Page 29 of Sunday's Child

Nancy could see that both Tamara and William were pale with fright and trembling visibly.

‘Maybe we should leave now, Tamara.’

Tamara shook her head. ‘William, please tell Papa what we spoke about at the ball.’

‘The ball? What is this? Have you been gallivanting about town without my permission, Tamara?’ Mr Fitzallen strode across the floor to fling a door open. ‘Come into my office, the pair of you. And you, Miss Sunday. You seem to be involved in my daughter’s sudden attack of disobedience.’

Nancy sighed. She had a feeling this had been a terrible mistake. Glancing at the expression on Tamara’s face, it was obvious that both she and William were terrified of Mr Fitzallen. Somewhat unwillingly, Nancy followed them into the oak-panelled office. Ledgers were lined up on the shelves, all labelled in bold black letters. Wicker filing baskets were spilling over with documents, and stacks of Lloyd’s List newspapers were piled against the walls. But what fascinated Nancy most was a row of impressive brass wall clocks showing the corresponding time in different parts of the world.

‘Shut the door,’ Mr Fitzallen said irritably. ‘I don’t want everyone to know our business.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Nancy closed it quietly. She could see the curious faces of the clerks through the glass panes, but they turned away when they realised she was looking at them.

‘Papa, please listen to what William has to say.’ Tamara’s voice shook with emotion.

‘I’m listening,’ Mr Fitzallen said grimly.

William cleared his throat nervously. ‘I love your daughter, sir.’

‘Bah! Nonsense. Puppy love.’

‘I am twenty-two, sir. I have worked my way up to the position I hold at present. I believe I am an asset to your company, and I will do everything in my power to make a good husband for Tamara.’

Mr Fitzallen’s florid complexion deepened to a shade of puce. ‘Over my dead body, sir. Tamara will marry a man who can keep her in a similar manner to the way she has been raised. I know what your wages are and you cannot afford to wed anyone, let alone a young lady of quality.’

‘Papa, I am a merchant’s daughter. I am not a lady of quality, no matter how much you pay for my education.’

‘Did you put her up to this, Miss Sunday?’ Mr Fitzallen demanded angrily. ‘Tamara has never had the courage to challenge my authority in the past, so I can only think it is you who have persuaded her to do so now.’

‘If I did I would not think I had done wrong, sir.’ Nancy held her head high. ‘Anyone can see that your daughter and Mr Russell are very much in love.’

‘Thank you, Nancy,’ William said firmly. ‘I can speak for myself, but what you just said is true, Mr Fitzallen. I love Tamara with all my heart.’

‘In that case you will leave her alone, Russell. I will find a suitable husband for my daughter and that does not involve a near penniless clerk.’ Mr Fitzallen turned to Tamara. ‘I’ll send for my carriage and you will return to the Academy, both of you. I’ll deal with you later, Russell.’

Mr Fitzallen marched out of the office. He grabbed the office boy by the ear and shouted instructions to him. The boy clutched his hand to his head and rushed out into the street.

‘I won’t leave you, William,’ Tamara sobbed. ‘I love you, too.’

‘You’d better do as your papa says for now.’ William held her briefly but released her as Mr Fitzallen stormed back into the office.

‘Tamara, you will have nothing more to do with Mr Russell. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

‘It’s not fair, Papa. William and I have done nothing wrong.’

‘You went behind my back, miss. Now, listen carefully. I will keep him on because he is a good worker, but if you try to meet in secret, William Russell will lose his job and be sacked without a character. Do you understand, both of you?’

Tamara nodded tearfully and William stood to attention, biting his lip.

‘You, sir, are a mean man,’ Nancy said angrily. ‘I’m sorry, Tamara, but your papa is a bully. If you were half a man, William, you would stand up to him.’

‘What right have you got to come into my office and interfere with my family?’ Mr Fitzallen took a menacing step towards Nancy. ‘You will leave my daughter alone in future, Miss Sunday. You are a bad influence. You can find your own way back to the Academy.’

Nancy tossed her head. ‘I wouldn’t ride in your carriage if you paid me, Mr Fitzallen. I’ll see you back in class, Tamara.’ Nancy strode out of the office, allowing the door to swing shut behind her. She had just reached the pavement when Tamara caught up with her.

‘I’m coming with you, Nancy.’

‘Don’t be silly, Tamara. You’ve angered your father enough. Don’t make things worse.’