Page 33 of The Quiet Wife
“Come on.” He had taken Freddie’s arm and walked swiftly to his room, shutting the door behind them.
“What in God’s name is going on?” he demanded to know as he went to the washstand to wet a cloth. He passed it to Freddie so he could hold it to his mouth, then his face. “What happened to you?”
Freddie hesitated, then stuck his chin in the air. “My father.”
Jemie’s stomach clenched. “He did this to you. Why?”
“I told him I wanted to leave school and go work with him.” He winced as his lip pulled as he spoke and dabbed at it tentatively with a finger.
“And?”
Freddie gestured to his face.
“Hehityou?” Jemie recoiled. “Because you wanted to work with him?”
Freddie nodded.
“I don’t understand. Why would he do that?”
“Because he doesn’t want me to. He wants me to go to university. We… argued.”
“Ah. I see.”
“Mama told me not to argue, but he’s so… so…” the boy’s eyes welled with angry tears.
“Hell,” Jemie groaned, dragging the boy into a rough hug, patting him on the back.
Freddie allowed it but pulled away after a moment. “Mama was there. She saw. She was upset.”
Jemie had gone over the incident time and time again in the intervening days. He’d found Lizzie and asked her to find Frances urgently, but he hadn’t seen her himself. If he was honest,he was afraid to in case Leyland had hurt her too and what he might do if he had.
What a mess. He was glad to be away from it for a while at least.
“Jemie?”
He jumped at his mother’s voice. “Sorry, wool-gathering. Good to be home?” he asked, forcing a note of joviality into his voice.
“Indeed, it is,” she said, for once not seeming to notice his distraction. “Lovely as it was to spend time with the Leylands, there is nothing quite as comfortable as one’s own parlour, a cup of tea, and a piece of excellent cake.”
Jemie laughed. “Just what I was thinking. What do you think of Frederick Leyland?”
She hesitated and cast him a suspicious look. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “Just wondering. I’m finding him difficult to paint. He’s an odd fish. Cold and disinterested most of the time, quick to anger, but quite animated when talking to his business cronies.” He hesitated, then ploughed on. “He doesn’t seem to like his children above much.” He took a huge bite of cake, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s like he must be in control of absolutely everything in his life. Including his portrait,” he nodded at his mother before taking another bite of the cake, “which is quite a challenge, I can tell you.”
“I imagine a man with that amount of wealth and influence needs to control things.” His mother mused.
He sipped from his cup. “True, but really, I was thinking more about how he is with his… family rather than business.”
He studied his teacup for a moment although out of the corner of his eye he could see his mother raise an eyebrow. She was no fool.
“It’s not like that. I’ve grown fond of Frances and the children, that’s all, and he’s often… unpleasant with them.” He sighed.
His mother placed her cup on the table by her chair. “He is my love. The children adore him and just want him to love them. It’s rather like our Mr Leyland doesn’t know how. He definitely has no notion of how to show them love and, as a result, is at a loss to know how to deal with the love they offer.”
His mother’s sharp perception never failed to amaze him. He was considering his next words, but she spoke first.
“If you’re going to tell me he doesn’t know how to love his wife, I’m going to get annoyed with you, Jemie.” Her firm words of warning gave Jemie a jolt.
