Page 47 of The Quiet Wife
Frederick just gave him a droll look. “Thank you, but no.”
“I might throw in supper,” Mr Rossetti waggled his eyebrows making Lizzie laugh.
“Not even with supper,” Frederick said, still unamused.
“Pah,” exclaimed Jemie. “You don’t know what you’re missing. Perhaps your lovely wife has better taste?” he turned to her with a hopeful expression.
“I’d be delighted. I’ve heard nothing but good things about it. I believe Mr Kendall is excellent.”
Jemie nodded. “I think his wife is playing Galatea? Madge something?”
“Madge Robertson,” supplied Lizzie with an excited bounce. “This is most exciting. When are we to go?”
“Tonight?”
“Then I must go shopping. Frances, you simply must come with me! Gentlemen, do excuse us,” Lizzie announced and she grabbed Frances to hurriedly take their leave.
***
Frances made a tiny adjustment to Lizzie’s newly purchased hat, angling it just so, and they were ready to leave. Jemie and Mr Rossetti handed them into the carriage,and Frances sat next to Lizzie, facing the gentlemen who travelled with their backs to the horses. She resisted the urge to giggle with glee. Lizzie, however, displayed no such restraint.
“I’m so terribly excited. I can’t thank you enough for inviting us!” she clapped her gloved hands and then pressed them to her face.
“It’s my pleasure,” Jemie smiled. “I’m glad that you could accompany us.”
As the carriage edged through the endlessly busy traffic to carry them across London, Lizzie engaged Mr Rossetti in conversation, leaving Frances to watch Jemie as they ambled along. He looked handsome in evening wear.
“Penny for them,” he murmured.
“Just musing,” she replied. “Do you know what the play is about?”
He laid his head back on the squabs and watched her. “Something about a sculptor?”
She chuckled. “A sculptor who creates the perfect woman who comes to life, much to the consternation of his wife.”
Jemie’s eyebrows lifted. “I’ll wager she was not happy.”
“You’d wager correctly,” Frances told him.
“What happens?”
“Wait and see. I won’t spoil it for you. It’s supposed to be quite funny.”
Jemie’s smile widened.
When they arrived, Jemie helped her down from the carriage, his gloved hand warm on hers, and he held on to her fingers as Mr Rossetti handed Lizzie down. She looked up at the magnificent portico of the Theatre Royal in Haymarket with its huge columns.
Jemie offered his arm with a smile, and she felt quite shy as she tucked her hand through the crook of his elbow.
“Is this your first visit to the Theatre Royal?” he enquired.
Frances nodded. “Can you tell? Am I gawping?” she whispered self-consciously.
Jemie laughed. “Of course not. I take it your husband isn’t too much taken with the theatre?”
“Not in the slightest.”
They walked beneath the enormous columns and there was a row of doors, each with a window above, and Mr Rossetti steered Lizzie in the direction of the boxes.
