Page 80 of The Quiet Wife
“Hmm.”
“I sincerely hope you are not going to suggest that I do.”
Lizzie shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
Frances nodded. Telling herself she was pleased to hear it.
“An affair for a married lady should be light-hearted and fun. No huge feelings involved. If you had an affair with Jemie,you’d end up in love with him and, probably, him in love with you. It would be a disaster. Nothing but heartache. My advice would be to simply stay friends,” Lizzie said wisely.
Frances couldn’t speak. She knew Lizzie’s advice was well meant, but it was getting harder and harder to stay away from him. It also was delivered too late. She had already fallen in love with him. For the first time in her life, she understood what love was and she had no idea what to do.
CHAPTER 25
London – Kensington
It took almost a month for them to return to London and September became October with the leaves turning red and gold. With the chill in the wind deepening by the time they arrived, the little season was underway.
“I’m astonished at the amount of work done,” Frances said to Jemie as they walked around the new Prince’s Gate house. All the upper rooms were complete and furnished in a very elaborate style. The mess had disappeared from the hallway. It was more or less ready to move into.
“It’s shaping up very nicely,” Jemie agreed.
Frances glanced at him, surprised. “‘Nice’ is not a word I would normally associate with you.”
Jemie grinned. “I’m seeing your husband’s hand in the decor?” he said.
Frances nodded, trying to suppress a snort. “He won’t let me have anything to do with it. He loves designing the interior of houses. I suspect, should he have not gone into shipping, he could have been someone who… creates the inside of houses.”
Jemie laughed. “He certainly has an eye for the ostentatious.”
Frances chuckled. He was right.
“I’m keen to start on the panels. I have them all planned out and ready to paint,” Jemie explained as they walked downstairs. “Your husband is very proud of this staircase.”
Frances ran a hand down the balustrade. It was true. Frederick couldn’t quite contain his excitement about having something that had once graced the home of a duke of the realm, now in his own home. It seemed to please him inordinately. Sometimes she wished she could care more about the houses and the things that he put into them, but she couldn’t. Nothing was to her taste, and she had to admit that she was becoming increasingly concerned about Frederick’s constant purchasing. He must have spent a small fortune filling the houses with art, furniture, fabrics. His taste was becoming… questionable. He seemed to feel that if it was expensive; he wanted it. Not only that, but his drive to possess things seemed to be getting worse. It had always been there, but he seemed to be tipping into something more concerning. She wondered if it was frustration at the position with Bibby and being denied something he sought.
She watched as Jemie scrutinised the panels he was to paint. It was an awful lot of work to undertake, but he seemed to be confident about it.
“Will you still have time to paint me?” she asked.
“Always.” He turned to her, appearing transfixed, and she couldn’t look away. He seemed to consider speaking more but turned his attention back to the staircase and the panels.
Something had shifted between them since the girls’ illness. Something quite profound. She suspected Jemie felt it and kept it hidden too, which was for the best, but it surfaced from time to time when they were alone.
“Come, why don’t we see how things are faring in the dining room?” she injected a note of jollity into her voice. It wouldn’t do to become maudlin.
Jemie peered inside with Frances at his shoulder when they found the room.
“What is it like?” she whispered.
He pushed the door fully open, and they walked in. “Well, he’s got some work to do, that’s for sure.”
It was true. Much of the wood was in place for Frederick’s cabinetry, and it was possible to see now where all the porcelain would go in the displays, but it was devoid of colour.
“I’m not sure we will ever be allowed to dine in here,” Frances murmured, peering up at the ceiling as they took in the room. “It’s going to be so elaborate, it will almost exist as a work of art in its own right. I suspect we will simply be invited to marvel at it occasionally.”
Jemie chuckled. “It needs some colour. Something to bring it to life.”
“I heard Mr Jeckyll is going to paint it dark blue.”
