Dick sighed, and followed Boscawen into the hall. 'Where is she?'
'Oh, she in bed, Mr Hilton. Where you put she last night.'
Dick hesitated, then climbed the stairs, knocked on the door. After all, it was simply a matter of being firm. Courteous, but firm. And anyway, she would be so pleased to receive money she'd go without argument. The question was, how much should he give her?
He found himself staring at a young girl, and being stared at in turn. The child was definitely a relation of Harriet Gale's, with the same bold features, the same potential breadth of shoulder and therefore voluptuousness of figure; he estimated she was not more than ten.
'Who're you?' she inquired.
'My name is Richard Hilton,' he said. 'I believe Mistress Gale wishes to have a word.'
The girl stared at him for some seconds longer, her mouth forming a disturbing O. Then she turned and ran into the room. ' 'Tis Mr Hilton, Mama. Oooh, but he's young.'
'Mr Hilton. Oh, please come in, Mr Hilton.' Her voice was low, and had a delightful brogue. Dick stepped round the door and realized his worst fears; Harriet Gale had undressed and got beneath the covers, and was now sitting up, naked from the waist up, and, he could not doubt, from the waist down as well; her left hand held the sheet imperfectly across her chest, her right hand held a handkerchief obviously containing ice, which she was pressing to her temple.
'Are you all right, Mistress Gale?' he asked.
'Save for me head,' she said. 'Christ, it bangs.'
'Ain't he young, Mama,' screamed the child. 'Ain't he young.'
'Ah, shut up,' bawled her mother. 'And get out. Close the door.'
The girl pouted, then gave Dick a quick smile as she sidled past. The door closed.
'Her name is Judith, Mr Hilton, and she's naught but a pack of trouble. You'll sit down?'
There was a chair in the room, but the legs beneath the sheet had moved to one side. Cautiously he lowered himself on to the bed, and inhaled her scent, which was a compelling mixture of woman and musk and stale gin.
'Perhaps you'd rather rest a little while longer.' His resolution was oozing away.
'Ah.' She tossed the handkerchief over her shoulder, and it settled on the floor. 'It does me no good at all. But I'm to apologize, Mr Hilton, indeed I am.' She peered at him; she had splendid eyes, in keeping with the rest of her, large and dark and fathomless. 'I've had that difficult a time since your dear uncle died. You are young.'
'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I hadn't expected to be in charge quite so soon, you know. As for apologizing, please don't. I do understand. Mrs Laidlaw has explained . . .'
'That bitch? She's been here already?'
'Well
'Demanding me departure, I reckon.'
'Well. . .' Dick got up, walked around the bed. The legs promptly moved again, to allow a space on the other side. But he remained standing. 'I mean, I doubt you'd want to stay,' he said. 'In view of your, ah, relationship with my uncle. Not now I'm here. Oh, please, I understand about the money. I'm prepared to make you an offer. I mean, a settlement.' He could feel his cheeks burning. 'What do you think would be right?'
Little creases appeared on that high forehead. Then she patted the bed, with the hand which had been holding the sheet; a pink nipple peeped at him. 'Sit down, Mr Hilton.'
'Oh, I . . .' But he obeyed, waited for the hand to return to its duty. It didn't.
'She'll have told you all she thinks you need know,' Harriet Gale said. 'Bitch. They're all bitches. Jealous bitches, while my Bob lived. Vengeful bitches, now. There's nothing worse.'
'Well, of course, I suppose it was reasonable of them to be jealous . . .'
'Do you remember your uncle?'
He shook his head. 'I suppose he may have patted me on the head as a child, but I don't remember him at all.'
'He was a fine man, Mr Hilton. A fine man. But he had that accident. You've heard of that.'
'My mother has mentioned it.'
'Aye,' she said. 'But think of it, man. He'd just inherited the plantation. Why, just like you, Mr Hilton, and no older I'll swear.' She smiled at him. 'Not that I was born then, you'll understand. But he told me himself. His horse threw him, and then kicked him. You'll know where?'
'Well. . .'
'If it'd been his worst enemy it couldn't have aimed better. They say he nearly died, from the pain of it. One ball was gone altogether, and his tool was bent like a branch.'
'Oh. I say, do . . .'
