Page 3 of The Quiet Wife
Frances held her breath, tension knotting her stomach. It was too late to do anything because Frederick had seen. She braced herself for his anger.
Around them, staff were scurrying back and forth preparing for their guests. The housekeeper was trying to reassure Florence, and the butler simply stood with his nose in the air awaiting his master’s pronouncement on the situation.
“SILENCE!”her husband bellowed as he flung his hat and coat at the waiting footmen.
Immediately, all the children froze, standing up straight. Even Florence, who couldn’t quite stop her hiccupping sobs as tears continued to cascade down her cheeks.
Frances watched with a sinking heart as her children quailed before their father.
“Would someone care to enlighten me as toexactlywhat is going on here? I’ve returned from averytiring journey to find my home turned into a bear garden.”
She hated the way he said that to them, as though it washishome and not theirs.
Frances jumped in to forestall any unnecessary confessions from the children. She put an arm about Flo and gave her a cautionary squeeze.“I’m so sorry, my dear. Florence was upset and everyone was simply trying to help. I’ll deal with this. If you’d like to go to your study, I’ll make sure you have all the peace you need.”
His lip curled in a familiar sneer. “I should damned well think so. What on earth iswrongwith you all? Are you incapable of behaving like decent people? Must you continually act as if you sprang from the gutter?” He regarded the children with a withering glare. “The older you become, the more I’m convinced that you were all switched at birth and I’m raising the children of common dock hands.”
Frances and the children stood in stoic silence. There was no point in saying anything when Frederick was in such a mood and they all knew it.
“Have you nothing to say to me?” he demanded, taking a step closer, teeth bared and eyes flashing.
“Sorry, papa,” Florence murmured as she wrung her hands together and looked down at the floor.
Freddie shifted, a muscle ticking along his jaw, but Frances gave his elbow a warning squeeze to diffuse any confrontation before it happened, and he thankfully remained silent as her husband walked in front of each child before squaring up to his son.
He made an exasperated noise, cast them a look of frank dislike, and stalked off.
Freddie put his arm around Flo and hugged her.
“I’m sorry, Flo, I shouldn’t have laughed,” he apologised.
Florence just sniffed loudly and Freddie, by some miracle, produced a handkerchief and handed it to her. She managed a watery smile as she took it, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose loudly.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “It’s unkind to tease.”
Frederick kissed his sister on the top of the head. “I know, but you make it so, so easy…”
“Freddie, darling, your father…?” Frances pleaded as Flo wrenched herself out of her brother’s embrace and stalked away.
Freddie subsided and endured his remaining two sisters’ silent fury, as they glowered at him with reproachful eyes, before they followed Flo, arm in arm, leaving him behind.
Frances’ lips twitched as she looked up at her son.
“Perhaps you should apologise properly, darling,” she suggested.
Freddie rolled his eyes. “I know. I know,” he sighed as he walked away to make amends.
Frances watched him go then attempted to locate her husband. She found him in the Oak Parlour.
He was studying the beautiful carvings above the mantel, truly the centrepiece of the room, with its intricate craftmanship depicting three generations of the Norris family, inscriptions etched in exquisite gold calligraphy over each panel. He didn’t look at her when she entered.
“I’m sorry the children were making a fuss when you arrived. I assure you their behaviour will be impeccable when your guests are here,” she jumped in before he could start shouting again.
The look he gave her was laced with scepticism. “I should think so. Really, Frances, you must keep them under better control. I’m continually shocked by your lack of standards. Honestly, I don’t know what you must be thinking some days.”
“Of course, my dear. Nothing will spoil the entertainment. Are you expecting Mr Rossetti?” she said, steering the conversation away from the children.
“Yes, and he will be bringing James McNeill Whistler with him.”
