He refused to marry the pregnant girl. His mother stood by him, but his father rose to defend the unborn child.
“Dad, I’ve got news,” said Edward as soon as he stepped into the house. “Emily from next door… she’s expecting. It’s mine.”
Albert, his father, paused for a brief moment before speaking calmly.
“Well then, marry her.”
“Don’t be ridiculous—I’m too young for that. I’m not ready for a family, and besides, we weren’t even properly courting.”
“Were you not?” Albert scoffed. “So you were man enough to chase after a girl, but when it comes to facing the consequences, suddenly you’re just a boy? How convenient.” Without another word, he called loudly for his wife. “Margaret! Come here a moment!”
Margaret entered the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron.
“What’s happened?”
“Listen to this. Our son’s gone and got a girl with child—Emily, the neighbour’s daughter. And now he means to shirk his duty.”
Margaret didn’t so much as blink. Her expression hardened.
“And quite right too. Why should we bring some stray girl into this house? These lasses are cunning—find a man with means, trap him, then cry ‘do the honourable thing.’ Who’s to say the child’s even his? He ought to demand proof. And anyway, there’s no call to pressure Edward—he’s barely more than a lad. A man’s urges are strong. That doesn’t mean we must raise another’s child.”
Albert sighed deeply before speaking quietly.
“And what if it truly is his?”
“What if it is? Are we obliged to bear the burden? Tell her to have tests done—we’ll see when we’re certain.”
She turned and strode back to the kitchen, leaving Albert alone with his son.
“You know,” he began, “I was young once too. Loved one, married another. Not for love, but for duty. Because a man isn’t just about passion—it’s about choices and consequences. Your mother was with child. I didn’t know if I could be with her, but I knew one thing: the child wasn’t to blame. My blood, my conscience. And, Edward, for all it’s worth, I’ve never once regretted standing by them.”
Three months passed. The paternity test returned a clear answer: Edward was the father, with 99.9% certainty.
“So what?” Margaret sniffed when Albert set the paper before her. “Yes, he’s the father. That doesn’t mean Emily steps foot in this house. She won’t—I’ll see to that!”
Edward sat, avoiding his father’s gaze. His face betrayed his choice—he’d sided with his mother. He clenched his fists but spoke no word.
Albert rose slowly from the table.
“If the two of you have made your decision, then hear mine.”
His voice was low, but steel lay beneath it.
“As long as I live, my grandchild will want for nothing. I’ll buy land, build a house, and everything I’ve earned will go to that child. But the pair of you? You’ll have no more help from me. I’ll not be party to this disgrace. Edward, from this day, you’re no son of mine. All that’s mine now belongs to the child. Not a farthing will you see.”
Margaret flared up.
“Have you gone mad? You’d cut your own son from his inheritance?”
Albert didn’t answer. He simply turned and left, ignoring the shouts behind him. Edward stood in silence, unable to believe what he’d heard. Yet he knew—when Albert gave his word, he kept it.
