Lucia hates manstealing hobags (thegoodwife) wrote in find_horcruxes, @ 2010-05-06 13:53:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | lucia nott, patrice nott |
Who: Patrice and Lucia
Where: The bathroom, then the bedroom
What: Lucia confronts Patrice about Lexi's owl, then gets far more upset at him than she ever meant to. And he... well, he gets upset too in his own Patrice way.
When: Thursday, 6 May 1980, directly after this entry
Rating: 14A, nothing too intense but definitely adult subject matter and non-explicit nudity
Warnings: Mild domestic violence
Status: Complete.
Lucia had debated for some time what to do about the owl Patrice had received, which she had opened on his behalf. It had been on her mind constantly, and she had carried it everywhere stuffed between the pages of her journal, folded into a small square and warded heavily private for safety. She didn't want to risk Patrice finding it before she had decided how to approach it, or even if she should tell him. Aside from the more expected desire to avoid a scandal -- though unlike pureblood women, it was not expected for men to remain virginal until their marriage, there was still much that could go wrong -- Lucia felt angry. She was angry that Patrice had been so careless, and more irrationally that if Alexis Ketteridge was telling the truth, Lucia now had irrefutible proof that Patrice had slept with at least one other woman.
At first, it had been easier to tell herself she was being ridiculous about the idea of Patrice and someone else, that she had no reason to be jealous of activities that had occurred between Patrice and some other woman back when Lucia had barely even reached her teens.
But that day had been a long day. Lucia had woken poorly rested and with a headache, but she was reluctant to take any pain potions. Dulling her senses while pregnant could delay her from realizing something was wrong if something were to go awry, and she didn't want to risk it. Which meant a long and uncomfortable day. The girls had been exhausting and Prisca in particular had been unable to understand Lucia's desire for calm and quiet.
When she left the girls to their studies with the governess and the tutors, she tried to rest. She laid in bed just trying to find a position that was comfortable, but after an hour, she was only growing more and more irritated.
After scrawling a quick ward in her journal to Patrice that she needed to speak with him as soon as possible, Lucia got up and got in the bath. The warm water and her favourite, very expensive bath soap relaxed her finally, and she lit candles with a flick of her wand as she waited for Patrice to get home. She vowed not to get out of the bath until he did, and in the mean time, she listened to some soothing music and piled bubbles onto her rounded belly. After she decompressed for ten or fifteen minutes, she began singing softly in French, one of the songs she sang with the girls sometimes. Now, she supposed she was singing to Theodore.
Patrice returned from the Library where he'd been spending some time researching. Granted, that research was two fold, partially for his new book and partially to keep an eye on one Miss Sullivan and one Mr Lupin both vigilantes and people that he was anxious to discover a bit more about. Fortunately they both seemed to work in reference and that was where he frequently spent his time when at Brookstanton. Even should they know or suspect his allegiances -- something that seemed unlikely -- there was no reason they should suspect that he was doing anything but researching for one of his books as he always did.
He had received Lucia's ward just before he was ready to leave anyway, and he glanced at the ward hoping it was nothing too terrible, but it didn't seem so. If something were wrong with Theodore he was certain that she would have said so or the content of the ward would have been much more urgent. Now he made his way through the front door and dropped his cloak and hat with a house elf before making his way to check first Lucia's study, and then their own quarters.
It was here in the bathroom that he found her and he gave her a concerned smile. "There is no difficulty I hope, ma cherie? No problem with Theodore?"
"Oh, no. All of our children are fine," Lucia said, and looked up at him, pushing her wet hair back from her face. Having finally made up her mind about telling him, she wasted no time before reaching for her journal near the foot of the tub, pulling the folded piece of paper out from between the pages. She took her time as she unfolded the parchment with damp fingers, smudging some of the ink there without quite caring, and dispelled the privacy wards as she held it out to him. "I was contemplating keeping it from you and simply dealing with it on my own, but I thought you might get cross with me. Take a look for yourself."
