Page 120 of The Quiet Wife
“Don’t get too settled, we will be moving before long.”
Frances couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Moving?”
“Yes, the owner of Speke is coming back to Liverpool in the New Year and will take up residence. There is no need to concern yourself. I’ve bought us another house.”
“You’ve what?” Her eyes widened.
“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t start all this again. I’ve bought us a house because we need to move. Speke it not ours, it was never ours. Stop pretending that it was,” he snapped.
“Without consulting me?”
“I don’t need to consult you… I’ve bought Woolton Hall. It’s not all that far from here and a very good property. It will suit us well.”
“Do you care nothing for my opinion or my feelings?” She confronted him for once.
He heaved a furious sounding sigh. “Frankly, no.” He stood, folded his newspaper, tucked it beneath the crook of his arm, and stalked out.
Frances sat for a while not knowing what to do. She supposed it wasn’t a huge thing, her husband not consulting her before buying a house,given he hadn’t before. It still felt like an enormous thing. Coming on top of the realisation that she would never again be able to have Jemie visit, never again have a cosy tea with Anna, knowing she was to lose her home was simply too much.
She had no idea how she was going to bear living with Frederick in a strange house without Jemie.
She finished her tea and went in search of Lizzie. She found her looking out of the window in the billiard room.
“I was thinking of the picture that Jemie painted of us all in here, then put himself in it.”
Frances managed a soft laugh. He had indeed done that and painted himself fast asleep, head lolling back. They had all found it hilarious. His ability to laugh at himself and let others laugh at him was one of the precious things she loved about him.
“Chin up,” she murmured, enveloping Frances in an embrace. “He told me about the house.”
Frances held on to her tightly for a moment before pulling away. “Come with me to talk to the girls?”
They set off down the corridor, only to bump into Frederick.
“Good morning,” Lizzie said in a muted voice.
He grunted, and Frances thought he would walk on, but he stopped and eyed Lizzie.
“Have you agreed on a date for your wedding?”
Lizzie looked baffled. “Beg pardon?”
“Your wedding? To the artist?”
She smiled serenely. “No, we haven’t decided on a date yet. Probably in the spring?”
Frances held onto her sister’s hand tightly.
“Well, you need to think carefully about attaching yourself to that man. He’s unreliable.”
“Thank you for the advice.” Lizzie spoke without a hint of sincerity in her voice.
“He’s also bankrupt.”
Lizzie tilted her head to one side. “How do you know that?”
Frederick’s smile was unpleasant. “Because I bankrupted him.”
***
