Arthur's smile faltered when his daughter spoke. Admittedly, she spoke differently than she would have in the past when disagreeing with him, but here was the undeniable proof that she was still obstinate, making demands. He turned red and was ready to cut in when she told him she didn't need an answer now, and that made him pause. When she turned to walk away, he let her, though he looked after her with a deep frown and teeth clenched.

Perhaps he should 'pick his battles', as some people said. But for a man who was used to winning every battle, that was a grim prospect.

Even if he would, that wouldn't keep the peace under his roof, Arthur soon learned, when he went to speak to Elaine about the issue and she went into hysterics over 'the children mocking her'.

When he came down for dinner he had a headache and a bad temper. He entered the family room, from whence they would be led into the dining hall once dinner was ready to be served. Florence was already there, readjusting her glove. "Where is mama, papa?" she asked.

"She's feeling unwell," said Arthur as he plopped down on the sofa. He poured himself a drink. They'd need to find a suitable match for Alex soon, for he didn't think his heart could suffer this for long.