Page 31 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

Speke Hall – Liverpool

“You said what?” Lizzie gasped. “Dear God, what did he say? What did he do?”

“I didn’t give him much chance. I fled. I’ve seen that look in his eye before.”

“Oh, love.” Lizzy reached out and gripped Frances’ hand tightly. It wasn’t the last of it, that was for sure. Frederick did not forget or forgive slights. He would make her suffer for what she said some way or another.

“How are the girls?” Lizzie asked.

“Poorly.” She wrung the handkerchief she held in her hands. “So poorly.” She lifted her hands to her face and immediately Lizzie swept her up into her arms and held her.

“I’m just glad Freddie isn’t here.” She pulled away, sniffing into her handkerchief. “I’ve written to him and told him all about the girls but begged him to stay away.”

Lizzie squeezed her tight and Frances leaned into the embrace for a moment before sitting up and giving herself a quick shake.

“Anna and Jemie have been wonderful. I don’t know what I would have done had they not been here.”

“You would have managed, you always do. Anyway, I should see the invalids before I change for dinner.”

Lizzie brushed the crumbs from her dress as she stood. “Please don’t go to any lengths. Dinner will be quite informal. Just us and Anna and Jemie.”

Lizzie disappeared and Frances headed for the kitchen to speak to cook about some broth for the girls.

“It’s all being done, ma’am,” Mrs Taylor wiped her hands on her apron. “Nanny arrived with instructions from the doctor, and some suggestions from Mrs Whistler, so we have been getting things ready.”

“Thank you so much,” Frances said, and Mrs Taylor just patted her arm.

“Worry not. We will make sure they have the very best. I’ve got bone broth cooking overnight, and Mrs Whistler suggested warm milk with egg and honey in.”

“I imagine the girls will like both.”

Mrs Taylor bustled back to the range.

***

Jemie found his mother in the drawing room sipping tea.

“How are they doing?” he asked.

His mother grimaced delicately. “I fear the girls are in for a miserable few days. At least the doctor seems a sensible sort.”

Jemie raised his eyebrows. “In what way?”

“Well, he didn’t suggest bleeding them until they faint, or cutting off their hair and applying cool rags to the head, as I’ve seen some do.”

“Nanny Jenks seems competent?”

“I like her. We will work well together.” She picked up her cup and took another sip. “I’ve sent out for bottles of Gibson’s calamine lotion too. That’s lovely and soothing. There are plenty of good herbs in the garden, too. I’ve seen Mrs Taylor, and we are making some teas and poultices.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he kissed her cheek.

His mother laughed a little. “I’m glad I’m here too. You all need looking after.”

Frances entered, appearing pale and drawn. “They are all asleep,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Come, there is tea in the pot,” his mother offered, and guided Frances to a chair.

“The footman should be back soon with the Gibson’s. If we bathe them with cool cloths and apply the lotion before they settle for the night, it might help.”

Frances nodded. “Mrs Taylor is preparing bone broth. She said she’d spoken to you so thank you.”

“She’s a good woman, Mrs Taylor,” his mother smiled. “You have some lovely staff.”

“I do,” she murmured. Frances pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Please don’t feel you have to dress for dinner. We will eat a little earlier, but it is just us and Lizzie, and if Nanny looks after the girls whilst we eat, I’ll go up and sit with them after that.”

His mother nodded. “They need careful watching in these early stages. I’ll go up and let Nanny have a rest. Jemie, why don’t you take Frances for a walk? It’s a lovely afternoon and I’ll wager a little air would do her the world of good.”

Jemie studied Frances and arched his eyebrow in enquiry.

She offered him a tired smile. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

They all stood up, and Frances caught his mother’s hand.

“Thank you both from the bottom of my heart. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

His mother patted her cheek softly. “You would have coped admirably. Just like you always do.”

Frances drew a breath, almost as if bracing herself. “I feel I should… apologise for my… my husband’s absence.” A soft flush coloured her cheeks.

His mother tsked. “No need to apologise. I’m sure your husband deals with worry in his own way,” his mother said diplomatically.

Jemie noted she was far more generous than he was, but she understandably didn’t want Frances to feel even worse.