It was days like today and situations like this that made Lucia miss wine.
Patrice picked up the parchment from her wondering what on earth it could be. He unfolded it and read.
...And read again his eyes narrowing slightly as he turned over each sentence.
The name sounded familiar, in fact he was reasonably certain he'd spoken with this Alexis in the journals. She'd been looking for her birth parents and he'd even given her advice on what to do. He hadn't precisely considered that this might be the outcome. It could be a trick, of course. He was a famous author and very wealthy man, and whatever her statements were of not wanting money, he was a target and an ambitious and clever young woman could likely thread a convincing tale.
The problem really was the age. If she were turning nineteen in a few weeks... the calculations were done mentally with the end result that Patrice was edgy about.
Sophie would have been twenty years ago -- almost precisely. But his father had told him the matter had been dealt with. He folded the letter crisply and gave Lucia a look. "And your plans for dealing with it?" If my father was unable to do so...
Lucia watched him with narrowed eyes. She watched him read, watched him think, watched him refold the letter and look at her as though somehow she had had any hand in creating this situation. Oh, Lucia would defer to him in a great many ways, but this was entirely his fault. She had been hoping for a denial, at the very least. Perhaps a casual dismissal that it was obviously untrue. She would have even preferred for him to suggest she was daft and gullible and ridiculous for having considered it a possibility.
But the way he acted now, as if she was somehow in the wrong just now, as if that was the issue that ought to be focussed on at this particular juncture...
Though the bath had gone a long way to calming her headache and her bad mood, it was not a cure all. It could not stop her from feeling a return of some of that anger and bitterness towards Patrice that had faded so much over the past few months that things had been good between them. She had a sudden, intense desire to splash him, to wash that look right off of his face, and she only barely squelched the childish urge.
"You wish to discuss what I might have theoretically done had I attempted to make the situation go away without involving you? Not, for example, the fact that you have an illegitimate daughter?" she demanded, and there was an edge to her voice which hadn't been there in months. "Who is the mother? Who are the Ketteridges? And why exactly, Patrice, do you seem unsurprised by this news?"
"Better a daughter than a son," Patrice said unperturbed. "I am merely curious what you think would have been an appropriate answer. The truth of the matter, Lucia, is that it does not particularly matter whether it is true or not. Even completely untrue it could be a difficult situation if mishandled. If she is looking for money, or publicity, or scandal, she could easily receive any of those things even were there not a word of truth to what she said."
He turned to look her, irrationally irritable by the edge in her voice. At nineteen years of age the girl was clearly from before Lucia's entrance into his life. She would have been yet a child the summer that he had been with Sophie and it was not as if he had been an adult either. Technically perhaps, but just barely.
"I suppose you have a theory for all of these things," he said coolly. "Perhaps instead of explaining, I ought to let you explain as it is clear you have come to all sorts of conclusions on your own."
"I am your wife, and the mother of your children, and I am pregnant with your son. I think I have every right to be upset!" Lucia returned. She knew she was not, perhaps, Patrice's ideal woman. The way he looked at her when she said something unintelligent made that quite plain. Or worse yet, on the few occasions he did deign to speak intellectually with her, she was then subjected to his subsequent resigned and perpetual disappointment that she failed to possess the knowledge or interests he desired her to possess, or his impatient attempt to disguise it. Oh, yes, she knew she was not all of the things he desired in a woman, but he was not a perfect husband either. His biggest flaw in her eyes was that he had not grown to love her, not really. Not the way she wished him to. She believed that he cared for her, certainly, and lately she had almost convinced herself it was love, but all along she thought a part of her knew that had been wishful thinking. In that moment, she thought that he likely cared for her only because she had given him children and because she was, perceived shortcomings aside, his wife and thus his responsibility.
