“You really do not play fair sometimes.” But he set her down when they crossed the threshold of the blue parlour.
Frank entered from the back of the house. No doubt he had run across from the counting house when one of the other staff told him about the soldiers. Richard glanced idly at him, then again, his brows going up in surprise at the familial resemblance.
Frank bowed to Vincent, slipping back into the role of the house steward as easily as if he had never left it, and took up a station near the wall in case anything was wanted. It was more than a little uncomfortable to have him waiting on them now.
Jane sank onto the nearest sofa, which gave the gentlemen leave to take their seats as well. Her father came to sit by her, held captive by Charles’s little fist wrapped around his thumb.
Richard lowered himself into an armchair with a sigh and used his hand to stretch his right leg out awkwardly in front of him. The foot stuck up at an unnatural right angle. “So you said you were Sir David again. May I assume that our dear disgraced father disinherited you?”
“Yes.” Vincent gave a quick summary of events to both men, thankfully leaving Jane’s hemorrhage in Picknee Town with the parts unsaid.
When he finished, Richard rubbed his temples, mouth slightly open in horror. “I am so terribly sorry for what you have suffered. I thought he was dead, Vincent. I do not know if you can forgive me, but please believe that nothing would have induced me to ask you to come here had I known. I hesitated even then, but at the time, travel was not possible for me.”
Vincent cleared his throat, “I was sorry to hear about your leg.”
“At least I have an adequate reason for not wishing to dance with young ladies.”
Jane said, “We are grateful that you came now.”
“I know what my father was. That is why I did not come alone. When I received Sir David’s message, I went at once to the prime minister and made arrangements for the arrest of our father.” He looked towards the door and frowned. “The Antiguan will … if it perchance burnt in this fire, the English will would still stand. You could receive your rightful inheritance.”
Vincent ran his hands through his hair. “No. I am sorry that I am going about this backwards, but there is an introduction to make.”
“You always were a backwards child,” Richard drawled, but Jane had enough practise with Hamilton men to note that though he appeared calm, his gaze rested on Frank a trifle too long.
Vincent tucked his chin into his cravat and his hands behind his back. It became suddenly very easy to remember that he had once studied law. “The Antiguan will—most of the details are items that are best suited for later discussion, and I think you will not find them objectionable, but there is one point I would be remiss to delay. Richa—” He stumbled over his brother’s name and cleared his throat. “Lord Verbury, may I present Mr. Frederick Hamilton II, our father’s acknowledged natural son. He has been running the estate, and, I truly believe he saved our lives. If the Antiguan will does not stand…”
Jane clasped her hands together so tightly that they ached. She had hopes that Richard was a decent man, not because he had made the trip to Antigua, but because he had thought to bring her father.
“I see. Well. That explains why you looked familiar.” Richard struggled to his feet, hopping a little on his left foot while he got the right under him. Limping, he held out his hand. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, but if we are to be brothers, I shall insist that you call me Richard.”
Frank stepped away from the wall, his expression carefully guarded, but Jane suspected that his sensibilities were no less affected for it. He and Richard shook hands cordially. To look at them, one would think the meeting occasioned no more comment than any two gentlemen meeting in passing on the streets of London. “My family calls me Frank, and I would take it as an honour if you did as well.”
“Am I correct that you are Miss Louisa Hamilton’s father?” Upon receiving a nod, Richard continued. “Then I should have told you directly that your daughter and brother are both in good health. I left them established in my house in London rather than risk bringing them to Antigua while things were unsettled with my father.”
Frank closed his eyes for a brief moment, but before he did, the deep relief had been painful to witness. “Thank you, sir.”
“Mm … as I believe you are the eldest son, I should be saying ‘sir’ to you. I say … any chance we can alter the will to make him the earl? Deuced unpleasant trial, mostly accounts.” He chuckled, though Jane thought he was not entirely in jest about wishing not to be the earl. “I can imagine the stir that would make in the peerage.”
Then introductions needed to be conducted again with Jane’s father. There were many repetitions of “How do you do” and “A pleasure” before they were all seated again. At some point in the proceedings, cold lime juice and pineapple appeared, and as the company refreshed themselves, Richard explained all that had occurred in London.
“Not knowing that the Ellsworths were supposed to be out of the country, I sent a special courier straight to Long Parkmead, reasoning that they would like to know of an impending grandchild.”
“Which I very much did, though from your letter I thought to find you still expecting.” Mr. Ellsworth tickled young Charles under his plump chin. “Not with such a handsome young man already.”
“I did not expect you to come.”
“Jane … even if it had not been my natural inclination, do you think for a moment that your mother would have allowed any other choice? I did not even trouble sending a reply in return, simply went posthaste that very night to meet Lord Verbury in London.”
It was so odd to hear the words Lord Verbury and attempt to associate them with anything but dread.
Mr. Ellsworth broke the silence by turning to Richard, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and saying, “Lord Verbury, would you like to hold your nephew?”
Richard looked at young Charles and chuckled. “Yes, I would. But may I ask you to bring him to me?” He tapped his right shin with his cane and it gave off a hollow wooden thump. “I would not trust myself standing with him.”
