#different approach

So Phineas had managed to escape once again, not even giving her the chance to say something before he had entered the carriage. She assumed his intention had not been to have a leisure ride around London but that he was off to some business with someone. Ursula looked confusedly at the closed front door for a few blinks, before she returned her attention to her waiting children. She took Cygnus out of the pram and, while balancing the toddler on her hip, helped Belvina with her bonnet.

“Where is Daddy going?“ A pair of innocent grey eyes was looking up to her inquiringly. Ursula gave her daughter a weak smile.

“Your father is busy, little owlet. Arcturus dear, take your sister to the bathroom, I‘d like both of you to wash your hands thoroughly before lunch. Dinky!“

While brother and sister were heading towards the bathroom, Ursula ordered her personal house elf to prepare a light lunch for the children and handed Cygnus over to Dinky.

“Take him upstairs and change his nappy. Tell the kitchen to bring up some cucumber and salmon sandwiches for the children as well as some mashed vegetables for Master Cygnus for luncheon in 10 minutes. I myself will only have some tea.“

Dinky bowed and Ursula, now alone in the hallway, took of her cape and hat and closed her eyes for a second. She wasn’t feeling hungry at all after this already eventful morning (and she could hear her late mother’s strict voice in the back of her head telling her to skip lunch anyways when there was a dinner later in order to maintain a slim waist). Instead, she went to look out for Scrope, whom she found in Phineas‘s study, having started to polish the marble bust of his master that stood prominently on one of the shelves.

“Scrope!“

The old one-eared house elf shrieked upon hearing her strict tone and bowed immediately.

“Aah, yes, Mistress?“

“Where is Master Black going?“

Scrope looked up to her hesitantly before answering.

“Scrope is not allowed to share his master‘s personal schedule with anyone, Master has forbidden it and….“

“Scrope!“ Ursula interrupted the elf with a glare, her tone dominant and relentless, and crossed her arms looking down her nose. “You forget yourself. As the mistress of this house I demand an adequate answer. Now!“

“Of course, Mistress, Scrope lives to serve the noble house of Black. But since the Master has forbidden it, Scrope mustn’t tell…“ Ursula cleared her throat warningly. “Ah well, Scrope knows - ehem, the Master has told Scrope - ehem, Scrope thinks he can tell the Mistress that the Master has left for - the ministry.“ Almost immediately, the house elf reached for the golden paperweight on the desk and frantically started to beat himself with it muttering something like “Scrope has disobeyed his master. Bad Scrope!“ Ursula winced at the pathetic creature in front of her and turned on her heel to leave the study. She had always felt a strong dislike and disgust for the one-eared elf. At least, her assumption about her husband‘s whereabouts had been confirmed. Her satisfaction was short-lived because she felt an immediate anger arise due to the fact that, apparently, even Phineas‘s personal servant was better informed about his daily schedule than her, his wife. That was intolerable and she made a mental note to remember her husband of that later.

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Lunch was a dreary affair. Arcturus was silently and equally unenthusiasticly eating his sandwich, eyes down on his plate, only looking up to give Belvina a pitying look after she had asked Ursula the inevitable question.

“Mommy, when is Daddy coming back? He promised me to teach me how to use my magic!“

Ursula took a long sip of her tea, only to think of a diplomatic answer to that question, but before she could say anything, she was interrupted by a minor incident next to her, where Cygnus was seated in his high chair and had decided to spread the mashed vegetables he had vehemently refused to eat a minute ago over the table cloth with his fingers. Belvina giggled because of her mischievous little brother having vegetables everywhere and seemed to have forgotten her question. Ursula allowed herself a tired sigh and took the bowl out of reach for Cygnus‘s chubby hands, raising an eye brow towards the girl who went silent again instantly.