To find out some other woman possessed approximately half of the traits which endeared her to Patrice, to find out someone had evidently provided him with a child before she had... And what if there were others? Clearly he hadn't been careful enough. There could be a boy somewhere, a bastard who would have more right to the Nott name than the child she was carrying now by virtue of his birth alone.
"Tell me who the mother is," she asked again, and this time the words came out stubborn. Why should she answer his questions if he was clearly above answering hers? "And tell me if there are others. I won't... I won't stand for this, Patrice. Our daughters and our son are the only ones with any claim to you. They are the only ones who are part of this family."
Patrice was very quickly getting a headache. For a moment he wished he had not been so quick to fold up the letter as it being open in front of him would have given him a reason to ignore his overly emotional wife for a moment longer. Assuming it were even true, and he would need to see the listed mother and the birth certificate before he would even consider the possibility that it was true, he had no intention of Alexis being part of the family. He would not particularly like for her to be known about at all, but that might be unavoidable -- certainly it would be if Lucia continued carrying on in this way.
"Yes, you are my wife now," he turned to give her a full sort of glare. "The young lady who claims, claims Lucia, to be my daughter is nearly nineteen. That would have made you what, ten? eleven? twelve? at her conception? This is hardly some woman showing up on my doorstep with a baby she claims is mine, under those circumstances, yes you would have the right to be very displeased. But this happened long before we were engaged, long before you even thought of intimate relations with a man so do stop feeling infringed upon and use your brain for a moment. Clearly the relationship was not a lasting one as I should have known I had a child if it were."
"And at this moment you are over-reacting," he added perhaps a bit childishly but she really was encroaching on his ability to think clearly about the best course of option. "You are telling me what can or cannot be without even knowing for certain what is. If what Miss Ketteridge is saying is true, I have no intention of bringing her into our home or our family, but it might be far better for our family were I to give her some of my attention rather than her shouting her notions to the whole of society. You do understand that concept, do you not?"
"In the meantime you ask who her mother is, she did not provide me with that information, which is reason enough to not over-react. She could be a delusional fan of my work who is simply fishing hoping that I will not look into the matter further, but I have no intention of proceeding further until I have some verification outside of this piece of parchment." The letter was raised in one hand and tapped rather aggressively with a finger from the other hand.
Lucia listened to all that Patrice said, and she watched the way he spoke, the way he gestured. She tried to interpret the expressions on his face, but she grew tired of his disdain; it grated at her nerves. Once he was finished, she waited a beat or two, processing for a moment, and then she just decided she couldn't have this conversation from the bath after all. She reached for her towel, standing and climbing from the tub as gracefully as possible given her size and awkwardness, but she glared at him all the while and would not have accepted his help in that moment were he to offer it. She left her journal and her wand behind as she moved into their bedroom, moving directly to the closet to pull on, at the very least, a dressing gown.
The distance she'd put between them did little to calm her, though, and when she turned back to face him, silk robe damp around her and knotted just above the bulge of her stomach, she glared as she towelled her hair dry.
"Do not speak to me as though I'm daft, as though I am wrong here. I have every right to be upset! You are not denying you may have a child outside of our marriage. And a grown child! What if she has a son? How will that affect our daughters? I will not have it," Lucia ranted, anger and her lingering headache clouding her judgement. Oh, Patrice thought he was so smart, so above it all, and that was clearly so far from the truth.
"I thought, if nothing else, you, with all of your vast intellect, would at least know enough to take measures to ensure any indiscretions did not result in bastard offspring. Whether or not it was before my time, you should have been looking to the future. You were not careful enough and now our family may have to live with the consequences. I can only assume, based on your reaction, that you would not be surprised by the revelation, so even if she is not yours, clearly it is an issue I now must concern myself with. And to think, I worried it would be me who disgraced the Nott name."
"Enough," Patrice said. His voice and his posture both held a dangerous edge to them as he stood in the doorway watching her. He disliked emotional outbursts during the best of moments and right now was certainly not the best of those moments. That she had legitimate concerns regarding their own daughters was at least somewhat truthful -- but in point of fact there was a difference in that their daughters were legitimate.
