Mistress of Darkness

by Christopher Nicole

  'God give me patience,' Robert shouted, making the chandelier tremble. 'That I should be crippled by such a fool in my family. Do you suppose I care aught for her being a slave or a free woman? It is her colour I care about, boy. Her colour. White people do not marry niggers if they wish to retain their position in the community, and you are a Hilton. By Christ, boy, what do you suppose Great-aunt Rebecca would say? She's past a hundred. She's Kit's own daughter, and she has more than a little of Meg Warner in her. You'd likely drive her to her grave.'

  'I doubt that, sir. And if as you say she is past a hundred, then no doubt she will soon be in her grave in any event.'

  'Matt,' Georgiana protested. 'That were an unkind thing to say.'

  'Then I am sorry for it. But I cannot obstruct my own life with others' considerations. And now you have finally destroyed your own argument, Robert. So we are Hiltons. We are also descended from the Warners, are we not, and is that not the name we hold most proud? As we are Meg Warner's great-grandchildren, so are we old Sir Thomas's descendants. Was there a greater man in all the history of the West Indies? Would we be there at all, enjoying this wealth and this power of which you are so proud, had he not dared to plant the first English colony in St. Kitts? And how did he do that, pray tell me? By the love of the Princess Yarico. By his love for her, and hers for him. Now then, where would wc be if some cousin of his had held up his hand and said no, no, Tom Warner, put that woman aside, she is an Indian. And by God there was no question of sixteenths and thirty-seconds there. She was a pure-blooded Carib.'

  'Aye,' Robert said. 'So she was. But he at the least had the good sense not to marry her, but to keep her solely for the comfort of his bed. And that were disastrous enough. If you know so much about the family history you'll recall some of the blood that was spilt, some of the enmity that was created, some of the ruin that was brought upon us before the last of that hellish spawn was put in his grave. If there was no stigma attached to colour at all, that one experience should be sufficient to put any Warner, or any Hilton, from the idea of ever tainting his family's blood again. No, no, Matt. As your elder I command you, as your friend I ask you, and in the name of your unborn descendants I beg you, forget this girl. Let her go her own way to damnation. You have more to do with your life than waste it in miscegenation.'

  'My God.' Georgiana slowly lowered the handkerchief she had been waving, as the carriage disappeared from sight round the corner of the street. 'There goes the bane of my existence. I feel as if I have just been released from prison.'

  Matt had been waving his hat. Now he replaced it on his head. 'You'll get no peculiar ideas, young lady. You'll not forget that you have been left in my care. And to say truth, this is a responsibility I'd have done better without.'

  Georgiana pouted at him, and led the way back into the house. ‘I think the conception is admirable. Are you going to whip me every day?'

  'Don't be ridiculous.'

  'But Robert insisted upon it.'

  'Robert left you in my care, at the least until term starts...'

  'There is another matter I'd discuss,' Georgiana interrupted. 'You cannot really mean to leave me at the mercy of Mrs. Partridge. Why you might as well shut me up in that convent he was prating about.'

  'Mrs. Partridge is a good and honest woman, recommended by the vicar himself, and will keep you from mischief. But as I was saying, as Robert has left our affairs in my care, so he must trust my judgement. And it is my opinion that the sole cause of your misfortune, and the sad decline I have observed in your character, is due to your having grown up on Hilltop, as you yourself have said, with naught but blacks for company, with naught but your own will to be observed.'

  'My God,' she said again. 'You have spent too long with your parson friend, dear Matthew. You could almost be standing in a pulpit. Well?'

  This last was addressed to Richards, who hovered anxiously.

  'Luncheon is served, Mr. Hilton.'

  They sat opposite each other, at each end of the long table, their voices echoing in the empty vastness of the panelled dining-room. They ate apple tarts and roast dumplings, carved at a leg of mutton and a ham of pork, while Richards himself served them mugs of ale and goblets of claret.

  'I think,' Georgiana said, 'that I will take a stroll after luncheon. It is the only time of the day which even approximates a Jamaican evening.'

