Overcoming Patriarchal Pressure: Sir Edward of Provender

“You’re a grown man, Dennis. You shouldn’t be making those pathetic noises like a pig.”

Sir Edward said this with his usual condescending tone, as if he had never heard his son grunting during their sparring match.

Dennis was crouched on the ground with his arms wrapped around his mid-section. He had been trying to convince himself that the pain in his stomach would go away on its own. He kept telling himself that it was nothing more than a slight stitch. But the throbbing that radiated from his abdomen to his groin told him otherwise.

Sir Edward drew back and aimed another kick at his son’s exposed ribs. The sound of bone fracturing was loud in the large room and it took only two more kicks for Sir Edward to finally silence the weak groans coming from his son.

“That should teach you a lesson about what happens when you don’t listen to your father! Now get up, we have to talk about your marital status.”

Dennis could barely lift himself off the floor with shaky arms, but he managed to stagger over to the sofa and sit down next to his mother, Lady Mary. She immediately put her arm around him and kissed his forehead lovingly, despite the fact that he was covered in sweat and blood. This gesture would usually have made Dennis smile and feel better, but he found himself too tired even for that. His father’s last kick had broken one of his ribs and already had him gasping for air like a fish out of water. That, coupled with the adrenaline that still coursed through his veins after being attacked by his father without warning, left him feeling more dizzy than anything else.

Lady Mary watched her husband pace around their sofa as she tried hard not to stare at her son's injuries. She winced when she saw that one of Dennis' eyes had already swollen shut because of a blow to the head, but there was nothing she could do apart from gently dabbing some damp cloths on it to try and reduce the swelling a bit. After all, Sir Edward had forbade her from tending to any of her son's wounds in case she caused them herself while doing so - "you're only good for killing babies and cooking food," he always said with disgust whenever he saw her caring for Dennis' injuries.

Sir Edward continued pacing until he eventually settled down beside them in an armchair opposite them. He looked over at Lady Mary and gave her a perfunctory smile before looking at Dennis again with distaste. "I hear you're planning on marrying that harlot's daughter," he said coldly as if talking about something rotten underfoot instead of someone's future wife. "Some tradesman's daughter no less!"