Page 17 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)
“Remember what I said. None of you may go downstairs this evening. I want nothing to ruin this evening. It’s very important. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir,” the girls murmured. Freddie said nothing.
“No pranks, no dares, no nothing.”
She caught a glimpse between Freddie and Elinor. Sadly, Frederick saw it too and jumped on it.
“I will say this. If you do anything, and I mean anything, to interrupt this evening, I’ll confine you to your rooms for a month and there will be no more jaunting about with the Whistlers and definitely no trip to London. Understand?”
“Yes sir,” they mumbled in unison and Frances’ heart sank.
Frederick nodded and made to leave but Freddie spoke up.
“Father, may I speak with you?”
No no no no…
“Now is not a good time.” Frederick snapped.
“I want to leave school.” Her son spoke before she could stop him.
Frances felt ill. She could see disaster unfolding before her and was powerless to stop it.
Frederick seemed momentarily baffled. “Why? Do you have any idea at all how much it’s costing me to turn you into a gentleman?”
“I want to leave school and work with you. I want to learn the shipping industry.” He lifted his chin defiantly, but Frances could see the awful vulnerability in her son’s eyes. The hope. He so wanted his father’s approval, but this was not the way to earn it.
“Dear God. Do you understand nothing?” Frederick raised his voice.
“Sir?”
“No, you cannot leave school and work with me.” He held out his arm to Frances and she took it, shooting a warning look at her son. If she could just get Frederick out of the room this would cease.
“No, papa, no. You must listen to me properly . I need to learn about shipping. I need…”
“Are you deaf, boy?” he hissed angrily.
“Sir, please just listen to me for once.” Freddie’s colour flushed. He was very nearly a man, but in that moment, he looked terribly young and innocent.
Frederick turned slowly, and Frances shivered, hating how powerless she was in this situation.
She used her most conciliatory tone to try and sway her husband for Freddie’s sake. “Darling, Freddie just wants to make you proud of him. Perhaps now is not the time to talk about it? Hmmm?” She patted Frederick’s arm and urged him on. He resisted and shook her off. His gaze was locked on Freddie.
“Go on, I’m listening, boy. Exactly what do you think you could do?”
“Whatever you told me to. I need to learn. I know that. I understand that.” The eagerness in Freddie’s tone hurt as she knew this conversation would only end one way.
“Would you want to learn how to rivet? How to weld? Do you want to learn how to build ships? Do you want to get your hands dirty?” he spat mockingly.
“Not necessarily, more how to run a shipping line as you do.”
“And you think you could do that? That you could walk into the company and… what? run it?”
“Of course not. No, I don’t think I could run it. Not yet. That’s the entire point I’m making. For heaven’s sake, father, I’m asking to learn . If you’d just listen to me for once instead of ignoring me or shouting me down…” Freddie’s exasperation was evident.
Frederick moved so swiftly, he made Frances and the girls scream. She clapped her hands to her mouth in horror.
He grabbed Freddie by his shirt front and yanked him up, putting his face close to Freddie’s and hissing with fury.
“I’ll tell you what you need to learn, boy.
You need to learn manners. You need to learn how to be a gentleman.
Go to school and learn what gentlemen learn.
Go to Oxford and row boats to make friends in the right places.
Do you think for a moment that I would allow a son of mine in a shipyard ?
” The disdain in the final word was clear for everyone to hear.
Freddie held his ground and Frances didn’t know whether to be proud or terrified at his boldness.
“I’ve learned all that nonsense at Harrow. I don’t need to go to Oxford and have more aristocrats look down their nose at me. For God’s sake, father, what’s wrong with you? How will I learn if you won’t teach me? What you are saying doesn’t make any sense at all. It’s utter nonsense .”
Frederick let go of the grip on his shirtfront and thrust his son away. In another astonishingly fast move, he backhanded him straight across the face, sending the boy sprawling and smacking his head on a cabinet as he stumbled back, thrown off balance.
Frances shrieked again and threw herself down beside her son.
“Get your trunk packed, get to school, and get out of my sight. And you …” he pointed at Frances. “Let go of him. If he wants to be a man, he can’t hang on your skirts.”
Frances hesitated as Freddie struggled to sit up, lip split and bleeding, a worrying red and purple bruise forming into an egg on his forehead.
Freddie shook his head, pushed her away, and struggled to his feet.
He stalked out of the room without a backwards glance, pride wounded as well as his body.
Frederick glared at Frances. “We have a dinner to attend.”
Frances hesitated. The girls were watching, fear and horror writ large across their faces. She wanted to defy him. Wanted to tell him how utterly wrong he was. She wanted to stand up to him in front of them. Let her children see that she knew he was wrong. But she couldn’t. Not whilst he was there.
“Please go on ahead. I will ask Nanny Jenks to sit with the girls.”
“You will come with me. Now.” He ordered and grabbed her by the wrist.