Page 27 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

Speke Hall – Liverpool

Lizzie perched on the edge of Frances’ bed in her nightdress and gown later that evening.

“What a strangely miserable gathering,” Frances remarked, running the long plait that hung over her shoulder through her fingers.

“It was rather grim.” Lizzie agreed.

“It was downright frosty, and Frederick was awful.” Frances sighed and Lizzie propped herself against the pillows.

“Well, there’s no doubt all the rumours are true now, is there.”

Frederick was most certainly making himself unpopular. She groaned and placed her face in her hands then looked up at her sister. “Why does he do these things?”

Lizzie grimaced. “From what Mr Rossetti said, half of Liverpool society is upset with him threatening Mr Bibby. He’s a very well respected and well-loved man.”

“Good grief,” she whispered, her horror evident. “Threatening him?”

Lizzie nodded. “Said he’ll set up in competition and run the Bibby Shipping Line into the ground if he doesn’t sell.”

“Dear God,” she murmured. “Could he do that?”

“According to Mr Rossetti, he could easily do it.”

Frances wished she couldn’t believe her husband was capable of such behaviour, but sadly, she knew all too well it was most likely true.

It made her feel ill. “He already has more money that he knows what to do with. We have everything in the world that we could wish for. Why does he have to spoil things by being so… so…”

“Fred?”

Frances was fit to explode. “Yes! So… damned Fred.” She felt her temper rising.

Lizzie draped her arm around her. “He must drive you half mad.”

“He does. He harps on about not being accepted in society because he’s made his money in trade.

If he wants to be accepted as a gentleman, he needs to learn to behave as one.

Honestly, Lizzie, we’ll never live this down.

How am I supposed to launch the girls into society?

Find them good husbands? How? When all the time their father is behaving like a brute from the worst slums of Liverpool?

” She sighed, feeling more of an outsider than ever.

***

Jemie watched Frances as he sketched the next afternoon. She was deep in thought, and most certainly pensive.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked when he could bear the silence no longer. “You appear a little worn.”

She looked at him and blinked. “I do? I’m so sorry. Perhaps you should just paint the dress today.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jemie put down his pad and pastels. “I just meant you seemed a little pre-occupied. I’m presuming from last night?” He hoped he wasn’t overstepping but it was hard to ignore the tension at last night’s dinner party.

She flushed. “Last night?” She aimed for an air of confusion. Had he not come to know her reasonably well, he might have accepted it. However, he could see the tension in her eyes. Around her mouth.

“Come. I’d have had to be dead not to notice the atmosphere.”

She put her face in her hands for a moment, then regarded him with a sigh.

“It was awful, wasn’t it.” Jemie said.

“Lizzie says that Frederick has upset everyone in the company, and in doing so, half of Liverpool.”

“He’s… well, he’s brilliant when it comes to business, but he’s not awfully good at dealing with people, is he?” Jemie chose his words carefully.

Frances shot him a dark look. “No. He is not.”

For a moment, he thought she might cry.

“Come,” he offered his arm. “Perhaps we should take a walk. Get some air. Forget all about business and portraits for a while.”

***

Jemie wanted nothing more than to take Frances walking on his own.

He wanted to take her miles away from the house, from her husband, from all the worries, and sit with her in the summer sunshine.

He wanted to see her let down her hair, shake it out in a glorious russet tumble over her shoulders.

Watch as she closed her eyes, and turned her face to the sun.

However, sanity prevailed, and he rounded up Lizzie and his mother.

They’d asked the girls if they wanted a walk, but they were all feeling a little under the weather and opted to stay with Nanny Jenks reading quietly.

So, the four of them set out with vigour.

He lugged a rather smart German rucksack filled with bottles of lemonade and cakes and he lent his mother his arm as they walked.

“How is the portrait coming along?” she asked as they watched Frances and Lizzie stride out ahead of them, heads together in conversation.

“Well.”

“Have you started painting yet?”

He shook his head, watching the way her derriere swayed in the walking dress she wore.

“Why haven’t you started painting yet? It’s been weeks.”

He frowned, surprised by his mother’s tone. “I just haven’t reached that point yet. You know how it is. I need to work up to paint.”

His mother’s expression was sceptical. Rather like the one she gave him as a boy. It still made him squirm.

