Page 56 of The Quiet Wife (Stately Scandals #2)

Speke Hall - Liverpool

The following morning, Frances found Freddie packing his things in his room.

“Please don’t leave, darling. I want to have you all here for Christmas.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know how you bear it, mama.”

“I… I…”

“You should leave him,” her son told her.

She knew he didn’t mean it. It was just youthful anger.

“I mean it. Get away from him. We’d support you. We all would. I swear.”

That gave Frances pause. “You’ve talked about this?”

“We’ve talked about how unreasonable father is,” he said with a strength of feeling that shocked her. “I’m taking no more of it. If he hits me again, I shall retaliate. If he hurts you again, trust me, I shall retaliate on your behalf.”

“Darling, he’s your father,” she tried.

“I know. I’m going to do as he says. Go to university when I’ve finished at Harrow. Then I can decide what to do with my life. The girls will marry and leave, but what about you? When we are gone, it will be just you here with him. I can’t bear to think of that.”

She couldn’t reply, not if she would maintain her composure. She averted her gaze, her chest swelling with pride.

“Just know that we all love you.” He scooped her up in an enormous hug. “We love you, mama. When I am married, you can come and live with me and my wife.”

She hugged him back as tightly as she could.

***

The next day, there was another almighty commotion once more in the great hall.

Frances hurried as fast as she could, avoiding sympathetic glances from the staff.

Surely, he couldn’t be arguing with someone again.

She knew his temper was deteriorating rapidly whilst he waited for the outcome of the negotiations, but this was beyond the pale.

She found Frederick yelling at a hapless tradesman who was lying on the floor beside a fallen ladder.

A painting lay near him with the frame cracked.

He was struggling to get up, scrabbling backwards, as Frederick berated him for his utter incompetence and how the money for the picture would be deducted from the invoice and the cost of a new frame added.

As Frederick raged, Frances gestured to two footmen hovering in the doorway to help get the man to his feet.

“I do apologise,” she said softly. “Perhaps you would care for some refreshments before you leave?”

The man dusted himself down and bowed to her. “You are awfully kind, Mrs Leyland, but I won’t trouble you further.” He turned bravely to her husband and fixed him with a stern look. “Mr Leyland, I will ensure that you receive compensation for the replacement of the frame.”

“You’ll damned well come back and replace it yourself, you idiot,” he spat.

“No, Mr Leyland, I will not. I will not enter your premises again under any inducement.” He bowed to Frances. “Mrs Leyland, I’m sorry you had to hear such an… altercation. Thank you again for your kindness.” He bowed and limped stiffly from the room.

Frances spoke quietly to the footmen and requested they pick up the painting and prop it against the wall. She then allowed them to scurry away, leaving her alone with her husband, who was grumbling about useless people.

“Perhaps you might like to take a moment?” she suggested. “You appear quite undone.”

He shot her an unfriendly glare. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Why you feel the need to suck up to people, I really don’t know.”

“I was being polite,” she said firmly.

He peered down his nose at her. “You never did shake off the slums of Liverpool, did you.”

She expected the jibe to hurt, but it didn’t. He might be ashamed of his origins, but, as she was coming to realise, she was not. She was tired of pretending to be someone she was not; it was suffocating.

“If you mean I retained a sense of common civility, courtesy, and manners, then no. I did not and I’m glad I didn’t.”

His nostrils flared, and his eyes flashed, but for once she didn’t quail, didn’t back down, didn’t appease. She stood her ground.

“Have you concluded your business with Bibby?” she asked.

He appeared momentarily startled by the change of subject but shook his head. “Not quite. Why?”

“Because I want to speak to you.” It was now or never and after the past few days, Frances knew she couldn’t live like this a moment longer.

“About what?”

“Let us repair to your study to discuss it.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have time.”

“I can tell you here, but I don’t think it’s something you’ll want the servants listening to.”

Her heart thumped and she could feel a headache creeping in, but she was determined. She couldn’t go on like this. He would wear her into the ground if she were forced to endure this any further.

“For God’s sake,” he muttered and stalked off to the study. Frances took a breath and followed. When they reached the study, she closed the door behind them, held her hands behind her back as though she were posing for her portrait, and lifted her chin.

