Page 42 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

London – Kensington

Frances squared her shoulders as she headed for the breakfast room the next morning.

She felt reasonably sure Frederick would have left the house early to avoid having to speak to her.

She hoped so as she wasn’t sure she had the fortitude to face him.

Besides, several guests had stayed the night so she imagined there would be quite a gathering and she would be forced to keep up civilities.

She took a breath and swept into the room as though she hadn’t a care in the word and found…

Frederick. Alone.

Her heart stuttered to a halt and for a second, she toyed with turning around and leaving. But he’d seen her, and she determined in that moment that she had done nothing wrong. He had. So, she walked into the room, head held high.

He paused, setting his knife and fork down on the plate of ham and eggs.

She retrieved some toast from the sideboard and sat opposite him.

The voice in her head chimed loudly, ‘don’t forget it is he who is wrong.

Don’t forget.’ Frederick, unfortunately, had a way of making her feel wrong when he confronted her, even when she wasn’t.

Today she determined she would not be dissuaded.

He tapped on the table with a finger for a moment and then looked at her. “I don’t understand why you came to my room.”

Frances applied butter to the toast, hesitated, then spread it liberally with jam.

“I was worried about you. You said you had a headache, and I realised I hadn’t seen you for a while, I was concerned. I popped in to see Elinor and decided I should make sure you hadn’t been taken ill,” she said coolly.

“I hadn’t.”

She glanced at him. “Evidently.” She took a bite of toast, chewed, then had a sip of tea.

“Is this a longstanding affair or was last night just a…” she shrugged. “A tumble?”

“Don’t be vulgar. I’m… sorry you had to see it. We shall say no more about it.”

Frances blinked. Was that all that was to be said? Not if she had anything to do with it.

She nibbled on her toast. “I see.”

He sighed. “I tried to speak to you last night, but you were not in your room. Where were you?”

She really didn’t like his tone and recognised this is where he would try to turn the blame on her. He never was good at owning up to his shortcomings.

“Where else did you look?”

He frowned. “Nowhere.”

“Well, if you’d thought to check in on Lizzie, you would have found me quite easily.”

She needed to find Lizzie immediately and warn her.

He clenched his jaw at that. It would irk him no end to realise that she would have confided freely in her sister.

“Then we shall say no more.”

Frances dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “I’m not quite sure what you mean by that. Are you saying that we have reached that stage in our marriage where we each go our separate ways and ignore any… infidelities?”

He scowled, and she wondered why she was goading him. Perhaps she was tired of being treated like a simpleton. Tired of feeling unloved and unwanted.

“Each?”

“As I understand it, many couples in society do it once the family is complete. Take lovers, I mean. I presume Mrs Caldicott has such an arrangement with her husband?” she ventured.

He gripped his knife, and his knuckles went white. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she would not back down. She would not.

“You will not take lovers,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Ah, I see. But you will?” She paused as if to emphasise his hypocrisy.

“Damnit, Frances…”

“Well, perhaps you could contrive to see your mistress somewhere other than our home? Walking in on your naked backside parked between a woman’s legs is not an experience I want to repeat, nor would I ever want the children to have the misfortune of finding their father like that.”

She rose to her feet, shocked at herself for saying those words, but pleased she hadn’t let Frederick brush it aside as though his infidelity was nothing.

But he leaped up and grabbed her arm so tightly she feared it would bruise.

He shook her. Hard. Making her stagger and clutch at him for balance.

“How dare you,” he hissed, his face close to hers. “How dare you speak to me thus?”

She flinched, but something inside her held firm. “I dare, since you started flaunting your fancy piece in my face,” she managed.

He let go of her arm but grabbed her by the hair, making her stumble against him and clutch at his hand.

“I will not discuss this further. Understand? You will not speak of this again.”

“I understand. Let me go, for God’s sake, before someone comes in and finds us.”

He thrust her from him and sat back at the table, picking up his knife and fork and resuming his breakfast as though nothing had happened.

Edith and William came into the room, and after she had greeted them as warmly as she could, ignoring the curious glances at her hair which was askew, she hurried to find her sister to speak to her before Frederick could, her heart racing faster than her feet.

She ran along the corridor, clutching the back of her hair. Not only did it feel tender, but he had disordered it shockingly. She felt for pins as she went and tried to rectify it. As she did so, she ran headlong into Jemie.