In his mind, Leyland needed to get on his damned knees and apologise to his wife, then to his girls.

When he’d heard Leyland had abandoned her, gone to work in Liverpool, leaving Frances to look after the girls alone, he’d wanted to black the selfish bastard’s eye.

“What do you mean?” Frances said to his mother.

“Well, my love, women are often better at saying how they feel. Most men just button it all up inside and have absolutely no idea how to share what’s inside their heart. When that happens, they either get angry, or they run away. I suspect your husband just couldn’t manage how he felt.”

“I suppose it could be that. He’s never been one for talking much, and he does get cross,” Frances frowned.

“You know him best, my dear. He’ll probably talk to you when he’s ready.”

His mother’s words lifted some of the tension from Frances, but she remained a little doubtful.

Jemie reckoned it was probably easier to believe his mother’s generous assessment than accept that her husband was just a cold-hearted, nasty bastard, just like most of Liverpool did after having seen his true colours emerge over his business dealings.

“Shall we?” He offered his arm. “Do you need a wrap?”

She shook her head. “I just need some air.”

***

The girls were so terribly ill over the next few days, with high fevers, coughs, and sneezes.

Elinor said her whole body ached so much it made her cry.

Putting them together had seemed like a good idea, but they were tired, ill, and fractious, which sometimes made things difficult when they were all irritable at once.

Frances, Anna, and Lizzie worked with Nanny Jenks, and between the four of them, they kept the girls as comfortable as possible.

Made sure they drank teas made from herbs, lacing them with honey, so they didn’t taste too bad.

They spooned broth into their reluctant mouths, milk…

anything that they could persuade them to.

Nights were dreadful, as all the girls woke regularly.

Coughing, too hot, nightmares that wouldn’t go away…

Frances was beside herself with worry. Had it not been for the soothing presence of Anna Whistler, she might have lost her mind.

Anna, she realised eventually, was looking after her just as much as the children and she was indebted to her for it.

She’d dozed off beside Elinor when the door opened quietly to admit Anna. She tiptoed in, finger to lips, with a smile. Frances sat up and stretched. She hadn’t even changed into a nightgown; she was still in her clothes.

“Nanny has asked your maid to draw you a bath. Why don’t you freshen up and get some rest? Nanny and I will take over, and you have my word that we will come and get you if they worsen.”

Frances rubbed her face with her hands and gazed over at her babies. They were all sleeping. Elinor more fitful than the older two but sleeping, nonetheless.

“I will. I won’t be long, though. Have you eaten?”

Anna nodded. “We have and there is some breakfast in the dining room. You should try to eat something.”

Frances nodded, but doubted she could keep anything down. She was too frantic with worry. Anna hugged her and shooed her away.

She walked along the corridor towards her own room and caught sight of herself in the looking glass. She was an absolute fright.

She rounded the corner and leaped a mile when she bumped into Jemie. Of course, he would appear when she looked so awful.

“How are things this morning?” he asked, as though it was perfectly normal for her to be wandering the corridors in yesterday’s clothes, unwashed, with her hair hanging in strands. Frederick would have had the vapours.

“They are sleeping, so your darling mother arranged for the maid to draw me a bath and sent me to rest.”

“Good. Have you eaten?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure I could manage anything. I just need to sleep for an hour.”

They watched each other for an awkward moment, during which Frances had the strongest wish for him to take her in his arms again. He didn’t. He just reached out and squeezed her hand for a moment.

“Try to rest,” he urged her.

She nodded as he stood aside to let her pass. She hurried on, glancing over her shoulder to see him walk away before opening her bedroom door.

“Your bath shouldn’t be too long, ma’am. Just sorting out the water,” her maid said, bustling about.

Frances smiled and sank into the chair by the window.

Frederick wanted to update the plumbing for the house so that they had more running hot water.

The Tudor design didn’t lend itself to modern conveniences, and seemingly, the owner of the house had some limits when it came to Frederick’s improvements.

A tap at the door came, and the maid opened it to find Albert, the footman, holding a tray. He came in and placed it on the table where she sat.

On it was a pot of tea, some toast, and a dish of scrambled eggs.

“Mr Whistler suggested you might be hungry?” the young man bowed his head.

