Page 39 of The Quiet Wife
Jemie nodded, relieved. That he could manage.
“Come and see the dining room.”
Leyland rushed off and Jemie strode quickly to match his eager pace. It really was a splendid house, but in a manner Jemie considered somewhat old-fashioned. It needed bringing up to date. If Leyland was determined to fix his position in society, he needed to showcase something at the forefront of fashion. Something people would talk about. He wasn’t sure the Duke of Northumberland’s staircase would do it, no matter how much it impressed Leyland.
“Jeckyll is going to design a means of displaying my Chinese blue and white porcelain collection, and over here,” Frederick gestured to the empty spot over the fireplace, “I want one of your large paintings.”
Jemie furrowed his brow and looked at Leyland. “You’ve asked Jeckyll? Thomas Jeckyll?”
“I have. He’s looking at cabinetry,” he said proudly.
Jemie frowned. “What do you mean by cabinetry?”
A muscle rippled in Leyland’s jaw. “It’s not a hard concept to grasp. A means of displaying my porcelain. Shelves, but more than shelves.I don’t know how to explain it, but he knows what I want.”
Jemie nodded. “I’m sure it will be very grand.”
Leyland’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You don’t sound impressed.”
Jemie shook his head. “No, it sounds marvellous, but…” He paused, wondering how best to phrase his question. “Is Jeckyll well?”
Leyland stared with sharp suspicion. “What do you mean? He came highly recommended, and his work is first rate.”
“His work is first rate, but he has a history of… illness that lays him low for quite some while each time it occurs.” It was an understatement, for the man was well-known for his unstable temperament. Good as he was, he was liable to collapse under the pressure of a commission of the type that Leyland was proposing, particularly given Leyland’s perfectionist tendencies.
“I didn’t know that,” Leyland admitted.
Jemie shrugged. “Afraid so. I’d be happy to help in any way should you need me. I understand blue and white porcelain. I’m a collector myself, so I can give Jeckyll some…” he circled his hand in mid-air. “Pointers?”
“I’ll bear that in mind. Thank you.” Jemie would have wagered his last commission it had wounded Leyland’s pride to say that. It made him smile to have Leyland indebted to him in that way and he feigned interest as Leyland rambled about the pieces of porcelain he planned for display.
When Leyland mentioned that one of his paintings should grace the room, a slow smile curved his lips. “La Princesse du pays de la Porcelaine,” Jemie murmured.
Leyland shot him a questioning look.
“The Princess from the land of porcelain. I painted it back in… oh, ’65 or so? It would fit perfectly. The princess of porcelain… amid your porcelain.” He beamed with triumph at Leyland.
Frederick Leyland rarely smiled, but when he did, it transformed him. It took a moment, but it spread across his face and lit him up. He put his hands on his hips, studied the floor, and then huffed out a laugh. He was still smiling when he looked up. Jemie held out his arms and tilted his head in a questioning gesture, waiting.
“You’re a bloody genius, Whistler,” he chuckled.
Jemie bowed low then straightened up and winked. “I know. That’s why you pay me so handsomely.”
“I will need you to keep an eye on Jeckyll.”
“If I’m dealing with the hall and stairway, I can do that for you.”
Leyland nodded. “He is very elaborate in his work. I don’t want him to turn it into some sort of…” he waved his hand, searching for the right term.
“You can call on me anytime if you feel things need a… firm hand.”
Leyland appeared pleased with himself.
“Will you be in London for long?”
Leyland shrugged. “I wish I knew. I may need to be back in Liverpool soon.”
“Business affairs to attend to?”
