She tilted her head, studying him. Though it felt alarmingly like being set upon a shelf for safekeeping, if she stayed in the room, then he would not have to worry about unpleasant possibilities. Jane controlled a shudder, aware that something in his past prompted this … difficulty. More than anything, she wanted to pull him into her arms and provide shelter, but she instead kept her hands by her side and her voice low. “I understand. I will wait for you in our rooms. Only … please do not ask me to make a habit of it?”
“I will not.” He hesitated for a moment, balanced on his toes as if he was turning to go, but then turned back towards her. Vincent leaned down. There was a brief pause, as if he had to force the contact, before he brushed her cheek with the scantest of kisses. “Thank you.”
Still without meeting her gaze, Vincent went to the stairs. He took them two at a time, and then walked straight across the lawn.
Zeus, the slave who had driven them there, hurried down the stairs and followed behind him. Jane clenched her jaw in a mirror of her husband. She had no hope that Vincent would enjoy any privacy.
*
Jane returned to their rooms with the intention of taking up a book and awaiting Vincent’s return upon the veranda. While it was not strictly speaking within their room, sitting outside would allow her to see his return that much sooner.
She rounded the corner from the parlour to the hall of their room and slowed. The door to their room stood open. Fabric rustled within. Her heart sped far more than such a simple sound merited. Jane and Vincent did not travel with their own servants, so it was likely just one of the maids setting their room to rights, part of the perfectly normal routine of their arrival.
Remembering Vincent’s consciousness of the servants when they were on the veranda, Jane took a moment to secure the Verre more discreetly in her shawl and stepped within.
A young mulatto maid stood at the wardrobe, hanging one of Jane’s dresses within. Her skin was very brown, but, from its transparency, her complexion was uncommonly brilliant; her features were all good; her smile was sweet and attractive; and in her eyes, which were very dark, there was a life, a spirit, an eagerness, which softened even the Hamilton brow. She had her thick hair twisted back into a chignon and wrapped under a lawn kerchief that was held in place with a black satin bow. She wore a simple black round gown with a lace fichu covering her bosom.
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.”