"You have said entirely enough, Lucia and if you are wise you will stop before you damage yourself any further. You have no understanding of what I have done for this family or for you. Have I ever treated you ill or given you reason to believe our daughters will not be provided for? I owe you no explanation for something we are not even certain is true and the way you are behaving currently is not making me interested in giving you one. I will deal with this matter and I am not interested in hysterics from you. The only thing they are likely to do is to create additional messes that I will then be required to clean up."
His jaw set as he tried to decide what he should tell Lucia. The possibility was making her hysterical enough and he did not particularly wish to inflate that, but at the same time he needed for her to calm down. If it was Sophie's daughter then there was no undoing what had been done. He had been foolish to trust Sophie with the matter, but he had been a young man and arrogant enough to assume that nothing could happen. He had left long before any child had been born, and he had supposed his father had taken care of the matter satisfactorily, but as he looked back on it, he realised he had never been told what his father had done.
"If you believe you can approach the matter somewhat rationally then we will continue this conversation. If you are going to continue to berate me for a possible mistake made long before I ever had any notion of our marriage, I will remove myself to my office and deal with the matter where I can think."
"Before I damage myself further? Please. We both know you can't stand the thought of having a wife weak enough to give in to emotional distress. Isn't that why you want to retreat to your office?" she snapped snidely, one hand going to her stomach, as though trying to protect Theodore from the animosity between herself and Patrice at the moment. She moved towards him then, chin tilted up in a challenge as she emphasized her next words with two fingers prodding his shoulder. "And don't forget, beau, it is currently you we are both now tasked with cleaning up after, not me. I have done my job. You have a wife who does your bidding and who is giving you an heir and who always knows just when to stop. Not this time. Not when..."
She trailed off and composed herself for a moment, realizing objectively that she was being irrational and that he would likely walk away at any moment if she didn't calm herself. But part of her didn't want to bow to him this time. She didn't even want to let him walk away from her. He thought she didn't understand the things he sacrificed for his family, but she thought a man like Patrice Nott didn't even know what a sacrifice was, at least not outside of the context of what he was entitled from others. He spoke of what he did for their family, and she wondered what he considered his hardships to be. He would hold his role in the Dark Lord's employ regardless of whether or not she and the girls were in his life. And she didn't see how she possibly impacted his research or his writing. She wondered if he considered tolerating her presence as some hardship he had born for the sake of their family, and though it struck Lucia that she was being dramatic and unnecessarily negative, it didn't seem completely irrational.
"Have there been others?" she asked slowly, a slight waver to her voice, and until she had spoken she hadn't realized she was going to ask him that. Certainly, after eleven years of marriage, Lucia had noticed some things, but she had never intended to look into it or, worse still, confront him about it. But she had already asked, and now that she had brought it up, she didn't feel that she could take it back. "More recently. Have there?"
It was only the movement of a hand to her abdomen that kept Patrice where he was. She was pregnant with his son, which was probably a very good thing for her at the moment as he was growing more and more angered with her irrationality. And now she was bringing up others. His eyes narrowed and he wondered for a moment if this was really about the liaison with a woman he had not seen since, a child born when Lucia herself had really been not much more than a child, or if it were about her current insecurities -- and certainly at this moment he thought it rather likely that was precisely what it was about.
"No," he said easily. Certainly there were no others he would have children with and no others she should worry about. And even had he been willing to give her the truth, it was unlikely that it would facilitate the conversation currently at hand if anything it would only pull it further down.
"And yes, before you damage yourself further, Lucia. You are skating a very thin line and your emotional distress is not improving your standing at all. Would you like to accuse me of anything else before you finish? Thus far we seem to have covered infidelity, treating you horribly, dishonouring the family name, and not offering my children what should be given them, while entertaining any individual who would like to claim to be my blood. Did I miss something? I confess that the insults were coming so very quickly that I was having a difficult time keeping them all straight."
