Constructing Wilde

Part 4

Oscar crossed his arms and stood his ground. "Yes, over breakfast, why don't we have another look at the matter? See if maybe someone's opinion has changed?"

"It certainly will not be mine, you filthy—"

"Lane!" shouted Frank, staggering to the door. "I think you had better remove my father. Get the cook's two helpers to give you a hand if he struggles; but, I say, just get him out of here!"

Lane came to the door and ushered Canon Miles out; Frank's father was, if it was possible, even angrier now than he had been when he arrived. "You shan't get away with this, you Devil!" shouted he as he left.

Oscar shivered and looked over at Frank. "Well, I say!" exclaimed he. "That was most unpleasant. Which piece do you think it was that did it?"

But Frank hadn't heard him as he'd collapsed onto a sofa near the fire and passed out. Sighing, Oscar trudged downstairs to his bedroom. On the way down, he passed the butler, who was returning from escorting the odious Canon Miles to the door. "Lane, I think you had better see to Frank. He's passed out in the sitting room..."

"Very good, sir."

"Thank you," mumbled Oscar, stumbling down the remaining stairs and finding his bed in a weary daze.

***

"Have you rethought your position on my demands?" inquired Canon Miles as he tucked into a hearty breakfast of eggs and ham; his son certainly hadn't inherited his prodigious appetite from his mother, who ate like a bird at the best of times.

"I have not," said Oscar, sawing irritably at his ham as though it were Canon Miles' offensive head; indeed, he quite thought himself capable of murder at that point, which was a stunning development for the mild-mannered Oxford graduate.

"Well, I will be forced to take harsher measures then."

"I can't imagine what you could do to induce me to take my book off the market, Mr. Miles. Whatever it is, I assure you that it's best abandoned now whilst you have a reputation that is still intact."

"Are you threatening me?" snapped Frank's father.

"No. I am certainly not the sort to threaten unduly or, really, at all for that matter; unlike you, I don't find it necessary to control everyone else's behavior. I am simply informing you; cordially, I might add; that I will not be taking the book off the market no matter what you do; and ruining me is likely to ruin your reputation, such that it is," replied Oscar quietly, biting into his roll.

"Well, I never!" fumed Canon Miles. "You, sir, are the very Devil."

"Yes, you seem very keen to remind me of that," replied Oscar. "Though I myself have seen no evidence of this claim, and I should think I would know if I was the Devil himself. As such, I will be forced to discard your rather ludicrous claims."

"Frank, I'll take no more of this insolence. I paid for the upgrades of this house, did I not?"

Frank turned quite pale and glanced at Oscar, clearing his throat. "Err... Yes, Father; I believe you did so last summer."

"Then, as such, I have a claim on the house?"

"Well... I suppose that you might, at that..." conceded Frank.

Oscar kicked him under the table, his irritability rising rapidly; who could blame him, really? His own friend was, in fact, playing straight into Canon Miles' hand; and he seemed quite oblivious, as usual, to the harm he was about to do. To Oscar, it was all perfectly obvious; Canon Miles had a claim to the house, and as such, he would also claim the right to kick Oscar out if he refused to take the poems off the market.