Of Noble Family (15 page)

Read Of Noble Family Online

Authors: Mary Robinette Kowal

BOOK: Of Noble Family
9.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Jane settled beside him. She rested her free hand on his chest and rubbed circles upon it. “I begin to think that this is a fool's errand. Nothing will make that man release his hold on anyone.”

Vincent's silence agreed with that estimation.

*   *   *

Jane found that she
was counting their days in Antigua as a way to remind herself that this was not a permanent situation. On Tuesday, their fourth day on the island, with only ten days remaining in their sentence, Jane went to Frank about her desire to bring Amey to the house to have her baby there.

He was in the counting house with three young men of colour discussing maintenance to the carriage house. When Jane and Louisa came up the tall stairs, he raised his head, brows rising in surprise.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” He rose, coming around the table. “Mrs. Hamilton. Your husband has ridden down to the distillery to oversee an inventory.”

“Thank you, but I am here to see you.” She glanced past him to the young men. “I do not want to keep you from your business.”

“No, please. What may I do for you?” He waited, with his hands by his sides, in an attitude of civil attention.

“Do you know Nkiruka?”

“Ah—yes. What has she done?” A slight frown bent his mouth down.

“What? Oh—no. No, she was actually lovely.” Jane wondered if her recollection of the name was mistaken. “Amey's mother?”

“Yes.”

“You had spoken of having an older woman assist me. I should like it to be Nkiruka.”

He glanced beside Jane to Louisa, raising his brows slightly. In reply, the maid spread her hands a little with a small shrug. Frank frowned, returning his attention to Jane. “She will most likely not be willing.”

“Forgive me, but I feel as if we are discussing two different people.” And yet, Jane remembered Zeus's response to the older woman, and his obvious deference to her. “She is an older glamourist, and we had an interesting talk about the art. I mentioned the possibility of her coming to the great house for both further discussions and to help with the records. She seemed quite willing.”

“Well. Well, if she is willing, then we can make the arrangements.” He turned over his shoulder and said, “John, will you make a note that I should discuss an alteration of staff with Mr. Pridmore?”

Jane frowned, trying to understand why the overseer needed to be involved in her project. “Mr. Pridmore?”

“Nkiruka is a field slave—retired, due to her age, but still. She is under Mr. Pridmore's direction. I have charge of only those slaves involved in maintenance of the great house.”

Jane nodded slowly, absorbing this information and altering her picture of how the plantation was run. “So … the safe house. Is that your charge as well?”

“Ah. No. Mr. Pridmore saw to that himself.” He gave a cold, bitter smile that put her in mind of Vincent. “In any event, I am certain he will have no objection to giving Nkiruka over to my charge.”

“Perhaps … this is more complicated than I thought. Her daughter, Amey, is very near to her lying-in, and I thought that moving her to the great house would make everything easier. Nkiruka would not need to go between her quarters and here so often, and it would be more comfortable for Amey.”

Frank's expression became carefully reserved. “You want to bring Amey to the great house. And for Nkiruka to live here?”

“There are empty rooms enough.”

He tucked his chin into his cravat and studied the floor. “And after the birth, you would return them to their own home?”

She had not thought of after the birth. “I … surely it is safer for Amey to give birth at the house, where there is less dirt and ready access to water.”

The young men waiting for Frank had become quiet. Their bodies leaned ever so slightly towards the conversation, though their faces all gave the impression of being intent upon their papers. Frank worked his jaw for a moment, then nodded. “I will speak to Mr. Pridmore. Louisa? Please arrange for the yellow bedroom to be made up for two.”

The maid curtsied. “Yes, sir.”

He looked back at the young men, whose attention to their paper increased. Compressing his lips, he turned back to Jane. “Will there be anything else, madam?”

He possessed an unnatural ability to make an entirely civil query into a dismissal. “No, thank you.” Jane took her leave and retreated with as much grace as she could.

Zeus met the women at the bottom of the counting house stairs. He carried a giant Chinese parasol that cast enough shade for Jane and Louisa both. He fell into step behind them as they began their walk down the hill to the slave quarters. They had entered the orange grove halfway along the route when Louisa cleared her throat.

“Madam. May I speak to you about a matter of some delicacy?”

Jane's heart clenched. A matter of delicacy could only be Jane's condition. She glanced around to see if anyone besides Zeus were in hearing. “Please, continue.”

“Mr. Frank's concerns about Nkiruka. I think that he did not explain fully what those were, out of consideration for your sensibilities.”

“And you have no such consideration?” Jane almost laughed at the reprieve. Nkiruka? That was a topic she would willingly discuss, so long as it had nothing to do with increasing.

