Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [179]
Francie was in her room when the houseboy told her Mrs. Wingate was waiting downstairs to see her. She stared speechlessly at him; her stomach leapt with shock and then tightened sickeningly. “Mrs. Wingate?” she repeated, hoping he had made a mistake.
He nodded solemnly. “Mrs. Wingate, Miss Francie. She’s waiting in the hall.”
Francie got slowly to her feet; she knew there could only be one reason Maryanne Wingate was in her hall. She looked down at her short pleated blue wool skirt and her simple white blouse, wondering wildly whether she should change into something grander to meet her rival. Then with a quick shrug she said, “Show Mrs. Wingate into the drawing room, take her coat, and tell her I shall be with her in just a minute.”
She sat trembling at her dresser, staring at her own frightened face. Then she brushed her long, smooth hair and tied it back with a velvet ribbon. She added a touch of jasmine scent, took a deep breath, and walked to the door. She hesitated, her hands pressed against her belly and the still-invisible roundness that was Buck’s child, and then she opened the door and walked slowly down the beautiful curving staircase.
Ah Fong, the houseboy, opened the drawing room door for her. Maryanne was standing by the window looking out across California Street. She glanced up and the two women stared at each other, sizing each other up.
“Mrs. Wingate?” Francie said politely, but she did not offer her hand and neither did Maryanne.
“I’ll come straight to the point, Miss Harrison,” she said. “Of course you know why I am here.” Francie said nothing and Maryanne paced from the window to the marble fireplace; her glance traveled slowly over the luxurious room with its Oriental carpets and works of art. “You have a beautiful home, Miss Harrison,” she observed coldly, “and as you are a very rich woman I shall not insult you by asking if it was my husband’s money that paid for all this luxury.”
Francie’s chin tilted warningly but she said nothing and Maryanne continued.
“It is well known,” she said in her calm cool voice, “that men of my husband’s age often succumb to”—she hesitated, searching for exactly the right words—“a ‘crise de coeur.’ Their lives are so full of work and pressures and family and they suddenly need a change. A sexual affair is very soothing to a man’s ego, Miss Harrison. Sometimes I think they are even vainer than women.” Her smile was almost conspiratorial as she looked at Francie. “But then, I’m sure you know how they are just like naughty children really.”
Her gaze hardened as she looked at Francie in her simple skirt and blouse, unmadeup and with a ribbon holding back her blond hair. “I must admit you are not what I expected,” she added. “I had thought someone more flamboyant, a notorious woman who enjoyed the intrigue and suspense of an illicit romance.” She looked away and paced back to the window.
Francie stared at Buck’s wife: she was beautiful, there was no denying that; and cold, there was also no denying that; and in her impeccable gray wool day dress she looked every inch the lady.
“What is it you want to say, Mrs. Wingate?” she asked, surprised at how calm her own voice was when she was churning inside with fear.
Maryanne swung around from the window. “I am here to appeal to your intelligence, Miss Harrison. I do not want to know the sordid details of your relationship with my husband, but there are things about him that you ought to know. That you must know. For his sake. Tell me, have you ever considered his children?”
Francie’s heart jumped, there was no way Maryanne could know that she was pregnant, even Buck didn’t know yet….
“They are still young, Miss Harrison, and they have a right to expect their father’s presence as they grow up. They need his help and guidance”—her eyes pierced Francie—“to say nothing of his support. How do you think this scandalous affair would affect them?” She paused for a moment, letting her point sink in and then she