Constance Penrose

Ch5: Childhood's End

Father's first full round trip as Captain came in on time, to everyone's relief.

Those first days back had him holed up with Uncle Walter, where Captain Penrose battled the Earl of Armme for shifting investments into steamships over old sails.

It was the first time in Constance's life that she heard her uncle dominate any fight of his own volition.

That day, Walter Jr. escorted her to the door of the office. He intended to use her to break their fathers into civility, as their coarse language wasn't fit for a woman's ears. Of course, Auntie sent him to fetch her, as she herself was sick in bed with megrims recently. They feared that she might well be increasing again. She was a volatile woman without being in a delicate state, and she was one of the few terrors in young Walter's life.

He would rather face his father without his cousin to guard the civility than tell Aunt Leticia no.

Walter's grip on her shoulder hurt more than the maid shoving the rolling tray into her hands, not that he would know he had hurt her. Constance refused to cry out over it. The pain was more real than her dreams, and in that relief, he was still human. She had a twisted view of the world that would likely never fade, and it made her sad.

But their excuse for being here was to serve the men their tea. Not that they needed an excuse, not if Aunt Lettice sent them.

He let go of her shoulder to open the door without knocking while his father still bellowed.

"I am not sinking the family fortune into damned explosive tinkering madmen for a chance at future trade!" Her uncle's face was red and pulsing, much like Father's when they first moved back in. The brother's family resemblance was only revealed in rage. "Walter, get the fu...oh, my...Constance, my dear, did Mother send you here with tea?"

The Earl wasn't calling Letitia Constance's mum. He had a habit of calling his wife by her role in front of his sons. That stuck when speaking to any youngling under their roof, including the footmen. It wasn't cultured enough of him and caused a few squabbles when Aunt Lettice had enough, but no one else wanted to enter that fight without her there.

"Yes Uncle." Constance nodded for Walter to pass out plates and move the tower of assorted pastries between the two older men. She began pouring their tea the way they liked it. "She wants you to come to a compromise so you can take better care of her in her condition."

Constance boldly fibbed. Aunt Letitia did want the fighting to end so she could be properly coddled, but she hadn't given a single damn about steam vs. sails. Constance still feared the workhouse. Clinging to the past or diving heedlessly into the new? Both put people in those pauper's dens. She felt following either man's opinions recklessly would leave the family destitute.

Victor moved in from his seat against the wall to capture his own cup and mouthed his own, "Thank you."

He was old enough to start taking over such matters if Uncle Walter would loosen his grip. It left him stuck as a witness to the fights when he could have better used his time slamming his head between the lid of the piano.

Not that he dared use that line on his father. He said such things to his brothers and cousin over childish games away from the adults, when he could escape having to be one.

Walter Jr. took his own tea and sat opposite his brother. They mimicked Uncle and Father to the point where she could see her cousins one day having the same arguments: Young Walter for innovation and Victor for solid investments.

And she would be here, serving tea, because one of them had reason to remain in her good graces. Victor wouldn't force her to the workhouse if she was married to Walter Jr. Well, that didn't require her to marry either, but he specifically wouldn't have made his parents' mistakes. Young Walter couldn't touch her with Victor as her Lord and lover. It would be a safe and secure life.

The thought so upset Constance that she almost dropped her cup. She hid her reaction under Uncle Walter's slow pronouncement. "My wife is a brilliant woman. We'll divide shipping risks between both equally, and take an extra 10% from farming. This will leave us with enough to care for tenants, as there's not enough profit to continue pursuing it, for now."

As that settled the matter, he steered the conversation to concerns more within the realm of education. John Bertram would have another year at boarding school before he would come home for a few years break. Young Walter was going into law, as Uncle didn't want to lose him the way they nearly did Father. And Victor? His only place was by Lord Armme's side.

~~~

After Father had been in for more than a month, he finally set down to have a conversation with Mother about Constance's future. His daughter sat beside them, squirming, as she didn't have much right to object. "What do you think, Mary?"

"Well, Young Walter has shown a fair amount of interest in our girl. I'm not sure it's beyond a familial leaning, though Letitia has been relenting."

Constance couldn't help the small, strangled noise in her throat. Any time she thought about Aunt Letitia's condition, she could feel Young Walter's thumbs running lazy circles under her bosom. Her dress would feel tight, like she was a toad swelling up in...indignation? Was that what she felt? It was not a politely familial feeling he had for her, although he had behaved since then. He would leave her with megrims and be damned proud of it.

Father's frown was already harsh at Mother's pronouncement. His daughter's noise caused him to look at her shrewdly. "Do you not like your cousin?"

"If my situation were secure, Papa, I'd torment him for my own amusement. I know very well what he thinks of me."

"Secure in what way?" Captain Penrose quirked a brow.

"Papa, you've always lived your life on your whims. Young Walter is much like you, but I don't have Mama's patience. Pardon my rudeness, but I want my pound of flesh off them, which I cannot do and win them over. I need a way out."

Mother smiled in amusement, showing there was more under the genteel facade she wore. "She needs a profession—perhaps become a women's doctor like Elizabeth Garrett? Or even the might of a title that surpasses your brother's?"

Father sighed and rolled his shoulders in that unguarded family moment. The movement brought him to rest slightly hunched, showing how lopsided he would become as an old man. "It's your connection, my dear. They would take on your daughter as a servant at the library, at least, but Lord Listings would not want to see me again, although..."

A cold, bleak look passed between them. It warned her that there was greater danger out there than merely bad family and an empty stomach. Not that either was in the habit of sharing with her where their true lot in life was.

Constance exhaled slowly through her nose. She did not like that it was the two people she loved most that drove her frustration. Father would not be the more open one, for whatever they hid. "Mother, who do you wish to bring me to see? I'm nearly 17. I'm old enough to enter into marriage without a soul thinking we are rushing, and I don't want whatever offer awaits me."

Mary smiled sadly. "I know you will be safe in the Great Lord's care, but his history with me is my own. It wouldn't be understandable in the world you grew up in. You will understand in time to decide for yourself, I promise."

Constance saw no reason to believe her mother's assurance, but she couldn't find a way past such faith to continue the conversation.

After all, if he was a worthy man, why hadn't Mother turned to him when they were homeless?