"If you feel insulted, perhaps you ought to look within yourself for an explanation," Lucia said, voice just a little too vehement to come off cold, and she was shaking now as she glared up at him. No. No, he said, as though it was that easy to dismiss, as though it were so inconsequential as to only merit a one word response. "While you may not recognize the feeling, Patrice, perhaps it can be identified as guilt, or remorse, or any sort of compassion towards me and how I am feeling. You do understand that concept, do you not?"
Her use of his own words was sarcastic. She hated when he spoke to her like she was unintelligent, like she couldn't possible hope to understand one iota of the vast wealth of knowledge of which he thought himself in possession. Perhaps she was not as well read as he was, but she was not so intolerably stupid that she couldn't keep up with him. Though over the last few months she hadn't missed the push and pull of their relationship as they prodded at each other, she found that how freely she was speaking now was almost... empowering, and though she was sure she would regret it later once her anger cooled and her boldness abated, right now Lucia just narrowed her own eyes right back at his.
Lucia was still struggling to regain some semblance of control over the situation, but she couldn't help curling her lip slightly as she added, "Or perhaps you're distracted by your concern for my swiftly deteriorating standing."
Patrice reached for her hand, grabbing a wrist with his own hand in a manner that was hardly gentle. "I said enough and I will not say it again. This," he raised the letter in his other hand, "will be dealt with: first the legitimacy of the claims and then, if necessary, the rest of it. I have no intention of either you, or the girls, bearing any burden here. It was wrong of you to not bring it to me immediately as I will now need to consider the matter much more quickly than I might have been required to do and if the claims are legitimate I shall need to meet with our lawyer."
"If it should, Merlin forbid, become public knowledge, the events were long before our marriage and are, therefore, no reflection upon you, Lucia. None of this is any reflection on you despite your attempts to make it so. If it is true, the child is very likely the daughter of a woman I was with shortly after Hogwarts. I was young and foolish -- many young men are -- but I was also not attached, nor did I have the duties of a husband or a father. And my being with her has nothing to do with you. It was over almost a decade prior to our engagement and I assure you I have not given her a second thought since."
"If you choose to be petulant because I was a foolish young man once, then I truly cannot stop you, but do be careful, because it will effect your marriage now and I do not believe you want that."
A startled noise slipped out as Patrice grabbed her, hard, and her eyes went wide as he held on. She had always respected him, even despite her current anger and harsh words, and while it would be a lie to say she had never felt any fear of him, this was the first time she had ever felt it so concretely in the grip painfully tight on her wrist. He was a powerful man, and she should have known he was too proud to abide by her attitude for long. Perhaps she had known, but anger had clouded her judgment.
Now, though, the pain in her wrist calmed her far swifter and more effectively than any of his words could have. What other choice did she have? She could never overpower him, and her rebellion only went so far. She did not even attempt to pull herself free of his grasp, instead just dropping her eyes from his and letting her arm go limp.
"Let me go," Lucia said, and though her voice still shook, now it was no longer in anger. Her mouth was tight as she waited, and she couldn't think of a single way to respond to anything else he'd said, so focussed was she on his grip on her.
For a moment Patrice did not loosen his grip, allowing the silence to linger between them, perhaps also reminding her that he did not have to let her go, and then the grip loosened and he took a step back. He disliked the idea of physically reminding her of her position, but he knew also that since she had kept the letter he would have less time to think through his options, and that would make it more likely that he made mistakes -- and mistakes in this particular scenario could very much affect her, and their children, and they were effects he did not wish for either of them to have to endure. While he knew it seemed harsh, there were reasons for traditions and in her emotion Lucia seemed to have forgotten that.
