Page 2 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

“Where’s your sister?” Her eldest daughter, Frances, named for her, just as Freddie was for his father, was a quiet child whom she often worried about.

“Which one? Fannie? She’s in her room reading.” Frederick’s roll of the eyes told Frances what he thought of such activities.

“You should try it sometime,” she teased.

“Not likely. Who on earth reads for fun?” Frederick speared the last of the sausages. He stood up and pushed his chair in even though he was still munching away.

“Do they teach you no manners at Harrow?”

He swallowed, swiped up a napkin, and wiped his mouth. “All the time, it’s just nice not to have to stick to them sometimes.” He assured her with a glint in his eye, then gave her a faintly greasy but smackingly affectionate kiss on the cheek before making his leave.

Frances’ heart swelled as she stared after him. Her firstborn and only son was going to break hearts. And table manners.

She dabbed at her cheek with her napkin and tried not to worry about him.

Three girls had followed him, but she had miscarried their second son.

Looking back, that was perhaps when Frederick’s interest in her had cooled.

When Elinor, her youngest, was born five years after Freddie’s arrival, her husband’s visits to the marital bed became more infrequent, but he still made the occasional, unannounced, and very awkward visit in the hopes of conceiving another son.

Frances wished he could be happy with the son and heir that he had.

***

Frederick returned that afternoon just as all hell had broken loose in the grand entrance hall.

All four children were shouting hysterically over each other.

Florence, her middle daughter, was sobbing.

Given Freddie, Fannie, and Florence were on the cusp of adulthood, it was going to be difficult to offer any credible explanation for the uproar her furious husband had been greeted with.

Elinor, the baby of the family at only fourteen years, was hugging Florence tightly while staring daggers and shouting at Freddie for being unkind to poor Flo.

The younger siblings always aligned. Freddie was laughing fit to burst at all three of his sisters in between protesting his innocence and castigating Flo as a bird wit.

Frances held her breath, tension knotting her stomach. It was too late to do anything because Frederick had seen. She braced herself for his anger.

Around them, staff were scurrying back and forth preparing for their guests. The housekeeper was trying to reassure Florence, and the butler simply stood with his nose in the air awaiting his master’s pronouncement on the situation.

“SILENCE!” her husband bellowed as he flung his hat and coat at the waiting footmen.

Immediately, all the children froze, standing up straight. Even Florence, who couldn’t quite stop her hiccupping sobs as tears continued to cascade down her cheeks.

Frances watched with a sinking heart as her children quailed before their father.

“Would someone care to enlighten me as to exactly what is going on here? I’ve returned from a very tiring journey to find my home turned into a bear garden.”

She hated the way he said that to them, as though it was his home and not theirs.

Frances jumped in to forestall any unnecessary confessions from the children.

She put an arm about Flo and gave her a cautionary squeeze.

“I’m so sorry, my dear. Florence was upset and everyone was simply trying to help.

I’ll deal with this. If you’d like to go to your study, I’ll make sure you have all the peace you need. ”

His lip curled in a familiar sneer. “I should damned well think so. What on earth is wrong with you all? Are you incapable of behaving like decent people? Must you continually act as if you sprang from the gutter?” He regarded the children with a withering glare.

“The older you become, the more I’m convinced that you were all switched at birth and I’m raising the children of common dock hands. ”

Frances and the children stood in stoic silence. There was no point in saying anything when Frederick was in such a mood and they all knew it.

“Have you nothing to say to me?” he demanded, taking a step closer, teeth bared and eyes flashing.

“Sorry, papa,” Florence murmured as she wrung her hands together and looked down at the floor.

Freddie shifted, a muscle ticking along his jaw, but Frances gave his elbow a warning squeeze to diffuse any confrontation before it happened, and he thankfully remained silent as her husband walked in front of each child before squaring up to his son.

He made an exasperated noise, cast them a look of frank dislike, and stalked off.

Freddie put his arm around Flo and hugged her.

“I’m sorry, Flo, I shouldn’t have laughed,” he apologised.

Florence just sniffed loudly and Freddie, by some miracle, produced a handkerchief and handed it to her. She managed a watery smile as she took it, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose loudly.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “It’s unkind to tease.”

Frederick kissed his sister on the top of the head. “I know, but you make it so, so easy…”

“Freddie, darling, your father…?” Frances pleaded as Flo wrenched herself out of her brother’s embrace and stalked away.

Freddie subsided and endured his remaining two sisters’ silent fury, as they glowered at him with reproachful eyes, before they followed Flo, arm in arm, leaving him behind.

Frances’ lips twitched as she looked up at her son.

“Perhaps you should apologise properly, darling,” she suggested.

Freddie rolled his eyes. “I know. I know,” he sighed as he walked away to make amends.

Frances watched him go then attempted to locate her husband. She found him in the Oak Parlour.

He was studying the beautiful carvings above the mantel, truly the centrepiece of the room, with its intricate craftmanship depicting three generations of the Norris family, inscriptions etched in exquisite gold calligraphy over each panel. He didn’t look at her when she entered.

“I’m sorry the children were making a fuss when you arrived. I assure you their behaviour will be impeccable when your guests are here,” she jumped in before he could start shouting again.

The look he gave her was laced with scepticism. “I should think so. Really, Frances, you must keep them under better control. I’m continually shocked by your lack of standards. Honestly, I don’t know what you must be thinking some days.”

“Of course, my dear. Nothing will spoil the entertainment. Are you expecting Mr Rossetti?” she said, steering the conversation away from the children.

“Yes, and he will be bringing James McNeill Whistler with him.”

“How exciting,” Frances enthused. “I won’t detain you.” She gave him a smile and moved to leave.

“Make sure everything is perfect, Frances.” He warned her.

She swallowed and pinned the smile to her face.

“Of course, my dear.”