Chorus of the Dead

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Fashion'd so slenderly

Young, and so fair!

In the morning, Ainsley was summoned to his father's study. Begrudgingly he left his spot at the breakfast table, throwing his napkin beside his plate before walking down the long hallway to the room where Lord Marshall spent most of his time.

"What is this I hear? You are planning a trip?" his father said when Ainsley was seated in a chair opposite the large oak desk. His father stood at the window. Dressed smartly in his hand tailored shirt covered with a dark brown waist coat, Lord Marshall was a commanding presence.

"Dr. Bennett requires some assistance," Ainsley attempted to explain. Defiantly, he glared at his father, determined to be quite unaffected by anything the old man might have to say. "My position demands it of me."

Lord Marshall looked as though he was contemplating the predicament set before him. Ainsley knew all too well how his father felt about his career choice and was under no illusions; he knew that his father meant to derail his efforts and keep him in London.

"I warned you not to get too attached to the scientific profession. Such a trade is beneath our house and would do great damage to the reputation of this family." Lord Marshall was not speaking to his son directly. He was looking out the window, like a self-assured cat soaking up the morning sunlight.

Ainsley was well aware of his father's opinions on the matter. A surgeon was a labourer, a tradesman, someone who could not avoid getting his hands dirty. It was just the sort of profession Ainsley longed for. Anything to stain his shirt and create callouses on his hands, the exact opposite to what he had been raised to become. "I am a grown man, Father. I have my own means of income now." Ainsley pursed his lips and shrugged. "I will do as I please."

"I will not abide by it," Lord Marshall said at last. He rounded the corner of his desk and took a seat. "I have supported your misguided adventures long enough. It is time you took your life seriously. You are the son of a Peer, now it is high time you act like it."

"What profession would you have me perform Father?" Ainsley asked. "Daniel has already taken place of boot-licker. You are the shrewd, cunning business man. Between the two of you there is no room for me."

Lord Marshall gave a look of annoyance but let the remark slide. "I won't have you running off to the country side at the behest of some two-bit doctor who cannot see to his own patients. Who is this Dr. Bennett anyway?"

"He is a colleague and is in need of a surgeon. Is this because of Mother?" Ainsley shifted in his chair and crossed his leg. When he was younger just sitting in the room intimidated him but over the years his mother's rebellious nature seemed to have rubbed off on him and now he felt at ease. She was always a pillar of strength against their domineering father.

"What about your Mother?" Lord Marshall asked, his face turning white as he spoke.

"Margaret told me she left," Ainsley explained. "Perhaps your anger has less to do with me than with her."

His father's face nearly turned to stone as Ainsley watched. The years had hardened Lord Marshall against any love or affection he may have once had for his wife. Ainsley's father had become even crueler since his wife began testing his patience. She baited him like a sleeping bear and was beginning to succeed at making him look like a fool in front of everyone. Lord Marshall once told his children she was ungrateful toward his goodwill and his passive nature would soon come to an end. He spoke openly of his discontent with her. Lord Marshall's anger towards his estranged wife was not a family secret by any means.

"Hold your tongue, boy!" Lord Marshall pulled a ledger from the top drawer of his desk and slapped it on the desk in front of him. "Your mother is dead to me!"

Ainsley realized it must be clear to everyone that Lord Marshall truly had no command over the family anymore, his wife was gone without his permission, and his son threatened to leave as well. The defiant young doctor plucked a speck of lint from his pant leg and looked up to his father with a hint of challenge in his eye as he flicked it to the floor. "Is that a confession of guilt?" Ainsley asked.

Lord Marshall stood up abruptly and walked to Ainsley lifting his hand in such a way as to slap his son. Ainsley immediately stood on his feet, fury clenched in the fists at his side. He was the same height and build as his father, slender with well-defined muscles. It had been years since his father had struck him last and many things had changed since then. Ainsley would no longer accept his blows, he intended to return them.

With his jaw clenched Ainsley met his father's eyes and refused to back down. "See you in a week, Father," Ainsley spat before turning to leave.

Within minutes Ainsley bid Billis to hail a carriage and called for his trunk to be brought down from his room. Standing on the pavement he waited for his trunk to be stowed safely on board the carriage while ignoring the silhouette of his father in the window. Margaret was the only one who came out to the street to bid him farewell. Knowing their father was watching them Ainsley felt awkward and not as free to express how much he would miss her.

"How long do you plan to be away?" Margaret asked.

"Not long," Ainsley answered with a laugh. "If I am gone too long I will get fired. Wouldn't that just give Father more ammunition?"

Margaret's face fell at the mention of their father. Ainsley knew she must have heard the entire argument from the breakfast table, no doubt the whole house was aware of how at odds father and son had become.

"I shall not be long," Ainsley reiterated before slipping into the carriage. The carriage jerked to a start and Ainsley watched through the window as Margaret raised her arm to wave goodbye.

The train station was a flurry of activity but Ainsley saw none of it. His mind was awash with the words of his father playing over and over again in his head, like a poorly performed Opera he had seen once that would not leave him for days. His one wish was to leave the city, leave the dust and debris, the stench and the busyness. He realized as soon as he was deposited in his cabin that this sojourn to the country was just what he needed.