  'You'll do no such thing,' Matt declared. 'A young lady does not go strolling by herself. You want to remember that the people you will meet here are not your slaves. I suppose you could take one of the maids.'

  'I have not the least intention of taking one of the maids,' she declared. 'Whatever would we talk about? Why don't you escort me, Matthew dear? If you are to play my gaoler, should you not keep me constantly in your sight? I expect you to move into my bedroom. The bed is big enough.'

  'Then you had better retire there,' he said tartly. 'If you will not walk with a maid, you'll not walk at all. I am to Mr. Broughton's establishment to train.'

  'The boxing place? Oh, Matt, darling ...' she sprang up from her seat and ran round the table, to throw both her arms about his neck before he could defend himself. 'Let me come with you? I should so love to watch all those handsome men ... is it true they strip to their breeches, or less?'

  'To your room, wretched girl,' he shouted, doing his best to imitate Robert's tone. 'In this country women know their place, and ladies know theirs better than anyone. At least try to act the part.'

  But in fact, he reflected sorrowfully, as John Broughton for the third time gently poked him on the nose with a long left hand, he might as well have gone walking with his cousin, for all the concentrating he was able to do. For all the concentration he had mustered in the entire Week since Robert's visit to the Nicholsons.

  'Enough for today.' Broughton dropped his fists and stripped off the light gloves he wore for sparring, intended more to save his knuckles from splitting than his opponent's face. 'If you are that disinterested, Mr. Ffilton, I could well do you a serious injury.' But he smiled as he spoke, and robbed the words of their sting. John Broughton was a strikingly handsome man, not tall but with features which could easily have been inherited from some Greek hero, for all the years during which he had dominated the English prize ring, and with a body as hard-muscled and trim as when he had been in his prime.

  Matt picked up his towel, sat on the bench which ran round the whole room, while all the other gentlemen who were sparring or lifting weights or conversing in the heated atmosphere of sweaty endeavour, which was inescapable in the gymnasium, paused in their activities in the hopes that they might be the next one selected for personal lessons by the great man. Now this was where he should have brought Robert, it occurred to Matt. This would have taught him what an Englishman really thinks of wealth and position; for in the room at that moment there was an earl and several other members of the lesser nobility, all waiting the pleasure of a onetime stable boy whose only talent was his artistry with his fists.

  'You're not ill, Matt?' Broughton spoke softly, as he addressed few of his clients by their first names.

  ‘I suppose I never felt better in my life.' Matt pulled on his shirt.

  'And I have heard how but a week gone you trounced Dick Nyren's men to the tune of forty-seven runs, and were not out at the end of it. Well, then, surely it is not debts? I am told you could call all the riches of the West Indies to your assistance, if need be? But if I can help you...'

  Matt clapped his friend on the shoulder. 'No debts. And I suppose I can call all the riches of the West Indies to my aid, if my need is great enough. And if I do as my family sees fit.'

  'Ah.' Broughton sat on the bench beside him. 'A young lady, of whom your father disapproves. I had forgot, your father is dead. Your guardian, then.'

  Matt nodded.

  Broughton pulled his nose. 'Mr. Robert Hilton, of course. He just paid a brief visit to our town. If the tales one hears have the very least accuracy, that is a sizeable fortune you sta
nd to inherit. I can sympathize with your reluctance to forego it.'

  'Yet you suppose I shall?'

  Broughton smiled. ‘I but considered the matter from my own point of view. As my fortune has ever lain entirely in my fists rather than my pockets, the choice has really never entered my experience. So beware of my advice, Matt. You will undoubtedly regret taking it.'

  'I would hear it, none the less, John.'

  'Ah, well, in my opinion there can be no money in the world to be compared with pursuing, and gaining, the love of a beautiful woman. She is beautiful, this charmer of yours?'

  The most marvellous creature you ever saw, John. But surely, by the same token, there can be no misery in the world compared with pursuing a beautiful woman, and failing to gain her love.'