'So you'll understand what it did to him. The most eligible bachelor in all the West Indies, and he was afraid to lower his breeches for fear of being laughed at. So first of all they rumoured about him, and then, when the truth was out, they laughed behind their fans. Women can be a cruel lot, Mr Hilton.
I should know. Christ, how me head hurts. You'd not pour me some of that water?'
Hastily he filled a glass from the earthenware pitcher on the window sill, and held it to her lips.
'So he turned in on himself,' she said. 'He couldn't even take a nigger girl, because they laugh louder than anyone, and a white man must have authority. He was just shrivelling away.'
'I can understand how bitter he was,' Dick said. 'But I don't see . . .'
'Harry was a bookkeeper, right here on Hilltop. Oh, he was a miserable little lout. If me father hadn't left me destitute I'd never have looked at him twice. But it was Harry Gale or starve. And so you know what he did? He filled me belly with that terror out there, and then died of a colic'
'Oh, dear,' Dick said. 'I am sorry to hear that.'
'Well, I had to go. So I came up here to say goodbye, all swollen belly, and there was me Bob staring through the window of the study, and you know, Mr Hilton, we didn't hardly say a word? Maybe he'd been looking at me during the year I'd lived here. And I had to be looking at him, because he was the master. And we looked at each other for five minutes, then he said, why not stay a while, Mistress Gale. Oh, he was nervous. I'd never have believed it, in a man like Robert Hilton. And would you believe it, Mr Hilton, all he wanted was the company, then. He figured with me belly full there couldn't be anything else. But I knew what he really wanted.'
Dick scratched his head. He was interested, despite his embarrassment. 'I don't quite understand, if he was as crippled as you say . . .'
'I used me hands, Mr Hilton. He could still feel.'
'Oh. I . . .' Hastily he got up again.
'I made him happy, Mr Hilton. His last nine years were the happiest he'd ever known.' 'I'm sure they were.'
'But of course, you can imagine the gossip,' she said. 'They used to make up lampoons about what we did in bed. And they'd whisper behind me back. But with Mr Robert Hilton protecting me, there wasn't anyone dare say nothing to me face. And then he died. Would you believe it, Mr Hilton, he wasn't buried, wasn't even cold, when those bitches from down the hill, led by that Laidlaw, came marching up here demanding that I leave, immediately.' 'But you refused?'
'I locked Judith and meself in here and told them to break down the door. Well, they've no belly for it, have they? We'll not soil our hands with her, they said, loud enough for me to hear. When the new owner arrives, he'll see to her. Mr Hilton . . .' She rose out of the bed rather like Venus rising from the waves, and as the sheet fell down to her thighs it occurred to Dick that she was indeed Venus. He had never actually seen a naked woman before, and these were the most flawless breasts he had ever imagined, large and firm, white-skinned and blue-veined, with hardened pink nipples and a wondrous damp valley between.
'Mistress Gale,' he gasped. 'For heaven's sake.'
She subsided, and regained the sheet. 'Mr Hilton, if you turn me out of here, they'll have tar and feathers to me arse before I reach the end of the drive. And what they'd do in town . . .'
'Surely you're exaggerating.'
'I'm not, Mr Hilton. Truly, I'm not. It's not the money, Mr Hilton. I'm in fear of me life. I made him happy, Mr Hilton. I swear I made him happy.'
Dick scratched his
head some more. How he wanted just to lie down and go to sleep. But how the idea of lying down and going to sleep, or not as the case might be, was associated with that magnificent sight of a moment ago, and the even more magnificent sight he had just avoided. 'Well, of course,' he said. 'We'll have to make arrangements for your safety. Perhaps if you were to leave Jamaica . . .'
'Leave Jamaica?' she cried. 'I was born here, Mr Hilton. I've never been nowhere else.'
‘Ah. Well. .
'Just let me stay a while, Mr Hilton. I'll not be in your way. Just 'til the gossip dies down. It won't be long.'
'Hm. Yes, I suppose that would be the simplest thing. All right, Mistress Gale, you can stay, until you think it is safe to leave.'
'Oh, thank God. And thank you, Mr Hilton.' She started to move again, and he hastily backed to the door.
'I think you want to have a good rest,' he said. 'But perhaps you'd join my brother and me for lunch.'
'Your brother? Well, land's sakes. But it'll be a pleasure, Mr Hilton. I don't know how to thank you, Mr Hilton, really I don't.'