He looked her over, momentarily frustrated that she had been the one to receive this owl. He knew she felt insecure sometimes and he knew as well that those insecurities were somewhat well merited; it was unspoken, but they both knew the match had not been perfect. He tried though, and whatever indiscretions he had -- and over the years there had been a few -- he kept quiet and private. He did not flaunt them, because he would not embarrass her, or their family. Although romantic fairy tale love was not something Patrice firmly believed in, he cared a great deal for his family, and that included his wife. He had tried to minimize any notion that he might prefer another woman, and yet this seemingly -- despite the years between the events -- was going to be used as proof that this was true.
As he let her go, Lucia's other hand curled protectively around her now sore wrist, and she did not raise her downcast face as she stepped away from him, leaving his path to the door unimpeded should he choose to leave. She swallowed around the lump in her throat and willed herself not to break down. It seemed to take so little lately to swing her from one emotional extreme to another, and her lack of control over herself for a woman normally so collected was frustrating. Though she'd shed tears of happiness in front him not so many weeks ago, the idea of crying because of him, there where he could see, was not one she relished, and she strained her tenuous self-control trying to reign herself in.
If his goal had been to remind her she had no other option but to defer to his wishes, but to fall in line as she always did, he had succeeded. She was powerless against him, no matter how upset she was at the situation.
"My apologies," she managed, voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm sure you have much to take care of. I'm sorry to have wasted your ti--"
She almost made it through her apology, but her throat closed on the last word and she could not quite contain that first, initial sob. She was forced to turn away from him and moved to her vanity to begin brushing her hair, as though that simple distraction would prevent him from noting the tears in her eyes. At least they were mercifully silent, for now, now that she had closed her mouth.
Patrice stood for a moment feeling awkward and tired. He never quite knew what to expect from Lucia these days and this incident was no exception to that apparently new rule. He truly disliked making her cry and he disliked more the notion that she would now feel insecure because of something that had happened so long ago, but if Alexis was his daughter, she would prove a constant reminder unless he could simply make her go away.
... and that brought forward another point that if she were his daughter, he was not entirely certain he wanted to make her go away. Family, after all... His fingers tightened around the letter and he looked once more at Lucia. He would make this up to her -- somehow. Things had been much better than normal over the past few months, and hopefully this would be merely a hiccup in their relationship. He truly disliked the notion that she might feel unwanted and more than that, it was his responsibility to see that she was cared for and happy -- even through the not so perfect times.
Lucia had assumed he would leave once she gave in to him, once she apologized. Did he want more from her? Was he just standing there because she had not given in to him enough to atone for all that she had said? She didn't know what else she could offer him just then, but he certainly seemed to be waiting for something. Watching the grief he had caused her was perhaps the biggest insult yet, that he could not even allow her that one shred of dignity. Her headache was back in full force and she took a deep breath, wishing for nothing but privacy since she knew Patrice would not and could not offer the comfort she craved.
She wiped the tears from her face and set her brush back down, turning to face him once more, hand going subconsciously to her wrist again, kneading the bruising skin. The expression on his face was not what she had expected. There was almost a gentleness there, and though the plea for privacy had been ready on her tongue, she felt a hot shame at the fresh memory of all the things she had said, the accusations she had made. Even if they had all been true, she had been raised better than that. Even if it was frustrating and painful and difficult sometimes, she knew better than to question him the way she had.
There was something bitterly subservient in her demeanour as she focussed on suppressing her own pain in favour of the propriety she had been so comfortable wielding before she had let her emotions get the better of her. She almost managed nonchalance as she met his gaze, but the redness of her eyes diminished the effect as she asked, "Was there anything else you needed?"
It was so polite and demure. So utterly and completely the Lucia that did everything she could to be a good wife and mother to his children and his brow furrowed slightly. It wasn't quite repentance, she had needed to understand that this was not something she should worry about, but at the same time he wasn't entirely unaware of her feelings. After all, it was why the thing had never been mentioned in the first place.
"No," he said softly.
