“The carriage is waiting.”
Zachary’s eyes flashed up, brow raised. “Now? Truly—I mean, right now?”
“I would rather it done immediately.” Vincent stood, and on instinct Zachary sprang to his feet.
Frank pushed his chair back, standing only a trifle slower. “I shall stay with Mrs. Hamilton.”
“Thank you.” Jane was certain that he would prefer to go with his brother, but it was not yet safe for her to leave the house. Though it was not spoken, none of them put it past Lord Verbury to take advantage of Vincent being off the property.
*
After the visit to the courthouse, where Vincent paid the emancipation fee of three hundred pounds, Zachary was given a day of liberty to decide what he wanted to do: either strike out on his own, or stay on at the estate in his role as footman. He chose to accept the position offered, though made it clear that it was only acceptable under the current conditions—“current” being the Vincents’ continued presence on the estate as a guard against Mr. Pridmore.
It should have come as no surprise that Zachary moved with more assurance, though he sometimes still wore an expression of shock in unguarded moments. An unexpected benefit was that there was one more person in the house who they absolutely knew owed Lord Verbury no loyalty.
Another five days passed before Dr. Jones declared Jane safe enough to leave the house, though even that report came with the warning against travel until after Jane’s confinement. So though Jane was safe, neither she nor Vincent had anything like peace. The thought of dinner with Lord Verbury haunted them.
It nettled to have to think of clothes and gowns, but none of Jane’s evening dresses fit properly. Appearances would matter a great deal, so she arranged to be fitted for a frock of black net and a gown of black silk for under it. She would be able to wear the net with grey or lavender gowns when they moved to half mourning. Later, she could trim it with embroidery and wear it over more vibrant colours. She had seen a black net worn over a red silk gown to great effect in London. It was all very practical and elegant, and she had never abhorred having a gown made more.
Vincent continued to have difficulty sleeping. He and Frank had been studying the bills and the accounts of rum and sugar production, looking for some inconsistency. They knew it must be there, because the larger estate seemed constantly in need of funds, though by their sales of sugar and rum it should have been seeing a profit. As the days passed with nothing that would prove Mr. Pridmore was appropriating funds, Vincent sank deeper. He tried to rally. Jane could see the effort he made to be present and attentive when with her, but more than once she awoke to find him sitting in the dark. Not working glamour, not reading, but simply sitting.
Seeing what a month in Antigua had done to him, it pained her to think of what enduring three more months might do. When she reflected on it, in all likelihood they would be even longer than that. Her delivery might be expected in September, but her confinement would carry them into October even if there were no complications. Travelling with a newborn seemed rash, so Jane was bracing herself to be in Antigua for Christmas.
Anxious for any opportunity to distract Vincent, Jane read with interest the note she had received from Mrs. Whitten. Clearing her throat, she looked across the breakfast table to where Vincent sat pushing a slice of toast around on his plate.
“Vincent … would you like to go with me to Mrs. Whitten’s to look at her ballroom? She has invited me to consult about the glamural for the charity ball.”
He looked up from his frown. “I thought you declined because we were in mourning.”
“Well, it had seemed a good excuse while I was attempting to hide the fact that I was increasing, but…” She looked down at her stomach. It astonished her, the difference that only a few weeks could make in her girth. Their first week in Antigua, she might have only been stout, but the last three weeks had made her condition quite clear. “The mourning period ends in August, and no one would think ill of us if we went to half mourning now. It would give me something to do, and I am in want of some activity.”
“What of your book?”
“I shall still work on it, of course. My hope is that Nkiruka will assist us on the glamural.” Jane felt as if she were pressing too hard, but the circles under Vincent’s eyes alarmed her. “We shall not go until the afternoon and be gone a little more than an hour, so you would still have plenty of time to go over the books with Frank.”
“I worry less about that than your health, to be honest. I do not know if it is wise to be involved in so large a project.”