He gave her a smile, backed through the door, closed it behind him, and found himself sweating. And more than sweating. The sight of her, the sound of her, the smell of her, the very idea of her, and Uncle Robert, had him remembering Joan Lanken, and quite forgetting poor Ellen.
'Well, Mr Hilton? Does she leave now?'
He looked down the stairs. Clarissa Laidlaw waited there, and she had been joined by half a dozen other white women, some giving him a nervous smile, others attempting to look suitably severe.
'Ah,' he said, and began his descent. He could hear the clatter of a knife and fork from the dining room to suggest that Tony was still eating. 'Well, you see, Mrs Laidlaw, Clarissa, ladies, she has explained her circumstances, and I am inclined to agree that it would be heartless of me to set her in the street so to speak . . .'
'She's not going?' Clarissa Laidlaw's voice rose an octave.
'Well, not immediately. When she has got over her grief, and . . .'
'She's flashed her tits at you,' Clarissa Laidlaw shouted. 'That's what she's done.'
'Please, Clarissa.' He reached the bottom step. 'Well, of course . . .'
'I'll not stand for it,' Clarissa declared. 'We'll not stand for it. You must make up your mind, Mr Hilton. It's us or her. If she stays, we go. All of us. And we'll take our husbands with us.'
5
The Planter
Dick scratched his head. 'Now, really, ladies, please do not take on so. It will only be a short while, and then Mistress Gale will be gone.'
'A short while?' cried Clarissa Laidlaw.
'She'll be here forever,' said another voice.
'We know her like, Mr Hilton,' said a third.
'We'll get rid of her for you, Mr Hilton,' said a fourth. 'But tell us to do so.'
'Ah,' Dick said. 'That is exactly what she is afraid of. No, no, ladies. I have told her that she may stay for a while, and given her my promise that she will not be molested.'
Clarissa Laidlaw glared at him. 'And that is your last word on the matter?'
'Why, yes, I suppose it is, for the time being. Now, Clarissa, if you'd be good enough to introduce me . . .'
'That's it, then,' she declared. 'We leave. The moment our men come in from aback.'
'Leave?' Dick cried. 'You're not serious.'
'They say they're going,' Tony observed, from the dining room archway. 'Well, then, Mrs Laidlaw, I suggest you get on with it.'
She glanced at him, and flushed. 'There's the notice . . .' 'Just clear out,' Tony said. 'We'll forget the notice.' 'You can't speak to me like that,' she declared. 'You're not Mr Hilton.'
'What they are trying to do, Dickie boy,' Tony explained continuing to smile at the women, 'is to establish who really is the master here. You surrender to them now, and they'll have you waiting on table.'
'Really,' said one of the other women. Mrs Laidlaw appeared to have lost the power of speech.
It occurred to Dick that Tony, as usual, was absolutely right, that in fact Clarissa Laidlaw had been treating him like a slightly backward younger brother all morning.
Tony could read his expression. 'And it is always better to dismiss people than have them dismiss you,' he said. 'Ladies as of this moment, you are under twenty-four hours' notice to quit Hilltop. Oh, and take your husbands with you.'
'You . . . you . . . you'll not permit this, Richard,' Clarissa shouted.
'I'm afraid you have brought it on yourself,' Dick said. 'Of course, I'm perfectly willing to forget the whole business . . .'
'Never,' she cried. 'Not while that woman stays.'
She was looking up the stairs, and Dick turned his head; Harriet Gale, wearing the same crimson undressing robe as when he had first seen her and with her feet bare, was standing on the gallery above him.
'Christalmighty,' Tony remarked. 'Well, then, ladies, you'd best be off.'
'Mr Hilton,' began one of the other women.
'Out,' Tony commanded, advancing on them. 'What are the magic words, Mrs Laidlaw? I'll set the dogs on you. Or is it Absolom?'
The other women were already backing towards the door. But still Clarissa hesitated. 'You won't get away with this,' she said. 'You think you'll find other overseers? None like my Charlie. Your cane will rot. You'll go bankrupt. Hiltons. You think . . .'
'Boscawen,' Tony said, for the butler, and the other domestics, were hovering behind him in the pantry, listening to the row. 'Would you find this chap Absolom. Tell him to bring his stick.'
