Page 17 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

Arthur listened in silence, his expression of concern deepening as Charles relayed the circumstances under which his dissatisfaction with the Navy had come to an unfortunate head.

"I couldn’t stomach it any longer,” Charles said. “I was frustrated and angry—challenging my superiors at every turn and questioning their commands. Captain Bright summoned me to his quarters to meet with Admiral Dixon. They told me I had a promising career ahead of me if I could get myself in order. They even held out the lure of a ship of my own. I was almost tempted until they began talking about our God-given mission to extend British rule across the globe. That was what scuttled it. I all but laughed in their faces.”

Arthur winced. “I trust you didn’t take it that far.”

“I may have.” Charles couldn’t remember everything he’d said or done during that fateful interview, only that one moment he’d been an officer and the next he hadn’t. “Admiral Dixon offered some choice words about my lack of patriotism and my general want of discipline. The captain responded with a few words in my defense. I interrupted them both to tell them I was done with it. Done with the scourge of Imperialism. Done with cowards issuing orders from behind their desks.”

“Good God, Charles.”

“I know.” Charles stared bleakly into his tea, recalling the way the two officers’ faces had gone from red to white with fury. “The Admiral told me to tender my resignation. So I did, with extreme pleasure. And then I walked out of there. Captain Bright had one of the men escort me from the ship while another tossed my trunk and the rest of my belongings onto the dock.”

The fire crackled in the hearth, sparks flaring up into the chimney. Charles no longer felt the heat of it. The memory of his ignominious departure from the Navy left him quite cold to the heart.

“I booked passage on a merchant ship home,” he said. “The news of my behavior is sure to follow when the Intrepid returns to England. Grandfather will be furious. So will Uncle George.”

“You’ll write to them both and explain,” his father said. It wasn’t a request.

“I scarcely know what I’ll say.”

“Tell them the truth. Tell them you were too idealistic.”

Charles huffed a bitter laugh. “That’s your conclusion?”

“It’s your nature. I saw it in you when you came to me and informed me you wouldn’t be attending Cambridge. You wanted to prove yourself in a noble fight. But the reality of war is rarely noble. It’s more often tragic.”

“Then you comprehend why it was time for me to depart.”

"Comprehend it? I could have foreseen it. That doesn’t excuse the toll your quest for adventure has taken on the family.”

Charles set down his mug with a troubled frown. “I intend to make amends.”

“I look forward to it.” Rising from his chair, Arthur set a hand on Charles’s shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze. “Come. Your mother and sister will be up soon and eager to see you at the breakfast table. They’ll be pleased beyond measure to hear you’re out of harm’s way at last.” He paused, adding, “I’m pleased as well.”

The knot in Charles’s chest began to ease. His father’s disappointment was evident, but it paled in comparison to his love for his son. Charles knew then, just as he’d known as a boy, that whatever he’d done, he would always have his father’s unconditional support.

It wasn’t enough.

Charles wanted his respect, too.

“Is that all you mean to say on the subject?” he asked. “You were right, after all. I shouldn’t have gone. It’s done nothing but distress the family and leave me right back in Somersetshire, worse off than when I started.”

“Hardly worse off,” his father said. “You’re older and wiser, now. Richer, too.”

Charles stood. “Poor compensation, all things considered.”

“Is it? You took a stand against what you perceived as injustice. I might argue with the manner of it, but I can’t be ashamed of your principles.”

“Grandfather and Uncle George won’t be so forgiving.”

“They’ll come around. In the meanwhile, it’s you who must reconcile yourself to what’s happened, not any of us.”

The dogs remained by the fire, refusing to relinquish its warmth, as Charles and his father departed the kitchen.

“I should have resigned my commission after the Intrepid departed Syria,” Charles said. “I could have left with dignity, then. Instead, I let my anger and unhappiness fester until I could contain it no longer.” His shoulders slumped. “I feel as though I’ve failed.”

His father gave him a fond smile. “You’ll soon rouse yourself from your disappointment. A new adventure will beckon and you’ll set out after it, just as you always have.”

Charles shook his head. “I’ve had enough of adventure. From now on, it’s peace and tranquility I want.”