“It's part of my job to help you get settled and to keep your name out of people's mouths … that is, madam, I have been instructed to help you acclimate and to avoid lapses that may expose you to public disapprobation.” Her brows were drawn together. “Please believe that I speak only out of concern for your reputation.”

“My reputation?” That was the last thing that Jane had expected. “Oh, my dear, you will have to explain yourself bluntly, because I have not the least idea of what you are speaking.”

“Lord Verbury cannot be pleased that you wish to bring a black woman into the house. It is not the done thing in Antigua. It will reflect poorly on you and, by extension, on Mr. Frank.”

Jane gaped. She reached for something to say, but could only stare at Louisa with her brown skin, and Zeus who was lighter, but no less brown. Jane tried again, aware that her mouth was opening and closing around half-formed responses. Finding her voice, she finally chose, “It does not seem that we have any scarcity of blacks in the house.”

Louisa's eyes snapped up, meeting Jane's gaze. She so rarely made eye contact with Jane that the moment astonished her, in part because Louisa's anger was very clear. Then she looked at the ground again, masking the anger with submission. “Madam is under a misapprehension. We have only mulattos in the house. Blacks are not suitable for anything other than field work. I am certain that you will find that Mr. Frank agrees with this determination. He does not wish you to bring Nkiruka to the big house either, but is too gentle to explain the circumstances to you.”

This was beyond Jane's understanding. At no point in their dealings with the Worshipful Company of Coldmongers did she notice any difference in the way the variations in their skin tone affected their ability to be employed in using glamour to create cold.… Her thoughts tripped over themselves. No. That was not quite true, was it? The leaders of the group did tend to have lighter skin than not. How had she not noticed that at the time? Or here. She had been all too aware of the number of Hamilton offspring and what that must mean about Lord Verbury's relations with the slaves, but she had not recognised that all of the house servants were mulattos or quadroons. The nicer houses, the better clothes, the better positions … no wonder Vincent thought that Verbury could command loyalty among the house slaves when being his child here had clear advantages.

And that difference made securing Nkiruka's aid all the more important, because she would have no cause to be loyal to Lord Verbury. Jane took a breath, wetting her lips. “Thank you for your counsel, Louisa. As Frank did not make an objection on that point and did on others, I am satisfied that if it had been a concern, he would have mentioned it. We are not likely to entertain, and even if we did, she will not be serving at table.”

“But you must understand that—”

“I assure you that I do.” Jane resettled her basket on her arm. “My decision is made.”

Louisa turned her face forward again so the deep brim of her bonnet hid her face, but her hands were tight on the handle of her basket. “Yes, madam.”

They said nothing else for the rest of the walk. When they arrived at the collection of wattle and daub houses, their reception was quite different from the previous excursion. Upon spying the giant parasol, the children came running up the road to meet them. Apparently, the memory of candied ginger was enough to make them lose some of their shyness—at least, of Louisa and Zeus. Around Jane, there remained a sphere empty of activity, filled only with the darting glances of the children. Louisa's left hand had been claimed by the little girl with the braids. Zeus had two of the older boys vying for the privilege of carrying the big parasol. Jane had only stares.

She tried to smile assurance at the children, but even her most polite “Good afternoon” met with only giggles. When they reached the dirt yard, Nkiruka and the other old woman were sitting on a bench in the shade of one of the sheds. The old man seemed to have moved not at all, and his gentle snores were still occasionally audible over the children's babble.

Jane turned to Zeus. “I am going to talk with Nkiruka in the shade, so I shall not need you. Please feel free to carry on any instruction you like in the finer points of parasol carrying.”

“Thank you, madam.” When he stepped away, his language changed, taking on the broad vowels and soft consonants of the children. “Here, now. Who wan hol' it, eh?”

Louisa stayed by Jane's side. The likelihood of her spying for Lord Verbury would complicate any of the conversations that Jane planned on having. Putting on a smile with the practised ease she had acquired as a spinster while watching others dance at balls, Jane said, “I do not require any assistance, and I believe your new friends may like the treats you brought. Please be at your ease.”

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.”

Other books

Bought His Life by Tia Fanning, Aleka Nakis
Rose Quartz by Sandra Cox
Archetype by Waters, M. D.
The Two Timers by Bob Shaw
Rules for Being a Mistress by Tamara Lejeune
Mass Effect. Revelación by Drew Karpyshyn
I'm Sure by Beverly Breton
Dead Life (Book 3) by Schleicher, D. Harrison
A Writer's Tale by Richard Laymon