Of Noble Family (10 page)

Jane cleared her throat.

The maid spun with a speed that reminded Jane of Vincent's flinch and told her more of the state of affairs in the house than any lecture. When the young woman saw Jane, she dropped her eyes and bent in a low curtsy. “Mrs. Hamilton. My name is Louisa.” Her voice was a pleasing contralto with hints of the Antiguan accent tempered by aristocratic consonants. Born here, clearly, but taught to sound British. “Lord Verbury sends me with his compliments to act as your lady's maid while you are in residence.”

Whatever had been pleasing in the young woman's countenance now took on a foreboding cast. Given Lord Verbury's statement that only a small number of trusted slaves knew he was alive, that meant he trusted her, or, at the very least, had some hold over her. Jane could be certain of Louisa reporting anything she said back to Verbury.

“That is generous of his lordship.” She stepped farther into the room. While it made her uneasy to have Louisa as her maid, it might present an opportunity. Perhaps she could mislead Verbury by what she chose to say to the maid. “You must be familiar with the household arrangements.”

“Of course, madam.” Her head still down, Louisa hung one of Jane's multitude of black dresses in the wardrobe.

If only the maid were not quite so close to where Jane had hidden the box of
Verres.
“Leave that for the moment. Perhaps we should start with an orientation, which will enable me to assist my husband while we are here.”

Dutifully, Louisa stepped away from the wardrobe. “I believe that Mr. Frank has arranged for a tour of the grounds this afternoon, with the intention of introducing you to the staff. There are fourteen slaves total in charge of the maintenance of the house and grounds. Another one hundred and eighty in the fields and distillery.”

“So many!”

“His lordship's estate is the third largest on Antigua.”

“How are you treated?”

“Mr. Pridmore is a professional and attends to his job thoroughly. Shall I begin by telling you which of the other staff are aware of the situation with his lordship?”

Jane sighed. “Thank you, yes.”

“Cook is aware. As she has charge of the kitchen, it was necessary to keep her informed. Mr. Frank, of course. Miss Sarah, his mistress. Then Zeus and Jove, for the occasions when his lordship must be moved.”

“Really?” It was easier to comment on that last surprise than on the fact that Lord Verbury still kept a mistress, given his current health, or that she was listed among the staff. “Where does he need to be moved?”

“In and out of his wheeled chair. They also fetch Sir Ronald, his lordship's physician, in the carriage.”

Jane sighed and settled into one of the chairs, conscious of the glass sphere tucked in her shawl. It was tempting to hide it behind a pillow, but she had seen maids arrange them too often in other houses. “Louisa, would you fetch some paper and a pen for me? I should like to take some notes.”

“Of course, madam.” The young woman hurried out of the room.

Jane waited until her footsteps had faded down the hall and stood. She went to the wardrobe, reaching into the back corner where she had left the box that they carried the
Verres
in. It was still in the back of the wardrobe and locked tight. Jane tucked the other one inside the box and let herself relax a bit to see both spheres of glass within. After some thought, she left it in the back of the wardrobe, but slid it to a different corner so that the folds of one of her black dresses masked it further.

That accomplished, Jane returned to her seat and took up a book, in an effort to look at ease. Two weeks. They need only be this suspicious for two more weeks.

 

Seven

Property and Propriety

Jane and Vincent were sitting in the blue parlour taking tea when Frank appeared at the door. Really, she did not see how he could move down the long gallery so silently when she made noise even in her slippers. He paused until Vincent looked up from the account book he was going over.

“Mr. Grenville Pridmore, the overseer, and his wife, Mrs. Pridmore.”

Vincent exchanged a look with Jane, which managed to convey his concern for her sensibilities when presented with the man that Lord Verbury had implied had certain … appetites. She smiled in return, to reassure him that she was not as fragile as all that. Thus appeased, Vincent shut his book and rose, as a hearty man of five and thirty strode into the room.

Beneath sandy hair, Mr. Pridmore's face was rough from the sun but came equipped with a ready smile. He wore a linen coat and trousers, although without the waistcoat that was
de rigueur
in Britain. His wife, a good ten years his junior, had managed to retain her pale English rose complexion in spite of the tropical sun. Her brown hair had a natural curl to it and set off her oval face neatly. She wore a green lawn dress with a black ribbon as a generous nod to the mourning that the house was under.

