Page 126 of The Quiet Wife
“You should leave him,” her son told her.
She knew he didn’t mean it. It was just youthful anger.
“I mean it. Get away from him. We’d support you. We all would. I swear.”
That gave Frances pause. “You’ve talked about this?”
“We’ve talked about how unreasonable father is,” he said with a strength of feeling that shocked her. “I’m taking no more of it. If he hits me again, I shall retaliate. If he hurts you again, trust me, I shall retaliate on your behalf.”
“Darling, he’s your father,” she tried.
“I know. I’m going to do as he says. Go to university when I’ve finished at Harrow. Then I can decide what to do with my life. The girls will marry and leave, but what about you? When we are gone,it will be just you here with him. I can’t bear to think of that.”
She couldn’t reply, not if she would maintain her composure. She averted her gaze, her chest swelling with pride.
“Just know that we all love you.” He scooped her up in an enormous hug. “We love you, mama. When I am married, you can come and live with me and my wife.”
She hugged him back as tightly as she could.
***
The next day, there was another almighty commotion once more in the great hall. Frances hurried as fast as she could, avoiding sympathetic glances from the staff. Surely, he couldn’t be arguing with someone again. She knew his temper was deteriorating rapidly whilst he waited for the outcome of the negotiations, but this was beyond the pale.
She found Frederick yelling at a hapless tradesman who was lying on the floor beside a fallen ladder. A painting lay near him with the frame cracked. He was struggling to get up, scrabbling backwards, as Frederick berated him for his utter incompetence and how the money for the picture would be deducted from the invoice and the cost of a new frame added.
As Frederick raged, Frances gestured to two footmen hovering in the doorway to help get the man to his feet.
“I do apologise,” she said softly. “Perhaps you would care for some refreshments before you leave?”
The man dusted himself down and bowed to her. “You are awfully kind, Mrs Leyland, but I won’t trouble you further.” He turned bravely to her husband and fixed him with a stern look. “Mr Leyland, I will ensure that you receive compensation for the replacement of the frame.”
“You’ll damned well come back and replace it yourself, you idiot,” he spat.
“No, Mr Leyland, I will not. I will not enter your premises again under any inducement.” He bowed to Frances. “Mrs Leyland, I’m sorry you had to hear such an… altercation. Thank you again for your kindness.” He bowed and limped stiffly from the room.
Frances spoke quietly to the footmen and requested they pick up the painting and prop it against the wall. She then allowed them to scurry away, leaving her alone with her husband, who was grumbling about useless people.
“Perhaps you might like to take a moment?” she suggested. “You appear quite undone.”
He shot her an unfriendly glare. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Why you feel the need to suck up to people, I really don’t know.”
“I was being polite,” she said firmly.
He peered down his nose at her. “You never did shake off the slums of Liverpool, did you.”
She expected the jibe to hurt, but it didn’t. He might be ashamed of his origins, but, as she was coming to realise, she was not. She was tired of pretending to be someone she was not; it was suffocating.
“If you mean I retained a sense of common civility, courtesy, and manners, then no. I did not and I’m glad I didn’t.”
His nostrils flared, and his eyes flashed, but for once she didn’t quail, didn’t back down, didn’t appease. She stood her ground.
“Have you concluded your business with Bibby?” she asked.
He appeared momentarily startled by the change of subject but shook his head. “Not quite. Why?”
“Because I want to speak to you.” It was now or never and after the past few days, Frances knew she couldn’t live like this a moment longer.
“About what?”
