Sir,
F yet in this dying world, be pleased to accept a few grateful lines, from one who highly esteems you for the sake of our common L . Thousands can witness how often I have prayed for you in public, and the great day will discover how earnestly your lingering case hath been mentioned in my poor addresses to our G in private. Surely, in a literal sense, reverend Sir, you are called to die daily. But I trust and believe, the more the outward man decayeth,
you will be strengthened so much the more in the inward man. He that hath loved you, will love you to the end; he that hath honoured you to be so useful to church and state, will not leave you in the latter stages of your road. A radiant crown awaits you. G , the righteous judge, will give it you in that day. O gloriam! quantum & qualem! O that I could leap my seventy years. But I forget I am writing to a sick friend. Pardon me, dear Sir, it being only a peppercorn of acknowledgment for all kind offices done in the behalf of, reverend and very dear Sir,
Your most obliged, affectionate, sympathizing friend, and ready servant in J C ,
G. W.
LETTER MCLXXXIX.
To Lady H――.
London, December 15, 1757.
IEver-honoured Madam,
WISH your Ladyship joy of being for once so long alone: and why? because I am persuaded your Ladyship is never less alone, than at such seasons. Then the Father is in a particular manner with his dear children: and though they seem in themselves to be like pelicans in the wilderness, yet he is near at hand to hear their cry, and to bottle up every tear: he that seeth in secret, will ere long reward your Ladyship openly. O how are your Ladyship’s children indebted to you, for your more than maternal tenderness! What a comfort is it, ever-honoured Madam, that J C is to come, and to be our judge! O that he would come quickly! Why does he delay? I was near port, and am now put out to sea again. O that it may be to pilot in some more dear souls! The work seems but to be
beginning. At Tottenham-Court the word runs and is glorified. By new-year’s day I hope the debt will be discharged. Several have proposed building some alms-houses for godly widows, on each side the chapel. I have a plan for twelve. The whole expence will be four hundred pounds: we have got a prospect of two. I purpose allowing each widow half-a-crown a week. The sacrament money will more than do. The ground is most commodious, and near the high road. If effected, I think it must bring glory to G , and be a standing monument that we are not against good works. I only mention it to your Ladyship. May that G , whom I desire to serve in the gospel of his dear Son, direct and bless us in this and every thing we undertake for his glory. But I fear I am detaining your Ladyship too long. O that I could offer any thing adequate to your Ladyship’s repeated kindnesses to such a worthless worm! My poor prayers and unfeigned sympathy, is all the testimony I can give of my being, everhonoured Madam,
Your most dutiful, obliged, and very ready servant in our compassionate High-priest,
G. W.
LETTER MCXC.
To Lady G―― H――.
London, December 15, 1757.
Honoured Madam,
HAVING lately heard of your Ladyship’s being returned to Bath, I cannot help wishing your Ladyship joy of Sir Charles’s most agreeable marriage. May your Ladyship’s present joy be consummated, in seeing them and all your honourable relations sitting down together at the marriage-feast of the supper of the
Lamb. I have had frequent prospects of this, since I saw your Ladyship. Often do I groan in this earthly tabernacle. I long to be cloathed with my house from heaven. O that the great G may vouchsafe to improve me, till he is pleased to call me to my wishedfor rest. Hitherto he owns my feeble labours. The work in London seems to be but as it were beginning. We live in troublesome times; I trust the streets of the spiritual Jerusalem will be built in them. Happy they who have fled to J C for refuge: they have a peace that the world cannot give. O that the pleasure-taking, trifling flatterer knew what it was! He would no longer feel such an empty void, such a dreadful chasm in the heart which nothing but the presence of G can fill. But I forget myself. I shall tire your Ladyship; besides I must drop a few lines to good Lady H――n; she is in the furnace. When she is tried, her G will bring her forth like gold. But I must detain your Ladyship no longer, than while I add my dutiful respects to your Ladyship’s daughters, and beg your Ladyship’s acceptance of the same from, honoured Madam,
Your Ladyship’s most dutiful, obliged, and ready servant for C ’s sake,
G. W.
LETTER MCXCI.
To the Reverend Mr. T――.
London, January 12, 1758.
My very dear Friend,
YOUR kind letter puzzles me. As the case is so very peculiar, I think you cannot be too particular in writing down what you have been an eye and ear witness to. I think that the calling some ministers together for the ends proposed, is the best method that can
be taken. Where two or three are gathered together, and are agreed touching the thing they shall ask, our L hath promised it shall be given to them. I shall be glad to hear of their success. Ah, my dear man, little do we think, when we first set out, what trials we shall meet with ere we arrive at our journey’s end. I find more and more, that I am a mere novice in the divine life, and have scarce begun to begin to learn my A B C in the school of C . But by the grace of G I am what I am. He hath helped out of six, and will also help out of seven troubles. I find you have heard of the Irish expedition. L , what am I, that I should be counted worthy to suffer shame for thy great name’s sake! A more effectual door than ever seems to be opening in this metropolis. A counsellor, lately ordained, turns out a Boanerges. Thousands and thousands flock to hear the everlasting gospel. The new chapel, where I now write, turns out quite well. The L J hath made it a gate of heaven to many souls. This, with the signal deliverances lately vouchsafed the protestant arms, makes me hope that our extremity will yet be G ’s opportunity to help and deliver us. Let us wrestle in prayer for each other. O that the L may abundantly bless both you and yours! Accept cordial love from me and mine. We are neither of us likely to put into harbour yet. The voyage seems to me very long. But I find we are immortal till our work is done. That we all may at last enter port with a full gale, is the hearty prayer of, my very dear friend,
Yours most affectionately in our compassionate High-priest, G. W.
LETTER MCXCII.
To Mrs. S――.
London, January 17, 1758.
Dear Madam,
IWISH you joy of the happy breach made in, or rather happy addition made to your dear family. I thought I should never see it in the same circumstances any more. You may chearfully let Rebekah go. I trust she hath met with an Isaac. May they love one another as C and the church! The L now make you to laugh! I hope your latter end will greatly increase. I send the surviving ones my most cordial love; and praying that you may have more and more comfort in every one of them, I subscribe myself, dear Madam,
Yours, &c.
G. W.
LETTER MCXCIII.
To Mr. K――.
London, January 17, 1758.
My very dear Timothy,
YOU will deliver the enclosed. I am glad to write a few lines on such an occasion. G grant that the remaining dear single ones may be as well disposed of! I bless the L that you are enabled to preach at all. I often think of and sympathize with you. L , help me! What an impatient creature should I be, was I to be visited in that manner! But we know who hath promised, “that as our day is, so shall our strength be.” Mrs. Pearce is now out of the state of trial, and I am to bury one of the same name next Thursday. Both, I believe, are gone to heaven. L J , when will my turn come? What can reconcile us to a longer stay on earth, but the prospect of seeing his kingdom advanced? It is very promising at London. Mr.
M――n is a Boanerges The chapel is made a Bethel Blessed be G , all is paid. I hope to be with you in the Spring. Adieu. The L bless and comfort you! My wife is poorly, but joins in hearty love to your whole self, and all enquiring friends, with, my very dear man,