Frances smiled gratefully. “That’s most kind. Please give him, and cook, my thanks.”

They both disappeared, leaving her with the breakfast she never imagined she could eat, but she managed some.

***

The worry continued. They worked as a team to make sure the girls had all the care they needed. In the early hours of the morning, they all fell asleep, so Frances curled up beside Fannie and slept too.

It was early morning when she awoke.

She lay a hand on Florence’s brow. She was too warm, but the fiery fever that had consumed her for several days seemed to be subsiding. Fannie was the same.

“How do you feel?” she whispered when Fannie opened her eyes.

“Tired,” she snuggled into her pillow.

“Like I might like to eat some cake,” Florence offered, looking hopeful. It was all Frances could do not to cry with relief.

“Then you shall have some cake, my love.” She squeezed Florence’s hand.

She moved to check on Elinor who still felt too hot, but her youngest smiled up at her. “Cake please.”

“I shall make arrangements forthwith,” she promised.

She kissed each precious girl on the head before leaving to find Anna and Nanny to give them the good news.

She found Anna in the parlour with Jemie. She burst in and clapped her hands to her mouth.

“Oh God. Oh, my dearest.” Jemie immediately jumped up.

“They want…” she waved a hand about in a helpless way as her chin wavered uncontrollably… “cake,” she said and burst into tears, the relief overwhelming her.

Jemie wrapped her in his strong arms, holding her tightly. She clung to him and buried her face in his neck again because his warmth strength was where she needed to be.

“Come,” Anna said after a moment, stroking her back gently.

“Let us arrange some cake for the girls.”

Frances awkwardly broke apart from Jemie and accepted his handkerchief to dab at her eyes.

She recovered herself enough to look up at Anna. She could see the concern behind her gentle smile. She had the feeling that the concern was nothing to do with the girls, but she was too weary to care, or pretend otherwise.

She walked with Anna to the kitchen, not knowing quite what to say.

She knew she would not have managed without either of them these last few days.

Without Jemie’s solid presence, his seemingly endless ability to listen to her and take seriously what she said, she would have been lost. Being listened to, she had discovered, could make a woman wish for the moon.

“I’m afraid I don’t how to thank you and Jemie for this last week,” she said, settling on something that she truly felt. “I don’t know what I would have done without you both.”

Anna took her hand as they walked. “I was glad to be here to help. They are precious girls, as are you.”

Frances clung to her tightly. “Hopefully, I’ll stop being so emotional and crying all over poor Jemie. He must think me a complete watering pot.”

“Jemie is a big boy. He knows what he’s doing, and he’s very fond of you,” Anna assured her.

“I’m terribly fond of him,” Frances whispered.

“I know you are, my dear.”

“There is nothing like… that… between us. We truly are just friends. It’s just…

these last days have shown me how much I can rely on him and it’s…

” She didn’t even have a word for it. What it meant to have someone to count on, someone who didn’t ridicule everything she said, didn’t treat her like a pathetic child with no will of her own.

Didn’t behave as though he was the great fount of all knowledge never to be challenged.

Her palms became damp.

Anna squeezed her fingers. “Would you like some advice from a pushy old American woman?”

“Yes, please.”

“Stay friends who are terribly fond of each other.” She paused and brought them to a halt in the corridor when she was certain nobody else was about. “Your husband is not a good man. Nor, I think, a kind man or a gentle one. I strongly suspect he is, or can be, cruel and vindictive.”

Frances studied the floor, utterly shocked at how much Anna had seen of Frederick. Her throat was so tight she couldn’t speak, so she just nodded.

Anna sighed softly. “All I’m saying is, don’t give him a stick to beat you with, my love. Because he will most assuredly use it.”

“If your husband suspects even for a moment that you have… tender feelings for Jemie, he will make your life a misery. Jemie’s too, I suspect.”

Frances bowed her head, attempting to find some words, and finding none.

“I also need to tell you that although my son knows how to treat a lady, he is no angel.”

Frances blinked. “I never imagined he was.”

Anna lifted an eyebrow as if to reinforce her words. Frances had no idea how to respond.

“I… I’d best go and check on Elinor.”