Of Noble Family (53 page)

A cloud of dust appeared on the road to the great house, though the direction of the last bend in the road kept its source from being visible. A sound grew to accompany it. A carriage and a number of horses approached the house.

Vincent looked up as they came into view. Jane grew cold with alarm. These were British soldiers. But Pridmore was dead—how could he possibly have done anything? No. It seemed more likely that this was something Sir Ronald had arranged as a final revenge from Lord Verbury.

“Jane, would you take Charles and go inside?” Vincent stood, not taking his eyes off the soldiers or the unmarked carriage that had arrived in their midst.

She reached out for their son but made no immediate move to go inside. With Charles's comforting weight in her arms, she stood and followed Vincent down the length of the veranda to the front steps of the house. If this were some action against them, there was nowhere she could reasonably go to hide. With her health as poor as it was, Jane was not even certain she could pull a thread out of the ether, much less weave a glamour.

The carriage rolled to a stop at the head of the sweep, and one of the soldiers dismounted to open the door. A military officer got out first, uniform bright with braid, followed by the man Jane had least expected to see.

Her father had come to Antigua.

 

Thirty-seven

Familial Relations

For a long moment, Jane could only stare at her father, so out of place in the heat and dust of Antigua. His white hair fluttered under his tall dark hat. “Papa?” Without a word, Vincent took Charles from her and freed Jane to all but run down the stairs. “Papa!”

Mr. Ellsworth met her halfway, the tension in his face fading as he pulled her into his arms. His embrace unlocked a fountainhead of emotion, and Jane found herself sobbing on her father's shoulder. He rocked her, smoothing her hair. “There, there … shh … there, now.”

“What are you doing here?” She drew back, still weeping. “I thought you were in Vienna.”

His dear face was reddened from the voyage, and his eyes had a suspicious wetness. He wiped one with a knuckle as though he had something in his eye. “We left for England not long after you. The letter must still be en route, I suppose.” He broke off as Vincent's footsteps ground across the gravel behind her. “And is this…?”

It was not how she had pictured introducing her son to her father, but Jane nodded. “May I introduce you to Charles Vincent?”

“Charles…?” Now her father's eyes were wet in earnest. He held out his hands to Vincent. “May I?”

With tender care, Vincent transferred the older man's namesake into his arms, for all the world as if they were not surrounded by British soldiers. It seemed odd to Jane to be suddenly surrounded by so many white faces.

Once relieved of his burden, Vincent eyed them with some concern. “And the soldiers, sir?”

“Those came with me.” The voice was so strikingly like Vincent's that Jane felt dizzy. Struggling out of the carriage, assisted by two soldiers, was Vincent's brother Richard. “Received your messengers, old man. Seemed best to bring some support, given our father's past dealings, and the Crown agreed.”

His features still had the signs of indolence that are so striking among young men of fashion, but with new lines on top of them, as though he had been quite ill. He leaned heavily on a cane and swung his right leg with a pronounced limp, stopping next to a distinguished white gentleman of middle years.

“General Montgomery, allow me to present my brother, Mr. Vincent Hamilton, and his wife.”

Vincent shook the general's hand. “A pleasure. Although I hesitate to correct my brother, and it risks presenting the news in the wrong order, we are more accurately Sir David Vincent and Lady Vincent.”

“The Prince Regent's glamourists, yes.” General Montgomery held his hat under one arm. “His Royal Highness was most concerned about your situation.”

To General Montgomery, Vincent said, “As to that … my father died three weeks ago.”

“Dead!” Richard's composure divided into a mixture of shock and relief. “Are you certain that he is truly dead?”

“There was a fire. I saw the body, and, believe me, I made a thorough examination. So while I am grateful—beyond grateful—that you came, I am only sorry that you made the trip to no purpose.”

