Ellen sighed, and sipped, and sighed again. 'I could forgive him anything,' she said. 'Even assaulting that poor child. But those lies he wrote in his letters, year after year after year.'
'Unforgivable,' Mrs Taggart boomed.
'Incredible,' Tony said, having discovered the opening he had been seeking. 'One can hardly think of a more peaceful place than Jamaica, and in Jamaica a more peaceful place than this plantation. I'd enjoy showing it you, Ellen.'
'I'd love to see it,' she said. 'I've only glanced at it from the windows of the coach, as we came in, and the first time, well . . .' a pretty flush scorched her cheeks, 'I was so angry . . .'
'With reason. With reason. Shall we retire?' Tony stood up, pulled out Ellen's chair; Hardy did the same for Mrs Taggart. 'If you ladies would like to see the bedrooms . . .' He smiled. 'I am afraid I don't have such a thing as a housekeeper.'
'And very wise, too,' Mrs Taggart said. 'Will you accompany me, Ellen?'
Ellen had caught Tony's eye. 'I think a little later, Mother. But you go ahead. I'd like some air.' She walked towards the verandah. 'That was a superb meal, Mr Hilton.'
Tony nodded to Hardy, who withdrew into the drawing room. Mrs Taggart was already half way up the stairs.
He joined Ellen on the verandah. ‘I think you could try calling me Tony.'
She glanced at him, moved to the rail, looked down at the night, at the twinkling lights in the houses of the town, and at the torches burning in the slave village. 'It is magnificent,' she said. 'So quiet. . . and yet, not so quiet, surely. There was a man, suspended from some posts, when we came in. He had been whipped I think.'
'Oh, indeed, an utter scoundrel named Merriman. Do you know, I have had to flog him every day this past week? The fact is, it was another of Dick's aberrations that these people did not require discipline. But I should have had him taken down before you came. I do apologize.'
Her fingers rested on the rail. 'I am glad you didn't. A plantation should look like a plantation. Besides . . .' She gave him another sidelong glance, and her tongue showed, for just a moment.
He stood beside her, his heart pounding. He suddenly realized he could love this woman. And surely a woman like Ellen Taggart could never really have loved Dick. 'What will you do now?'
'Oh.' She gazed into the darkness. 'I seem to have made a complete fool of myself. Mama and I will have to take ship back to England.'
'Why?'
'Well. . .' Another quick glance. 'We cannot remain here, Mr Hilton. Tony. Quite apart from the scandal. . .'
'There would have been scandal, or at best gossip, even had you found nothing with which to reproach Dick, and married him. Our very name accumulates it.'
'But the name protects as well, Tony. I do not have it. Ouch.'
'A mosquito. We do suffer from them, occasionally. Did it sting you?'
She pulled off her left glove. 'It seemed to get into the top.'
'Don't scratch it.' He took her hand, raised it to his lips, gently sucked the sweet-smelling flesh. 'The name will protect you also, Ellen, if you remain as my guest.'
'Your guest?'
'This house is full of empty bedrooms. You are welcome to stay for as long as you wish. At least until we obtain some word of Dick. Besides, it is already all but December. You'd not get home before Christmas. Christmas on Hilltop. There's an occasion you'll not want to miss.'
'And will my staying here not increase the gossip?'
'I don't see how it can. Your reputation will be safe enough, as your mother will be here with you.' He was still holding her hand. Now he kissed it again. 'Besides, you said you wanted to see a plantation as a plantation. In January we commence grinding. And when that is done, why, then you'll really see Hilltop as it should be. I promise you.'
She smiled at him, pulled on her glove. 'You make it sound quite marvellous. And when people say that I have become your housekeeper?'
Her breathing had quickened, just a little. Tony returned her smile, held both her hands. 'You may spit in their eye. You have the permission of Anthony Hilton of Hilltop. Should you wish to, of course, Miss Taggart.'
