Page 10 of The Quiet Wife
“Do you have an interest in art, or is this your husband’s passion?” Mr Whistler asked, giving her a sideways glance as they walked.
“Art is very much my husband’s passion, but it rather rubs off on one. Did you always want to be an artist?” she replied as they moved slowly forward.
“Goodness, no. I had a very chequered youth and considered a host of options to make a living. I was quite determined to be a soldier for a long time. Although, through everything, I always loved to draw and paint.”
“You mentioned that you spent some time in America and Russia?” Frances nodded encouragingly.
Mr Whistler grinned. “Well, I was born and brought up in America, lived in Russia for a time as a boy and a young man,went back to America and then came to England… so,” he shrugged. “My accent is a bit of all things I imagine, and my painting and drawing is just as varied.”
“Indeed,” Frances couldn’t help but smile at him. He was remarkably easy to talk to and it made her feel more at ease.
“My father was a military man and a renowned engineer, so we moved about a fair amount.”
“Is that how you ended up in Russia? Because of your father’s work?”
Mr Whistler nodded. “The Tsar commissioned him to build a railway.”
That was surprising. “The Tsar…?”
Mr Whistler laughed. “I know. It was a big deal for him. For all of us. Paid well too.”
Frances politely ignored the reference to money. “You must have admired him greatly.”
Mr Whistler turned away briefly. “I did.”
“Did you not want to be an engineer, too?” she wondered.
“It crossed my mind, and papa would have loved me to be one, but it wasn’t right for me. He sent me to West Point.”
When Frances watched him blankly, he explained. “Where they train officers for the army in America. I think you have the Royal Military College here?”
“I see. Are… are you an army officer?”
He laughed once more. “Lord no. I was hopeless. They failed me on a chemistry examination in my final year, and that was a travesty. However, through the whole experience, I discovered that sadly, I wasn’t terribly good with discipline,” he said with a mischievous grimace.
Frances’ smile widened as she found herself genuinely fascinated by his story. “Oh, dear.”
“Oh, dear indeed. You should have heard my mother.”
Frances chuckled. “I imagine she was cross.”
“You have no idea. Gentle as anything, my mother, until I do something wrong and then, bam!”
Frances laughed louder. “I should love to meet her.”
Mr Whistler nodded and gave her a speculative smile. “I think she’d love you.”
***
Dinner was a lengthy affair, but at least with the artists, the conversation wide ranging instead of the usual polite society small talk. Mr Whistler proved to be an exceptionally entertaining guest. Once everyone was finished, the ladies retired to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port. Frances tried to make sure she spoke to all her guests and made a point of going to talk to Mrs Caldicott. Mr Caldicott had recently joined Bibby Shipping, so she was keen to make his wife feel welcome.
“How lovely of you to join us tonight, Mrs Caldicott,” she settled beside her. The woman was serenely elegant and very pretty with glossy dark hair and equally dark eyes. She had an air of gentility about her, the kind that Frances sought to emulate.
“It’s terribly kind of you to invite us.” She replied in a friendly tone that Frances immediately warmed to.
They chatted about nothing much, as one did at these affairs. Even so, Frances was drawing a favourable impression when Lizzie and Edith joined them.
“Lovely meal, darling,” Edith beamed at her, resplendent in cornflower blue. “Do you suppose I could steal your cook?”
