Bad News Comes in Threes

[Rufina Mulciber]

• It was all too much.
  
  Rufina had been sitting on the news that Gladys would be moving to Hogsmeade—and bringing Rufina’s illegitimate son with her—for some time, and had finally steeled herself to reveal the news to her husband, lest he learn it elsewhere first. She had thought of a sensible, measured way to tell him, had prepared to do so when Flora was at a play date, and was surprisingly calm about the matter.
  
  But then this had happened.
  
  The paper had gone up on her breakfast tray, and Rufina had had to fight not to faint when she had read it. Quietly and in silence, the witch had moved the tray from her lap, quickly thrown on a robe, and descended the stairs to the dining room, not caring which servants might be about to see her in such a state of undress.
  
  “Have you read the papers?” she asked her husband, marvelling at the calm in her tone. Matilda had been the sister she was closest to after Gladys, the one with whom she had shared a year, a house, and a dorm during their time at Hogwarts. Even when Rufina might have wished it otherwise, Matilda had always been there. And now Matilda was dead.

  

[Ernest Mulciber]

Ernest had just sat down to read the paper when he saw a picture of his sister-in-law on the front page. The headline caused him to put down the paper, but his wife's arrival forestalled Ernest going to find his spouse.

"I just saw," he said; his voice was just as calm as his wife's. They had, it seemed, mastered the art of putting aside emotion where they (and their marriage) was concerned. "I will, of course, understand if you need some time to spend with your family."

A death in the family was never easy, and now there were two recently. Mr. Wilde had died — the father-in-law of Rufina's sister Gladys — and now Matilda Krum was dead as well. Ernest could not help but wonder what awful news would arrive and complete the trifecta.

  

[Rufina Mulciber]

• Time with her family. Rufina would be getting far more of that than usual before long—though far less with Matilda, Matilda who had already been there, whose children—Merlin, the children! Meriweather had been fortunate when his mother had died, he had been so very young. But the eldest of the Krum brood was eight, or close to it, and Rufina could not imagine how children old enough to understand what was going on could bear it. It had been the fear of leaving her stepson, as well as Flora, so motherless that had stopped her from risking an abortion when she had fallen pregnant the year prior, so determined was she that all children deserved a mother.
  
  “I shall let you know when the funeral is,” she offered without any degree of emotion one way or the other as she sat down at the table. “I should think Mr. Krum will schedule it before long, though if not I suspect Father will take the reins.” Mr. Krum, who had not even written to his wife’s sisters before they stumbled upon the news in the paper.

  

[Ernest Mulciber]

"Quite likely," Ernest said with a slight nod. It was, obviously, the husband's duty; however, it would not do to leave it too long. Hopefully Mr. Longbottom would not have to step in.

"It is quite a pity that this happened so soon after Mr. Wilde's passing," he said calmly. "I hope that matters in your side of the family are able to settle down soon, so that everyone can start recovering and returning things to normal."

  

[Rufina Mulciber]

• Normal. Right.
  
  “Normal is not something we will come by any time soon, I am afraid,” was all she could say, her words soft. It was not nearly such a burden as when she had had to confess her pregnancy, but even though this change was not technically of her own doing, she could not help but feel guilty for it.

  

[Ernest Mulciber]

"Oh?" Ernest asked, putting down his utensils. "And why is that, Mrs. Mulciber?"

  

[Rufina Mulciber]

• She resisted the urge to cringe. While Mrs. Mulciber from anyone else was a badge of honor, from her husband it reeked of distance, distance that even a year had not been able to bridge.
  
  “Mr. Wilde has inherited his father’s company, and so they will be relocating to London,” Rufina replied, not even bothering to look pleased by the news. Her sister’s company would be welcome, but Gladys would have someone else in tow as well.

  

[Ernest Mulciber]

Relocating to -- that meant that child would also be relocating to London. The badge of his wife's betrayal would be living in the country and eventually going to Hogwarts with his legitimate children. He would have to pretend that he did not know the child a bastard, and likely even feign some fondness towards it.

"I see," Ernest said stiffly. "I am certain you will enjoy having your sister close." And shoving her indiscretion under his nose while he could do nothing about it. Perhaps this would even lead her to repeating her transgression in the hopes of gaining more children she could pawn off on her sister and dote on anyway.

  

[Rufina Mulciber]

• “It will be something to adjust to,” Rufina replied, her tone as stiff as that of her husband’s. She could only—and yet, could not begin—to imagine what must have been going through the wizard’s head, but she very much doubted that any of it was positive. “I am, of course, very fond of Gladys, but the rest of her family might as well be strangers.”

  

[Ernest Mulciber]

The rest of the family -- except, of course, the babe that his had carried for nine months. Even if Mrs. Mulciber had not seen the child after delivering, the babe of her body was no stranger.

"I'm sure," he said noncommittally. There was a great deal of unfairness to the fact that Ernest was incapable of delivering the same injury to his wife, but if he were not as he was than likely Mrs. Mucliber would not have strayed. It was quite the paradox, and might have been fascinating except that Ernest was feeling quite spiteful enough to have attempted to seduce a maid if he were capable of doing anything about it.

  

[Rufina Mulciber]

• Her husband did not seem keen to discuss it further, which was a mercy—for Rufina did not either. She had informed him of the Wilde’s arrival. She had done her best to stress that she cared little for the child (whether she cared little or cared little to see, she could not have said).
  
  For the first time since she had arrived in the dining room, Rufina sank into one of the chairs in silence.