  'Were that a deterrent, our species had died out long ago, Matt. What, will you be frightened by a frown? No woman was ever pursued and not captured, unless she already belongs to another, and even that is not always an insurmountable obstacle. But your charmer is not married?'

  'Good heavens no.'

  'Neither is she betrothed?'

  'Not to my knowledge.'

  'Yet, if she is as beautiful as you say, the event cannot be long delayed. Every moment you waste sitting here and talking to me increases the danger.'

  Matt dragged on his coat, and hesitated once again. 'Forgive me, dear friend, and I do mean to take your advice, cost me what it may. But supposing it does lose me my patrimony, to what should I turn to support my bride? My fists?'

  Broughton shook his head. 'They would suffice, Matt. I have no doubt at all. You are quick, when you care to concentrate, and you hit uncommonly hard. Yet however quick you are, you will slow down, soon enough, and then someone will hit you harder yet. Prize fighting is a fool's game, and I am the fortunate exception that proves the rule. Nor would I even recommend cricket, unless you can combine it with a post on say, Dorset's estates as gamekeeper, and that were scarce a position for a gentleman born. No, no, Matt. I would say that you are worrying needlessly. Many a man has thrown away his most treasured possession because he wished first to consider how he might retain it. Possession first, ways and means after, is a very good rule for life, supposing it is the only time we are going to sojourn upon this earth. Your cousin, from all accounts, is a hot-tempered fellow, given to causing offence in every direction, and as soon given to slapping his erstwhile enemy on the back and calling him friend. How much more likely will he be to forgive his own heir. Of course he will speak against you contracting what he considers an unsuitable match. But when he is forced to weigh the lady against losing you, why, I wager he will sing a different tune.'

  'By heaven,' Matt said. 'But you are right, you know. Why, throughout my life Robert has been ranting at me for some imagined offence, yet my allowance never fails to arrive, and despite all my past misdemeanours he has yet named me as his heir. And he himself was taken with Gislane, even if he thought her unworthy to be a Hilton. John...' he seized the boxer's hands. 'You have given me the best advice in all the world.'

  'I only hope you agree with that in ten years' time, Matt.'

  'I shall not hold you to task, there's my word.' Matt put on his beaver, then checked again, frowning. 'And still I am not done asking. You have told me how to cope with my family's objections. But what of hers? They like me as little as Robert likes them.'

  'A regular Capulet and Montague business,' Broughton remarked. ‘I imagine your attitude to the young lady's parents must depend upon her. But there is a place called Gretna, only three days from London, if you hurry.'

  'By heaven,' Matt cried. 'Gretna. There's the answer.' His face fell again. 'How we do build castles in the air. I've naught but my dreams to suggest she will even wish to smile at me.'

  'There is your first hurdle,' Broughton agreed. 'You have but to remember that, after surmounting this one, the rest are as nothing. I'll not expect you back in the gymnasium for a while, Matt, And I'll wish you luck again.'

  'And I will thank you again, dear friend,' Matt said, and squeezed the boxer's battered fists for the last time. Yet Broughton had inspired him with such confidence, such a delight in the immediate future, that he did not doubt he would soon be back, and triumphant. That evening, as the days were still bright until nearly eight of the clock, he took Georgiana walking in the park, to her evident delight.

  'Because I quite fail to see how you are going to marry me off without showing me off,' she explained. 'On the ship as we crossed the ocean, Robert spoke of balls and receptions in my honour, at which time all the young bloods in the land, or at least those of any pretensions, would have the opportunity to dance with me and fall in love with me.'

  'I doubt that I would know how to go about that,' Matt confessed. 'But Robert did mention the matter to His Grace of Dorset, and we have been promised an invitation to coffee...'

  'Oh, for God's sake, Matt. Coffee?'

  ' 'Tis all the rage. Why do you imagine they set so high a store by our sugar? Coffee at the Sackvilles will be like a reception at Court, only you will meet more interesting people. Believe me, you have but to be patient.'

  She sighed, and tucked her arm through his. 'Oh, I am used to patience. I cannot help but suppose, however, how much simpler life would be were you to take my hand yourself.'

