Class Traitor

It was raining.  The trees were dripping great drops of water all around Daniel as he walked.  Sometimes one would run right down his neck, but he was so wet that it didn't make much difference really.  The path was getting slippier as the mud grew deeper in the downpour, and although his shoes were good leather and new, he was still having trouble keeping his footing.  For all that, he had a strong urge to whistle as he walked.  He suppressed it.  It wouldn't do to give away his location, now, would it?1

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"He did what?!"3

Lady Whitthorn sat down heavily in her armchair, fanning herself with her handkerchief.4

"He ran away," repeated Lord Whitthorn, shaking the piece of paper he held in his hand.  "Or more accurately, he eloped."5

"Daniel?  But he's only a boy!  What is he, fourteen?"6

"Sixteen, dear."  His back turned once more, Lord Whitthorn rolled his eyes.  Such a blind spot his wife had for the boy!  "He at least left us a note."7

There was the slightest of pauses.  Then - "Well, don't keep me waiting!  Read it, read it!"8

Coughing slightly, Lord Whitthorn began.9

"My dear Mother and Father,  By the time you get this letter, I will have gone.  It can hardly have escaped your notice that I have been rather distracted lately --"10

"Distracted??  What can he mean, distracted?"  Lord Whitthorn glanced at his wife.  Her voice always became unbearably high-pitched when she was upset.  At his glance, she subsided.11

He resumed.  "This has not been without cause.  I have fallen in love with a girl from the village.--"12

"From the village??  Oh, mercy me!" Lady Whitthorn stood up and began pacing the room, which, though ornately furnished, was large enough to allow even her ample frame plenty of room to pass.13

"Her name is Jessica, and she is the daughter of the cobbler.  However, she is well-spoken and educated, and her smile would charm the birds in the skies!  It seemed clear to me that you were unlikely to approve of my choice for wife, particularly since she is five years my senior."14

There was a squeak from Lady Whitthorn, but she remained quiet when Lord Whitthorn raised his eyebrows once more.15

"Therefore, rather than risk your disapproval, the two of us plan to make our way to Scotland, where we will marry at Gretna Green.  I will return with my bride in one month's time.  I will expect that you welcome her, for my sake, if not for her own.  Your son,  Daniel."16

There was a moment's silence, broken only by Lady Whitthorn's shuffling footsteps and quiet sobs.17

Lord Whittorn gazed at the note in silence for a moment.  Then, quietly, and without fuss, he crumpled the note and dropped it neatly into the fire.18

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In the rain, Daniel climbed the fence that took him out of his parent's land.  He would meet Jessica in a quarter of an hour.  He was wet, and homeless, and tired, but somehow, life seemed good.  On the public highway at last, he started to whistle.20