Page 57 of The Quiet Wife
Frederick was most certainly making himself unpopular. She groaned and placed her face in her hands then looked up at her sister. “Why does hedothese things?”
Lizzie grimaced. “From what Mr Rossetti said, half of Liverpool society is upset with him threatening Mr Bibby. He’s a very well respected and well-loved man.”
“Good grief,” she whispered, her horror evident. “Threatening him?”
Lizzie nodded. “Said he’ll set up in competition and run the Bibby Shipping Line into the ground if he doesn’t sell.”
“Dear God,” she murmured. “Could he do that?”
“According to Mr Rossetti, he could easily do it.”
Frances wished she couldn’t believe her husband was capable of such behaviour, but sadly, she knew all too well it was most likely true. It made her feel ill. “He already has more money that he knows what to do with. We have everything in the world that we could wish for. Why does he have to spoil things by being so… so…”
“Fred?”
Frances was fit to explode. “Yes! So… damned Fred.” She felt her temper rising.
Lizzie draped her arm around her. “He must drive you half mad.”
“He does. He harps on about not being accepted in society because he’s made his money in trade. If he wants to be accepted as a gentleman, he needs to learn to behave as one. Honestly, Lizzie, we’ll never live this down. How am I supposed to launch the girls into society? Find them good husbands? How? When all the time their father is behaving like a brute from the worst slums of Liverpool?” She sighed, feeling more of an outsider than ever.
***
Jemie watched Frances as he sketched the next afternoon. She was deep in thought, and most certainly pensive.
“How are you feeling today?” he asked when he could bear the silence no longer. “You appear a little worn.”
She looked at him and blinked. “I do? I’m so sorry. Perhaps you should just paint the dress today.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Jemie put down his pad and pastels. “I just meant you seemed a little pre-occupied. I’m presuming from last night?” He hoped he wasn’t overstepping but it was hard to ignore the tension at last night’s dinner party.
She flushed. “Last night?” She aimed for an air of confusion. Had he not come to know her reasonably well, he might have accepted it. However, he could see the tension in her eyes. Around her mouth.
“Come. I’d have had to be dead not to notice the atmosphere.”
She put her face in her hands for a moment, then regarded him with a sigh.
“It was awful, wasn’t it.” Jemie said.
“Lizzie says that Frederick has upset everyone in the company, and in doing so, half of Liverpool.”
“He’s… well, he’s brilliant when it comes to business, but he’s not awfully good at dealing with people, is he?” Jemie chose his words carefully.
Frances shot him a dark look. “No. He is not.”
For a moment, he thought she might cry.
“Come,” he offered his arm. “Perhaps we should take a walk. Get some air. Forget all about business and portraits for a while.”
***
Jemie wanted nothing more than to take Frances walking on his own. He wanted to take her miles away from the house, from her husband, from all the worries, and sit with her in the summer sunshine. He wanted to see her let down her hair, shake it out in a glorious russet tumble over her shoulders. Watch as she closed her eyes, and turned her face to the sun.
However, sanity prevailed, and he rounded up Lizzie and his mother. They’d asked the girls if they wanted a walk, but they were all feeling a little under the weather and opted to stay with Nanny Jenks reading quietly. So, the four of them set out with vigour. He lugged a rather smart German rucksack filled with bottles of lemonade and cakes and he lent his mother his arm as they walked.
“How is the portrait coming along?” she asked as they watched Frances and Lizzie stride out ahead of them, heads together in conversation.
“Well.”