  'I have explained ...'

  'And I have explained that that is utter nonsense. I suspect it is because of that nigger girl.'

  'The next time I hear you use that expression about Gislane I shall most certainly whip you.'

  'Then I shall use it all the time. Nigger girl. Nigger girl. Nigger girl.'

  'On second thoughts,' Matt decided, 'I shall not whip you. I shall merely decline His Grace's invitation.'

  'Oh, you wretch.' But she was frowning, as they had reached his destination, 'and twice wretch, you horrid man. Is that not her house?'

  For as he had hoped, from a little tree-shrouded rise in the park they looked across at the small houses on the far side of the lane. 'Why, so it is.' He glanced at her, and was surprised at the expression on her face. For just a moment it was almost hard; for that brief second she truly looked like Robert Hilton's sister.

  But he was not disposed to concern himself with Georgiana's expressions, only her presence. And that problem was easily solved. He pointed out that her clothes, while very pretty, were not really suitable for a reception at the Duke of Dorset's, and even less suitable for the winter which would soon be upon them. He found her a good seamstress in the city, and dispatched her there every day to be measured and fitted, an occupation which delighted her, while he reflected that if it was Hilton money he was squandering, then it was due to be his own in the not too distant future, and therefore he was impoverishing no one but himself.

  His own days, he announced, would be spent in studying, for Robert was undoubtedly right; he had been neglecting the academic side of his education in the pursuit of cricket and boxing, and the university term was soon due to recommence. He would retire to his room until Georgiana had left the house, and then himself make his departure by the side gate, cross the park, and take up his position in the little copse from whence he could overlook the Nicholson household, returning home only to lunch, and to spend the afternoon either driving with Georgiana in the phaeton, if it was fine, or playing chess if it was not; she had recently learned the moves, and he had once met the composer Philidor, who had visited Oxford to display his enormous skill at the game blindfold. Once a week he took her to the play, where she attracted a good deal of attention, and soon flowers and notes began appearing at the house, all of which pleased her enormously and removed her interest entirely from his affairs, as he steadfastly refused to be drawn into her bedchamber, or to allow her into his, or to take up the thousand and one little offers and flirtations she threw out during each day.

  He lived for the mornings, and in fact it took him just a fortnight to establish the daily routine of the Nicholson family, which indeed was utterly simple, fo
r they drove only once a week, and then in a hired gig which suggested they were not very wealthy; the same gig took Mrs. Nicholson and Gislane to the market twice a week, and the entire family took a walk in the afternoons. Discreet inquiries revealed that they never went to the theatre, and that he was not the only gentleman caller to be discouraged. "Which he found extremely encouraging.

  And on the second Tuesday, to his delight, Gislane emerged without her stepmother and accompanied only by a serving maid, who remained a discreet distance behind her. She wore a dark green pelisse and a matching bonnet and carried a parasol, crossed the road, and walked a short distance into the park, passing within twenty feet of his trees, while he found himself quite unable to move, and cursed himself for a total coward.

  He observed that she never actually left the sight of her maid, and that it was a very short walk indeed. But clearly it provided his best opportunity for approaching her. The following week he was at his post again, and on the Tuesday morning Gislane once again emerged, crossed the lane, and walked slowly along the path beneath him. He straightened his cravat, slapped his leg with his cane, and stepped from amongst the trees, raising his hat before she even noticed him. 'Why, Miss Nicholson. What a pleasant surprise.'

  She glanced at him, stopped walking and looked again, and half smiled while she flushed at the same time. The rush of colour into her cheeks made her twice as lovely as before, and he nearly dropped his hat.

  'Mr. Hilton. How nice to meet you.' She made a gesture with her parasol, no doubt to tell her companion to remain out of earshot.

  He stood beside her. 'I ... I had doubted whether you would wish to see me at all, after my cousin's rude invasion of your home.'

  'On the contrary.' She resumed her walk. 'My parents were at least as forthright as your cousin.'

  Matt remained at her side. 'Our wishes were not allowed to enter into the situation at all. Or at least, mine.'