Page 14 of All is Fair in Love
His father held his gaze for a little while longer. The warning was clear in his eyes. Francis had better not do anything reckless.
With a resigned sigh, Charles went back to his paper. “I shall see you at the office in a little while. When I arrive, you can inform me as to how things went with the port authorities.”
The message, while clearly heard and understood, was entirely unwelcome.
Teeth gritted firmly together; Francis headed for the door. Charles Saunders knew everyone at the London Docks, so there little to no chance of Francis getting away with anything. He would have to tread carefully with his inquiries.
Whatever I say will get back to you.
He loved his father and had learned a great deal from him, but there were times when Francis feared Charles would never understand his burning drive to succeed. That in his father’s eyes, he would always be that little snow-haired boy desperate for his papa’s approval.
As he made his way from the house and out to the rear mews where his carriage was waiting, Francis stopped briefly to glance up at the window of the breakfast room. Charles had his back to him, no doubt still deeply engrossed in his newspaper.
His father was fascinated by the constant comings and goings in London society. When he arrived at Saunders Shipping later in the morning, he would as usual give Francis a well-considered précis of the most interesting snippets of information and gossip. And his firm opinion of them.
But with each one would also come some carefully crafted words of advice. A lesson which Charles would no doubt expect Francis to not only ponder, but to put to good use.
After six years of being an understudy, Francis was chomping at the bit. He couldn’t wait until the day his father retired.
An apprentice could only learn at the side of his master for so long. Eventually, he had to be given the freedom to make his own decisions. To endure the pain of his mistakes and learn from them.
“I can’t do that while you are constantly looking over my shoulder.”
Stubborn and single-minded, Francis was more than ready to make his own mistakes. It was the learning part where he found himself failing.
Chapter Nine
Travelling east across London was a painful endeavor at the best of times. Carts, carriages, and wagons jostled with one another in the crowded streets. Some mornings, Francis was sorely tempted to get out and walk the four miles from his home in Dover Street to the shipping offices at London Docks. This morning was one of them.
After pulling his pocket watch out from his waistcoat, he checked the time. His carriage hadn’t moved for the past twenty minutes.
What on earth is going on? I have work to do.
He rapped on the roof of the carriage. “Why aren’t we moving?”
“Some sort of accident by the look of it, Mister Saunders. Everything has come to a complete stop,” came the reply from the driver.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
After gathering up his papers, Francis stuffed them into his leather satchel, then set it on the seat. From here to London Docks was another two miles. He could comfortably cover that distance in less than an hour.
Gripping the handle, Francis swung the carriage door open. Not bothering with the step, he jumped out and landed on his feet in the middle of the road.
The sight which met his eyes had him cursing under his breath.
His carriage was stuck in the middle of a long line of other vehicles, which were all banked up through the Poultry thoroughfare and across Threadneedle Street. He moved in front of his horses, glancing across to the right. More vehicles were stuck in Cornhill. The entire intersection of the three streets was a convoluted mess of horses, carriages, and irate people.
He waved up at his driver. “Let me go and see what’s happening. If things are too bad, it might be easier for you to turn around and go home. I can always walk or try and catch a hack on the other side of this mess. I will be back shortly.”
There had to be a clear spot somewhere up ahead.
Making his way forward, he eventually reached the crossing point of the streets and came upon the cause of the traffic chaos. A large wagon laden with sacks sat in the middle of the road. The horses which had been hauling the load were tangled in broken reins. The backband on one of the harnesses had twisted and was causing obvious distress to one of the animals.
As the driver of the wagon worked to free the stricken horse, another of the wagon team broke free of its reins and bolted away. It headed straight toward Francis.
He had but a moment to decide what to do. Either step out of the way and let someone else deal with the problem, or help.
Francis chose the latter.
