He leaned over the back of the sofa to kiss Jane’s forehead. “I do not suspect this will take long.” The conversation would be brief, of that Jane had no doubt, but its effect on Vincent would last.
He went to the door without further delay. Jane could not fault his choice, or Frank for acting as he must to protect his family. No matter if the reasons were valid, or how well the conference went, Vincent would be full of agitation when he returned. Jane sighed.
“Is anything amiss?”
Everything was amiss and had been since they received the letter from Richard. What a mistake of duty that had been. Jane sighed again. “No. I was only wishing that I understood the power Lord Verbury had over Vincent.”
It startled Jane at times, those moments when she recognised a characteristic of Vincent in Frank. In this case, Frank stopped making eye contact with her. He frowned and studied the floor. “Regardless of anything else, Lord Verbury is his father. It is … it is difficult to break a lifetime habit of obedience.”
“But he has not always obeyed. Vincent broke away from the family and escaped this madness.”
“As you say, madam.” The return of his formality was a mark of his disquiet as surely as Vincent’s silence. “That is why I hope that he will be well suited to discuss matters with his lordship.”
*
Jane managed to convince Frank to sit while they waited for Vincent and to tell her about his family. He had been reluctant at first, because it was improper in his role as house steward to be seated with his employer. By pointing out that he sat in the counting house when he worked with Vincent and that it was fatiguing for Jane to be looking up constantly, she managed to get past his reservations. He sat perched on the edge of his seat, but when she turned the topic to his children, he relaxed.
Like Vincent, Frank had a naturally mobile and expressive face when not on his guard. His youngest daughter, Rosa, was the subject of discussion.
“She is only eight, and draws as if she were born with a pencil in her hand. I should show you the drawing she did of Louisa—it is quite a good likeness.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Her mother and I do not know where she got this talent from, because none of our other children has the slightest inclination. Rosa, though … she is a wonder.”
“Has she begun to work glamour?”
“She is just showing an interest, and I suspect she will excel there as well. In the normal course of things, my mother would teach her, but…” His ease faded somewhat. “My mother’s time has not been her own recently.”
“Is…” Jane hesitated to ask, but the resemblance between Frank and the woman who had pushed Lord Verbury’s chair had been notable. “Is Miss Sarah your mother?”
“She is. Zeus’s as well.”
“What? Zeus is your brother?” Jane was all astonishment. Nothing in their manner to each other had given that away at all, though the Hamilton stamp had been clear enough.
Frank nodded. “Our sister, Milly, is the upper house-maid.” He raised a finger. “Actually … now that I think of it, Milly used to draw quite well when she was younger.”
Footsteps in the hall caused them both to still, listening to Vincent’s approach. Frank stood, straightening his jacket, and turned to face the door. Vincent’s tread was slow and heavy. He paused outside the door for half a minute before opening it. His expression had shut and dimmed, as though there were a candle in him that someone had extinguished. “Ah. Thank you for waiting, Frank.”
Jane could see the answer in his face, but asked anyway, in hopes that giving Vincent leave to express himself might help. “How did it go?”
In his left hand, Vincent carried a folded sheet of heavy white paper, which he set on the round table. “On the subject of Mr. Pridmore, he is not willing to fire him, because my father is concerned that Pridmore will tell people that he is alive. But if I can find proof that Pridmore has been embezzling money or involved in some other criminal activity, then he feels that it would be sufficient to protect against revenge.”
Frank rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Well. That is more progress than I have made.”
“Do we have proof?” Jane asked.
Frank shook his head. “I will have to go through the accounting carefully.”
“I can help with that.” Vincent shrugged out of his coat and hung it over the back of a chair. He paused, leaning against the chair back. “Frank, do we have any sherry?”
“Yes, sir.” The retreat to formality showed in his posture as well. “Have you a preference?”
“Whatever is closest at hand. Bring a glass for yourself, as well, if you like.” He tugged his cravat free, still staring at the paper on the table as Frank bowed and left the room.