Of Noble Family (37 page)

He looked down and compressed his lips in his small public smile. “Better than I have been in a long time, I think.” He looked up, past her. “Frank! May I borrow you for a moment?”

“Sir?” Frank left his place behind the white men and came forward with alacrity.

The planters stood in a little group, clearly talking about the fisticuffs with great enthusiasm. As far as Jane could tell, the substance of the fight did not matter to them, but Vincent's performance had somehow left them impressed. The vagaries of men would remain unaccountable to her.

When he reached them, Frank looked down at Mr. Pridmore. His face remained guarded, but his right hand tightened a little. Looking up, Frank inclined his head. “What may I do for you, Mr. Hamilton?”

“Two things. First—” Vincent looked suddenly and unaccountably bashful. “First … would you—I should take it as an honour if you would call me Vincent.”

Frank's mouth hung open a little at the invitation to such familial intimacy. He shut it and turned to look back at the white planters and then at the wagon drivers, his brows drawn a little together. Putting his fist to his mouth, he stood for a moment before saying, “Thank you.”

In spite of his resemblance to Vincent, Frank's position as the estate's steward, the colour of his skin, and his very demeanour had made it too easy for Jane to think of him as only a servant. It was easy to forget that he was Vincent's half brother. The fact was, of all of Vincent's blood relations, Frank was the only one who had never played them false. He had been loyal to his own family first but honest about it, and that was as it should be. Jane held out her hand to him. “I am Jane.”

He stared at her hand for a moment, then again at the planters. He murmured, “You know they are watching.”

“Am I mistaken that being claimed as a Hamilton relation will help your role?”

Frank took Jane's hand and bowed over it with the precision of any gentleman. “Thank you.”

Breaking into a smile that looked genuine, Vincent clapped Frank on the shoulder and held out his hand, turning them both so that the handshake was obvious. “Good. I am sorry. I should have offered much sooner than this.”

Clasping it, Frank shook his head. “You did not know me.”

“And that is a cause for regret,” Jane replied.

Frank looked down at Mr. Pridmore. “Yes.… Now, you had two things. What was the second?”

Sobering, Vincent scrubbed his hand through his hair, staring with distaste at the man who still lay sprawled in the dirt. He bent down and felt in Pridmore's coat, coming out with a heavy purse. Scowling, he straightened. “Get him off our land.” Vincent looked to the hill. “After we have seen to our wounded.”

 

Twenty-five

Old Scars and New

The badly burnt woman lost consciousness on the ride to the great house, which was the greatest possible blessing for her. Vincent stayed behind at the rum factory to deal with matters there, while Jane and Frank returned with the wounded.

When they arrived at the great house, Nkiruka and Dr. Jones met them at the door, faces tight as the first of the wounded was carried from the carriage. There was little for Jane to do. With quiet competence, Nkiruka and Louisa had organised the glamourists as nurses. Together they had prepared the spare rooms to the best of their abilities, assigning the rooms according to the severity of the injuries.

As the wounded were carried through the door, Dr. Jones took a quick look and told the bearers where to take each patient. Louisa met the pallet bearers at the end of the hall and helped them settle the wounded. They had to be placed two or three to a bed, and on pallets on the floor, but she found space for them all. Jane's experience in tending to her mother turned out to be of practical use, for though her mother's ailments were frequently imaginary, the methods which their family doctor had prescribed for treating them were real.

She soaked torn linens in rainwater and placed them on Sukey's fevered brow and Julian's angry, blistered skin. She helped arrange pillows so that Fidelia could rest more comfortably while waiting for Dr. Jones to come to her. She sat by Letitia's bed and held her hand while she wept. Her husband had been stoking the furnace when the boiler blew, and no one had seen him since. She stayed there until Zachary brought Letitia's mother, and then moved on to the next bed, and the next, and the next. Through their injuries, Jane met Jos, Bodelia, Thomas, Smart Martin, Jeannette … Jeannette had been one of their glamourists and now had blisters over her forearms.