'It's fantastic' Ellen Taggart stood on the floor of the factory, gazed up at the throbbing machinery, the swarming figures. She wore a green muslin gown with a matching bonnet, riding boots, and carried a whip, but presently her gloved hands were pressed to her ears to resist at least some of the noise. And she sweated, and looked quite entrancing, Tony Hilton decided; her sleeves stuck to her arms and shoulders, her skirts seemed to cling to her thighs, little beads of perspiration gathered on her forehead and upper lip, rolled down her neck. 'But the noise.'
'Leaves me deaf for days,' he bawled. 'Will you go up?'
She seemed not to listen, continued to stare above her. And he realized that she was watching the tumbling rollers, the seething cane, the hideous belts, the reverberating drums, less than the black men, naked save for their breechclouts and dribbling sweat, who paraded the catwalks. Her mouth was faintly open. He remembered the night she had come to dinner, and seen Joshua Merriman, hanging from the triangle. He had not even been wearing a breechclout.
Tony's excitement grew. But then, it had been growing with every day she had remained on Hilltop. To belong to Ellen, to be at her mercy . . . and be sure his secret would be kept. Because with Ellen there could be no risk. She wanted the power that went with being mistress of Hilltop; she would never betray the man who could give her that power.
He held her arm. 'Then I think I'd better get you out in the fresh air.'
She seemed to awaken from a trance. 'Oh, I am sorry. It is the noise. I really have never known anything like it.'
'Ah, but it's worth it,' Tony said. 'Every rumble is worth a hundred pounds.' They had nearly gained the doors, and the sunlight. 'And how is your mother this morning?'
Ellen shrugged. 'The heat really does prostrate her. I'm afraid she will not be able to manage summer here. We shall have to think of returning to England.'
'Or she will,' he suggested. 'It will be another five weeks before we can learn anything of Dick.'
She gave him one of her sidelong glances, then arranged her features into a smile as Hardy hurried towards them; the manager was stripped to the waist, as usual when grinding, and wore a bandanna round his neck to absorb some of the sweat. But Ellen Taggart's eyes, Tony noted, remained politely uninterested.
'Well, James,' he shouted. 'How goes it? Another record crop?'
'No doubt, Mr Hilton, no doubt,' Hardy agreed. 'But 'tis another matter concerns me. The big buck, Merriman. He's gone.'
'Gone?' Tony echoed.
'Him and two others. Well, I took him from confinement for the grinding. We need all hands. And runaways, really, they've no place to go. I'll fetch him back, but I may be gone a couple of days.'
Tony shook his head. 'You're needed here, James. I'll do the fetching.'
Hardy frowned at him. 'You'll be careful, Mr Anthony. He'll be making north, for the Cockpit Country. That's bad land. And he's a bad black, or will be, to you. You'll take Absolom.'
'Aye. I'll need a tracker.'
'And food. You won't find any up there. Water, too. And you'll not forget pistols, Mr Anthony.'
Tony punched him on the shoulder. 'I'll fetch him back; James. You just grind the crop.' He held Ellen's arm. 'We'd best get up to the house to prepare. You'll excuse me for a day or so? Anything you wish, just tell Hardy.'
She allowed him to give her a leg up into the saddle. 'I'll not miss you, Tony. It's my intention to accompany you.'
He frowned at her, even as his heart leapt into his throat with joy. 'That's impossible. Apart from the danger, there's the impropriety. You'd be compromised. And the discomfort. We'll be sleeping rough. Anyway, your mother would never agree.'
'I shall tell mother I am going into town to do some shopping, and shall be staying with Clarissa Laidlaw,' Ellen said. 'As for the rest, this is Hilltop, is it not? Did you not tell me that on Hilltop our laws are our own,
social or legal?'
'They come this way, all right.' Absolom knelt by the side of the track, peered at the faint marks, seemed almost to sniff the earth. He was acting. They followed the dogs, and the mastiffs were already casting farther on. But in fact, Tony reasoned, there was no other way they could have come. It was late afternoon, and the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains which surrounded them, leaving the air suddenly cool, and lacking the glare which left eyes tired and heads throbbing on normal days. But of course, they were considerably higher up than Hilltop, which was itself several hundred feet above sea level.
