Page 68 of The Quiet Wife
Jemie found his mother in the drawing room sipping tea.
“How are they doing?” he asked.
His mother grimaced delicately. “I fear the girls are in for a miserable few days. At least the doctor seems a sensible sort.”
Jemie raised his eyebrows. “In what way?”
“Well, he didn’t suggest bleeding them until they faint, or cutting off their hair and applying cool rags to the head, as I’ve seen some do.”
“Nanny Jenks seems competent?”
“I like her. We will work well together.” She picked up her cup and took another sip. “I’ve sent out for bottles of Gibson’s calamine lotion too.That’s lovely and soothing. There are plenty of good herbs in the garden, too. I’ve seen Mrs Taylor, and we are making some teas and poultices.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” he kissed her cheek.
His mother laughed a little. “I’m glad I’m here too. You all need looking after.”
Frances entered, appearing pale and drawn. “They are all asleep,” she said with a heavy sigh.
“Come, there is tea in the pot,” his mother offered, and guided Frances to a chair.
“The footman should be back soon with the Gibson’s. If we bathe them with cool cloths and apply the lotion before they settle for the night, it might help.”
Frances nodded. “Mrs Taylor is preparing bone broth. She said she’d spoken to you so thank you.”
“She’s a good woman, Mrs Taylor,” his mother smiled. “You have some lovely staff.”
“I do,” she murmured. Frances pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Please don’t feel you have to dress for dinner. We will eat a little earlier, but it is just us and Lizzie, and if Nanny looks after the girls whilst we eat, I’ll go up and sit with them after that.”
His mother nodded. “They need careful watching in these early stages. I’ll go up and let Nanny have a rest. Jemie, why don’t you take Frances for a walk? It’s a lovely afternoon and I’ll wager a little air would do her the world of good.”
Jemie studied Frances and arched his eyebrow in enquiry.
She offered him a tired smile. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
They all stood up, and Frances caught his mother’s hand.
“Thank you both from the bottom of my heart. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
His mother patted her cheek softly. “You would have coped admirably. Just like you always do.”
Frances drew a breath, almost as if bracing herself. “I feel I should… apologise for my… my husband’s absence.” A soft flush coloured her cheeks.
His mother tsked. “No need to apologise. I’m sure your husband deals with worry in his own way,” his mother said diplomatically. Jemie noted she was far more generous than he was, but she understandably didn’t want Frances to feel even worse. In his mind, Leyland needed to get on his damned knees and apologise to his wife, then to his girls. When he’d heard Leyland had abandoned her, gone to work in Liverpool, leaving Frances to look after the girls alone, he’d wanted to black the selfish bastard’s eye.
“What do you mean?” Frances said to his mother.
“Well, my love, women are often better at saying how they feel. Most men just button it all up inside and have absolutely no idea how to share what’s inside their heart. When that happens, they either get angry, or they run away. I suspect your husband just couldn’t manage how he felt.”
“I suppose it could be that. He’s never been one for talking much, and he does get cross,” Frances frowned.
“You know him best, my dear. He’ll probably talk to you when he’s ready.”
His mother’s words lifted some of the tension from Frances, but she remained a little doubtful. Jemie reckoned it was probably easier to believe his mother’s generous assessment than accept that her husband was just a cold-hearted, nasty bastard, just like most of Liverpool did after having seen his true colours emerge over his business dealings.
“Shall we?” He offered his arm. “Do you need a wrap?”
She shook her head. “I just need some air.”
