The impending marriage of his favorite cousin Maggie wasn’t even penned into his diary. But he certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone else that.
I don’t have time for anything other than the company at the moment.
Business had always been important to him, but Francis was fast losing perspective on the other things in his life. Taking over the running of the company had become somewhat of an obsession.
Charles looked at him expectantly. The expression on his face clearly one of doubt over whether his son had picked out a present after all.
“I have chosen a nice silver travel clock from Rundell, Bridge, and Rundell. I’m due to pick it up this afternoon,” replied Francis. That was a barefaced lie. One he could only hope his father didn’t seek to challenge.
Charles raised an eyebrow. “That’s a generous gift. I thought you were minding your pennies.”
I was, but if it gets you off my back it’s worth it.
He gave his father a confident smile. “Yes, well it’s not every day that one of your cousins get married. I am so looking forward to the ceremony and the wedding breakfast.”
If he was going to be false, he may as well lean into the lie. A silver clock would set him back a princely sum, but the cost to his pride of confessing the truth to his father would be far greater.
Charles finished the rest of his coffee, then got to his feet. “Well, I had better let you get on with things. I expect you have a lot to get done before you leave at three o’clock.”
He bent and gave Francis a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Because that is the time the silversmiths close, just in case you forgot.”
Francis gave a nod. “Of course.”
Three o’clock. Who closes at that hour? I won’t have scratched the surface of all this work by the time I have to leave. But if I don’t arrive with clock in hand tomorrow, I will never hear the end of it.
He silently gave his father his dues. Charles had him, and they both knew it.
Checkmate, Papa. Well, played.
There was still a mountain of untouched paperwork on his desk when Francis rose to leave midafternoon. Placing his hands in the small of his back, he stretched his tired muscles. They gave an unfamiliar twinge. That will teach me to drag barrels around when I am in a temper.
Charles had left the warehouse a little while earlier. His days of staying late at the office were long gone. In the lead up to his impending retirement, Charles usually managed no more than a few hours, much of which was spent sipping coffee and offering his son sage words of wisdom.
And while Francis appreciated his father’s advice and privately enjoyed his company, he was eager to take over the reins for himself. The shipping clerks still referred too many things to Charles for his liking. The sooner they deferred to him, the better.
He would have preferred to remain at work, but the wedding gift for Maggie and Piers couldn’t wait. Knowing Charles, he would already have made mention of the clock to his wife. Expectations had been set in place.
After gathering up his papers, Francis collected his hat and coat, making ready to depart. At the door, one of the senior clerks caught up with him. “Mister Saunders, I wanted to ask you about the barrels and the ropes which are cluttered about the front door. Would you like them brought inside and carried upstairs? I did ask Mister Charles, but he said to ask you.”
Deuce, I had forgotten all about them.
The wedding service and festivities scheduled for tomorrow would take up much of the day, so neither he nor Charles would be making an appearance at the office, which meant that now was the perfect time to move the barrels back in front of number fourteen. The neighbors would have a whole day to deal with the problem while he was out celebrating.
He was being more than a little childish. A rational adult wouldn’t stoop to doing such a thing. But simmering frustration clouded his vision. The burning desire to make his mark, to teach these people that they couldn’t just move in next door and expect him to welcome them with open arms, had Francis, contemplating actions that he knew were shameful. He couldn’t help himself.
This behavior wasn’t typical of a gentleman, but politeness didn’t always get you what you wanted. A strong businessman had to have a sharp edge—one which made people think twice about crossing him. He might well have family connections, but he wasn’t in possession of a title, nor about to inherit vast wealth.
He had to make his own mark on the world. And if it meant not being friends with the neighbors, so be it.
“No, I don’t want the barrels and ropes brought inside. What I want is for you to arrange to move them back to where they were in front of number fourteen.”
The clerk scowled, but wisely held his tongue. In a matter of weeks, Francis, not Charles, would be the man’s employer.
After pulling a handful of coins out of his coat pocket, Francis pressed them into the clerk’s palm. “Go and find a couple of dockside workers and get them to do the job.” Francis leaned in close. “But maybe leave it until a little bit later in the day. When the sun has gone down. We don’t want to start any trouble. Of course, it needs not saying that you won’t mention any of this to Mister Charles.”
“Yes, of course, Mister Saunders.”
The battle over the barrels would only have a finite lifespan, but at least he now had another day to come up with another plan. To find a more decisive way to be rid of the people in number fourteen once and for all.
