Page 102 of The Quiet Wife
“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 paynoattention 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…
