Page 9 of The Quiet Wife
“What the hell are you wearing?”
“It’s a new gown. It came from the modiste in London this week.” She swallowed. Her throat instantly parched. “Don’t you like it?”
“I can see your…” he gestured in a vague, awkwardly disgusted fashion, “bosom. If I can see it, so can other people.”
She searched for the right words. “I assure you, it’s perfectly respectable, my dear. I have other dresses in this style, and I recall you rather liked them.”
“You should change.” He ordered her.
Frances drew a steadying breath to conceal the hurt she felt at his words.
“I don’t really have time to change, my love. We wouldn’t want to keep our guests waiting.” She spoke calmly and evenly. She’d learned over the years that outright refusal made her husband dig his heels in and refuse to budge. When that happened, there was only one victor. Her only hope was to reason with him and persuade him to arrive at the conclusion she wanted as if it had been his own doing. They had already argued because she had wanted to include the children on the guest list for dinner, yet he’d been adamant that they were too young. She didn’t want another awful row, especially when she then had to go and entertain their guests.
Frederick’s eyebrows drew down, and he took a step closer. Frances stared at the floor, mind racing.
“Wear the blue one.”
She looked up at him. “The one that I wore last time we entertained your business friends?” She let her eyes widen with feigned shock and worry. “Darling, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you by appearing in the same gown twice.”
“You must have hundreds of dresses that don’t make you look like a whore.”
She bit her tongue, not letting him see how much his words stung. “I do, but they are stored. They will need to be pressed before wearing. If I must change, I will be dreadfully late. Please trust me. This dress is the height of fashion and as you have friends here from London, I wouldn’t want to look like a dowd and embarrass you.”
He continued staring, then made a dismissive noise.
“Please yourself.”
With a huff, he closed the door behind him with far more force than was necessary, causing her to flinch.
Grace, her maid, laid a hand on Frances’ arm, a kind gesture than almost undid her. “You look beautiful, ma’am.”
Frances blinked back tears. Until her husband’s arrival, she’d felt beautiful.
***
Frances greeted her guests in the offending gown, feeling even more uncertain than usual.
“Oh, my,” Lizzie took a step towards her and surveyed her sister’s dress with appreciative awe. “That gown is delicious!”
Frances tugged at it awkwardly. “Do you think so?”
“I most certainly do. That colour becomes you. You look good enough to eat.”
“It’s not too revealing?” she hesitated.
Lizzie tilted her head to one side. “What do you think?”
She bowed her own head and whispered. “I love it, or rather I did until Frederick passed comment.”
Lizzie’s look of sympathy was almost unbearable.
“For God’s sake, say nothing to Edith or I’ll never hear the last,” Frances muttered.
She’d confided in her sister over the years, so Lizzie was well aware of Frederick’s temper and unpleasantness. Frances might have won the battle over the dress,but he would be unlikely to let the matter drop until he felt vindicated. His unpleasantness often extended to the children, and, with Freddie home, she knew she needed to tread with care to avoid further upset.
Before she could dwell on it further, the gong for dinner sounded, and everyone filed into the dining room. Frederick escorted the wife of Sir Andrew Farley in to dine. Farley was an important man in Frederick’s world, but Frances found them both tiresomely formal sticklers. She’d planned on walking to dinner with William, but instead Mr Whistler appeared beside her and offered a hopeful elbow.
She accepted his arm with what she hoped was a gracious smile and forced herself not to tug at the dress again, which would only draw more attention to it. He looked remarkably elegant in evening wear and even his hair had been subdued, though the more sombre black did little to subdue the wicked sparkle of those blue eyes or repress the vivid energy that surrounded him.