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After lunch, Ursula sent Arcturus and Belvina to their rooms to practice their French vocabulary together for an hour before they would be allowed to play calmly. She then had to walk up and down the stairs in the hallway in order to get a very tired looking Cygnus to finally drift off to sleep for his afternoon nap after forty minutes. He calmed down better in her arms than in Dinky’s. She was his mother after all. As she passed the numerous portraits on the landing to the ground floor, she noticed that the portrait of Cygnus Black I, Phineas‘s deceased father, had been somehow replaced by a painting of the Black summer estate in the south of France. Although the circumstance was odd, Ursula didn’t really mind. She had never met her father-in-law in person with him long dead before her marriage to his son, but given the harsh and disdainful words his portrait had been uttering when it’s inhabitant had been awake and what Phineas had told her in some rare moment of confidence between them, that was all she had needed to know about the man.

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The hours passed by as Ursula was sitting in the drawing room, quite grateful for a bit of silence and rest. She was working on her magical embroidery and thinking about the upcoming dinner. She had decided to keep Cygnus under Dinky‘s watchful eye in the nursery during the evening. A formal dinner table was hardly the place for a toddler and she was pretty sure Phineas wouldn’t want him there anyways even though he had asked for their children to be present. Phineas. Still no sign of him. Ursula looked over to the clock on the mantelpiece. It was almost half past four now and nearly time for her to inspect the dinner table, giving the last orders to the house elves, having the children properly dressed and going upstairs to get changed herself. What was taking him so long in the ministry? Although she knew he was probably very occupied conducting business, she couldn‘t help herself to start to worry a bit. And with that, the anger came back. Was it really to much to expect a husband to inform his wife of his daily schedule?

When she made her way downstairs to check what the servants had made of her instructions for the dinner table, as was expected of the lady of the house, the front door opened. Seeing her husband enter, Ursula swiftly walked towards him where he was taking of his hat and gloves, her steps faster than she had intended. Coming closer, she could immediately sense the tense aura surrounding him. He noticed her approaching him, and before she could say anything, she was cut off rudely by his unnerved tone:

“Not now woman, I implore you…“

There were words forming on the tip of her tongue. Telling him. Accusations. Complains. Lamentations. The usual. Nothing new in their marriage, especially these past months.

First of all, Phineas, I do not find it very respectful being referred to as ‘woman‘ like some fishmonger’s wife in Covent Garden. And speaking of respect. Is it really too much to ask of you to somehow inform me of your daily schedule while you are home? I shall think it proper and right for you to do so since I am your wife and lady of the house. It is a true disgrace that your house elf is apparently better informed where you are and why than I am. You might not believe it but I do start to worry when you leave the house and don’t return for an unknown number of hours. I had to stoop to ask Scrope about your whereabouts you are keeping from me. You could have just told me you had business in the ministry and I would have understood because you know perfectly well that I support you in everything, especially when it comes to your work, as I always have, but instead you decide to leave me in the dark on purpose and I wonder why!

Nothing of it came out of her mouth, though. Because having a closer look at her husband standing in front of her, she was suddenly very aware of the actual state of him. There he was, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tightly, every muscle in his body tensed. Merlin, he looked dreadful. Tired. Unnerved. Deep in thoughts. Somehow… troubled. Ursula could read him too well. Something was off. She had known it since his arrival. All of her approaches had been useless, brushed off by him. Giving him another talking-to would be wrong now, even if she had any cause to do so given his recent treatment of her. No. That was not what he needed now. Instead of angry and accusatory, her voice was careful, almost gentle now.

“Are you alright, dear?“

No response. Ursula exhaled slowly and took another step closer to him. He didn’t move, his eyes still shut, his brows furrowed, his knuckles white from pinching his nose. Carefully, she put a hand on his upper arm. Then, she spoke again, softer and warmer.

“Phineas? Why don‘t you go upstairs and let me send you some tea and biscuits? Have a rest before the evening starts. It is well deserved as I can see. Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask any questions now.“

She then tenderly took his hat and his gloves out of his hand, her fingers brushing against his ever so slightly.

☝️👌🔊👂

Fact, not opinion.