A Dangerous Nativity

Chapter 6, Scene 1

"But he came in smelling of cow, Chadbourn! And not for the first time. I told Franklin to burn his clothing, burn it! You must allow Franklin to birch him." Sylvia sat upright, but her hands shook, and her pupils looked large in her rheumy eyes.

"I will not!"

"Emery would have," she whined. "He would demand it."

"Emery was a jackass, and I am not Emery, for which, sister, you should be thankful." Will clenched his hands into fists to keep from wrapping them around the scrawny neck of the tutor who held his nephew by the jacket, held him so high, the boy's feet almost lifted from the floor. Charles held his face in a brave show of courage, but his eyes pleaded with Chadbourn.

"Unhand His Grace this instant," Will shouted. "You will not birch him today or any other day. Has this happened before?"

"Only when necessary," Franklin said, chin up, eyes on Sylvia. "Boys require discipline." He gave Charles a shake as he pushed the lad away.

Will put an arm around the boy's shoulder. He could feel tension vibrating through the young body, but Charles held himself upright.

"From the state of his math knowledge, I suspect he has had more 'discipline' than learning from you."

"One cannot teach what he will not learn, my lord." Franklin made the title sound like an insult. "I only follow His Grace's—that is the late duke's—wishes," the man sniveled.

"You finally got one thing right. His Grace's father is the late duke. I will not have my nephew beaten, and certainly not over a trivial offence."

"Trivial?" Sylvia cried, bringing look of satisfaction to the tutor. "He snuck away from his tutor. He went there, Chadbourn."

Will ignored her. He looked Franklin up and down. "You're dismissed," he said as calmly as he could manage.

"Fired?" The tutor shook with outrage. "For following His Grace's orders?"

"For failing to follow mine, and for failing to teach this boy a blasted thing. Go pack your things." When Franklin glanced frantically at Sylvia and looked as if he would argue, Will held up a hand. "Pack your things without a word, and I'll allow the duchess to provide you with a character reference. Otherwise, I will toss you bodily from the house without it."

Sylvia cowered beneath Will's tone, and wept.

"He went there, Chadbourn. Emery forbade it. We do not go there."

"He went with me yesterday, and he will have my permission to go again," Will said. He watched the tutor wrap his dignity around him and leave.

Sylvia began to hiccup, tiny sobs emanating from her.

Will turned Charles and smiled into the boy's pale face. "You do look rather a mess, my boy. You didn't tell me you went back and left the schoolroom without permission."

"Sorry, Uncle Will. Fred and Randy sent a message up with John Footman, and I had to meet them. I had to."

"Your mother is right about one thing. This suit is ruined. Do you own clothes that aren't silk, something suitable for playing?"

"No, sir."

Of course not. "We'll see to it. For now, remove those clothes and have them laundered for the poor box. For leaving without permission, I want you to spend the rest of the day writing out your multiplication tables. Understood?"

Charles grimaced. "Yes, Uncle Will."

The boy left, andWill turned to his sister, determined to get to the bottom of the animositywith Songbird Cottage, but she had already slipped into a drug-induced sleep.