“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.”