Page 37 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)
London – Kensington
Frances didn’t know what to say or think. Jemie looked faintly guilty, mixed with a dab of pride and a huge amount of indecision.
He fidgeted as though debating how much to say before clearing his throat. “I have a son. Charles. He is almost four years old.” He cleared his throat again and cast her a worried glance.
“But you are not married?”
He shook his head.
“Ah. Um… the child’s mother?”
Jemie moved to a chair and slumped down in it, rubbing his hand over his forehead.
“It was a brief affair. She was a chambermaid, but I was awfully fond of her. When she became…” he waved his hand about presumably to indicate pregnancy, then continued.
“I asked her to marry me, but she turned me down.”
Frances’ eyes widened. “Why? If you loved each other?”
His smile was wry. “She didn’t love me. She had ideas, plans that she wouldn’t be a servant forever, and… well, being the wife of an American artist wasn’t what she planned for herself. She was going to get things… sorted out, but I begged her not to.”
“Sorted out?” Frances asked weakly as she sat in the chair opposite. It was clear from the way his eyes widened that the woman in question had planned on trying to have the pregnancy ended.
“She had the child, and I took him. I was having a… relationship with a…” He hesitated, “different woman at the time and, well, she took the child on. Charlie still resides with her, even though our relationship has ended now. I’d love to have him with me, but it’s more settled for him this way and I visit as often as I can. ”
“That’s where you go when you disappear?”
“Often, yes,” he flushed.
Frances realised that not all the world conformed to the rules and strictures that she did, but this was a surprise she hadn’t anticipated.
“A relationship? You mean you were not married to her? This lady who cares for your son.”
Jemie smiled like a child who knows they’ve done something wrong but hopes that they won’t be chastised too severely.
“I’m…” she blinked. “So, your son from one ex-lover lives with another of your ex-lovers?” How many ex-lovers did he have? The way he spoke it seemed as though there was a trail of them littered in his wake.
He had the grace to look sheepish. “Well, yes, when you put it that way, I suppose it doesn’t sound too good.”
“Not exactly. Does your mother know?”
Jemie snorted. “Of course she does. My mother knows everything.”
She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask Anna’s opinion of the situation.
She couldn’t work out how she felt either.
She thought she knew him. Thought she understood him.
Yet here he was, telling her about his lovers and his child.
She supposed she was very provincial, but even so, this was a shocking revelation.
And if she was being honest with herself, it stung deeply because she thought they had forged a genuine friendship, yet he’d ample opportunity to tell her this previously and hadn’t.
“You must miss him.” Frances couldn’t imagine living away from her children when they were at such a tender age.
“I do.” He admitted, his gaze softening. “He’s so full of life. So inquisitive. I’m convinced he’s going to be a child prodigy. Truly, he’s the most intelligent infant I’ve ever known.”
Frances nodded, remembering the feeling well when Freddie was little. And with the girls in turn, who each had shown an exceptional quality that made her flush with pride.
Eventually, Jemie broke the silence that had fallen between them. “Do you hate me?”
Frances studied the man in front of her.
His wild hair, his beautiful hands, and his searching eyes that could glitter with fury, yet could look at her with such sensitivity and yearning and melt into adoration as he thought of his child.
This man had a heart, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.
He had been there for her time and time again during the most difficult of moments.
“I’ll admit you’ve taken me by surprise. I thought I knew you well, but it seems I don’t.”
“You do know me, you just didn’t know this part. Don’t hate me,” he pleaded with her.
She fiddled with her sleeve. “I don’t hate you. I don’t think I could ever hate you. I just feel…” she shook her head. “I need some time to think about everything you’ve shared.”
“Of course.” He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, they were tinged with sadness.
“Do you… do you think we could do this later?” she gestured to the dress. She didn’t think she could sit for her portrait now after his revelation. For the first time since she’d met him, she needed time away from Jemie. Time to think.
He appeared stricken. “Of course,” he whispered, put down his brush and left. The door closed behind him with a quiet click.
***
Jemie scowled at his paints as he waited for Frances to arrive for her sitting, the first since he’d told her about Charlie.
He moved them about, fiddled with his brushes, and then sat with a sigh, hands flopped on his thighs.
They had barely spoken since. She had been polite, charming, and as friendly as ever, but she now seemed much more guarded which upset him.
A bond had developed between them after the incident with the scarlet fever but now it felt that a wall had risen between them and he missed her.
He closed his eyes. It wasn’t as though they could be together, there were too many things standing in the way, but he’d grown to value her company immensely.
Her humour, her softness. Her kindness, and her wit.
In short, he’d grown to need Frances. Even though she was still there, he missed her and how things had been between them because she balanced out something inside of him, and he’d thought he did the same for her.
When he thought of all he could lose it made him feel sick to his stomach.
There was a possibility she would tell Leyland and he’d be thrown out, losing the commissions.
But it was not that thought that haunted him.
Losing his connection with Frances and the rest of the family, Lizzie, the children…
it would be too much to bear. They had become part of his life, his world, so quickly.
But the thought that Frances couldn’t accept his son hurt him more than he could even say. That was not the Frances he thought he knew.
He took the cover from the portrait and studied it with a critical eye. It was progressing well, but what would happen when he finished it? He would no longer have an excuse to sit alone with her for hours at a time talking and laughing with her.
Frances came in alone, without Lizzie and closed the door behind her.
Instead of going to change behind her screen and assuming her position, she walked over to stand beside him and admired the painting.
“It’s lovely,” she murmured. “I look… pensive. As you said.”
Jemie’s heart was beating so fast he didn’t dare speak. He nodded and waited to see what she would say next.
“I owe you an apology,” she said after a little while. “I owe you a rather large apology.” She turned to him and took hold of his hand.
“Why?” he asked, mystified.
“You shared an important part of your life with me, and I reacted badly.”
He clutched at her fingers.
“Your son is important to you just as my son is important to me. His arrival into the world might be unusual, but he’s still your son and you love him.”
Jemie swallowed and tried to blink the moisture from his eyes. “He is and I do. Love him, that is.”
“Of course you do.” She lifted his hand and kissed the back of it. “Perhaps one day I could meet him?”
Jemie screwed his eyes shut and then pulled her to him. He kissed her on the forehead for a long moment before releasing her.
He brushed the wetness on his cheeks. “I would be proud and honoured to introduce him to you.” His voice wobbled, but he didn’t care. This was the Frances that he knew. The Frances who had stolen his heart. He hadn’t been wrong about her.
She smiled and wiped a thumb over his cheek. “I’m sure the girls would adore him.”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “A visit might include the need to go and see Jumbo the Elephant and an escaping Hippo.” He shrugged nonchalantly and as he’d hoped, she laughed. He kissed her fingers and laughed with her even though it was more than a little watery.
For the first time in too many days, he knew she truly cared.