Louisa lifted her head, opening her mouth as though to speak, then thought better of it. “Thank you, madam.” She dipped in a curtsy, then turned to the children. “Good afternoon, children.” Curiously, Louisa’s voice shifted the opposite direction from Zeus’s when she spoke to the children. Her consonants became crisper and her vowels were an exaggeration of the fashionable set. It did not seem to impress them, but when she turned back the cover on her basket to disclose the Shrewsbury cakes inside, she received a rapturous “ooo,” such as an audience at the Prince Regent’s might make in response to a particularly inspired tableau vivant.
Jane watched this tableau for a moment longer before making her way across the yard to Nkiruka. The old woman waved, but did not rise.
“Good afternoon.” Jane inclined her head to Nkiruka, who answered in kind. Jane turned next to the other old woman. “I do not believe we have had the pleasure. I hope you will forgive my presumption in introducing myself. I am Jane Hamilton.” The name sounded foreign still, even after using it for the month of their ocean passage.
“Dolly.” She was broad where Nkiruka was thin, and she looked to have been tall in her youth, but a stoop bent her forward at the shoulders. She had a wide nose and an old scar running along her right brow. “Please sit.”
“Thank you,” Jane said as she settled on the bench next to Dolly. “I admired your work yesterday, with the spider.”
Dolly broke out into a laugh. “Work? Ah, play, dat. You should see festival days.”
“I should very much like to.” This was true, except for the greater desire to be gone from the island long before then. She glanced at Nkiruka. “I have spoken with Frank. He says if you are willing, that having you at the great house to help would be agreeable. Would you still be willing?”
Nkiruka shrugged and nodded, then tugged at her ragged dress. “Need new clothes. Look bad fu massa have me dressed like dis at big house.”
“Of course.” Jane set her basket on the ground and pulled out her drawing book. “I also arranged for a room for you and Amey. I thought that it would be easier for you to not go back and forth, and that she might like to stay at the great house for her lying-in.”
Dolly nudged Nkiruka with her elbow, with a sly smile. “Look you. Stone under water no know when sun hot.”
“Mebbe.” Nkiruka shrugged. “But always try de water befo’ you jump in it.”
Jane had not the least understanding of what they were saying. “Pardon?”
Nkiruka said, “Let me try work before I stay at de big house.”
“Oh … yes, of course. It might not appeal at all. But the offer of the room still stands for Amey’s lying-in.”
“Amey go wan’ stay ya. Bet.”
“Might we ask her?”
With a grunt, Nkiruka pushed herself to her feet and walked to the door of the shed. “Amey! Lady from de big house here again.” She paused, then spoke in her own language.
Jane glanced to Dolly and asked, in a low voice, “What is she saying?”
Dolly shrugged. “Don’t know. She Igbo. I Asante.”
Different languages? It had somehow not occurred to Jane that Africa must have different languages. It made sense when she thought of it, given the continent’s vast size.
From within the shed came a sigh and a groan. A few moments later, Amey shuffled into view, eyes hazy with sleep. She braced herself against the door and gave Jane a curtsy.
“Oh! Oh, I am so sorry. I did not mean to wake you.” During Melody’s last month it had been so difficult for her to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Jane would not for the world have awakened Amey if she had known. She could only repeat her apology. “I am so, so sorry. I only wanted to let you know that I have arranged for a room for you at the great house. I thought you might prefer that for your lying-in.”
Amey’s head came up sharply and the lingering shade of sleep vanished. “No. Thank you, ma’am.”
“Really, it is no trouble. The rooms are plentiful, and your mother has agreed to help me with some work. I thought it would make it easier on you both.”
“I appreciate your kindness, ma’am, but thank you, no.” She stood in the doorway of the low shed. Her bare feet were dusty with the red dirt of the floor.
To bring a child into the world in such a place … Jane could hardly comprehend it. “But what will you do when your time comes?”
“Have my baby at home. Like I do with the other two.” A vein in her neck beat rapidly.
“But would it not be nicer to have a real bed?”
“My father built this house. What I goin’ to the manor for?” She slapped the rounded flesh of her stomach. “This happen to me there. No. I stay here.”
She was nearly to term. Nine months. That would have been shortly before Lord Verbury had his stroke.
“Of—of course. My apologies.” Jane looked at the ground, and at the building, and at the doorway in which Amey stood, but she could not meet the woman’s eyes. “I am so sorry.”
Nkiruka spoke to her daughter in that unknown language. Her tone was soothing and penitent. Amey answered her mother with two short sentences, then turned and disappeared into the dark interior of the shed.
Biting her lip, Jane turned to Nkiruka. “I deeply apologise for bringing any contention into your day. And for … other things. If there is anything I can do … if she should want for anything. A doctor…?”