"Lucia..." he hesitated for a moment and then he picked the idea up again. "I am sorry, Lucia, for the entire mess. Obviously it was never intended to be a slight against you as it happened so long before we were intended. For my part, if it is true -- I honestly thought the matter had been taken care of long ago. My father told me as much and I trusted him. It is not my desire for you or the girls to be injured in this and I will work very hard to ensure that you are not."
"Thank you, Patrice," Lucia said sofly. His apology and assurances did much to soothe her misgivings towards the situation, and she immediately regretted her earlier disrespectfulness. He was not a bad man, and any insecurities she had about their relationship ought to have remained separate from this issue anyway. If there was one thing Patrice had always done without fail was provide for her and the girls, anything they could possibly need, and protect them as best he could from harm or distress. She had to trust that he would do so now as well, even if she worried that the girl, if she was telling the truth, would change everything.
Perhaps it was selfish, but Lucia's fear of becoming insignificant to Patrice, and her worries that the prestige their own daughters were entitled to may be infringed upon, made her absolutely adamant that this Alexis would not be welcomed into their lives, regardless of her blood relations. Even if her life hadn't exactly gone to the plan she had cultivated in her mind as a girl, there was only so much deviation she could tolerate, and a possible illegitimate child was not something she was willing to adjust to accommodate in her life.
"If it is true, what will you do?" Lucia asked then, before he could leave.
Patrice was grateful for the calm way that she responded. It did not erase everything that had come before, but it certainly made it easier for him to respond in a way that was not likely to escalate the situation though. Unfortunately the question was one he felt it was impossible to answer. Much of what he did would depend upon the girl herself. If she was ambitious or wishing to social climb it would be a much different situation than if she simply wished to know her birth father than if the letter was seeking money. Either way he needed to likely meet with her before he determined a further course of action. Ultimately his goal was to keep the two aspects as disconnected as possible and he would certainly prefer that the affair never become public -- for Lucia and the girls sake more than for any other reason.
He was quiet for a moment. "If I can verify the birth mother and the certificate is not a forgery then I shall meet with her. Beyond that I cannot say, Lucia. Much of it will likely depend upon her own motivations. I do not wish this to become public knowledge and if something can be done to prevent that, then likely I will take that route." He raised an eyebrow. "No one else knows of this?"
There was a brief moment where Lucia recalled her conversation with Lucius the day she had read the owl, but as she had given him no details, she didn't feel the need to jeopardize his relationship with Patrice by admitting she had made arrangements to get a copy of the birth certificate. Nothing had come of it anyway, and even if Lucius was likely curious as to why she'd asked for his assistance thusly, he had not pressed her for further information.
"Of course not," Lucia answered. She offered a small smile, and though it was forced, she thought it was the gesture that counted. "I did not even tell Portia this time."
Patrice nodded, he had not suspected that Lucia would talk about this considering her reaction. She had taken it too personally and he could not imagine that would have meant telling anyone, but knowing that she had not would help. That would mean he could speak to his lawyer, confirm the birth certificate, and then contact Miss Ketteridge himself. If she were Sophie's daughter, he thought, she must have been adopted as the last name was not Sophie's.
"Good," he said simply. "I need to contact our lawyer then to see what should be done; unless there is something else?"
Lucia just shook her head. There was nothing left to say. She still felt each and every one of the things she'd said to him, almost as physically as she felt the pain still lingering where he'd grabbed her wrist. Though she wished she hadn't spoken as frankly as she had didn't change the fact that her words had been honest. Though she was much calmer now in the wake of their fight than she had been a few moments ago, she still needed time away from him to process.
He nodded. "Well, then I shall get to this." He didn't precisely know what else to say. He was never one for statements of affection, and to be honest there was a bit of him that was still stinging from her words -- possibly because the accusation of dishonouring the family had not been so very unlike the one he had received from his father shortly after the event.
"If you need anything I shall be in my study," he said simply as a way of farewell before turning and exiting the room.