'Oh, you . . .' Clarissa Laidlaw turned and fled behind her companions.
'You were magnificent. Magnificent.' Harriet Gale descended the stairs, her undressing robe threatening to disintegrate at every movement.
'I wonder if we weren't a little hard,' Dick mused.
'Strength, boy, that's all any of these people understand,' Tony declared. 'Aren't you going to introduce us?'
'I do apologize. Harriet Gale, Anthony Hilton. Mr Hilton is my brother, Mistress Gale.'
'Me pleasure, Mr Hilton.' She gave Tony her hand, but withdrew it immediately to grasp Dick's arm. 'But your brother is right, you know. You must be strong. With those people no less than with the blacks.'
'Oh, no doubt,' he agreed. 'But supposing they carry out their threat. . .'
'Carry out their threat?' Tony demanded. 'You have dismissed them, Dickie boy. You can't change your mind now.'
'Oh, indeed, your brother is right, Mr Hilton,' Harriet said.
'Aye, well, when they have gone, who is going to manage the plantation?'
Harriet gave his arm a squeeze. 'Why, you are, Mr Hilton. It'll be in your blood. And besides, I'll show you.'
Laidlaw looked uncomfortable, shifted from foot to foot. 'I'm right sorry it had to come to this. That woman is a troublemaker. Oh, indeed, yes.'
'I'm afraid I don't agree with you at all,' Dick said. 'She is an extremely unfortunate woman. It would be betraying my inheritance were I to turn her into the street.' He spoke as evenly as he could, for all the churning misery that had been swelling in his belly throughout the day. What a beginning to his career as a planter. Whatever would Mama say? Or Ellen? He had a terrible suspicion that Ellen might well take the side of Clarissa Laidlaw. He couldn't be sure about Mama.
And even that became quite irrelevant beside the question of how the plantation was to be operated.
'Aye, well, if that's your attitude, there's naught more to be said.' Laidlaw looked down the drive at the town. The scene reminded Dick of a Biblical exodus. Although he had not intended to press the matter, the white staff were leaving this very evening. The men had been informed of the situation when they had returned from the fields at eleven o'clock, and the packing had commenced immediately. Now each house was faced by a wagon, into which the domestic slaves were piling furniture and clothes, while children wailed and dogs barked and dust eddied. Laidlaw sighed. "Tis not a sight I'd ever expected to see on Hilltop. Man, this place was
our home.'
'There is really no need to leave in such haste,' Dick pointed out. 'You're welcome to stay until you find accommodation, or new posts, elsewhere in the island.'
'Aye, well, 'tis the women, you understand, Mr Hilton. When they get their tails up, if you'll pardon the expression. Maybe if we could delay their departure, give them time to cool off. . .' He turned back, and checked, and Dick also turned to look at the stairs. Harriet Gale had rested, and now was dressed. She wore a pink riding habit and carried a pink tricorne in her hand; her cravat was white lace, bubbling under her throat, and her long dark hair lay straight down her back. She looked absolutely magnificent, and save for the shadows under her eyes there was no trace of discomfort from her drinking. Laidlaw sighed. 'They'll not, if she goes out like that.'
'I am going to show Mr Hilton his plantation,' she announced. 'Boscawen. Boscawen. Are the horses ready?'
'They's waiting, Mistress Gale.'
'I'll take my leave, Mr Hilton,' Laidlaw said. He glanced at Harriet. 'Your day, Mistress Gale. Your day. But wheels turn. Indeed they do.'
He clumped down the steps to his waiting mule. Dick took a step forward, and had his arm seized. 'You'll not weaken now, Mr Hilton,' she whispered. 'Then 'tis you would have to leave.'
He was shrouded in the scent of musk. He dared not look at her. 'I'm shivering like a jelly.' 'Ah, but no one would know it.'
'So they're off then.' Tony had also donned riding gear, and slapped his boots with his crop. 'Damned good riddance. Now then . ..'
'Aye,' Dick said. 'Now then. What do we do?' 'Well, as the heat is leaving the sun,' Harriet said, 'the gangs would normally be resuming work.' 'Supervised by bookkeepers.'
'Oh, indeed. They are lazy scoundrels, and will not work unless driven to it.'
'I'm sure you are too hard on them,' Dick said. 'And anyway, we have no bookkeepers to drive them.'
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