Proserpina

That night I lay snuggled in the bed waiting for my husband to join me in bed. He had rushed away soon after dinner when we had been sitting in the living room. He had been sipping his customary after-dinner brandy and had insisted on pulling me onto his lap much to Claude’s chagrin.

Claude was a law unto himself. He decided his bedtime, and tonight, he wanted to stay with us. So my family was spread on the floor, on the rich carpet, my children and the dogs—we had three by now, and Piers was petting them while Ria leaned against her father’s shoulders, chattering away. Claude kept...