Page 51 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

London – Kensington

Strangely, things seemed to return to normal over the following weeks.

Frederick was rarely home, moving between London and Liverpool to attend to his pressing business affairs.

Jemie and Anna visited the Queen’s Gate house without incident, and she and Lizzie visited Jemie and Anna in Chelsea.

Freddie was home, Christmas was approaching, and the girls loved the buzz and excitement of the city at this time of year.

Jemie had almost completed the dining room, was finishing Frances’ portrait, as well as working on some new commissions.

He had done some truly charming etchings which were proving to be exceptionally popular, and Frances and Jemie had managed to snatch a few private moments to be together.

They were planning a small Christmas celebration of their own with Anna, Charlie, Aunt Agatha, Freddie, and the girls under cover of his engagement to Lizzie.

She hugged herself tightly every time she thought of it.

She hadn’t seen Jemie in over a week, so spent the afternoon deciding on gifts for everyone.

She was sipping tea and browsing the latest edition of La Belle Assemblée looking at bonnets for the girls when Frederick stormed into the room.

“Ah, here you are,” he said, a strange, self-satisfied note to his tone.

She put the magazine to one side and stood up. “Indeed I am. Was there something you needed?”

“Yes. We are going to spend Christmas at Speke.” His tone was mild, but it was clear that it was not a conversation, it was a demand.

Frances opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“Did you hear me?”

“I did, my dear. You want us to go to Speke? Now? So close to Christmas?”

“We leave the day after tomorrow.”

She hesitated. “But I’ve planned Christmas here. I’ve arranged parties and…”

He smiled, but it was not pleasant. “All your plans shall move to Speke.”

“I don’t understand.” Frances tried to stay composed. She should have known something like this would happen.

“What’s not to understand?” He leaned closer and over articulated patronisingly as though speaking to a child. “We are spending Christmas at Speke. Pack your things.”

He stormed out and a few moments later, Lizzie came into the room and shut the door quietly.

“He told you?”

“About Christmas at Speke? Yes,” Frances said, still dazed.

Lizzie guided her sister to a nearby armchair, seeming terribly serious. “I’m afraid things have deteriorated between Fred and Jemie these last few days.”

Frances’ stomach dropped. It had all been too good to be true. “What happened?”

“Jemie sent Fred a bill for the work on the dining room and he refused to pay.”

“He can’t do that!”

“Unfortunately, he has. There have been terse letters exchanged. Jemie is furious.”

“But why? Is it because he didn’t like it? Surely that’s not reason enough.” Frances faltered, worrying as to what was behind Frederick’s latest scheme.

Lizzie stroked Frances’ face. “I don’t know, love.”

Tears threatened, but she pulled herself together. “I need to speak to Jemie.”

“Is that wise? If Fred got wind…”

“I need to speak to him. We will go to the house as we have been doing. I know nothing of what has transpired between them, so why would I not visit? If Frederick choses to keep me in the dark, then he must suffer the consequences.”

“We shall go after lunch. Perhaps Alastair might lend us countenance,” Lizzie suggested.

***

Frances arrived at the Prince’s Gate house that afternoon with Lizzie and a slightly bewildered Alastair who had been dragged from his club to escort them.

Her heart was beating so hard it hurt. She went into the house and requested tea in the drawing room.

She enquired after Jemie’s whereabouts and was told that he was in the dining room, working.

She was puzzled by that as she thought the work was finished.

Frances headed for the dining room with Lizzie and Alastair in tow. She found Jemie appearing tired, dishevelled, painting furiously like a man driven to the edge of endurance.

“Do you like it?” he demanded when they walked in.

All three of them stared in disbelief.

He’d painted fabulous gold peacocks on one wall that she particularly admired but now, he’d painted over them, and the new peacocks were fighting, slashing at each other with claws.

There were what looked like silver coins by the feet of one of them.

Pieces of silver came to mind making her terribly uneasy.

The amount of gilding had doubled and now really did look garish.

“You’ve changed it,” Frances managed.

“I have. Would you care to know why?”

Frances nodded, her concern rising.

“He paid me. Your husband paid me.”

Lizzie and Frances exchanged looks. “I’m pleased to hear it,” she said.

“Well, you shouldn’t be. Leyland paid me half the sum we agreed, and he’s paid it in pounds. Pounds! As though I’m some damned tradesman like he is.”

