Page 82 of The Quiet Wife
Frederick ran his hands through his hair, agitated. “Not Bibby, damned Jeckyll.”
Frances forbore from mentioning his language.
“Is he unwell?”
“They told me when I commissioned him to take care. Said that he was likely to run mad.”
“Run mad?” Frances glanced at Lizzie, who shrugged, her already strained relations with her brother-in-law had cooled further since the incident at Speke Hall.
“Yes. He hasn’t been able to source some things that he wanted for the work. I knew he was getting upset about it, but he fled the house, went to his own home, and locked himself in the pantry.”
Frances and Lizzie exchanged puzzled glances.
“They’ve got him out and the doctor has seen him, but he’s not fit to carry on the work.”
“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry,” Frances murmured in soothing tones. “Perhaps he can finish it when he’s well again?”
“I want it done now.” He sulked like a petulant child. One hand on his hip, the other thrust into his hair as he glared at nothing in particular.
“Well, have you considered asking Mr Whistler to do it? He’s been working tirelessly on the panels, and I know he’s taken a keen interest in the dining room.”
Frederick looked at her, and for once, didn’t dismiss her suggestion out of hand.
“Whistler?” He contemplated it.
Frances nodded and shrugged. “Just a suggestion.”
Frederick thought further.
“Are you going to escort us for dinner? You have time to change, and as I understand it, he will be there. You could perhaps talk to him tonight?”
Frederick scratched the back of his neck, nodded and left.
Frances watched him walk away, frankly stunned that he had listened to her.
CHAPTER 26
London – Kensington
Jemie stood by the fireplace as his mother sat in the chair beside him talking to some lady he’d been introduced to on arrival at the Cordingley’s and promptly forgotten. It was a small enough gathering, but Frances would be there, so he was willing to put up with banal conversation in order to spend an evening in her company.
His evening improved considerably when Rossetti ambled into the room, followed by Valentine Prinsep. Jemie smiled at both men and offered his hand as they walked over to where he stood.
“Good to see you,” Rossetti clapped him on the arm. “It’s been an age. Busy?”
Jemie nodded and shook with Prinsep. “Very busy. Leyland is keeping my nose to the grind.” He offered a grin and Rossetti laughed.
“Have you finished the delectable Mrs Leyland yet?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Not yet,” he shook his head and grinned once more.
“You’re painting Mrs Leyland?” Prinsep said.
Jemie nodded. “It’s going well. I spent a lot of time with the family this summer at Speke.” He recalled Prinsep had visited himself on a couple of occasions.
“Are we likely to be seeing the misses Leyland in society this coming year?”
Jemie raised his eyebrows. “Are you asking for any particular reason?”