As Jane walked across the hall to the next room armed with her linens and rainwater, she saw Frank coming down the passage. Jane waited until he drew near. “Has Sir Ronald arrived?”

Frank sighed. “I am sorry. I could have saved you the trouble of sending for him. He does not work on Negroes.”

For a childish moment, Jane wanted to stamp her foot and throw a tantrum. That hateful, odious man. She swallowed her anger, trying to keep her voice low so that that she did not disturb those patients who had managed to find a troubled slumber. “What about Dr. Hartnell? The gentleman who runs the school that we are holding the charity ball for.”

“The wrong sort of doctor, I am afraid. He is an historian of sorts. Jane—” Frank stumbled over the new familiarity “May I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course…”

Without a word, Frank relieved her of her bowl and basin. She would have protested, but her back ached from bending over the beds. He led her to the blue parlour, pausing only long enough to set down her supplies, then he held the door to the veranda open for her. Still, he did not speak until the door was shut and Jane seated in one of the cane rocking chairs. The sun had begun to set while she was indoors, and the clouds burnt red over the hazy green hills, which were spotted with flamboyants and century plants.

Frank leaned against the rail. Lit from behind by the sunset, he looked remarkably like Vincent. “I think we must make plans to hide Lord Verbury. Pridmore will tell in retaliation.”

She sighed heavily, knowing he was right. What was more, Pridmore would do everything in his power to get his hands on Louisa. Likely, he would make a direct appeal to Lord Verbury and promise silence in exchange for her and who knew what other considerations. Jane chewed her lower lip, thinking. Slowly, she said, “Your mother … she offered to make a deed of transfer for Louisa to Vincent. Do you think she would still be willing?”

“Yes, but that opens the forgery difficulties again.”

“I have been thinking on that, but tell me if I am wrong. If she forges papers for Louisa, then we can send her and Zachary to England with messages to friends of ours there. The forgery need only be good enough to get her on the ship and can be abandoned once they are in London. Once there, they will be able to secure help for us.”

“It will still take two months, at best, before any aid returns.”

“True. But if we are going to hide Verbury, then he will not be able to cause your family to be sold—that is something he can only do if he appears to be alive. If we keep him hidden, that leaves us only Pridmore to manage.”

Frank nodded slowly, considering it. While Jane could imagine the course of sending Louisa and Zachary to England, she did not have Frank and Vincent's experience in imagining all the ways in which Lord Verbury could twist and turn their actions against them. It was both fortunate and not that Frank had long practise in it.

“Verbury will still have Sir Ronald and others in his pocket.”

“Am I wrong that that is only a difficulty if he knows that Zachary and Louisa have left? So long as he thinks he is being hidden for his own safety, then he will have no cause to deploy Sir Ronald against us. Indeed, he might even have Sir Ronald act on our behalf if we can convince him that it is for his own good.”

“If I can speak with my mother privately, I will ask her to try to influence him. The challenge is bringing his lordship around to accepting the need to be hidden … or, rather, more hidden.”

“And where to put him.”

Slowly, Frank said, “When my wife and I married, he presented us with a small house. We added rooms on for the children, and it is quite comfortable. My youngest daughters are still at home, and he was fond of them before the stroke.”

“And Louisa is supposedly sleeping in the room next to ours in order to be at my constant beck and call, so she will not be missed at your house.”

“Zachary's absence will be harder to hide. But possible.”

They stared over the plantation. Even through the glass doors, the moans of the injured filtered out into the night. Jane had not heard Kate, who had screamed so horribly at the factory, in some time. She hoped that it was because Dr. Jones had relieved her pain and not due to darker reasons.

Frank crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “I wish I could be confident that Louisa would not tell him of our plans.”

“But … if she understands what is at stake?” Jane sighed, understanding that Frank still had not told her about Pridmore. “You have to tell her.”

“She will not believe it.” Frank straightened his cuffs, though they were flecked with blood. “She thinks Lord Verbury is her saviour.”