Frances put a hand to her mouth not knowing what to say. Art exchanged hands for guineas. Not pounds. It was a significant insult.

“So, I’ve redone the design. I feel your husband needs something more in keeping with his origins in the slums of Liverpool. He is not a gentleman.” He was breathing heavily.

Frances’ heart broke for him. “Come and have tea with us,” she said.

He shook his head and threw the brush down. He ran a hand over his mouth and appeared frighteningly helpless.

“Lizzie, would you take Alastair to the parlour? Jemie and I will follow shortly.”

Alastair seemed unconvinced but escorted Lizzie from the room.

“I’m so sorry,” she rushed over to him when the door closed behind them.

“Why are you sorry? You’ve done nothing.”

“I’ve ruined things for you.”

He closed his eyes and sighed.

She touched his cheek. “What will you do now?”

He leaned into her touch. “I have no idea. I’ve other commissions that I’m working on and…” he shrugged. “I want to run away with you. That’s what I want to do.”

She smiled gently at his whimsy and ran a thumb over his cheek. “Where would we run to?”

She couldn’t decipher his gaze. “Vienna. I’ve been invited to go and work in Vienna.”

Frances’ smile faded at the thought of being parted from him. “Will you go?”

He shook his head. “Not unless you came with me.”

They were quiet for a moment or two. Frances was the first to speak.

“Is the argument with Frederick over now?”

“The argument is over, but I’ve done a rather nasty portrait of him, and people have seen it.” He stared into the fire.

Frances groaned.

“It’s good. I’ve called it Frilthy Lucre.”

“Frilthy? Is that a word?”

“It is now. It alludes to his taste for frilled shirts. I suspect he is going to ruin me.”

“Can… can he do that?”

Jemie looked at the ceiling, then back at her. “He’s going to bankrupt me. It’s already begun. I think he’s buying up the debts that I have and demanding settlement.”

“You must let me help you! I have money, I can…”

“No,” he said firmly and touched her cheek.

The room suddenly felt oppressive. What had been something fabulous now pressed on her unbearably. “Why don’t we take a walk? It’s cold but fine. I think it might do us all good.”

He shook his head. “I had a letter from your husband forbidding me to be seen with you. Apparently, there have been rumours. About us.”

Frances was open mouthed with shock, believing them to have been completely discreet. “Rumours? What rumours?”

“He doesn’t like the rumours. He said that if we are seen out together again, he will horsewhip me.” He twitched a shoulder in a small shrug. “I’m wondering what else he can do to me. He’s attacked my reputation, he’s trying to bankrupt me, and he has the woman I love. What else is there?”

She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear to see him like this.

“Run away with me,” he urged her softly.

Frances’ eyes stung. “You know I cannot.”

“You realise he’s got another woman now, don’t you?”

Frankly, she didn’t, but neither did she care.

He pursed his lips. “He’s wholly abandoned Rosa Caldicott. She is living separately from her husband and is with child. Fred’s taken up with a woman called Annie Wooster.”

Frances had never heard of Annie Wooster.

“Jemie…” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

“Perhaps we should take that walk? Let’s see if he really will horsewhip me. I imagine he’d like to try.”

“Jemie, please.” He was trying to pick an argument with her. She couldn’t bear arguments at the best of times, and certainly didn’t want to argue with Jemie, especially when she knew it was not her he was really quarrelling with.

“Please what? Please walk with me or please go away and pretend nothing happened between us?”

She was shaking. “Stop it,” she managed. “Stop it now.”

“Stop what?”

Something inside her broke wide open. “Just stop it! Stop pushing me. Stop being angry with me when it’s Frederick you are angry with. Stop pretending that I have a choice in this.” She threw the words at him, tears forming.

Shock registered on his face momentarily, then settled into something infinitely sad. “There is always a choice. You just don’t want to make it.”

“That is completely unfair. How am I supposed to run away with you? Leave my children to his tender mercies? Leave them and my sister to suffer the consequences of my actions? You’ve seen what he’s like. You know what he will do. What is it you expect of me?” she pleaded.

He looked away and shrugged. “I don’t know. Loyalty?”

The word echoed around her head and stole her breath. They stared at each other, neither finding any words.

Frances made a decision. She lifted her chin. “Then let us go for that walk.”