Future Tense Nathaniel tried to ignore the scratching of his tutor’s quill on the parchment at the front of the room, but the noise held his attention far more than the sentences he was supposed to be translating into French did. When the quill stopped scratching, his quarterly report would be done and he was hoping against hope that it would make Mother and Father both happy.
I go to the library. Je…what à la bibliothèque? Je suis, tu es, il est…What's the word for 'go'?
This is stupid. I am never going to a library in France. When is he ever going to stop writing? Please, please let it make Mother and Father happy.
This thought made him feel bitterly guilty about the first one. Mother said that he had to learn all these things so he could bring as much value to their family name as Simon did even though Simon was the heir and Nathaniel just…whatever he was. His father had been a spare, but that didn’t automatically make Nathaniel one. Was Sylvia the spare now? Syl wouldn’t, he thought, like that at all…just like Mother wouldn’t like it at all if he didn’t translate all these sentences into perfect French, then tomorrow, once he’d hopefully forgotten the originals, go back to the beginning and put them all back into perfect English on a different page. He got back to work.
The quill stopped scratching just before Nathaniel finished the exercise. He wanted to scream when his tutor, instead of immediately giving him his report, instead took up the French exercise and left the report face-down on his big desk, but he bit the inside of his mouth instead. The first two sentences merely earned hums, but on I am going to the library, the reaction was a nose-pinch. That wasn’t good.
“Nathaniel, what does this say?”
“I go to the library,” said Nathaniel.
“Tell me the meaning of each of these words.”
Nathaniel took the paper back. Je suis aller à la bibliothèque, he had finally settled on. “I am,” he began, and then wilted as he realized why he was not currently in good favor. “I am...to go to the library, sir,” he said.
“Now, if you translate it that way tomorrow, will you have something close to the original?”
Nathaniel thought about this for a moment. “Um, sort of close, sir?” he ventured, and saw a flicker of a smile, quickly suppressed. Still, it had been there, though. Smiles from tutors weren’t as valuable as smiles from Father, or even Uncle, but they were still a very good thing and he felt a bit better.
“Not close enough, Nathaniel. You must be very precise in all matters pertaining to language if you do not want to end up with a buffalo attached to your chest once you begin the study of magic, and that would not be the correct grammar for that sentence anyway. We will discuss the future tense another day. Correct this sentence.”
“Yes, sir. But – “ But was not a good word, but now that he had said it, he might as well go on. “May I have my report first, sir? I was distracted while I was translating because I heard you writing it.”
This earned him another not-quite-smile…and access to the report. He read it. He corrected his French exercise. He thanked his tutor for working with him. And then, as soon as the schoolroom door was closed behind him, he ran full-tilt down the hallway in search of one of his parents to show the report off to. He came to his father’s office door first and, forgetting in his excitement that he wasn’t supposed to even risk bothering Father when he was working, knocked rapidly on it.
He heard what sounded like a chair shuffling, and rapid footsteps. A moment later, his father was looking down at him in apparent alarm. “What in blazes – “ said Father.
“I’ve had my report,” said Nathaniel proudly, proffering the paper. He had done very well. Father and Mother would both be happy now, which meant he could be, too. “See, Father?”
His father, however, did not seem particularly interested. In fact, he seemed even less interested than he had been when Nathaniel had received his last report, which had not been so good as this one. Instead of smiling at him, Father frowned at him. “Damn it, boy,” he muttered. “You know you aren’t supposed to – “ He suddenly frowned even more severely. “Did your mother tell you to come here?”
Nathaniel struggled not to let his eyes well up, as that was babyish and Father would not approve. “No,” he said in a small voice. “I haven’t seen Mother yet. I just finished my lessons for today.” He heard something in the room behind his father and looked under Father’s arm curiously. “Is someone else here?” he asked.
His father looked at him very severely. “Yes, as a matter of fact,” he said. “I was having a meeting with Miss Williamson here.” A witch walked forward. She was, Nathaniel thought, very pretty, but he was worried that she looked a bit like she was sick to him.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, Miss Williamson,” said Nathaniel, looking at his father’s shiny shoes instead of at the person he was speaking to.
“That’s…all right,” said Miss Williamson, but she didn’t sound like it was all right.
“Go show your mother your report,” said Father. “I’ll see it later.”
“Yes, sir,” said Nathaniel.
He wandered away this time, wondering if Mother would be in the lounge or her boudoir. He checked the former first and, to his relief, found her on the chaise lounge by the windows. He was less relieved, though, to then see that though she had an open book beside her, her eyes were closed; another headache for sure. He started to back out of the room, but she opened her eyes before he could.
“Nathaniel,” she said, sounding surprised but putting out her hand and sitting up so there would be room for them both on the lounge. Nathaniel obediently approached her. “Are you finished with your lessons already?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Good, good. Did you have a good day, darling?”
Nathaniel smiled a bit. “Yes, Mother,” he said. “I got a good report.”
He offered her the now slightly crumpled sheet of parchment. She looked over it and smiled a little wider with every word. “A very good report!” she exclaimed, sounding delighted, at the end, hugging Nathaniel to her as she spoke. She kissed his temple. “That’s my good boy,” she said, and Nathaniel slid his arm around her thin back, too, glad that she, at least, was reacting the way he had hoped to his success.