“Good. I am glad to have a measure of your abilities. It is everything I would expect from an accomplished and fashionable lady.”
Jane had to cover her mouth as Mrs. Ransford gloried at the supposed compliment. It was enough to conciliate her and allow them to settle a plan that would allow Jane to oversee the glamural through the use of drawing, which would make coordination easier. Vincent would do the finer, detailed work, and they would have the aid of a number of assistants. Privately, Jane expected that he would also wind up laying some of the larger folds, which required more stamina than she expected Mrs. Ransford was capable. All in all, this endeavour was as much like their lives in London had been as they could expect from Antigua.
Twenty
Drawings and Measurements
The next morning Jane settled in her accustomed spot at the round table in the blue parlour to do some drawings of their proposed ice palace. They had taken measurements of the ballroom, which would allow her to make a scale plan that several glamourists could execute in concert. For clients, they ordinarily did a rendering of what the finished glamural would look like. As much as Jane wished that they could create that representation in glamour, the fact that glamour could not be transported made working on paper rather more practical.
What differed in this instance was a consciousness that having drawings alone of the finished effect would not suffice, since she would not be doing the work. Jane would need to also show the foundations, since those were the most easily assigned to the less accomplished glamourists. Over the course of the next several hours, Jane worked on her rendering of the full effect as it would be seen from the entrance to the ballroom. The curtain of snow across the musicians’ gallery would need to be woven from several extraordinarily long threads. She thought that they were well within Vincent’s abilities but would feel better if she could show it to him before Nkiruka and Amey arrived.
She rang for Louisa. The young maid appeared in the door quickly and curtsied. “Yes, madam?”
Jane straightened, her back cracking audibly from her time hunched over her paper. “Do you know where Mr. Hamilton is?”
“He is in the counting house.”
“Thank you.” Jane made her papers tidy and stood. For a moment, grey spots swam in the edges of her vision, and she had to press her palm against the table to steady herself until it passed. The doctor said that some dizziness was not unusual for expectant mothers, but it still vexed Jane. “Could you ask Cook if we might have some of her delicious Shrewsbury cakes with tea? Nkiruka and Amey are coming to consult on our plans, and Nkiruka especially likes them.”
“I have already done so, madam.” She gave a curtsy. “Shall I help you with your drawings?”
Jane looked at the album of drawings and sighed. Given how easily she became dizzy, it would be best to have both hands free while climbing the stairs to the counting house, so she could manage her gown and hold the rail. Though she felt more like her mother with each passing day, Jane nodded. “Thank you, I think you had better.”
She was finding that the difference between being nearly six months along and actually in her six month was significant. She had begun to feel somewhat ungainly.
She led Louisa down the hall past their bedroom, out the back door of their wing, and to the counting house. A horse was tied up at the rail, eating the flowers planted at the foot of the stairs as if that were its normal fare. Jane frowned, unable to imagine Vincent being so careless, which made it likely that it was someone else’s horse. Lifting the hem of her gown, she started up the stairs, but had achieved only the third when Mr. Pridmore emerged from the counting house.
He was still facing half inward, addressing the occupants, “Thank you for your time and consideration, sir.” Putting on his hat, he turned and saw Jane. He lifted the hat again and greeted her before settling it upon his head. “Mrs. Hamilton, so lovely to see you up and about again. Feeling better, I trust?”
“Much, thank you.” She managed to keep her dislike hidden.
“I am glad. My wife was delighted that you were well enough to help her with the charity ball. It is a favourite project of hers.” He lowered his voice to a confidential aside and took a step closer. “I do know how important it is for ladies to have their favourite projects. In fact, I was just discussing yours with your husband.”
Jane stepped back until the rail pressed against her. “My book, you mean?”
He looked confused. “Pardon? Have you the poetry ailment as well?” Shaking his head, he laughed. “I refer to your engaging that negro ‘doctor’ and promising to build a hospital. I know you mean well, but there are budgets to consider. I should advise, most strongly, to choose another amusement for yourself.”
“I hardly think that the health of the people working for us is a subject of amusement.”