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Edwin found him in the foyer’s coat closet, pressed against the back wall with his knees pulled up to his chest. His wide eyes were red rimmed and puffy, his cheeks marked by the trails of his tears. Edwin went down on one knee beside the newly-seven year old, his heart breaking at the sight of him.
“Young Sir,” he greeted gently, “we’ve been looking for you.”
Anthony’s tutor had approached Jarvis when Anthony hadn’t shown up for his lessons, actually, and the staff had been searching the grounds ever since. Edwin had been just beginning to seriously worry about it being a kidnapping when he’d heard the rustling in the closet. New tears welled up in Anthony’s eyes.
“He’s sending me away,” the little boy rasped out, voice rough with distress.
Edwin’s brow furrowed.
“Who?”
“Dad! He’s sending me to boarding school! I don’t want to go to boarding school, Jarvis!”
Edwin stilled. That was news to him. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time Howard had made a decision without talking to anyone about it. Had he even told Maria? Still, even if it was something he had just impulsively decided while drunk, Edwin had little doubt be would go through with it. He’d probably see it as the perfect way to keep Anthony out from underfoot, not that the boy needed to hear it in those terms.
“Perhaps he wishes for you to be able to interact with more children your age. You are so smart, Young Sir, but studying with private tutors as you have hasn’t left you with many opportunities to make friends. Why, you may even find you like it, once you get there.”
Edwin hoped so, at least. So much isolation wasn’t good for anyone, but certainly not a developing child. And, he had to admit, it might serve Anthony well to be away from Howard and his drinking.
“But I don’t want to go!” Anthony sniffled. “I don’t want to leave you and Ana and Mamma and Uncle Obie! I won’t even get to see Aunt Peggy on her visits anymore! I don’t need friends my age when I have all of you!”
Oh, but how Edwin wished that Anthony could have had a different life.
“We will all miss you very much,” he reassured the boy as best he could, “and you will be able to come home on holidays and over the summer, I’m sure.” He hoped. “I can write you letters while you’re there. How does that sound? I’m sure your Aunt and Uncle would be happy to write you, too.”
Anthony’s tears didn’t stop, though, and he buried his face in his knees.
“I want to run away with you,” he whined, voice wet and muffled, “and everyone else. I want to run away and never see my dad again. I hate him!”
Edwin couldn’t say he blamed him, but it wasn’t his place to pass judgement on Howard Stark’s parenting, or lack thereof.
“Now, now,” he cautioned gently. “You mustn’t say such things. He’s still you father. Come along. Why don’t we go to the kitchen and Ana can make you a nice cup of cocoa?”
Anthony sniffed again and peeked up at Edwin.
“With marshmallows?”
Edwin smiled at him.
“Of course. We might even be able to find a biscuit or two to go with them.”