Understanding blanched the colour from her husband’s face. “Oh. God.” He kept his hold on Louisa’s wrists, but stepped away so she was extended at arm’s length. “No. No. I swear to you that I am only going to tie you up—which may not seem like the comforting statement that I intended it to be.”
Louisa caught her breath in hiccoughing sobs. Her person and countenance so clearly marked her as Lord Verbury’s daughter, yet her mind had leaped so quickly to the expectation that Vincent would—
Jane covered her mouth with one hand to keep from retching.
As gently as if he were speaking to baby Tom, Vincent said, “I will not touch you in any other way. Will you let us tie you up, without fighting? Neither of us wishes to see you hurt.”
“I will not tell anyone.” Her voice still shook.
Jane said, “Am I correct that Lord Verbury wishes you to report upon my movements?”
Louisa bent her head so her bonnet hid her face. After a moment, she nodded.
“Then if you do not tell him, he will punish you, will he not?”
Again, Louisa nodded.
Vincent took a slow breath and let it out. “If you have clearly been overwhelmed by us, it will go better if you can tell him something of our plans. If you escape … he will reward your ingenuity.” He nodded to the side of the road. “Look. I am going to tie you to that tree, with glamour around you to keep you from being seen or heard. I have anchored both with poorfire threads, so you will be discovered before too long.”
The poorfire threads unravelled with notorious speed, within four or five hours. They were of some use for certain parlour tricks, but they were unsuitable for longer works, which was why they had been considered useless for so long.
Used as a sort of fuse, though, they would keep Louisa from being able to report for several hours, but not endanger her by hiding her permanently. Jane explained further. “You will be in the shade, and we have the lime juice for you so you do not suffer from the heat. Will you—will you let Vincent tie you to the tree?”
Head still bent, Louisa gave another nod. Vincent sighed with relief and led her to the tree. She sat when asked, and submitted to having her wrists and ankles tied. As Vincent bound her, Louisa lifted her head a little. “What should I tell the master when he asks where you have gone?”
The question was precise. Not “Where are you going,” but “What should I tell the master?” Jane wondered if she had mistaken the young woman’s loyalties. “Tell him that we discussed Falmouth and packet ships.” That could mean either the Falmouth here on the island, or the one in England.
“Will you … will you take me with you? That would be the surest way to be certain I did not say anything.”
Vincent paused as he secured the last knot. He met Jane’s gaze and shook his head. Even if she trusted the young woman without reservation, buying passage for two on short notice would be delicate enough. Passage for two and a slave for whom they had no papers was out of the question. “I am sorry, but we cannot.”
“Then, Godspeed, madam. It has been a pleasure serving you.”
Jane had not expected to regret leaving Louisa behind, but as they collected their effects and left the grove, she very much did.
*
Vincent had brought the Verres in his hat. With the perfect Antiguan sun, the glass caught the light and wove the Sphère Obscurcie around them. They had left Jane’s parasol with Louisa, and Jane missed it almost from the first, but the shade would have interfered with the Verres. Beneath her black muslin, every pore emitted sweat. It trickled down the back of her neck and stuck her chemise to her skin.
They had transferred their possessions into the basket, along with the blanket. Jane peered at the slave quarters as they passed but could not see a way to deliver it to Nkiruka without exposing themselves. Far, far more than she regretted leaving Louisa, she regretted going without keeping her promises to Nkiruka and Amey. She could only hope that the doctor would be allowed to continue to tend to Amey.
When they were safely established in Jamaica and had sent word to Richard about the true state of things, perhaps they would be able to make changes. She wiped the sweat from her brow and sighed.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You have been sighing rather a lot.”
“Have I?” Jane adjusted her fichu to try to let in more air.
“Indeed.”
“I will own that I am hot. Truly, I do not understand how gentlemen can wear coats in weather such as this.”
Vincent chuckled. “I made the same argument several times as a child, but have been convinced that propriety requires it. One does become accustomed. Somewhat.”
“I remain dubious.”
“As well you should.” He took her free hand and tucked it over his arm. “There is a grove of palms not far ahead. We can rest there.”
“I am perfectly well.”