“What are you suggesting? That I’m dragging my feet to spend more time in her company?” He could see where she was going with this and thought it best to get it out in the open.

If he expected her to shrink away from such a direct assault, he was wrong.

“Yes,” she said firmly.

He sighed and scratched an eyebrow. “We’ve talked about this. I like her a lot. I’d go as far as to say I’m very fond of her, but that’s all. I’m not having an affair with her.”

“I know you’re not. I’m worried that you’re thinking about it though.”

“Honestly? Were she a single lady, I would court her. But she’s not. She’s married and, as such, admiring from afar is all I can do.” Even as he said those words, he knew he was lying to himself because he knew simply admiring her would never satisfy him.

“Good.” His mother squeezed his arm.

They walked in silence for a while until his mother broke it again.

“Her husband is a cold fish, isn’t he?”

“Mm hmmm,” Jemie muttered.

“Last night was very uncomfortable. I felt for Frances. I suspect Mr Leyland will get what he wants, and take over the company he works for, but at what cost?”

It was a damned good question.

His mother peered up at him. “Does she know your circumstances?”

He shook his head.

Before his mother could interrogate him further, Lizzie turned and called to them.

“Shall we stop here for some refreshment?” She indicated some trees and rocks with a long view out over the mighty river Mersey that shimmered, diamond like, in the sun. He could smell the water on the air. It was one of the things he loved about Speke. He gestured his approval.

“I’m ready for a drink,” his mother said, eyeing the sack on his back. Do you have sandwiches in there?”

He laughed at her unwavering appetite as they trudged along to join the ladies.

Frances was sitting on a rock, face up to the sun, a soft breeze stirring the locks that were breaking free from her pins. Eyes closed, lips parted, she looked like a nymph.

“Jemie,” Lizzie turned to him. “Be a darling and let’s see what is in that bag. Cook packed it for us, so I hope there is something delicious inside.”

“It’s heavy enough, so I imagine there will be something you like.

” He let it drop to the ground with a thud, then passed the ladies a blanket to set out.

He fetched a folding chair from the side of the bag for his mother, and then set to unpacking the food with Lizzie.

As the delicacies emerged, they all exclaimed excitedly over ham sandwiches, pork pie, and lemonade together with slabs of lemon cake.

They shared the bounty between them, and Jemie watched as Frances laughed and ate, the heavier weight from this afternoon seemingly lifted.

He took a long sip of the lemonade, and wished it was something stronger, before taking out a sketch pad and some pencils from his inside pocket. He propped himself up against a rock and sketched the ladies, the river, and even the trees.

“I haven’t had such a lovely day in an age,” Frances announced on a satisfied sigh.

Lizzie reached out and hugged her sister.

Jemie was sure that she confided in Lizzie.

He was glad she had someone. He just needed to stop wishing it was him because nothing good could come of it.

He’d known that from the start, but what had been a sense of disappointment was growing into an almost overwhelming sadness.

For once in his life, he had no idea what to do.

***

Frances breathed deeply as they walked back to the house. Jemie had been right. She needed to get outside and do something fun. She glanced at him as he walked by her side and had the strongest urge to take hold of his hand.

She’d never really had a man hold her hand whilst walking. Frederick had done it once or twice in the early days of their courtship, but she could tell he didn’t really enjoy it. Once they were married, he dispensed with such things forthwith.

She wondered what it might be like. Holding a man’s hand with no gloves between them, swinging hands as they walked in the grass, through the summer flowers waving in the breeze. Talking and laughing as they went, with an easy sense of freedom.

What it might be like to have him pull her in front of him, take both her hands in his, and kiss her again?

She was startled at the shiver that ran through her at the thought.

As if sensing this, Jemie turned and faced her. Those incomparable blue eyes were warm and when he winked at her, she flushed like a schoolgirl at his attentions.

She almost jumped out of her skin when he reached over and discreetly took her hand in his, as though reading her mind. He squeezed it, held it for a long moment, then released it before anyone saw.

Every inch of her skin tingled.

Lizzie turned back to ask her something, and Anna sought her son’s arm for the rest of the walk, separating them. Frances tried her best to appear as though nothing had happened. As though Jemie Whistler hadn’t just winked at her, held her hand, and made the day perfect.