Page 116 of The Quiet Wife
Strangely, things seemed to return to normal over the following weeks. Frederick was rarely home, moving between London and Liverpool to attend to his pressing business affairs. Jemie and Anna visited the Queen’s Gate house without incident, and she and Lizzie visited Jemie and Anna in Chelsea. Freddie was home, Christmas was approaching, and the girls loved the buzz and excitement of the city at this time of year.
Jemie had almost completed the dining room, was finishing Frances’ portrait, as well as working on some new commissions. He had done some truly charming etchings which were proving to be exceptionally popular, and Frances and Jemie had managed to snatch a few private moments to be together. They were planning a small Christmas celebration of their own with Anna, Charlie, Aunt Agatha, Freddie, and the girls under cover of his engagement to Lizzie. She hugged herself tightly every time she thought of it. She hadn’t seen Jemie in over a week, so spent the afternoon deciding on gifts for everyone. She was sipping tea and browsing the latest edition of La Belle Assemblée looking at bonnets for the girls when Frederick stormed into the room.
“Ah, here you are,” he said, a strange, self-satisfied note to his tone.
She put the magazine to one side and stood up. “Indeed I am. Was there something you needed?”
“Yes. We are going to spend Christmas at Speke.” His tone was mild, but it was clear that it was not a conversation, it was a demand.
Frances opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Did you hear me?”
“I did, my dear. You want us to go to Speke? Now? So close to Christmas?”
“We leave the day after tomorrow.”
She hesitated. “But I’ve planned Christmas here. I’ve arranged parties and…”
He smiled, but it was not pleasant. “All your plans shall move to Speke.”
“I don’t understand.” Frances tried to stay composed. She should have known something like this would happen.
“What’s not to understand?” He leaned closer and over articulated patronisingly as though speaking to a child. “We are spending Christmas at Speke. Pack your things.”
He stormed out and a few moments later, Lizzie came into the room and shut the door quietly.
“He told you?”
“About Christmas at Speke? Yes,” Frances said, still dazed.
Lizzie guided her sister to a nearby armchair, seeming terribly serious. “I’m afraid things have deteriorated between Fred and Jemie these last few days.”
Frances’ stomach dropped. It had all been too good to be true. “What happened?”
“Jemie sent Fred a bill for the work on the dining room and he refused to pay.”
“He can’t do that!”
“Unfortunately, he has. There have been terse letters exchanged. Jemie is furious.”
“But why? Is it because he didn’t like it? Surely that’s not reason enough.” Frances faltered, worrying as to what was behind Frederick’s latest scheme.
Lizzie stroked Frances’ face. “I don’t know, love.”
Tears threatened, but she pulled herself together. “I need to speak to Jemie.”
“Is that wise? If Fred got wind…”
“I need to speak to him. We will go to the house as we have been doing. I know nothing of what has transpired between them, so why would I not visit? If Frederick choses to keep me in the dark, then he must suffer the consequences.”
“We shall go after lunch. Perhaps Alastair might lend us countenance,” Lizzie suggested.
***
Frances arrived at the Prince’s Gate house that afternoon with Lizzie and a slightly bewildered Alastair who had been dragged from his club to escort them. Her heart was beating so hard it hurt. She went into the house and requested tea in the drawing room. She enquired after Jemie’s whereabouts and was told that he was in the dining room, working. She was puzzled by that as she thought the work was finished.
Frances headed for the dining room with Lizzie and Alastair in tow. She found Jemie appearing tired, dishevelled, painting furiously like a man driven to the edge of endurance.
