Discipline
When William had a son of his own, he thought bitterly, he wouldn't treat him nearly so harshly. Against the soft side of his bed, his sniffles were miserable.
He had fled to his room once his father had let him go from the nightmare that had become his study. That was the first time the boy had ever received such a terrible scolding. What hurt his dignity even more was that he'd been given a slap to the wrist. The sting was almost as bad as what he imagined George would say when he heard.
Baby!
He was not.
Remembering what not-babies didn't do, William's sleeve rose up to wipe his nose. It was kind of yuck, but leaving the snot to drip down his face was more yuck, and he refused to move from his cold, hard seat on the wooden floor. That resolution held true even when footsteps approached and the door opened to a person quietly clattering around his room.
"Oh, Master Wills," cried the upstairs maid once she rounded the bed. She gathered him up in her arms and plucked him up, rocking him to and fro. At this first hint of sympathy, Master Wills clung.
"Papa punished me for taking the pony without permission," he mumbled once he had collected himself.
She hummed. "That was very wrong of you. You know you should have the groom with you. You could have gotten hurt."
"But George does it all the time and George never gets punished!"
"George isn't your father's son," she said patiently. William's six-year-old legs kicked and dangled from her sturdy grip. "His discipline is not Mr. Darcy's concern, but Mr. Wickham's."
"Mr. Wickham isn't so strick," he muttered.
"Now, Master Fitzwilliam," she said sternly, setting him down on his own two feet. "What the Wickhams do is no business of yours. You had a rule and you broke it. Are you saying that what you did wasn't wrong?"
His golden head dropped to the ground. "It was wrong," he admitted quietly. Then, his big eyes stared earnestly up at her. "It was very wrong, and I'm sorry, Missus Renods. I won't do it again, even if George— if George dares me! In the future, I shall allays inform the groom and reques assistance."
Young Mrs. Reynolds hugged him.
"Dearest boy," she said fondly. "Listen to your father— with his guidance, you'll become a fine young man and an excellent master yet."