They had climbed all day, through trees, clipping down into sudden sodden valleys, before climbing again. Now the trees continued to cling to the slopes to either side, but the slopes themselves were steep and nothing but boulder and outcrop; to climb there would be exhausting and lead nowhere. Only by the valleys could man journey.
And woman? She had tied a bandanna round her neck, as she had opened the collar of her blouse; now she used the tail of the red kerchief to dab at her mouth and eyes. But when she saw him looking at her, she smiled. 'Are they far away?'
She was exhausted. And no doubt as uncomfortable, with sweat and heat and saddleweariness, as he. But she'd not show it.
'Absolom?'
'Well, I ain't thinking so, Mr Hilton, sir. But it only got an hour of daylight left.'
The other two drivers fidgeted, and caused their mules to fidget as well. They were plantation slaves, and the mountains were a place to fear.
'We'll keep going for another hour,' Tony decided. 'I'm sorry, Ellen, but it seems as if we will have to spend a night out, after all.'
'I had anticipated nothing less. It is an adventure. An adventure is good for the spirit, from time to time.' She walked her mule past him. 'But all Jamaica is an adventure, is it not?'
Her head was turned, and she continued on her way. Proving herself a worthy Hilton woman, no doubt. He smiled at her back, and followed, Absolom and the drivers ahead now, picking their way over the stones and through the sudden soft patches. And without warning there came a breeze, damp and thus amazingly chill to their heated skins, soughing through the mountain passes. The dogs came back to them, whining their discontent.
'Eh-eh.' Absolom pulled on his rein.
'What is the matter?' Tony called.
'That is rain, man, Mr Hilton, sir.'
His head jerked. He had not noticed before, but the afternoon had grown dark. There were clouds everywhere, sweeping in from the Atlantic, perhaps, and being pushed upwards by the high land.
'Much rain?'
'It going be heavy,' Absolom said, sadly. 'We best stop now.'
Tony looked around him. Trees apart, there was a complete absence of shelter, although perhaps the mountains themselves would provide something in the nature of a windbreak. He pointed. 'Over there.' And urged his mule beside Ellen's. ‘I had hoped to find some water to stop by. But it seems it is coming to us.'
'Why all the excitement?' she asked. 'A little rain?'
'There is no such thing as a little rain, in this country.' He dismounted, held her stirrup for her to slip to the ground beside him, inhaled the scent of her perspiration, which quite drowned the last traces of her perfume. And felt again excited. He wanted so much, from this woman.
'I have brought a pelisse. And wondered why, at the time.' She looked up. They stood beneath a fringe of trees, heavy above their heads, branches drooping; beyond and above the trees the rock face rose steeply, to other thrusting shrubs, some protruding at right angles. But here the breeze was muted.
'You'd best prepare some food,' Tony told Absolom. 'Will a fire alert Merriman?'
'Oh, they knowing we is here, Mr Hilton, sir. But I thinking the rain going put the fire out.'
'It isn't raining yet,' Tony pointed out. 'And I am sure Miss Taggart would like a hot meal. Christalmighty.'
It seemed the entire sky immediately above his head had exploded. The lightning was a swathe of pure white which slashed downwards through the valley and struck a tree on the far side; they could hear the crack of the shattering trunk for a split second before the thunder overwhelmed them, doubling its noise as it bounced from hill to hill, a louder noise than he had ever heard in his life, spinning his brain and leaving him bereft of senses.
He discovered himself lying on the ground, noise still crashing in his ears; it was, in fact, a succession of fresh thunderclaps. And being pinned there, by drops of water as big as his thumbnails, which had already soaked him to his drawers, crashed through his straw hat to reduce it to tattered grass, pounded on his head, thrusting the branches of the trees aside as if they were twigs.
The darkness was utter, although it could only be just after six, he reckoned. Then another searing flash of lightning ripped the evening apart, but the sudden brilliance left him even more blind and more bewildered than before.
He made a tremendous effort, pushed himself to his hands and knees, heard the whinny of the mules as they huddled close, the howling of the dogs, realized they were all in extreme danger from the lightning shafts striking the trees beneath which they stood. But he could not make himself take the decision to move away from even this perilous shelter, much less order his people to do so. He wished to find only the woman, and crawled forward, knees sinking into the suddenly soft earth, rain pounding on his back and shoulders.
