“I’m sorry, but as I explained to Papa, I have a great deal of work to do over the next few weeks and I cannot spare a festive jaunt.” Francis took a deep breath, doing his best to continue with his carefully adopted air of disinterest. His mother was looking for an excuse to berate him, or worse, cry, and he wasn’t going to give it to her.
I am a grown man. The days of me having to sit with my parents in the family carriage are over.
Charles appeared at the top of the stairs, and Francis turned his pleading eyes to him. “Your mother and I understand. Besides, with the spice contract about to be announced, you can’t possibly be out of town. There will be much to do apart from just signing the papers,” said Charles.
“Exactly,” replied Francis.
Charles took Francis by the arm and led him away from where Adelaide and her lady’s maid had begun to perform another check of the various leather hat boxes. Knowing his mother, it wouldn’t be the last time she examined the cases before the footmen finally carried them out to the Saunders family travel coach. Adelaide wasn’t anything if not meticulous. One year, she had made the coach turn round on the outskirts of London so they could return home and collect a pair of boots.
“What are your plans if you do secure the contract? I mean, about the storage space,” asked Charles.
His father might well be leaving the company in Francis’s hands, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be checking things before he left.
He’s not trying to undermine you. He is just asking.
Much as he tried to convince himself, Francis didn’t believe that for one moment. Everything Charles said about the business in the lead up to his departure felt like he didn’t trust him.
On January 1st, the company is mine. Humor him.
“I am considering. And grant that this is not final. But I am thinking of possibly moving the clerical office space out of the warehouse. If I rent a small shopfront in one of the nearby streets, that will free up most of the bottom floor,” replied Francis.
It wasn’t the best solution, but it was the most cost effective. In the meantime, he would keep an eye out for any other possible warehouse vacancies.
Charles nodded. “I suppose that could work. Your clerks don’t need to be at the warehouse every day. You could maintain a small area with a desk or two for those who need to be on the spot when a ship arrives. Yes, smart thinking.”
His father went to step away, then stopped. “Of course, you could always speak to Captain Basden and see if she will rent you some of her space.”
Things were at a delicate stage between Poppy and himself, and Francis was loath to make matters more complicated. He was yet to understand the situation regarding Jonathan. Asking Poppy if he could sub-let some of her property might put her in an awkward position.
And if she is still going to go ahead and marry the brute, the last thing I want is to have to bear witness to their domestic disaster every time I visit the warehouse.
No. His solution was the best in the circumstances. Keeping business and personal relationships separate was the smart way to handle things. He liked Poppy, and as much as he would like to punch Jonathan, Francis had no time in his life to get mixed up with the people next door.
“I did consider that option, Papa, but I think it best that I look at finding a space for the clerks and our shipping records. Hopefully that will create enough room.”
Francis was in a reflective mood when he arrived at Saunders Shipping later that morning. Adelaide and Charles were on their way to Scotland, and for the first time in his life, he was alone at both home and work. A mixture of excitement and trepidation bubbled away in his stomach. He had waited for this day for many years, but now that it had arrived, he found himself wondering how on earth he was going to get through the next month.
Much as Charles frustrated him at times, he at least was a solid sounding board. With both his sisters at the estates of their respective new families, the only family member left in London whom Francis could possibly turn to for advice was his brother Will.
And even then, that relationship was problematic. Will had only recently returned to England after many years abroad. In the time that he had been gone, Francis had grown from a gangly youth to a man. Will had also changed. They were taking slow steps toward rebuilding their brotherly connection. To setting it on a new, more equal footing. This would take time. But all good things did.
After having spent the afternoon working through the books and getting the ledgers up to date, Francis took a break in the early evening. With no one at home, he intended to spend as much time as he could at the docks over the next few weeks.
When he was announced as the winner of the spice contract, which he would be in a few days, he would have everything ready. The day the contract commenced would be the day he had truly arrived.
Perhaps I should treat myself to a new suit and a fine pair of boots.
As the Bard himself said, apparel oft proclaims the man. A fresh look would help stamp his authority. Let everyone in the London Docks know that Francis Saunders was a man not to be trifled with; he was to be respected.
Pushing back from his desk, Francis rose stiffly to his feet. He had spent too many hours hunched over the books of account.
“There are knots on the knots of my shoulder muscles. I need a long soak in a hot bath,” he announced.
The last clerk had packed up and left a short while ago, leaving Francis once more alone in the warehouse. It was fast becoming a habit of his to work well past normal business hours. Skipping supper meant he often returned home late at night and then had to throw himself on the mercy of the Saunders family cook for a plate of cold leftovers.
He could go home. He should go home. But the paperwork mountain never seemed to get any lower. The work which he didn’t get to tonight would have more work added on top of it come morning.
I might go and see if I can scavenge up some food from one of the nearby taverns. They surely must have a pie or two to spare.
