Page 53 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

London – Kensington

“Is everything packed and ready to be loaded onto the train to Speke?” Frederick asked tersely.

Frances paused in the act of buttering her small piece of toast and studied her husband. It was the first time she had seen him since the dreadful walk with Jemie the day before.

“Of course,” she murmured, and waited for the inevitable sensing that there was clearly more he wanted to say.

“As you appear to find it impossible to stay away from Whistler, I will remove you from his orbit. You will not see him, write to him, or entertain him. I am on the verge of signing the deal with Bibby and I will have no scandal taint this. Do you understand? One whisper of this and it will all go up in the air. You will remain at home, entertain the guests that I invite and no others. You will seek my permission for any guests you wish to entertain. Am I clear?”

She nodded without looking at him, realising that the door to her prison had just slammed shut. She was trapped with Frederick. Forever.

He hesitated, then continued. “I’m sure that you have not had an affair. You are not that kind of woman. Besides, you are far too old for that kind of going on, but I will not risk the possibility of further rumour. Do you understand?”

Frances blinked at her toast. Too old echoing in her mind.

“Of course.” She cleared her throat. “I… I shall be glad to go to Speke.” It was true.

It had taken her a while to settle to it, but now she could see how much she had missed its warmth and solidity, its cosy homeliness and, most of all, her little library to retreat to, walls adorned with mahogany shelves housing the marvellous works of her favourite authors, from Austen to Dickens, bound in leather and cloth of earthy green, rich red, and golden hues. She needed it now more than ever.

Her husband’s next words almost undid her entirely.

“Don’t get too settled, we will be moving before long.”

Frances couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Moving?”

“Yes, the owner of Speke is coming back to Liverpool in the New Year and will take up residence. There is no need to concern yourself. I’ve bought us another house.”

“You’ve what?” Her eyes widened.

“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t start all this again. I’ve bought us a house because we need to move. Speke it not ours, it was never ours. Stop pretending that it was,” he snapped.

“Without consulting me?”

“I don’t need to consult you… I’ve bought Woolton Hall. It’s not all that far from here and a very good property. It will suit us well.”

“Do you care nothing for my opinion or my feelings?” She confronted him for once.

He heaved a furious sounding sigh. “Frankly, no.” He stood, folded his newspaper, tucked it beneath the crook of his arm, and stalked out.

Frances sat for a while not knowing what to do.

She supposed it wasn’t a huge thing, her husband not consulting her before buying a house, given he hadn’t before.

It still felt like an enormous thing. Coming on top of the realisation that she would never again be able to have Jemie visit, never again have a cosy tea with Anna, knowing she was to lose her home was simply too much.

She had no idea how she was going to bear living with Frederick in a strange house without Jemie.

She finished her tea and went in search of Lizzie. She found her looking out of the window in the billiard room.

“I was thinking of the picture that Jemie painted of us all in here, then put himself in it.”

Frances managed a soft laugh. He had indeed done that and painted himself fast asleep, head lolling back. They had all found it hilarious. His ability to laugh at himself and let others laugh at him was one of the precious things she loved about him.

“Chin up,” she murmured, enveloping Frances in an embrace. “He told me about the house.”

Frances held on to her tightly for a moment before pulling away. “Come with me to talk to the girls?”

They set off down the corridor, only to bump into Frederick.

“Good morning,” Lizzie said in a muted voice.

He grunted, and Frances thought he would walk on, but he stopped and eyed Lizzie.

“Have you agreed on a date for your wedding?”

Lizzie looked baffled. “Beg pardon?”

“Your wedding? To the artist?”

She smiled serenely. “No, we haven’t decided on a date yet. Probably in the spring?”

Frances held onto her sister’s hand tightly.

“Well, you need to think carefully about attaching yourself to that man. He’s unreliable.”

“Thank you for the advice.” Lizzie spoke without a hint of sincerity in her voice.

“He’s also bankrupt.”

Lizzie tilted her head to one side. “How do you know that?”

Frederick’s smile was unpleasant. “Because I bankrupted him.”

***

That night Frances lay in bed and shivered despite the roaring fire.

In her hands she held a copy of Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist .

Jemie had sent it for her through Lizzie and said she simply must read it.

She closed her eyes on the wave of emotion that swamped her and held the book close to her heart.

If Fannie and Florence made matches in the spring during their first season they would marry and leave.

Freddie would leave too and then Elinor.

She dreaded the thought of what life would be like with only her husband for company, and he already spent much time away so she would be completely alone.

She took several deep breaths, opened her eyes, pulled her shawl around her shoulders, and began reading.

A sharp rap on the door startled her, but not as much as Frederick appearing. He came into the room, and she jumped so much the book dropped from her hand.

“Frederick.”

He walked in and went to blow out the candles.

“Wait!” she shrieked.

He paused and left the candle, but pulled back the coverlet to get in as he always did.

“Wait!” She scrambled out of the bed on the opposite side and stood in the firelight in her nightgown and watched him warily. Dear God, surely not? She had to put up with this too. How on earth could she ever manage.

