Page 27 of The Quiet Wife
“As I mentioned, it’s not just a paintingofher, it’s more a study of shades of black and grey using her as the means to do it. Originally, I wanted to paint a neighbour because she had stunningly beautiful hands, but it wasn’t to be, so mother stood in. I had intended to paint her standing, but it was too much for her, so she’s sat down, and I’ve painted a profile view.” He gestured with his hands as though outlining the figure he had painted.
“Is it finished?”
“Not quite. It’s back at the house where we live in Chelsea.”
“You should have brought it with you. You could work on it whilst my husband is busy at work.”
“Or I could carry on sketching you so I can begin your portrait?” he pushed. Frances wondered if he had noticed that she kept putting off beginning her painting. It was unnervingly observant of him if he did.
“You could? Will I be a study?”
“I don’t know. I see many versions of Frances.”
Something inside her shivered at his words. “You do?”
He nodded. “I’d like to find the one that is just you.”
Frances didn’t know what to say.
Jemie cleared his throat. “I also had a fancy to paint all the ladies in the billiard room. I thought that might be fun.”
“I’m sure they would be delighted.” Frances was relieved when he moved the conversation away from her. She turned to the children. “Come now, everyone. It’s time to get ready for supper and Mrs Whistler will need to rest and refresh herself.”
“That I would, but all of you, please call me Anna.”
Frances smiled. “Thank you, and in that case, you must call me Frances.”
Anna departed, guided by a maid, and the children hurtled off to the nursery, discussing the latest addition to the household, leaving Frances alone with Jemie.
“Your mama is wonderful,” she beamed. “I’m certain Aunt Agatha will love her.”
Jemie laughed. “Of that, I have no doubt.” His eyes met hers. “Does this mean I’m allowed to call you Frances?” he checked. “I don’t mind if you call me Jemie.”
“I’d be delighted.” She wasn’t at all certain that Frederick would like it, but she didn’t want to refuse.
“Frances?”
“Yes?”
“Maybe I’ll still call you Mrs Leyland when your husband is around? He strikes me as the formal type.”
She swallowed, shaken by his perception, but nodded.
***
Anna Whistler had the foresight to bring with her the half-finished portrait that Jemie insisted wasn’t a portrait ofher, more a study of black and grey. Given her husband was very lax in returning to the house to enable Jemie to continue painting him, it meant that he was able to work on both paintings, which seemed to please him enormously. There was an energy about him that was fascinating, and something she loved to watch as he sketched endlessly.
When Frederick did return at the end of the week, he was evidently stunned to find the Leyland children and the Whistlers on first-name terms, but he didn’t fuss visibly in front of them. Later there was a good deal of muttering about American want of civility,and complete lack of any kind of sensibility, but apart from that, he seemed to let things stand. It was a small victory, but Frances embraced it, nonetheless. True to his word, Jemie hadn’t called her Frances once in Frederick’s company.
As the days wore on, they settled into a gentle rhythm. Anna and Jemie simply fitted in to their lives at Speke Hall. He sketched daily and painted furiously. What Frances found fascinating was, just as it appeared he was nearing the end of a painting, he’d scrape all the paint away. She’d been horrified the first time he’d done such a thing and quite upset to see all that hard work go to waste. He’d seemed on the cusp of finishing Frederick’s portrait, so to find him one morning scraping the paint away shocked Frances badly.
“But why? Why would you do that?” She reached out momentarily, as though to stop him.
“It wasn’t right.” Jemie shrugged, seeming a little dejected.
“But… it looked remarkablylikehim.”
Jemie opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it again.