“Oh! Mrs. Hamilton, I am so very sorry for your loss.” She dropped her husband's arm before he had a chance to address either of them and crossed the room, hands outstretched to Jane. “It is so good of you to come all this way.”

“Of course. I could not let Mr. Hamilton come on his own.” Jane was surprised into a smile at having her hands clutched with such sincerity.

Behind the two Pridmores came a third person, a mulatto maid of middle height with general prettiness, a clear brown complexion, and a face that was round rather than long. She took up a station against the wall with her eyes downcast. Neither Pridmore acknowledged that she was in the room.

By this time, Mr. Pridmore had reached Vincent. “Indeed, you have my sincere sympathy. Frank told us the news last night. We expected your brother and had not the slightest idea that something had occurred. Dreadfully sorry to hear it.”

“It was a shock to us all.”

“Frank said you wished a tour of the estate today? Are you certain? There is nothing so pressing that it will not wait a few days to give you time to recover from your journey.”

“Now, you gentlemen must take your business elsewhere. I have charge of making Mrs. Hamilton feel at home in our little rustic estate, and simply cannot do it while you are speaking of business. Have you been out on the veranda, Mrs. Hamilton? I say that there is nothing like a veranda for taking in the air, provided that it is in the shade, of course. Here above all other places, one does not want a brush of the tawny. People might get the wrong idea. But you have not that difficulty at all, I am certain. With my dark curls, I do have to be so very careful.”

“I did have the opportunity to enjoy the veranda attached to our rooms last night.” Though
enjoy
was perhaps the wrong word, given Vincent's illness.

Mrs. Pridmore squeezed Jane's hand. “Oh, I am so glad you have come. I have been ever so lonely.”

Mr. Pridmore laughed at her. “Lonely? Why, you are chattering all day and all night with Betsy. Honestly, Mrs. Hamilton, she does not go anywhere without her maid.”

“Indeed?” Jane raised a brow and turned back to Mrs. Pridmore. “Betsy must be a comfort to you.”

Wrinkling her nose, Mrs. Pridmore waved a hand to chase the idea away. “Oh! As to that, it is not at all the same as the company of an Englishwoman. You have lived in London, I understand. I do so miss London, but no matter how much I tease, Mr. Pridmore will not agree to our going.”

“My dear, you know well that I cannot be away. I have business to attend to for his lordship. “

Vincent cleared his throat. “Speaking of business, I should like that tour of the plantation.”

Mr. Pridmore closed his mouth around whatever his first reply was and gave a nod of his head. He smiled. “Of course. I see that you are a man of business, like your father. I admire that. Mrs. Hamilton, should you like to accompany us on the early part of our tour? You might like to see the shrubbery.”

Jane stood, brushing off her dress. “I should be delighted to come. It would do me good to see where we are to live.”

“What?” Mrs. Pridmore cried. “Oh, you cannot mean it. Mr. Pridmore, you are not thinking of the heat today. You would be much better to stay in the shade of the veranda. Really, the heat quite does one in when you first arrive. I fainted my second day here, truly I did.”

Mr. Pridmore waved her objection away. “We will start close to the great house so that you may return easily.” He picked up the bell on the side table and rang it. Jane might have been affronted to have him call their servants, were it not for the fact that as overseer he had charge of all the workers on the estate.

Frank appeared in the door on the instant. “Sir?”

He addressed Vincent, but Mr. Pridmore answered him. “Fetch Mr. Hamilton's hat and send Mrs. Hamilton's maid with her parasol and bonnet. Betsy? Go with him to fetch our own.”

Betsy curtsied and left the room, all without raising her eyes.

Jane smiled at Mrs. Pridmore. “You must have become used to having this house empty.”

“Oh, indeed we did! How lovely to have neighbours again. I do so miss Lord Verbury. You must miss him terribly. He was such a sweet old man, and always so wonderfully condescending with his attentions. Why, do you know that he gave me an orange tree to plant at our house when we married? Such a kindness. It has grown quite tall, and bears such lovely fruit. Oh! And I have just had a thought. As we walk, I shall be able to show you our house. You must come to take tea with me as soon as you are settled.”

