“Independent thoughts are dangerous and will not lead to marriage. A man does not want a wife?—”
“Who can actually think for herself, Mother?” Tavi asked, surprising Ambrose. She rarely got involved in arguments.
“Do not take that tone with me. I want only what is best for my daughters, and marriage is the only course, Octavia.” She then shot her youngest a glare. “That woman may be your friend, Violet, but?—”
“You do know that I have helped her form The Iris, don’t you, Mother?” his youngest sister pointed out, and Ambrose braced himself for the explosion.
“You did what?” Color flushed Lady Chippington’s face. “How dare you be so reckless when Octavia is as yet unwed and not likely to form an alliance with a respectable man, ifshe enters thatplace.” She spat out the last word. “I forbid you from going to that club and spending time with that woman.”
“But as I am engaged, I can enter The Iris?” Cissa asked with an innocence no one at the table was buying.
“Of course not!” The words exploded out of his mother. “I forbid you also to enter it, because if your fiancé found out he would be most displeased.”
“That woman?” Violet said with a mildness that fooled no one.
“I think we all know how you feel about Tilly, Mother,” Tavi added, “as you made yourself clear at the musicale.”
“What did she say?” Ambrose demanded before he thought better of it.
“Yes, I would be interested in the answer to that also,” Violet said, looking ready to commit murder. Charles patted the hand she had clenched around a knife.
“That she cannot condone The Iris and that it was a bad influence on young ladies.”
“I spoke the truth!”
“You then said, Mother, that Tilly was creating a spectacle involving your daughters and that you wanted her assurance she would close the club,” Tavi added. “Lastly, you insulted her parents.”
The silence that fell after Tavi’s words settled heavily around the table. It was Violet who broke it. “You had no right to speak to my friend that way, Mother!” Violet dropped the knife as she shook free of her husband’s grip. It landed on her plate, the sound echoing around the room. “Come, Charles, I will not stay here and listen to another word of this, especially as I know nothing I say will change Mother’s mind. We shall visit 11 Crabbett Close, where the people are far more forward-thinking, the conversation intelligent, and they have excellent cake!”
“Violet, you will sit!” their mother yelled. “How dare you insult us like that.”
“I’m insulting you only, and I don’t obey you any longer, Mother. I take orders from my husband now, which should make you happy!”
“That I would like to see,” Charles muttered, following his wife to the door.
“Father, what say you on this matter?” Ambrose asked, not at all happy about what he’d just heard.
He and Tilly might annoy each other, but it was mutual. His mother had been mean-spirited, and he knew her words would have hurt Tilly. That thought settled heavily inside his chest. Ambrose didn’t want anyone hurting her—ever.
“Do you condone Mother’s words to your daughter’s friend? Because I most certainly do not.”
“You dare to stand up for that woman? F-for that ridiculous club?” she spluttered.
“How dareyouinsult her,” Cissa argued back. “She has done more for us than anyone else. The Iris Club gives us a place to talk about whatever we wish without judgement. No man can tell us what we should say or do. We don’t have to look and behave our best.”
“That is not the way!” Lady Chippington cried. “Tell them, my lord,” she demanded of her husband.
Ambrose watched his father’s shoulders rise and fall with a weighty sigh. “Men have always been in charge of this world, daughters,” he said slowly. “Perhaps there is some merit in changing that.”
His mother made a screeching sound that had her remaining three children rising and fleeing, then closing the dining room door behind themselves with a decisive click.
“That went well,” Cissa said. “I’m going to calm my nerves by reading.”
“Me too,” Tavi said, shooting a nervous look at the door. “Good evening, Rosie.”
They kissed his cheeks and then left, at a run, for the stairs. Ambrose did the same, heading for the front door. He pulled on his coat, and, grabbing his hat, he slipped through it.
“I was enjoying that meal too,” he muttered, striding out to the street. “And of course it would be that woman who disrupts my life, even when she is not present.”
