Claire couldn't find her mother's number or details on her phone. It was as though, after her father's funeral she had just disappeared, vanished out of existence. Although the more likely scenario was that she had deleted her mother's number as well as from her life. Not that she would want to come to Francis' funeral, anyway.
Claire sat in the front of the pew, remaining valiant as she listened to the vicar at the podium talk about Francis Underwood, who came to him in almost false faith for neither he nor she were particularly religious only for appearances' sake.
"I now invite Mrs Underwood to the pulpit, to stand for us and talk about her dearly departed husband," the vicar stepped down and Claire rose, all formality as she faced the sheen of humanity in black before her, mainly security around the edges as President Walker gave her a you-can-do-it nod and Tricia smiled warmly, her hand enclapsed in his.
"Francis was a good man… " Claire found herself saying, her mind wandering for she was used to political speeches but not to those close to the heart. "He always loved me through thick and thin. He was strong willed and capable, confident and ever assuring. He was my rock. You will be missed, Francis."
Claire stared out at the crowd which began to hum or was it her eyes growing bleary? For all that they had shared, love of a passionate kind had never been their sort but all the same, she felt as though she was losing a limb of herself, for someone she had relied upon for the faults they both shared in conscience and character, he was dark enough to hide her light which she needed him for, to embrace the bad in her personality to get ahead.
"He was a good man," Claire stumbled like an automaton. "I miss him dearly… I wish he was here with us."
Knowing Francis, he would hate to see her cry, to know someone else was replacing him as Secretary of State, that his legacy was snuffed out by the sound of screeching tyres with all of him left to pass but his time in Congress. He would've utterly hated her tears.
"Thank you, Mrs Underwood," the preacher gently patted her shoulder as Claire moved on back to her pew, smiling to accept the handkerchief from Tricia.
Claire could not understand why she felt this way, but then she was not prone to investigating her emotions very often. To feel so weary and let down would be an understatement. She had not spent her life with Frank only to spend the remainder grieving for a man who intended to fight for the rest of his life. She felt short changed and short shrift. Used and old before her time. She needed value before her eggs dried up along the rest of her.
"Claire, I am so sorry," Felicity comforted Claire as the funeral began to wrap up.
"Thank you," Claire nodded bravely, ashamed at the show of emotion she had made. "You and Charles will have to come over for dinner one night."
"That would be lovely," Felicity squeezed Claire's arm with a smile and left her to see off the remainder of the well-wishers.