“Of course.” Mr. Ellsworth stood, cradling Charles in his arms, and crossed to Richard.
The new Earl of Verbury took his nephew with the awkwardness of someone who has been little in the company of children. In most households in England, a newborn and his mother would be confined for some time after birth, but Jane had had quite enough confinement prior to her lying-in to want anything more to do with it.
Richard, The Earl of Verbury, studied his nephew, then looked across to Vincent, and then to Frank. He grunted and regarded Charles again. “He has the Hamilton brow, I think.”
* * *
When Charles Vincent was four months of age, he sailed into England in the arms of his mother. As they docked in the port at Weymouth, the young man commanded a significant entourage, even at such a tender age. In addition to his parents and his grandfather, he was accompanied by his aunt Isabella, two months his senior, her mother Amey Avril, and two of Amey’s other children.
The voyage had been uneventful, and Jane was deeply grateful that the motion troubled her not at all. More so, she was grateful that Weymouth harbour was not more than an hour’s journey to their own small town in the neighbourhood of Dorchester. Within two hours of arriving in England, she stood in a light fall of snow upon the front sweep of her family’s home at Long Parkmead.
The door to the house flew open and Mrs. Ellsworth came out at a run, gown raised and flying. Melody and Alastar followed at not much slower of a pace. With only a bare acknowledgement of Jane, Vincent, and Mr. Ellsworth, she lifted her grandson out of Jane’s arms. “What a handsome young man you are. Yes. Such a delight.”
Laughing, Jane met Melody in an embrace, while Vincent and her father were all very correct with Alastar. “How is my nephew?” Jane asked.
“Crawling and managing to destroy everything he can reac
h. I dread the time when he begins to walk.” Melody rested her hand ever so briefly on her stomach and blushed when Jane raised her brows. “Shh … Mama does not know yet. I can only take so many tonics.”
“I will not tell.” Jane turned to reach out a hand for Amey, who held Isabella. “May I introduce our friend, Mrs. Avril, and her children Isabella, Solomon, and Eleanor.”
Mrs. Ellsworth was too absorbed in her new grandson to pay any mind, but Melody smiled and stepped into the role of hostess without hesitation. “I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. La! But you must be fatigued from your trip, and we are making you stand in the cold.”
Amey laughed. “It’s all right. I’m still all amazed at the snow.”
“Oh! But of course, I should imagine it is a rare occurrence in Antigua.”
Mr. Ellsworth broke away from Alastar and Vincent. “Bless me. I was about to forget a promise to Solomon and Eleanor. I have been telling them these past two hours that we should play in the snow when we arrived.”
“Shall I go with you?” Vincent asked.
Alastar clapped him on the shoulder. “Go inside with your wife, and I will keep Mr. Ellsworth company.”
“And I shall make certain you have hot cocoa when you come inside.” Melody clapped her hands. “Oh, but it is so lovely to have you home again.”
By mutual agreement the party divided, some going to Long Parkmead’s shrubbery, while the rest entered the house and were soon settled in the front parlour with strong tea and good Stilton cheese. Thomas and Isabella crawled across the carpet, managing to find every small thing that they could stick into their mouths. Amey and Melody sat on the floor with them, retrieving objects from little hands and laughing as they compared notes.
Mr. Ellsworth, Alastar, and the children did not stay long out of doors, as neither child had a proper winter coat. Both men were rosy-cheeked and laughing at the children’s delight with the new miracle of snow.
With her family thus around her, Jane settled on the sofa next to Vincent and had the satisfaction of watching her husband and mother coo over her son. She had long wished that he could be easy in the company of her family, and the introduction of young Charles seemed to provide exactly the topic of conversation best suited to them both.
Epilogue
In London, Jane and Vincent took possession of a house with an enclosed garden for the children to play in. Their plans to work on new commissions came to nothing as they discovered that Queen Charlotte had passed away in November, putting the nation into mourning again.
This made them deeply grateful to accept the invitation to work at the school for glamourists. They were delighted to discover that they both knew the proprietress, though it had been over four years since they had last seen Miss Dunkirk. It took very little effort to persuade their patron to offer a post to Amey as well. Herr Scholes came from Vienna to consult in setting the curriculum, although he was often distracted by Charles and Isabella. Still, the school opened in the autumn of 1819 with much fanfare.
In short order, it became quite the thing for young ladies of quality to be trained at Miss Dunkirk’s School for Girls. Vincent advocated for opening an adjoining wing of the school for the education of boys in the art of glamour. Though there were fewer applicants by far, those that did attend were deeply enthusiastic.
Their reputation was further increased with the publication of A Comparative Study of the Glamour Taught in Europe and Africa, with a Particular Concentration on the Traditions of the Igbo and Asante Peoples, by Jane, Lady Vincent, and Mrs. Nkiruka Chinwe.
At times, Jane felt that she ought to be doing more when she saw the efforts of their niece Louisa and Vincent’s half brother Zachary. With introductions from the Earl of Verbury, the two were soon mixing with company of the first order. Jane and Vincent, in turn, introduced them to the coldmongers, who helped them make connections among the coloured population of London. With steady influence, Louisa and Zachary carefully made the right friends, and in 1824, their combined efforts were instrumental in seeing slavery overturned throughout the United Kingdom.