General Montgomery shook his head. “Not at all. The fact that your late father was able to remain at will for as long as he did makes it clear that there is rank corruption in the naval forces here. Your message to your brother mentioned Sir Ronald … bad business, that. Well. We should be able to clear it up and make good use of our time here. We have three ships-of-the-line in the harbour with steady men who can be trusted.”

“May I also recommend Admiral Cunningham? Though I regret to say that circumstances forced me to lie to him.” Vincent grimaced. “Still, I believe he is an honourable man.”

“Good to know. Given what your brother has shared, I would be surprised if the admiral did not forgive you the indiscretion.”

The successive shocks, welcome though they were, were making Jane's heart race and familiar grey spots swim at the edge of her vision. She put her hand on Vincent's arm. “Forgive me, but I think I am about to faint.”

“It is all right, Muse. I do not need to be—”

“No, really.”

“Oh!” He lifted her into his arms as grey splotches danced around her vision.

*   *   *

Her faint did not
last long. By the time Vincent had carried her into the foyer of the great house, Jane had revived. She lifted her head, turning to look over his shoulder for her father. He followed close behind, holding Charles. Richard limped at his side, but the military officers came no farther than the door, taking up station there while the General supervised arrangements for his men.

Mr. Ellsworth let out an audible sigh of relief when he saw she was awake.

“I am so sorry. The heat sometimes overwhelms me.”

Vincent growled, “You mean you almost—gah!” He twisted as she found the spot on his ribs where he was ticklish.

Jane glared at him and gave a little shake of her head. The time to tell her father that she had almost died in childbirth was not now. Preferably not ever, but especially not after he had just spent a month at sea worrying about her.

“I might have dropped you,” he murmured.

“There are many things I am afraid of, but that is not among them.” Jane looked down the long gallery. “But please do set me down when we are in the blue parlour.”

“I was going to take you to our rooms.”

“I know. I am asking you not to.” Jane's pulse was steadier, and she thought that if she were sitting she would be all right. “I will be more nervous being secluded.”

“You really do not play fair sometimes.” But he set her down when they crossed the threshold of the blue parlour.

Frank entered from the back of the house. No doubt he had run across from the counting house when one of the other staff told him about the soldiers. Richard glanced idly at him, then again, his brows going up in surprise at the familial resemblance.

Frank bowed to Vincent, slipping back into the role of the house steward as easily as if he had never left it, and took up a station near the wall in case anything was wanted. It was more than a little uncomfortable to have him waiting on them now.

Jane sank onto the nearest sofa, which gave the gentlemen leave to take their seats as well. Her father came to sit by her, held captive by Charles's little fist wrapped around his thumb.

Richard lowered himself into an armchair with a sigh and used his hand to stretch his right leg out awkwardly in front of him. The foot stuck up at an unnatural right angle. “So you said you were Sir David again. May I assume that our dear disgraced father disinherited you?”

“Yes.” Vincent gave a quick summary of events to both men, thankfully leaving Jane's hemorrhage in Picknee Town with the parts unsaid.

When he finished, Richard rubbed his temples, mouth slightly open in horror. “I am so terribly sorry for what you have suffered. I thought he was dead, Vincent. I do not know if you can forgive me, but please believe that nothing would have induced me to ask you to come here had I known. I hesitated even then, but at the time, travel was not possible for me.”

Vincent cleared his throat, “I was sorry to hear about your leg.”

“At least I have an adequate reason for not wishing to dance with young ladies.”

Jane said, “We are grateful that you came now.”

“I know what my father was. That is why I did not come alone. When I received Sir David's message, I went at once to the prime minister and made arrangements for the arrest of our father.” He looked towards the door and frowned. “The Antiguan will … if it perchance burnt in this fire, the English will would still stand. You could receive your rightful inheritance.”

Vincent ran his hands through his hair. “No. I am sorry that I am going about this backwards, but there is an introduction to make.”

“You always were a backwards child,” Richard drawled, but Jane had enough practise with Hamilton men to note that though he appeared calm, his gaze rested on Frank a trifle too long.

