Marrying Up (Part 7) — Nicole Jeffords

“Marrying Up” is a fictional story set in 1950s Manhattan revolving around Frances Riley, a difficult and ruthlessly ambitious young woman who moved from one social class to another—Irish immigrant off the boat to high WASP— when she married into the aristocratic Woolsey family.

THIS IS PART 7 of a FOURTEEN-PART STORY

Now that the children were somewhat civilized (Caroline had just turned six), it was de rigueur for them to spend at least one, if not two, weekends a month with their grandparents in the country. The house, which was about a hundred miles north of New York City, was built to resemble a stately English mansion. A private road led to it through half a mile of wildflowers and magnificent trees. Horses grazed in the orchards surrounding the house, and sweet, mysterious smells from the herb garden wafted through the windows and doors. Frances could count on two hands the number of times she had been there since her wedding. Helen still took a sadist's delight in snubbing her, so she always found reasons not to accompany Jack and the children.

But on Helen's seventieth birthday there was to be a big dinner, and out of pride and a need to be recognized as Mrs. Jack Woolsey, Frances agreed to go. She wanted her mother-in-law to see what a fine, distinguished lady she had become.

They arrived after lunch on a gloomy Saturday in the beginning of November. A butler rushed down the steps to help Frances remove garment bags from the trunk of the car. In the living room Helen sat by the fire nursing a whiskey, still disheveled from a morning's ride with the local hunt.

"Happy birthday, Mother," Jack sang out as he entered the room.

Helen glared at him. "I'm old, but not bloody deaf." She wore beige britches and a black hunt coat, and her bony face bristled with anger. "Why weren't you here last night?”

It was traditional for the younger Woolseys to arrive Friday nights so Jack and the children could be up by dawn to go out with Helen to the freezing barn, toss saddles on a bunch of nervous, keyed-up horses, gallop through trees with branches like guillotines, jump fences and walls that appeared as suddenly as sharks in the water, everyone but Helen having a miserable time.

"Frances wasn't well," Jack said.

Helen kicked off her boots and held her feet out to the fire. She lit a cigarette. "You could have left her at home. She's got that peculiar sister to look after her."

"She wanted to be at your birthday," Jack said, although this was a blatant lie and they both knew it. He poured himself a whiskey and sat down, removing a cigarette from a silver box on the table. A large dog lay on the couch beside him. Another slumbered at his feet. As grand as the house was, all the furniture was nicked and scarred and clawed by dogs. For a moment mother and son smoked in silence. Then Helen said, "Well, she's not going to be happy this evening."

"Why Mother? Who'd you invite?"

"You'll see," Helen said with a sly look.

"Oh come on. Who?"

But Helen just shook her head, and Jack knew better than to push her.

Cover Image: Ron Lach (Pexels)

Marrying Up - Part VII

“Marrying Up” is a fictional story set in 1950s Manhattan revolving around Frances Riley, a difficult and ruthlessly ambitious young woman who moved from one social class to another—Irish immigrant off the boat to high WASP— when she married into the aristocratic Woolsey family.

But on Helen's seventieth birthday there was to be a big dinner, and out of pride and a need to be recognized as Mrs. Jack Woolsey, Frances agreed to go. She wanted her mother-in-law to see what a fine, distinguished lady she had become.

Next: Read Marrying Up Part 8 >>