9.

~ Ariadne only pretended to sulk while Arthur curled a tendril of her hair around his finger. The long, silk like tresses always fascinated him.

After they had put Charlie to bed, a new thing for both of them. Arthur had coaxed her to his rooms. Mrs. Marsh had left a cold dinner for them, even though neither one of them had any appetite.

Instead, they settled in his bed. Ariadne only slightly uncomfortable resting her head on his chest. She liked the sure, strong way he breathed. It was comforting to her, the rise and fall of his chest.

They had engaged in small talk. Updates about Charlie and the weather mostly. After that, a long silence fell on them as she listened to him breathing.

"People are starting to talk." he said at last.

Ariadne had found herself scowling at a painting in Arthur's room. A boring landscape with only grass and blobs for trees. She guess he overpaid for it. A dingy little painting any child could do.

"What?" she asked after several moments. She had heard him talk, but his words didn't seem to reach her. Her mind was too befuddled with other thoughts. About her women's group, that horrid Rosalyn Chase, Charlie going away to school, her letters, her classes in the humanities. Her mind had never been so full, or so distracted.

"I said; people are starting to talk." Arthur told her again.

"About?"

"About us." he said. A hot tone of anger in his voice.
"So? Let them. People will always talk." despite her protests, her curiosity was raised.

"What do they say?" she asked. Putting a special emphasis on the vagueness of they.

"They say you're out of control. That a man who can't control his wife, is not to be trusted." he told her.

"Same as always." she sighed. "You knew you couldn't control me when you married me. You said you didn't want a plain, boring wife anyway."

"I don't." he agreed. "I do love your passion."

His fingers unlaced from her hair and roamed down to cup her breast. Ariadne tried not to smile.

"But I don't like your name talked about." he said stiffly. His large hand moving away from her breast and curling her freed hair into his fingers again.

"That hardly matters." she said stubbornly. "What matters is the good we do. That's all history will remember. History isn't made by silly wives who do water colors and gossip about Mrs. so-and-so's daughter in law."

"And happy husbands are not made by willful, disrespectful wives." he argued.

Ariadne moved away from him. Her eyes glaring at him with a fire fit to burst.

"It's always about your own happiness." she accused.
"My happiness is our happiness." he said. "I thought you would be content with… with your studies and with Charlie. I thought those things made you happy."

"They do." she told him honestly. "But having Charlie made me think about what kind of world we're to leave for him. I don't want another privileged son shutting the doors of opportunity for people just because it might endanger the wealthy. The rich have enough money and influence, they don't need more. I want Charlie to be a better man than that."

"A better man than me?" Arthur challenged.

He and his wife exchanged cold looks.

"All parents want their children to be better." she whispered.

Her husband pulled away from her slightly. His eyes casting down to her small, perfect hands.

"I know that you feel you have to save the world, but you keep failing to see that is makes a laughing stock out of me. It will give Charlie a black mark on him before he can even talk." he said softly. His tone as though he were talking to an over excited horse.

She leaned away from him.

"Is that why you felt the need to beat me again?" she said fearlessly.

Arthur's eyes grew wide, but his jaw remained set.

"I didn't beat you." he said calmly.

"With a belt." she whispered.
"I disciplined you. I corrected your behavior." he said. A hot flush tinting his cheeks pink.
"With a belt." she repeated. "I would have thought being the mother to your son would have changed your feelings to me. That you would see me as something more… sacred."

"I would have thought being a sacred mother would mean you wouldn't go off picking fights you couldn't win." he snapped.

She gapped at him. Shocked he finally had the nerve to say it.
"You won't win the vote, Ariadne." he said at last. "Young women are making a spectacle of yourselves all over with this nonsense. It goes against the wisdom of the man of the house."

"Man of the house?" she teased. She laughed as though what he said were truly funny. "You think that all this is because of the vote? It's much more than that, Arthur. When I see pictures of Child laborers in unsafe factories, I always see Charlie."

"That won't happen to Charlie." he interrupted.
"So, what? Because a mother is poor and has to send her child to work, she deserves to run the risk of losing him to fire or being mauled by those machines? All to put bread on her table? How is that mother different from me? How is Charlie different from other babies who grow sick and die because of poor health or living conditions."

"The difference is the father." Arthur snapped. His dark eyes becoming dangerous. "The difference is that you and Charlie have me to care for you. A man isn't a man until he can provide for himself and his family. I prove for both of you and you will respect that."

Ariadne opened her mouth. She meant to argue more, but something much more intriguing came to mind instead.
"Or what?" she whispered. "What will you do if I keep defying you?"