Federica took Harriet to lunch at Oriels in Sloane Square. They laughed at
Federica’s meeting with Greta and at the absurdity of her sudden change in status.
‘I love it,’ admitted Federica. ‘I feel like a modern-day Cinderella. You know, he’s generous to a fault. I can have anything I want. I used to dream of being rich.’
‘So what will you do this afternoon?’ Harriet asked.
‘I don’t know. I’m going to have to discuss this with Torquil. I understand that I can’t work in the family shop, that would be absurd, but I’d like to be busy. I’d ideally like to do something with my photography. Julian taught me the basics, perhaps I could do a more advanced course and then make a trade of it.’
That would be wonderful. You’ve always wanted to be a photographer,’ Harriet enthused.
‘Mama said I had to earn money before embarking on that sort of career. Well, now I have more money than I dreamed of, I can do anything I like.’ She laughed and grinned at her friend who smiled back enviously.
‘Darling girl, you are so lucky.’ Harriet sighed. ‘But no one deserves it more than you.’
That evening, when Torquil returned from work, they had their first serious discussion.
‘Now we’re back from our honeymoon, Torquil, I’d like to settle into something. I’d like to work,’ Federica said, throwing herself onto the sofa in his study.
Torquil wandered over to the drinks table and poured himself a tumbler of whisky. ‘Would you like a drink, a glass of wine, perhaps?’ he asked. ‘They say a glass of red wine a day makes a lady glow. Not that you’re not glowing already.’
She laughed. ‘A glass of red would be nice, thank you,’ she replied.
He handed it to her then sat down in the armchair, putting one foot up on the stool. ‘Why do you want to work, sweetness?’
‘Well, I have to do something,’ she argued, taking a sip of wine. ‘Darling, this is delicious.’
‘Part of the wedding present from Arthur,’ he said. ‘He’s got very good taste that stepfather of yours.’
‘Only in some things,’ she replied dryly. ‘In others, believe me, he has no taste at all.’
‘You’re a rich woman now, Fede, you don’t need to work,’ he said seriously.
‘Well, I’ll get bored if I don’t do something,’ she explained. ‘It’s not for the money. You’re more than generous and I really appreciate that. It’s to fill my day with, to have a reason to get up every morning.’
‘Isn’t loving me good enough reason to get up in the morning?’ Torquil chuckled.
‘You know what I mean,’ she insisted jovially.
‘You’ll be busy soon with babies,’ he said and smiled at her tenderly.
‘Perhaps,’ she replied, hoping God would preserve her from that for at least a few more years. ‘But, say I don’t get pregnant, surely you don’t want me to languish here doing nothing?’
‘Sweetness,’ he said firmly, ‘you have a beautiful house, beautiful clothes, a husband who loves the ground you walk on, what more do you want?’ He frowned at her and she immediately felt guilty wanting more.
‘Well,’ she mumbled, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable sense of uncertainty turn her stomach over. ‘Julian gave me photography lessons when I was younger, if you don’t want me to work, perhaps I can do a course?’
‘If you have to do something,’ he conceded reluctantly, ‘a course is the only
option. No wife of mine is going to work.’
Thank you,’ she replied brightly, relieved the discussion was nearing a conclusive end.
‘But not photography,’ he added resolutely.
‘Why not?’ she argued in confusion.
He was no longer joking but looking at her very seriously. ‘I’ll get a tutor in to teach you whatever you want.’ He looked about the room. ‘Literature. Yes, you can take a literature course.’
‘Literature?’ she replied, crestfallen. ‘I’m not at all interested in literature.’
‘No, I’d like you to do literature,’ he insisted, walking over to his bookshelves and pulling one out. ‘I’ve never read any of these. I’d like you to read them.’
‘Torquil,’ she protested weakly.
‘No, I insist,’ he said. ‘If you want to do a course, literature is the only acceptable one.’
‘All right, I’ll study literature,’ she replied lamely. She’d rather do that than nothing at all.
‘Then that’s decided,’ he said, draining his glass. ‘Now, love of my life, come