Hours later, Vincent returned to the house, bringing Frank with him. The men were discussing something as they came down the hall, and Jane caught only the end of it as they entered. “… other daughters will be excited to see him.”
Vincent shrugged out of his coat. “Well, he was always kinder to my sisters.” His cravat was missing and his waistcoat stained with dried blood. Soot marked his brow. “The sherry is on the sideboard.”
“After today…” Frank went to the sideboard and retrieved the carafe and glasses. “Thank you, yes.”
Jane rose from where she had been resting on the sofa. “How is Louisa?”
“Shaken, but well. Better, when I explained that we wanted to send her to London.” Frank’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “She is at home with her mother and Zachary. Both are packing, and with luck we will have them on a ship tomorrow.”
Vincent added, “And I have written a letter to Richard explaining the whole of the situation here.”
“Miss Sarah was able to do the forgery?” she asked.
“Yes, thank God.” Frank cleared his throat, and poured a measure of Manzanilla for them each. “Your conversation with Lord Verbury, by the way, was a triumph of negotiation.”
“Did he agree to remove to your house, then?”
“Yes. I do not know how you did it, but he did.”
“Honestly? I pretended that he was my mother.”
“Good lord! Do not let him hear that.” Laughing, Vincent leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “I am glad to see you sitting. I was worried you would work yourself too hard.”
Relieved that he had any laughter in him, Jane caught her husband’s hand as he straightened. “Me? You were the one too dizzy to stand earlier today.” She pulled him down again so she could look at his face, but no bruises seemed imminent. “Well … you seem to have been telling the truth when you said Pridmore did not hit you hard.”
“I am constantly amazed at how useful my father’s insistence that I study pugilism has been.” He grimaced and rubbed the side of his face. “It stung a little. No more.”
“Should we ask Dr. Jones in to take a look? And perhaps have a glass of sherry with us?”
Frank said, “We asked if she would take a glass, but she had a patient she wanted to sit with until…” He sighed. “I think she will not be joining us.”
A sobbing moan sounded from one of the rooms. Jane straightened in her chair, relieved only a little when she heard someone moving to help. Face grave, Vincent nodded to the interior. “How bad is it?”
Jane settled back in her chair. “We have eighteen wounded. I am not certain how many dead.” She thought of Letitia, whose husband had been working the furnace.
“We have at least six. Four bodies.” Vincent rubbed the back of his neck. “Two not accounted for, but both of them were in positions to be caught in the blast.”
Setting the glasses on the table, Frank’s mouth tightened. “I will ask Ben for the names and let their families know.”
“Anthony, Bonthorn, Cuped, Fortune, Jackey, and Handel. I stopped on the way back, but their families had guessed.” The anger, which had dimmed earlier, lit Vincent’s eyes again. What had changed, for Jane, was that it no longer appeared to be coupled with despair or fear. Vincent picked up the sherry and stared into it. He took a sip, grimacing. “I should have fired Pridmore the moment I saw the boiler. I knew that patch would not hold. And of course there were the inconsistencies in the accounts.”
Vincent had always been a man of action, and the months of being unable to effect changes had taken a toll on him. Jane rested her hand on his. “The reasons you stayed your hand made sense at the time, remember that. Aftersight will do none of us any good.”
Nodding, Frank sat across from Jane. “I also did things that made sense at the time, but I regret now. I cannot change my actions in the past, but I can work to make sure that I repair their damage in the present.” He sipped his sherry and cleared his throat. “May I tell you about one?”
“There is no need, unless it will ease your mind,” Jane said.
“Thank you. I would rather you hear it from me. The first day, I lied to you about the ship. Lord Verbury ordered me to tell you that the packet ship, the Marchioness of Salisbury, had left. She had not. She was in harbour for two more days. Second … there is almost always a private ship bound for England.”
“We could have left at any time?” Jane scarcely recognised the sound of her own voice.
“Please believe that I would not make the same choice again.”
“You did not know us…” Still, the idea that they might have left this place, even be in England by now, made tears of upset spring to her eyes. Jane wiped them away hastily before she could cry. With the hold that Verbury had over Frank, was it any wonder that he acted as he did? “You did not know us.”