Page 44 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

London – Kensington

It was just over a week since the incident with Frederick when Rosa Caldicott called.

Frances was in the drawing room enjoying a moment of peace with her well-loved copy of Jane Eyre.

There was nothing quite so comforting as re-reading a favourite.

It was like spending the afternoon with a much loved and trusted friend and exactly what she needed after recent events.

Frederick was in Liverpool, and the girls were out with Edith and William.

Freddie was goodness knows where. Jemie was working at the Prince’s Gate house, so she had the place to herself.

The peace was the perfect tonic. She sorely missed her little library at Speke, so a rare moment of calm was welcome.

She was contemplating ringing for tea and some of Cook’s almond biscuits when she heard the front door knocker. She paused and hoped that it was someone for Frederick that could be sent away so as not to disturb her.

She turned the page, but a tap on the door heralded the butler.

“A Mrs Caldicott to see you, ma’am.”

Shock rendered her speechless for a good moment or two before she cleared her throat. What in God’s name could Rosa possibly want? How on earth did she have the effrontery to call on her after what had happened?

If she sent her away, it would simply signal to the staff and the world that something was amiss, not to mention how Frederick would react. “Show her in,” she said eventually.

She put her book down and stood up, schooling her features into a neutral gaze.

Rosa came in and the footman closed the door. She looked beautiful in deep blue with a matching hat and plume.

“How kind of you to call, Mrs Caldicott,” Frances said after they had stared at each other awkwardly for long enough.

“It is you who are kind,” Rosa said, her head bowed and her eyes downcast.

“Was there something that you wanted?”

“To apologise.”

Frances blinked, surprised by her words. “Apology accepted.”

“Frances, please…” Rosa stepped forward, chin quirking and voice trembling. “We were such good friends.”

Frances didn’t move to meet her. A clock ticked softly, and the fire crackled as she searched for words.

“We were. Or I thought we were. It makes what you did all the harder to understand.” Rosa’s betrayal had stung far more than her husband’s.

Rosa swallowed. “Will you tell Thomas?”

So that was it. She was afraid that Frances would reveal all to her husband.

She’d probably been fretting over this since the incident rather than feeling so bad she felt compelled to apologise for her actions.

The thought of telling Mr Caldicott had crossed Frances’ mind but she felt that nothing would be gained in doing so.

“He won’t hear it from me.”

Rosa’s shoulders deflated with relief and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and pressed it against them.

“I don’t deserve such kindness,” she whispered.

“You don’t, but I’ve no desire to hurt your husband.”

Rosa released a choked sob. “Thank you. I should go… should leave?” she looked about helplessly as though seeking permission. Her hands continued to shake. The woman was utterly undone.

Frances sighed. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, sit down.

I’ll ring for tea.” She must be run mad inviting her husband’s mistress to take tea with her, but Rosa was distraught and…

well, friendship couldn’t be so easily forgotten, even if she might try, and Frances knew what Frederick could be like.

Seeing Rosa now, she realised she was worried for her.

Rosa appeared shocked, but sank into a chair gratefully, holding her handkerchief to her mouth whilst Frances called for refreshment.

Once the tea tray was delivered, and refreshment poured, Frances handed a cup to Rosa. She took it, but the cup and spoon trembled in the saucer.

“Has it been going on long?”

Rosa stared and blinked but said nothing.

“This wasn’t the first time I take it.”

Rosa shook her head.

“I see.” Frances stirred her tea and laid the spoon on the saucer. She took a sip. “Will it stop now?”

“It has stopped,” Rosa assured her.

Frances nodded, but wondered if that was the truth.

“It’s been going on for months,” Rosa blurted, her cheeks a darkening red.

Frances paused, cup halfway to her mouth, as a sinking feeling took hold.

“Months,” she repeated in a daze, feeling foolish for being blind to it for so long.

Rosa nodded.

“Oh, God.” Frances closed her eyes as realisation hit. She sucked in a breath.

“Was he with you when Elinor was ill? When we sent word to bring him home in case she didn’t… when we couldn’t find him?” Suddenly it made sense.

Rosa’s face crumpled. “I’m so sorry,” she spluttered. “I didn’t know until afterwards. I’d have sent him to you if I had known.”

Frances felt sick.

Rosa let out a quiet sob and buried her face in her handkerchief. “It’s all such a mess,” she said between hiccoughs.