Jane and Vincent maintained a regular correspondence with Frank, who kept them informed on events back in Antigua. His mother lived to see slavery abolished and her children free. Picknee Town was finally unshrouded from its glamour and all the families who had been separated were reunited. The Hamilton estate survived the abolishment of slavery with little ado, as the steward had already been in the practise of treating the slaves as freedmen.
* * *
Though the Vincents’ later life took some surprising turns, we shall leave them with this final scene from not long after the school opened, to reassure you that they received a well-deserved rest. Jane woke in the middle of the night to find Vincent’s finger on the tip of her nose. She wrinkled it, eyes crossing to see what he was doing. “Vincent?”
He jerked his hand away. “Sorry. I thought you were asleep.”
“I was, until someone touched my nose.” She rolled onto her elbow, just able to see him in the dim light of their bedroom. The new gaslights of London cast an orange glow in the room, so unlike the heavy darkness when they had first moved there. “Are you not able to sleep?”
“No, no. I just heard Charles, so I went to look in on him.”
She frowned. They had acquired a nanny after it became clear that Amey’s time was better spent teaching than chasing Charles or Isabella. “Mrs. Eccles is supposed to do that.”
“But I like to.” He leaned down and kissed her gently. “I am sorry that I disturbed you.”
“Well … so long as I am disturbed.” She kissed him more deeply, sliding her hand up his arm to find the collar of his nightshirt and undid a button. “And perhaps a little agitated…”
He made a long, shuddering inhalation. “Muse…”
“Rogue?”
“Give me a moment—” He rolled to the side and opened the drawer of his bedside table.
She ran a hand down his back to find the bottom edge of his nightshirt. “Inconceivable.”
“That is the plan.”
They were occupied then and on many nights with duties marital. Jane had found her muse as surely as Vincent had, and both of them, together, discovered that it was possible to receive inspiration from more than one muse. Even if that second muse were smaller and frequently given to interrupting those duties marital.
But that is for a later time. We shall leave them now with the privacy they have earned.
Afterword
First and foremost, I need to thank Joanne C. Hillhouse, an Antiguan and Barbudan author, who helped me with the Antiguan Creole English in the novel. By “helped,” I mean “rewrote it.” Let me explain why I decided to do this.
I grew up in the American South—specifically, the Piedmont of North Carolina and East Tennessee. The reason I’m being specific about this is that I grew up in a part of the United States that has very clear regional differences. People talk about “the Southern accent” as if it’s a homogeneous thing, but it’s really, really not. Accent goes far beyond how the words are pronounced, or the cadences used, and very much into the word choices and sentence structures. Language reflects the culture of the people using it, precisely because we use it to express ourselves.
There are also very distinct class differences in the way English is spoken. This is true everywhere, but the American South is one of the places where it’s really clear. A Southerner will often try to scrub the “country” out of their voice to arrive at the “genteel” Southern accent so that people won’t think they’re uneducated. And, if they move out of the South, where that distinction isn’t recognized, that requires scrubbing all trace of the South out in order to not be perceived as a “hick.”
Yet … when I go home, I’ll slide back into a Southern accent when I’m in a store so I don’t seem like an outsider. It’s code-switching at its most basic.
So, when I decided to set a book with a lot of action in Antigua, I knew that I wan
ted to represent the Antiguan Creole English. I also knew, from having watched people mangle the Southern American English, that understanding the nuances was going to be really, really important and really, really hard.
Harder than making my books sound like Jane Austen?
Yes.
Why? Because Jane Austen has been researched, and studied, and analyzed, so there’s no shortage of material available. It’s taught in school in the United States. I could grab a representative text and use that as my base. Even when I had characters who were speaking with an East London dialect, I could ask a friend to “translate” it for me. But the primary text? No shortage of material, and it’s material that I have been exposed to since a very young age.
Trying to find a representative text of Antiguan Creole English written by a native speaker in 1818? Welcome to colonialism.
The next best choice was to read a lot of work written by contemporary writers. (I recommend the works of Jamaica Kincaid, Joanne Hillhouse, and Marie-Elena John.) It was very clear to me that I could come up with something that a reader unfamiliar with the Caribbean region would accept. And it was also clear that I would completely screw up the nuances.
So I hired Joanne Hillhouse to translate the dialogue. I also rewrote sections because she made suggestions about places where the communication would be nonverbal. Language is complex and not simply what is said, but also what is unsaid.
Dialect, likewise, isn’t just people talking funny. It’s a reflection of culture.
While doing so, I knew that it would make parts of the dialogue harder for many of my American readers to understand. While I could have made the dialect less thick, it would have also contributed to erasing the culture of the Antiguan population. In the “A Note on History” section, I’ll have some recommended reading, if you’d like to know more about dialect and Antigua.
Justin Roberts’s dissertation “Sunup to Sundown: Plantation Management Strategies and Slave Work Routines in Barbados, Jamaica and Virginia, 1776–1810” was invaluable in understanding how a working plantation ran. More on that in the “A Note on History” section.
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