Heart pounding, Jane wiped her quill off again, though it was quite dry. She folded the papers into a neat bundle, but the pages betrayed her by rattling with her nerves. Tightening her grip to stop the shaking, Jane reached over to put the paper on the side table. She would have given almost anything to be allowed out of bed. Without being asked, Dolly came and lifted the writing board from what passed for her lap.
Jane wiped her hands on the counterpane and tried to think of something to say to fill the awkward silence. She could not even offer Dolly a drink without pressing her into service to get it. She swallowed and took a breath to calm herself. “So … we were speaking of the ether, I believe. What distinguishes the various ethers for you?”
Compressing her lips, Dolly settled into the chair by the bed that Vincent habitually occupied when he was in the room. She clearly knew that Jane wanted distraction. “The akoma so dae closest to … to mi heart. Is for—” Dolly sighed, frowning with aggravation. With her fingers curled a little inward, she waved her hand in front of her face. “It here. Is seeing. Is feeling.”
“Illusions? Emotions?”
“No.” She grimaced. “Next time I bring mi daughter. She tell. She—”
The sound of rapid footsteps stopped her voice. Jane clutched the counterpane and faced the door, trying to at least appear calm. Nkiruka shoved the door open with her hip, looking back down the hall. “Is Pridmore. Mad. Searching for the master.”
“For…” Jane’s voice died away. He had found someone to arrest Lord Verbury. “For Sir David, you mean?”
“No, no. He father. The old master. Say he still alive.”
“Really? My husband will be interested to hear that.” Jane bit her lower lip. Their reasons for keeping Vincent’s father hidden were twofold, both based on their fear of his retaliation. Vincent was certain that, were he exposed as being alive, he would immediately sell Frank’s family in a show of sheer malice. The other fear—that he would somehow implicate Vincent in his crimes—was of less concern to Jane. She felt confident that, though Verbury would do everything in his power to make their lives miserable, he could not do any lasting harm to them. Frank had no such assurance.
“What you wan’ to do?”
“I cannot do anything, beyond what you have already done for me. I am afraid that we must simply wait to hear what happens after he speaks with Sir David.”
“I mean, when he come here.” Nkiruka jerked her thumb in the direction of the front of the house. “They searching whole house.”
“I—I see. Well, it is vexing, but we have nothing to hide.” She wiped her hands on the counterpane again. “Shall we pick up where we left off?”
*
They spoke for only another twenty minutes—though Jane attended very little of it—before the sound of a horse at full gallop sounded on the front sweep. Nkiruka went to look without being asked and came back as quickly. “Your husband. Whew! He look angry.”
“I am certain he is.” The helplessness of being confined to this room without any notion of what was happening increased Jane’s disquiet more than simply having Pridmore in the house. Louisa, at least, was beyond his reach and should, with luck, be landing in England with Zachary soon.
Her stomach tightened painfully, as if to remind her that she was not to be agitated. Jane closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. She rested a hand on her middle, willing the tension away. Slow and steady breaths might help.
Nkiruka shifted from one foot to the other, dress whispering with the movement. “Mebbe you lie down?”
The urge to scream was very strong—not from pain, but because Jane was so constrained in her choices that lying down was her most useful course. She clenched her jaw and drew in another slow breath. “Likely you are correct.”
She began to understand why her mother was so often vexed. Jane eased down into the bed and rolled onto her left side. For reasons she did not understand, that seemed to be the most comfortable. The baby thumped against the wall of her stomach. She pressed back against the spot, relieved that some of the tension had faded already. Not a long bearing pain, then, and the last had been several hours ago.
Vincent’s unmistakable footsteps pounded down the hall. Jane lifted herself on her elbow to look over her shoulder as her husband burst into the room. His gaze went to her immediately. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. But the message was about—”
“I know.” He still held the door with one hand, already halfway back into the hall. “I just needed to be certain that Pridmore had not come anywhere near you.” He turned to Nkiruka. “Lock the door behind me. I put nothing past him.”
And he was gone again, footsteps retreating down the hall in haste. Nkiruka locked the door, then went and locked the door to the veranda for good measure. Jane was left with nothing to do but lie in bed and try to be calm.
The tension in her chest had nothing to do with labour pains.