“Well, it’s over now, isn’t it? If your husband doesn’t know and…” Frances hesitated. “Are… are you in love with Frederick?”

Rosa shook her head. “He was… exciting.”

Frances nodded as though she understood what she meant.

It reminded her of Lizzie’s comment about good and bad lovers.

Perhaps Frederick was a better lover for Rosa than a husband to her?

She supposed there was something about a clandestine affair and sneaking around that would add excitement to even the dullest of men.

Rosa opened her mouth to speak but was overcome once more.

“Then what… Oh God.” Realisation struck Frances with enough force to rob her of breath for a moment.

Rosa put her face in her hands.

“You’re carrying his child?” she gasped.

The quiet crying continued without pause as she managed an awkward nod.

“Well, I presume you will pass the child as your husband’s?”

Rosa gulped several breaths, but it took a little time before she could compose herself enough to speak without breaking down. “I can’t. He hasn’t been near me in over six months. We don’t…”

The fire hissed and the clock ticked loudly in the uncomfortable silence, and Frances regarded her friend. The distress, the sheer magnitude of the consequences of finding Frederick exciting.

“Oh, Rosa. I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to tell you all this,” she sniffed.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, seeming completely lost.

“Does Frederick know?”

Rosa looked away and bit her lip. “He does.”

“What does he say?” Frances knew what was coming. She knew her husband well.

“That I shouldn’t have been so careless.”

“Dear God.” Never in a million years did Frances think she would feel sympathy for her husband’s mistress, but she did. Frederick’s coldness clearly extended to his mistress as well as his wife.

“Have you seen a physician?”

“I have.”

“And all is well?”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t going to… do anything… are you?” Her knowledge of abortion was scant, but she knew it was both possible and incredibly dangerous.

Rosa’s eyes filled with sorrow. “It’s not the baby’s fault. It’s mine. I won’t do that.”

Frances sighed. “I’m afraid the chances of my husband seeing that he has any responsibility to you are remote, but he should at least support you and the child financially. Perhaps you could talk to your husband? You could raise the child together if he…”

Rosa pressed her handkerchief to her mouth and shook her head.

“Will… will he be discrete?” Frances realised that there was the potential here for a significant scandal, and not just for Rosa.

“I think your husband will make him.”

Frances closed her eyes momentarily. She could imagine what Frederick would do.

“Oh, Rosa,” she whispered, realising that this mess was even worse than she’d first imagined.

***

Lizzie arrived later that afternoon with Alastair, Charles, and Edith and, as they chatted amiably over tea, Frances couldn’t stop thinking of Rosa and her predicament.

She felt she should say something to her husband, but what?

Any helpful suggestions she made would likely result in him doing just the opposite.

She pondered whether she should go to him and say he should have nothing more to do with Rosa.

That way, spiteful pride would convince him to do all he could to help her.

Knowing her luck, that would be the one piece of advice he took, and he would feel vindicated in his decision to cast her aside.

She turned back to her guests when she realised they were discussing Jemie.

“Darling, where are you? Stop wool gathering and pay attention. We have gossip.” Edith arched her eyebrow.

“Forgive me, I’ve had an awfully busy morning. What has happened now?”

Edith gave her a pointed look. “I was saying that tongues are wagging.”

Frances started. Good God, not Frederick, surely. “About what?” Had the servants been tittle tattling? Her heart thumped heavily in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Our dear Mr Whistler.”

Her heart froze completely. “Oh? Why?”

Edith rolled her eyes. “Do you pay no attention to gossip at all?”

She paid attention like anyone else, but in fairness, she’d had a lot to contend with recently. “I try, but clearly I’ve missed something.” She glanced at her sister, who pulled a face, and was faintly reassured that she did not look concerned.

“Apparently, it has been noted, in certain circles, that our beloved Mr Whistler has been paying a significant amount of attention to someone.”

Frances held her breath. It couldn’t possibly be. They’d been so careful and…

“Don’t you want to know who the recipient of his attention is?”

“Of course.” She swallowed, trying to compose herself, even though her heart raced.

“Our own dearest Lizzie!” Edith said with a flourish.

Relief washed over her so hard she struggled to breathe for a moment and when Lizzie leaped in with laughter and protests, she embraced the moment to gather herself enough to speak.

Frances managed a smile. “Well, of course. Who wouldn’t fall in love with Lizzie?”