“What is it?” he demanded.

Should she jump straight in? She summoned every ounce of courage she could muster.

“For crying out loud, Frances, don’t stand there like a damned statue. What is it?” he yelled.

She tilted her head to one side. Straight in it was… “I would like a divorce.”

His temper abated. He blinked, frowned, then his lips quirked in what might have been humour.

“A divorce?”

She nodded. “I would like a divorce. I don’t want to be married to you anymore.”

“You think you are going to divorce me?” He chuckled and something inside Frances solidified.

He laughed aloud for some time before coming back to her, dabbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. “Well, Frances, you say some odd things, but this takes the biscuit.”

“Really.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Say what you came to say and have done. I don’t have all day.”

She steeled her resolve. “I should like a divorce, but I may be persuaded to accept a separation if the terms and conditions are suitable.”

He shook his head, still grinning. “Have you been at the sherry?”

“No, I’m perfectly serious.”

“And if, nay, when I refuse?” he smirked.

She drew another breath. This was it.

“Then, I go to a newspaperman with whom I’ve become awfully friendly and share the full story about you and Rosa Caldicott and how I found you in flagrante , in my own home whilst our guests dined.

Or maybe I shall just say I saw more of your naked rear than I ever wanted to.

I will also go to the editors of the best society and gossip pages.

Once that is done, I will visit the board of the Bibby & Sons and tell them about the affair, and that having taken your pleasure, you are leaving a young woman with your child in her belly who has now been abandoned by her husband, one of your employees, and has been completely undone.

I can also tell them about Annie Wooster if that won’t suffice, but I think seducing a young woman of quality into an affair and leaving her with an illegitimate child splashed all over the newspapers is probably enough to persuade Bibby that you are not the kind of man they want as a major shareholder. ”

She waited. Heart pounding. Her hands shook, so she gripped them behind her so he wouldn’t see.

“A divorce would be the ideal resolution, but failing that, I would consider a house in London that I can call my own. You will pay for it and give me a reasonable stipend. I will have the children with me. They would, of course, be free to visit you any time you wanted to maintain your image as a family man. I imagine being seen as curmudgeonly and vindictive towards your wife and children would not help your position with Bibby either, so it would be something to be avoided at all costs.”

His face was red, and he stared at her silently.

“You don’t even like me. I’m not sure why you want to live with me. You criticise everything that I do. It’s clear you find me inadequate in every sense, so I imagine this will suit.”

“You are my wife. My hostess.”

She shrugged. “I might be persuaded to attend any important functions that you have. On the understanding, of course, that as we are now separated, you will not have access to my bedroom. Ever.”

“This is blackmail,” he said. He was calm. Terrifyingly calm. The calm before the storm kind of calm.

She quailed but held onto her ground.

“I know. And I’m sorry to resort to it. It seemed like the only circumstance under which you would consider letting me go.”

His gaze was long and level. “I’m a man. It’s what men do.”

“Mr Bibby included? Does he have a string of mistresses across Liverpool?”

He just shrugged.

It was like a game. Who would back down first, and she feared he wasn’t moving. Aunt Agatha’s words rang in her ears about Frederick’s father, which was the last card she could play. It looked as though she might need it.

“Are you finished?” He moved as though he would stand up to leave.

“Well.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin once more, blood pumping in her ears. “I could always throw in the fact that your father didn’t leave the family to find work. He was a common criminal who was in fact deported. Would Bibby want the son of a thief at the helm of his company?”

Something ignited in his eyes. Naked, burning fury. She was immediately terrified she had gone too far.

He pushed back the chair. “How dare you,” he said, in a low voice. “How dare you come to me and make such demands? Spout such vile lies. How dare you threaten me? How dare you? In my own home ?” his voice grew louder and louder as he moved closer until he towered over her.

“You are my wife ,” he bellowed. “You will behave like my wife.”

She flinched and closed her eyes but opened them again, refusing to cower.

He jabbed a finger near her nose. “You will not go to the press, and you will most certainly not go to Bibby. Do you understand? I will lock you in your room and chain you to the bed if that is what it takes, but you will not leave this house, and you will speak to no-one .”

“I’m afraid I shall.” She was shaking under his onslaught but held firm.