'Ellen,’ he shouted. 'Ellen?’
She whimpered, like a frightened animal. She lay on her side, on the earth, her blouse discoloured with mud, her knees drawn up, as if she were attempting to re-enter the womb. He lay beside her, belly against the curve of her back, her buttocks in his groin. He put his arms round her, held her against him; her hair was lank, plastering her head and his face. The pouring water, the crashing thunder, the darting shafts of terrible light, seemed to isolate them, away from their companions, away from the mules, away from the mountains, away even from Jamaica. They might be floating in a timeless cloud, he thought. A wet cloud, he thought, with grim humour. He held her closer and closer, hands seeping under her arms to find her blouse, which seemed no more than a second skin. She wore no corset. Well, that made sense in view of the journey she had undertaken. The adventure, she had called it. He wondered if she would still call it an adventure.
He found her nipples, thrusting through the soaked linen, chilled into hardness. She made no protest, no move either, save to huddle her back closer to him. He could stroke and caress to his heart’s content, and in doing so, shelter his own mind from the holocaust around him. And from her, perhaps, draw strength for himself.
A whisper, through the night. But it was no longer night. It was dawn. There was lightness, in the valley, silhouetting the peaks which reached for the sky on every side. There was an absence of sound, save for the whisper of the wind. And only the peaks were visible; the valley itself was shrouded in a white mist, as the moisture coagulated, as the humans sat up, and looked around them. The rain had stopped; the parched earth had hardened again. The grass remained wet, the trees continued to drip water on their heads and shoulders, but a single day's sunlight would soon dry that. By this evening there would be not a trace of last night's storm, save perhaps that the river farther down would be running a little harder. Why, Tony thought, slowly standing up and stretching his cramped muscles, even their clothes would be dry. Although that would be difficult to accept at this moment; water still ran out of his boots.
But what of the humans themselves, he wondered? He looked at the drivers, who peered into the mist as if expecting a return of the thunder and the lightning. He looked at the mules, who had stayed close together, where horses would have galloped into the darkness, driven by the noise. But the dogs were already casting, grunting their hunger.
And he looked at the woman, sitting at his feet. As a woman, she seemed almost destroyed. Her hat was a sodden mass, her hair remained stuck to her head and shoulders as if someone had poured glue over her; her shirt was no less wet, and h
e could see her flesh, and when she stood up, the nipples he had held through the night. Had she been aware of that? Did she remember?
Oh, yes, she remembered. She glanced at him, and then looked away again, colour flooding upwards from her neck.
'Think anything will burn, Absolom?' he asked, and was surprised at the evenness of his own voice. 'I'd like a cup of coffee.'
Absolom turned over a stone with his bare toe; water bubbled out of the earth. 'No, sir, Mr Hilton, sir. Not for a while. Man, that was some rain, eh?'
'Some rain,' Tony agreed. 'Will it have wiped out the trail?'
'Well, sir . . .' Absolom scratched his head; water ran down over his ears. 'I thinking so, Mr Hilton, sir.'
'And we could all do with a change of clothes,' Tony decided. 'We'd better call it a day.'
'I would like to go on.' Ellen spoke in a low voice.
'Eh?'
'They must have been forced to stop, as we were. They cannot be far away.'
Her face was composed. But there was no questioning the firmness of that mouth, that chin.
'There is no trail. No scent.'
'There is only one way through the mountains,' she insisted. 'If they were following this valley yesterday, if you are sure that they were, then they can only be following this valley this morning.'
Tony looked at Absolom, who scratched his head again.
'So let us have something to eat,' Ellen said. 'And then go on.'
'Man, sir . . .' Absolom began, and then turned, to look into the mist. 'But what is that?'
'Is a jumbi man, is a jumbi,' Jeremiah bawled, running for his mule.
'Stop there,' Tony commanded. But the unearthly wail, coming from an invisible source although obviously very close, had goose pimples running up and down his own flesh.
'It is a man,' Ellen said.
Black Dawn Page 18