He scowled at her. “What on earth is wrong with you?”

“Do… do we really need to do this anymore?” Her voice cracked.

His eyebrows lifted so high it was almost comical.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, we have our family. You have your mistresses. Perhaps… we should dispense… I…”

She swallowed at the look on his face, terrified he would insist and then not knowing what she would do if he did.

“I want another boy. I told you that.”

“We have Freddie.”

“And if aught should happen to him, then we have no-one. I need a spare.”

He talked like he was royalty. “Of course, of course. That’s fine, then. Yes. Only, only, I’m feeling quite ill at the moment.” She floundered.

“You don’t look ill.”

“My stomach is severely disordered, and I fear any…” she cleared her throat. “Any vigorous… activity may induce me to… to vomit.”

“I am your husband. I have every right to come to your bed. You do understand that?”

“Of course I do, but I wouldn’t want to…” she gestured vaguely.

“For God’s sake, get in,” he said, throwing back the coverlet.

“Frederick, please. I don’t think I can. I’m sorry, but I really don’t.”

He looked utterly baffled. She’d never turned him down before. Ever.

“Get in.”

“No,” she told him, her voice firmer.

“Frances…”

She clapped a hand to her mouth and pretended to heave.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” He threw the coverlet back and climbed out of the bed, appearing disgusted by her.

He stalked to the door and moments later, she heard the slam of the door to his own room.

She slumped onto the bed, face in her hands, and wondered how long she could hold him off.

She could endure a lot, but not being forced to lay with him.

***

A couple of days later, Lizzie took her to the parlour.

“I’ve been thinking,” she whispered, after checking their conversation would not be overheard.

“About what?” She sat down and Lizzie followed suit.

“You should divorce him,” Lizzie announced.

Frances wondered what on earth had got into her. “That sounds wonderful, but it’s impossible.”

“You caught him with another woman.”

“And?” Frances’s eyes widened. “I’ve been unfaithful too.”

“Yes, but Fred doesn’t know that for certain.”

Frances gave her sister a small smile. “He told me that he doesn’t think I’ve been unfaithful. Apparently, I’m too old for that sort of carry on.”

Lizzie hesitated, then flushed. “I’ve done something.”

“Oh, Lizzie, what?” Frances didn’t think she could bear any more arguing.

“I’ve talked to Edith and Aunt Agatha.”

“About what?” An awful suspicion curled in her stomach.

“About your… situation. I asked them to call on us. Today.”

“Lizzie…!”

Before Frances had time to object, the footman announced Aunt Agatha, Miss Woodgrove, and Edith.

When they were all settled, and tea brought in, Frances chatted incessantly about plans for Christmas, about the children, about anything to avoid the apparent reason for their visit.

“Are we going to talk nonsense all day, or are we going to address the problem?” Agatha said, putting her cup down with a decisive clink.

Frances froze.

Edith moved to sit beside her and grasped her hands. “What Aunt Agatha is trying to say is we are here to help, my love.”

“What have you done?” Frances cast a horrified glance at her sister.

Tears filled Lizzie’s eyes. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t bear it. I needed advice in working out how best to help you. I… we can’t let this go on.”

Frances’ throat closed. “Thank you, but there is nothing to be done. Frederick is my husband, and there is no getting past that. No matter how I feel, or how I might wish it were different, I can’t change that.”

Aunt Agatha sniffed. “Don’t worry about Mildred,” she said, noticing Frances’ anxious glance at her companion. “She has my complete confidence, and we have discussed your plight at length. You can be assured of our complete and ongoing support.”

“Oh,” Frances said weakly.

“I can’t imagine Frederick granting you a divorce, but you could ask for one,” she said.

“I’m not sure what the point would be in that. It will only antagonise him, and he’ll really make life miserable for all of us.” Frances could picture it now. He would be unbearable.

Aunt Agatha arched an eyebrow and smiled. “You could ask for a divorce but settle for a separation.”

Frances frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Edith squeezed her hands. “Do you recall Stella Reeves? She secured a separation agreement from her husband. They remain on terms, but she just lives in a different house. Rosa Caldicott seems to have reached a similar arrangement with her husband. I don’t think they are speaking above much, but he is providing for her.

” Edith shrugged. “It might be better if you could live separately from him. You wouldn’t be free to marry Jemie, but you could have him and Anna in your life.

It’s not perfect, but it would be better than ending up stuck here alone with Fred once the girls marry and never seeing him again. ”

“After what Frederick has done to Jemie, I’m not sure he would want anything more to do with me.” Frances swallowed, tears threatening.

“I think he misses you dreadfully.”

“And I miss him, but how on earth could I ever persuade Frederick to allow me to live separately? He wouldn’t allow the children to come with me, that’s for certain, and what would I do without them? How would they manage without me?”

“Well,” Lizzie said with a tentative smile. “We put our heads together, and we think we may have a plan that could work…”