Vincent tucked his chin into his cravat and his hands behind his back. It became suddenly very easy to remember that he had once studied law. “The Antiguan will—most of the details are items that are best suited for later discussion, and I think you will not find them objectionable, but there is one point I would be remiss to delay. Richa—” He stumbled over his brother's name and cleared his throat. “Lord Verbury, may I present Mr. Frederick Hamilton II, our father's acknowledged natural son. He has been running the estate, and, I truly believe he saved our lives. If the Antiguan will does not stand…”

Jane clasped her hands together so tightly that they ached. She had hopes that Richard was a decent man, not because he had made the trip to Antigua, but because he had thought to bring her father.

“I see. Well. That explains why you looked familiar.” Richard struggled to his feet, hopping a little on his left foot while he got the right under him. Limping, he held out his hand. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, but if we are to be brothers, I shall insist that you call me Richard.”

Frank stepped away from the wall, his expression carefully guarded, but Jane suspected that his sensibilities were no less affected for it. He and Richard shook hands cordially. To look at them, one would think the meeting occasioned no more comment than any two gentlemen meeting in passing on the streets of London. “My family calls me Frank, and I would take it as an honour if you did as well.”

“Am I correct that you are Miss Louisa Hamilton's father?” Upon receiving a nod, Richard continued. “Then I should have told you directly that your daughter and brother are both in good health. I left them established in my house in London rather than risk bringing them to Antigua while things were unsettled with my father.”

Frank closed his eyes for a brief moment, but before he did, the deep relief had been painful to witness. “Thank you, sir.”

“Mm … as I believe you are the eldest son, I should be saying ‘sir' to you. I say … any chance we can alter the will to make him the earl? Deuced unpleasant trial, mostly accounts.” He chuckled, though Jane thought he was not entirely in jest about wishing not to be the earl. “I can imagine the stir
that
would make in the peerage.”

Then introductions needed to be conducted again with Jane's father. There were many repetitions of “How do you do” and “A pleasure” before they were all seated again. At some point in the proceedings, cold lime juice and pineapple appeared, and as the company refreshed themselves, Richard explained all that had occurred in London.

“Not knowing that the Ellsworths were supposed to be out of the country, I sent a special courier straight to Long Parkmead, reasoning that they would like to know of an impending grandchild.”

“Which I very much did, though from your letter I thought to find you still expecting.” Mr. Ellsworth tickled young Charles under his plump chin. “Not with such a handsome young man already.”

“I did not expect you to come.”

“Jane … even if it had not been my natural inclination, do you think for a moment that your mother would have allowed any other choice? I did not even trouble sending a reply in return, simply went posthaste that very night to meet Lord Verbury in London.”

It was so odd to hear the words
Lord Verbury
and attempt to associate them with anything but dread.

Mr. Ellsworth broke the silence by turning to Richard, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and saying, “Lord Verbury, would you like to hold your nephew?”

Richard looked at young Charles and chuckled. “Yes, I would. But may I ask you to bring him to me?” He tapped his right shin with his cane and it gave off a hollow wooden thump. “I would not trust myself standing with him.”

“Of course.” Mr. Ellsworth stood, cradling Charles in his arms, and crossed to Richard.

The new Earl of Verbury took his nephew with the awkwardness of someone who has been little in the company of children. In most households in England, a newborn and his mother would be confined for some time after birth, but Jane had had quite enough confinement prior to her lying-in to want anything more to do with it.

Richard, The Earl of Verbury, studied his nephew, then looked across to Vincent, and then to Frank. He grunted and regarded Charles again. “He has the Hamilton brow, I think.”

*   *   *

When Charles Vincent was
four months of age, he sailed into England in the arms of his mother. As they docked in the port at Weymouth, the young man commanded a significant entourage, even at such a tender age. In addition to his parents and his grandfather, he was accompanied by his aunt Isabella, two months his senior, her mother Amey Avril, and two of Amey's other children.