Louisa entered then with Jane's black bonnet and her parasol. She offered the bonnet with a curtsy and Jane noticed that she had a second bonnet hanging by the cord. “We are only taking a tour of the property, Louisa. I do not think I shall require you. Perhaps you could attend to Betsy while we are out?”

“Oh!” Mrs. Pridmore put a hand to her bosom. “But I could not do without Betsy on our walk. Who should hold my parasol?”

Louisa donned her own bonnet. “Indeed, madam. You are not used to the climate here. I should be remiss in my duties if I did not carry your parasol.”

And of course, it would also be difficult for her to report to Lord Verbury about Jane if she did not accompany them. “Thank you, Louisa.”

Once they were all equipped with bonnets, hats, and parasols, Mr. Pridmore led them out the back of the great house. The two wings of it extended to make an open yard at the back. A broad stretch of lawn had palmetto trees at intervals to provide welcome shade. In the centre of the lawn stood a narrow brick building. It had a low ground floor, and then a set of steep steps leading up to the first floor. Iron shutters hung open from the windows. Vines twined up trellises affixed to the sides, which did something to relieve its harshness.

Mr. Pridmore gestured to the building. “Our counting house. You and I shall be spending quite a bit of time there, eh, Mr. Hamilton?”

“Likely.” Vincent followed him with his hands clasped behind his back.

As they rounded the building, strolling towards a shrubbery at the back of the yard, Mr. Pridmore stopped by a heavy iron door. “This is for you, Mrs. Hamilton. I don't expect you'll have much interest in the accounts, but you will be glad to know where the safe house is.”

Mr. Pridmore produced a key from the ring he carried and unlocked the door. Inside astonishingly thick walls was a low room without any windows to relieve the dark. Several beds lay within, as well as barrels and shelves of food. The simple brick floor had been covered with a braided rug, but there was no other ornament of any sort.

Vincent removed his hat to avoid knocking it off on the low ceiling and stepped inside. He put a hand to the wall, frowning. “Are you so worried about uprisings?”

“After the rebellion in Haiti? Yes. Every plantation put them in.” He pulled a copy of the key from his ring and handed it to Vincent. “Every couple of years, some planter is happy they built one. Food is there. The large barrels hold water. The small ones have rum, though we have to keep that locked down.”

Jane moved farther into the room and looked at the stores. Impressively, the safe house had modern Appert jars to hold fruits and vegetables. She picked up one of the jars and frowned as the lid shifted. The food inside was quite spoilt. Putting it back on the shelf, she took a quick survey of the other jars and could see that nearly half of the visible ones had spoilt.

Vincent stooped over one of the rum barrels. “When was the last uprising here?”

“The last bad one was back in 1736. We've had some minor incidents. Sir Thomas's estate on the north part of the island had trouble with arson for a while. Lost most of the harvest. But he came out himself, and has had no troubles since.”

“And this estate?”

Mr. Pridmore frowned and counted on his fingers. “Eleven years ago? Before my time, that. Do not let it worry you, though. My introduction of the Rock Dungeon has reduced the number of incidents considerably.”

Jane shivered and wrapped her arms around herself before remembering what it did to her gown. She lowered them quickly, hoping that the dim room hid her movement.

“Oh, you have frightened poor Mrs. Hamilton!” Mrs. Pridmore attached herself to Jane's arm and directed her outside. “It sounds horrid. I should know, having lived here as long as I have. But there are nearly forty naval forts, so you only have to wait a little before soldiers come to put the uprising down.”

Jane extricated herself from Mrs. Pridmore's grip. “Have you had occasion to use one?”

“No! Heavens, no. Mr. Pridmore is much too clever to allow anything like an uprising to occur. Our slaves—that is to say, your slaves—are all contented.”

They were at least silent. Louisa and Betsy both moved to stand by the ladies as they left the shade of the safe house. After her experience with the coldmongers in England, Jane could not think that either woman was content.