Jane had no skill or practise at the conniving and scheming that seemed the Hamilton way. The worst that her family had prepared her for was dealing with an invalid.

A sudden thought occurred to Jane as three disparate pieces came together and she sat straight up in her rocking chair. She was good at soothing invalids. Frank had once said that people talked in front of him, forgetting that a servant could even hear them. And, thirdly, Miss Sarah had said that their dinner had been, in part, so his lordship could see Jane—or, more likely, the baby. “What if she heard it from him?”

Frank grimaced at the thought. “How?”

“I can take Louisa with me when I tell Lord Verbury about Pridmore being fired and our plans to hide him.”

“When
you
tell him?”

“Yes. It does not seem as if he would hear it from you. I am an unexpected quarter. Also, I am carrying his heir.” Jane pushed herself up from the chair, feeling her fatigue in the swelling at her ankles. “If Vincent returns before I am finished, please attempt to guide him away from the room. I imagine he will be out of humour and … meeting his father in that state never ends well.”

“I will ask Zachary to catch him.” Frank inclined his head with a small smile. “But I think that Vincent will not forgive me if I allow you to go alone. I will be in the coldmonger's box in the wall, in case you need … assistance.”

“Thank you.” Knowing that he would be there relieved her of a fear that she had not recognised until it lifted.

*   *   *

Jane found Louisa cutting
bandages in the sickroom. “May I pull you away?”

“Of course, madam.” On Louisa, the fatigue they all felt had made her youth more apparent. She was so steady that it was often easy to forget she was only nineteen.

“Thank you. I need to inform his lordship of our arrangements and would like you present to remind me if I forget anything.”

“Certainly.” Louisa turned and picked up a writing book from the table. “I have the list here.”

“You are a wonder of efficacy.” Jane did not have to strain to think of compliments. She truly did not know how they would have made it through the day without the young woman's efforts.

Louisa followed her through the house to Lord Verbury's room. Jane had made only the smallest effort to tidy her appearance. The unexpectedly useful thing about wearing mourning clothes was that none of the stains from the day showed. Miss Sarah opened the door, her eyes widening in surprise to find Jane there. Jane was able to keep her own countenance calm.

“Could his lordship spare time for conversation?”

“One moment, please.” Miss Sarah made as if to step away and shut the door, but something caused her to look suddenly to her right and open the door further. “Come in, please.”

Aside from the first day in Antigua, two months prior, Jane had not been in Lord Verbury's room. It had made little impression on her beyond his presence. She had thought that he was perhaps confined to one room, but the gracious sitting room she found herself in had three doors off of it. Through one of them, she could see a library. The sitting room itself was done in a soothing green, with elegant furniture in the Egyptian revival style. The most notable thing about the rooms was the space between the items of furniture and the distinct want of rugs. Lord Verbury sat in his wheeled chair, making those features of the room instantly understandable.

Louisa followed Jane into the room and took a place by the door, her eyes cast down. In her role as the perfect lady's maid, she stood so still that she became part of the furniture.

Lord Verbury did not acknowledge Louisa and barely recognized Jane's presence. His face was serene, without the suspicion she had expected to encounter. On the other hand, Jane knew better than to take anything of his appearance at face value. Lord Verbury sat back in his chair. “I will admit this is a surprise.”

“To me as well.” Jane offered a curtsy, though he had neglected his own courtesies. “I hope I find you well.”

“I very much doubt that you do.”

Jane disregarded the cut the way she disregarded her mother's petulance and smiled instead. “May I ask for a few moments of your time?”

He considered her, then raised one finger on his good hand and waved it. Miss Sarah instantly left the sitting room with speed and grace. Jane watched her go, using the movement as an excuse to look at the walls of the room, wondering where Frank was standing.

When the door shut behind them, Lord Verbury beckoned to Jane. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Her heart was beating wildly, but Jane hoped that little of her agitation showed. She settled on the sofa opposite him, judging that that would be the easiest vantage for him to see her without rearranging his chair.