She shrieked, but he held her steady. “Good morning,” he bowed politely.

She put a hand to her chest to steady herself. “Good morning,” she babbled, almost weak with relief it was only him.

“You are in an awful rush?”

She glanced around and nodded and spoke in a frantic whisper. “I need to get to Lizzie before Frederick does. He came looking for me last night and wanted to know why I wasn’t in my bedchamber. I said I was with Lizzie, so I need to tell her.”

He nodded, but his face was tense. “Your hair is falling down.”

“I know. I’m going to repair it just as soon as I find her.”

“What happened?” His tone was mild. Very mild. Too mild.

She swallowed. “I…”

“Is that a bruise?” He brushed a finger over the red mark on her arm left by Frederick’s grip.

“Jemie…” She opened her mouth and closed it again, taking a deep breath. “I had an argument with Frederick. It didn’t go well, but I simply must get to Lizzie before he does. I promise I will tell you all later. Please, please do not say anything to him.”

His burning eyes were the only indication that he was blazingly angry.

“As you wish,” he murmured in a clipped tone.

Eternally grateful for his good sense, and that he didn’t choose that moment to make a scene, she gave his hand a hurried squeeze and dashed on to Lizzie’s room. Another lock of hair fell as she knocked and threw herself into the room.

***

Lizzie was folding a shawl but dropped it when she saw the state of her sister.

“Whatever is to do?” she said, coming to gather Frances up. “You’re all undone!”

“I am utterly undone,” she moaned, so pleased to see her sister she almost wept.

Lizzie led her to the bed, and they both sank onto it. “Tell me all,” Lizzie put a comforting arm about her shoulder and petted her face. “Should I ring for tea?”

Frances nodded.

“What on earth happened to your hair?”

“I will tell you everything, but if Frederick should storm in suddenly and demand to know where I was last night, please tell him I was upset, and I was with you all night.”

Lizzie’s mouth hung open. “What… what have you been doing?”

Frances had a small reprieve from answering as the maid came to the door and Lizzie broke off to request some tea and toast.

“Frances, what have you done? What happened to your hair? Is that a bruise?” Lizzie inspected her sister’s arm.

Frances covered her face with her hands for a moment, then looked at her sister.

“Wait for the tea. I’ll tell you, but I want no interruptions and no eavesdropping.”

Lizzie waited patiently.

The maid brought tea and settled it on the small table. Lizzie thanked her and after the door had closed, returned to the bed to sit beside her sister.

“Now we won’t be disturbed further, what happened?” Her voice was low and filled with concern.

Frances pleated the handkerchief over and over and eventually found her voice.

“Last night during our entertaining, I walked in on Frederick making love to Rosa Caldicott and I was so shocked I spent the rest of the night in Jemie’s room.”

Lizzie’s mouth opened and closed. “You… spent the night with Jemie Whistler?”

“I kissed him, and he held me,” she felt compelled to add, “but nothing more. I swear.”

“And your hair?” Lizzie gently lifted her wrist. “And your arm?” she said as the fabric slid up, revealing more of the red and purple welt where he’d held her so tightly.

“Frederick and I had words over breakfast. He said there was nothing to be said so…” She described the rest of the altercation and watched the colour flush Lizzie’s cheeks.

“Show me your arm properly,” she ordered.

Frances hesitated but held it out.

Lizzie swallowed and inspected it further. Frances could see the imprint of Frederick’s fingers. It took her sister a moment to speak. “Your husband is a savage.”

Frances nodded, no longer having the will to defend Frederick as she once had.

“Come, sit at the mirror and I’ll fix your hair. I can at least do that much.”

Frances sat down and Lizzie quickly and cleverly took her hair down, brushed it, and re-pinned it neatly.

She sat beside her. “Rosa you said.” She sighed sympathetically.

Frances nodded. “I thought she was a good friend. I’m so shocked I can barely think straight.”

“Has it been going on long?”

“He wouldn’t say. That’s why we argued.”

“Then you should ask her.”

Frances gawped at her sister. “I assure you, I will not be doing that.”

“Then I will.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Hmph.” Lizzie’s apple cheeks were trembling with fury.

“I really don’t care,” Frances said and was surprised to discover that she really didn’t. “He looked a complete fool, yelling and stomping up and down, stark naked with all his… parts dangling about.”