Page 99 of The Quiet Wife
Lizzie stroked her forearm. “Well, I think she knows you would not be unfaithful. You were always so wrapped up in the house, in the children, Fred’s career,” she shrugged delicately.
“I suppose so.” Frances frowned.
Lizzie’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“What?” Frances said with misgiving.
“Plus, you are ever so slightly… just a teensy bit…” she held up her finger and thumb showing a small space, “strait laced.”
Frances stared at her sister, open-mouthed, and then burst out laughing. “After last night, I feel as though my eyes have been opened.”
***
Jemie sat in the partly finished dining room at the Leyland’s new Prince’s Gate house and declined brandy. He needed to keep a clear head, and not antagonise Leyland. He needed to pretend he had no inkling of the way he treated his wife, and he supposed most men wouldn’t bat an eyelash even if they knew. But he knew. He knew what Leyland had done with the Caldicott woman, and what he’d done to his wife when she spoke of it. Plus, he’d seen how he’d treated his own son before. The only reason he kept his mouth shut was because Frances had expressly forbidden him to speak of it. Also, because he knew that if he spoke out, he’d most likely never see Frances again, and that was something he simply could not contemplate. So, he held his tongue, but he had never felt so helpless in his life.
“Are you ready to begin?”
Jemie nodded. He was busy. There was no doubt about it. He was about to submit the portrait of his mother to the Royal Academy; it was on its way by train from Speke. He’d opened his own gallery and was rapidly filling it. He was painting Frances as slowly as he dared to eke out their time together, he had commissions coming in from all and sundry, and now Leyland wanted his damned dining room painted. He was moving steadily towards being less reliant on a patron for income and in that moment, he realised just how much he hated being reliant on Leyland.
“You are clear about what I want?”
“Of course. You want something that will compliment your display of porcelain, my portrait of the Princessa, and you want something that will stun both the business world and the art world when they dine here.”
Leyland nodded and ran his hands through his hair before smoothing his beard.
“How stunning should I be? You are giving me a lot of latitude here.”
“I want it to be fabulous. Like the rest of the house.”
Jemie surveyed the space. “Very well. You have my word. I’ll give you something that will be talked about for years to come.”
Leyland looked satisfied. “I won’t be able to spend much time here. Negotiations are finally moving apace with Bibby, and I have business interests to attend to in Liverpool which will be concluded soon. I want to take possession of the house by Christmas.”
Jemie nodded. Christmas was still several weeks away. “I understand. Would you object to me staying in the house whilst I work? I can get more done if I’m not travelling back and forth.”
“Be my guest.” Leyland shrugged.
After an awkward pause between them, Leyland cleared his throat. “You seem to spend a lot of time with my wife’s sister.”
That took Jemie by surprise. He did spend a lot of time with Lizzie, largely because she was always with Frances, and he did whatever he could to be near to her.
“She’s beautiful and charming company.”
“Going to do anything about it?” Leyland was certainly forthright in his manner.
Jemie arched an eyebrow and shrugged. “Would you approve?”
Leyland considered this. “I would.” Leyland stared at him, thoughtfully, as though cataloguing his features. “I should be pleased to have an artist in the family,” he said eventually.
Jemie grinned with mischief. “Not just any artist, I trust?”
Leyland rolled his eyes.
“Just wait until my portrait of my mother is in the Royal Academy.”
“I want my portraits in the academy,” Leyland said immediately. “And I want people clamouring to see this room.”
“I have no doubt whatsoever that this room will be talked about up and down the country. Nay, all over the world for years to come.” Jemie promised him.
