mention this to you. It will not do, Claudine. I have a right to expect certain duties of you, and you are not behaving appropriately at all. As my wife, you have social obligations, of which you are not unaware. Richmond told me you were not at his wife's party last Monday." He said it as a challenge.
"It was to raise money for charity in Africa," she replied. "I was working for a charity here."
He lost his temper. "Oh, don't be absurd! You insulted a lady of considerable consequence in order to go fetching and carrying for a bunch of whores off the street. Have you lost absolutely all sense of who you are? If you have, then let me remind you who I am."
"I am perfectly aware of who you are, Wallace," she said as calmly as she could. "I have spent years..." She nearly said "the best years of my life," but they were not. Indeed, they had been the worst. "I have spent years of my life performing all the duties your career and your station required..."
"And your station, Claudine," he interrupted. "I think too often you forget that." That was definitely an accusation. His face was reddening, and he moved a step closer to her.
She did not move back. She would refuse to, no matter how close he came.
"That station, which you take so lightly," he went on, "provides the roof over your head, the food in your mouth, and the clothes on your back."
"Thank you, Wallace," she said flatly. She felt no gratitude whatever. Would it have been so bad to have worked for it herself, and owned it without obligation? No, that was a fantasy. One then had to please whoever employed you. Everyone was bound to somebody else.
He did not hear the sarcasm, or chose not to. But then he had very little sense of irony or appreciation of the absurd. "You will oblige me by writing a letter to Mrs. Monk and telling her that you are no longer able to offer your assistance in her project. Tomorrow." He took a deep, satisfied breath. "I am sure that after her unfortunate appearance in criminal court she will not be in the least surprised."
"She was a witness!" Claudine protested, and instantly knew from his face that it was a technical error.
"Of course she was a witness," he said with disgust. "The kind of life she leads, the people she associates with, she is bound to see all sorts of crimes. The only miracle is that she was for the prosecution, not for the defense. I have been extremely tolerant so far, Claudine, but you have now exceeded the limit of what is acceptable. You will do as I have instructed. That is all I have to say on the matter."
Claudine could not remember ever having been so angry, or so desperate to fight back. He was taking from her everything that had brought her the most joy in her life. She realized that with a shock of amazement. It was absurd, but working in Portpool Lane gave her friendship, purpose, and a sense of belonging, of being valued, even a sense of mattering. She could not allow him to simply remove it because he thought he could.
"I am surprised," she said, controlling her voice as well as she could, although she was aware that it trembled.
"I do not wish to discuss it further, Claudine," he said coldly. He always addressed her by name when he was displeased. "I have no idea why you should be surprised, except that I have allowed it so long. It is totally unsuitable."
"I am surprised that you find it so." She was attacking now, and it was almost too late to draw back. She plunged in. "And I admit, it frightens me."
His eyebrows rose high. "Frightens you? That is a foolish thing to say. You are becoming hysterical. I have simply said that you are no longer to associate yourself with a clinic for whores. Forgive me for using the word, but it is the correct one."
"That is immaterial." She brushed it aside with a wave of her hand. She was not a beautiful woman, but her hands were lovely. "What alarms me is that I have allied myself with people who have publicly stood up against a man who traffics in children, small boys, to be precise, for the use of men in their more revolting appetites. Since we are using correct words," she mimicked his tone