A clear, fresh day in June and my parents are out hunting. I feel like a vagrant having been moved around from pillar to post for months now. Father was swift to send a carriage to get me out of Baron Sudeley"s clutches as soon as he heard that the man was in trouble. First to his London house and then to Bradgate and back and forwards depending on what he and mother had planned for their own amusement. And it was all for their enjoyment; when father mentions to me he is going about the business of taking care of his estate and lands, I have learned that means one thing and one thing only. A pleasure trip for them both. I cannot condone their endless hunting sprees, their gambling, hawking, and their pursuit of idleness and self- gratification in the extreme. And when high born people are
