Page 11 of The Quiet Wife
“Don’t even think it!” Frances shook her head, as Edith squeezed onto the settee beside her, and Lizzie took a chair.“Mrs Bancroft is an absolute gem and I intend to hold on to her tightly.”
When the gentlemen re-joined them, and Frances was alone with Edith and Lizzie, they took the opportunity to ask after Mr Whistler.
“So, is Mr Whistler Fred’s new pet? I don’t recall seeing him before,” her sister said with a glint in her eye.
“Lizzie!” Frances closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead before speaking quietly and with extreme politeness in case they were overheard. “First, please stop calling him Fred. He only allows hisveryclosest friends to use that. EvenIdon’t call him Fred. If he hears you, there will be hell to pay. Besides, Mr Whistler is not a pet. Frederick is looking to commission him to do some sketches and paintings.”
She widened her eyes with a pleading look towards her sister, but Lizzie simply laughed and rolled her eyes. “Widgeon,” she said affectionately. “You know I wouldn’t repeat it in front of him.”
“Ah,” Edith warned, in grave tones. “He has ears everywhere. Remember the listening hole in the eaves that overlook the courtyard?”
Frances waved a dismissive hand. “That dates to Tudor times, for heaven’s sake. Frederick didn’t put it there!”
Edith was referring to a rather interesting method that the catholic owners in Tudor times had installed so they could listen in on conversations in the courtyard. The children had spent hours and hours dashing up and down, trying to listen to each other and pass messages when they first moved in, utterly fascinated by the feature.
“He might not have put it there, but I’d wager he’s not above using it.”
Frances regarded her sister, then lowered her voice. “I swear, you will be the death of me.”
Lizzie never had a good opinion of Frederick, and Edith had formed an impression long ago that placed her firmly in line with Lizzie.
“So, tell me more about the pet,” Edith encouraged.
Frances cast her a mock glare. “Mr Whistleris an artist of some note. Good friends with Mr Rossetti, Mr Holman Hunt, Mr Burne-Jones, Mr Prinsep too.” She reeled off the list of notables that had visited them of late. “He seems very pleasant. He’s American and spent a lot of time in Russia.”
“How interesting,” purred Edith, and raised one eyebrow.
“Edith, behave.”
Edith looked contrite but winked at Lizzie.
Frances sighed and shook her head. “He’s just part of the set that Frederick likes to associate with. I imagine it’s a pleasant departure from shipping conversation, which I suppose is deadly dull.”
Lizzie spluttered, and Edith giggled behind her hand, making Frances smile.
“Interesting chap,” Lizzie announced. “Very flamboyant. Almost snobbish.”
Edith nodded in agreement. “He certainly has an air of casual superiority about him. However, I rather liked him. He doesn’t seem to care at all what people think, which is rather refreshing, and I strongly suspect he will shake things up at Speke Hall.”
“Goodness, I hope not,” Frances said, faintly alarmed at the thought.
“I’m not sure that Fred will enjoy being shaken up,” Lizzie smirked. “He’s such an appalling stickler.”
Edith nodded. “Yet he regularly comports with flamboyant artists and the like. He’s quite the conundrum.”
Privately, Frances had to agree. She had often wondered if her husband would have been more outgoing if only his life turned out differently.These days he was such a stickler for propriety, for everything. She suspected that harked back to their early days when they possessed so little and originated from humble beginnings. Added to this was the fact that Frederick’s mother had scrimped and saved to feed the family after his father abandoned them, although Frederick always strongly denied the charge of desertion. Frederick now claimed they had the very best of everything that money could buy. It was almost as though he was warding off the evils of his own childhood. She sometimes wondered if he wished he could buy a new wife. One that was from a notable family and thus gave him entre into the higher echelons of society befitting of his new status, rather than one whose roots were planted firmly in the wrong area of Liverpool.
“I suspect that much of what your husband thinks of Mr Whistler will depend on how well he paints him,” Edith nodded sagely, causing them both to laugh. “On a positive note, Alastair will be here tomorrow.”
“He will? Oh, I’m so pleased,” Frances beamed. Edith’s brother was wonderful company. Exceedingly handsome, devoutly unmarried, and considered quite a catch by many. She’d often hoped Lizzie might marry him, and although they were the greatest of friends, they’d sadly never progressed beyond that. Each was as resolute as the other in remaining unmarried.
“Is he bringing anyone?” she asked.
“He’s bringing Justin Carlisle. I think you met him in London earlier this year?”
“I did. He’s very charming too. They make quite a pair.”
“A pair of outrageous flirts,” Lizzie said with a sniff.
