HF - 03 - Mistress of Darkness

by Christopher Nicole

  'Rumours...'

  'Which have not sufficiently interested you. But he will have nothing less than a revolution.' 'Sir?'

  'Oh, that is a fact. He preaches freedom for the niggers, damnation to the plantocracy, abolition and amelioration. You name it, he says it in public. He has built himself a church. What do you think of that, Father?'

  'Be sure God will be avenged on those who take his name in vain.'

  'Oh, well said sir. There is a good point.'

  Georgiana giggled. 'He has been trying, hard enough. Robert burned it down.'

  'So he built himself another,' Robert declared.

  Georgiana was still laughing. 'So Robert sent two men to burn that down as well.'

  'And did they succeed?' Corbeau asked.

  Georgiana's laughter became a shriek of pleasure. 'Matt was waiting for them. One is still in bed, with a broken jaw.'

  'By God,' Robert said. 'By God.'

  'And do you know what makes the whole situation so absurd?' Georgiana said. 'This church, and the first one, were built with Robert's money. He sends Sue money every month.'

  'You'd not have me allow my own sister, your own sister, to starve?'

  It was Corbeau's turn to burst into laughter. 'By Christ, Robert, but beneath that flint-like exterior I do believe you are a perfect mound of kindness. Now come, admit it, you admire Matt, for his principles, even if they differ from your own. And you admire Sue, for her support of him.'

  'Ha,' Robert said. 'No doubt I also admire the fortitude with which a scorpion rears on its hind legs to strike a man, knowing that with the very movement it must die. Yet would I, being the man, step on the insect without hesitation.'

  'You admire him,' Corbeau repeated. 'And you will forgive him without hesitation once he comes to his senses. As he surely will. He is but a young man of passion, given to following wild dreams and fancies. But as he grows older he will stop dreaming, and become once again a Hilton.'

  'Never,' Robert growled. 'Never. It is too late for him, now. He has gone too far. You've not heard the end of it, Corbeau.'

  "There is more? You'll be telling me next he has committed some crime. I beg your pardon, Father, I meant some legal crime.'

  Once again Georgiana gave a peal of laughter. 'He may as well have done so. He is bringing a planter to court. For mistreating a black. Can you believe it?'

  Corbeau frowned at her. 'That he would wish to do so, possibly. That it would be practical, no. How may one ill-treat a slave, legally? Is not the act of enslavement sufficient proof of omnipotent power?'

  'You begin to talk like him,' Robert said. 'Or like the frog-gie you are. We English lack such uncompromising attitudes. It so happens that with the Americans so successfully asserting their determination to be, as they call it, free men, public opinion in England has taken fright. You must be aware of that. And public opinion in England is mirrored by governmental opinion. So now we have laws, to safeguard the slaves. Our Assemblies were persuaded, by God, that should we show ourselves to be humanitarians, then would we be admired by England, by those senseless do-gooders who, believe me, only do good because they have insufficient matters of importance to occupy their lives.'

  'And you passed such laws?' Father Stanislaus inquired.

  'We passed laws to insure that no planter, from an excess of cruelty or anger, could maim or murder a slave.'

  'But ...' Corbeau was clearly incredulous. 'How is discipline kept?'

  'There is no law against punishing a slave with death or mutilation should he rebel,' Georgiana explained. 'Or should he attempt to escape, or attempt to lift his hand to a white man. The laws were intended only to prevent gratuitous cruelty.'

  'Well, then. I do not see the problem. Was there ever a slave punished except for such a grave crime? At least in the eyes of the law?'

  'To my knowledge, no,' Robert said. 'But Matt has found some renegade overseer, Manton, by name, to sign a statement that his employer, Hodge of Nevis, did in fact mutilate and murder his slaves and for the pleasure of it.'

  'Hodge,' Corbeau said, thoughtfully. 'We have heard the name, even in St. Domingue.'

  'Oh, the man is an utter blackguard,' Robert agreed. 'If any planter in the entire West Indies is so guilty, it will be James Hodge. But supposing he were to be convicted, Corbeau. It is not his life we discuss. Is there a planter who could seriously stand such a scrutiny, if it were extended?' He glanced at Georgiana, and flushed.

  'Probably not,' Corbeau agreed. 'But surely this man Manton can be discredited?'

  'Oh, indeed he can,' Robert said. 'He was a drunken layabout, by all accounts, and was so dismissed. But his statement is supported.'

  'By another of similar ilk, I have no doubt.'

  'By a lady who is greatly respected in Nevis. Mistress Nisbet. You'll not know her. She is a widow, who is to marry a sea captain. But she was the wife of the doctor in Charlestown, and as such accompanied him on his visits to the plantations. And she has sworn under oath that everything Manton has said is true.'

  'My word,' Corbeau said. 'And cannot she ...?'

  'I told you, she is a lady of the most unimpeachable character. Worse, her uncle is a man of position. He has been Speaker of the Nevis House, by God. Believe me, Corbeau, all the West Indies is in a tizzy about it.'

  'I can understand that,' Corbeau agreed, thoughtfully. 'And when is this trial to take place?'

  ‘I have no idea. There is much legal argument, as you may suppose. The case will certainly be unique. But I doubt there is a planter in Jamaica will not wish to knock Matt down, should they come face to face.'

  'Except that by all accounts, they are the more likely to be knocked down,' Corbeau said, even more thoughtfully. 'Well, well. What a family I have elected to call my own, to be sure.' He squeezed Georgiana's hand, and smiled at her.

  'Yet I am proud of it. But I can see that it will make a reconciliation difficult.'

  'It will make a reconciliation impossible sir,' Robert shouted. 'I will not have it. Ever. You may as well know. I have instructed my lawyers to draw up a new will. All I possess passes to your eldest son. Hilltop, Green Grove, my sloops, everything. So you'd best set about having a family, as rapidly as possible, or we shall wind up in chancery.'

  Gorbeau stared at him. 'My son? Everything? No matter what happens?'

  ‘I have said so. And I am a man of my word. You'll not pretend to be overwhelmed?'

  'Oh, indeed I am. In fact...' Corbeau burst out laughing.

  'In fact you are amused,' Robert said coldly. 'I'll inform you, sir, that Hilltop and Green Grove may not amount to as much acreage as Rio Blanco and Ocean View, but I'll wager what you like that they are more productive.'

  'Oh, I'd not argue that,' Corbeau said. 'I was merely laughing, because ... well, I am continually amazed at the care man takes to accumulate possessions, or to make sure that they are eventually his, when really, all he needs is a trust in the course of events.'

  'I am not sure I understand you, sir.'

  Corbeau continued to smile. 'No more you should dear brother-in-law. You may understand only that I am fully prepared to take my part in the requirements of being a Hilton. I am your support in everything, and for ever.' He leaned across the carriage to squeeze Robert's hand. 'You may have lost a cousin, but I promise you that you have gained a brother.'

  The first carriage seemed to arrive at dawn, but this had been no more than prudence on the part of the Ellisons. For as the wedding luncheon was set for eleven thirty, it was clear that by mid-morning all roads between Kingston and Hilltop would be crowded to impossibility. And indeed, regarded from the upper verandah of the Great House, by nine o'clock the road through the canefields was jammed with vehicles, of every size and description, and yoked to the most varied collection of animals, horses, mules, and even donkeys, that it was possible to imagine, while those bachelors who were on horseback threaded their way in and out of the equipages with view-halloos and the dust rose above them all, to settle on faces
already caked with French powder, and gloves already containing sweat-filled hands.

  Fortunately there was a slight breeze, and this dispelled most of the dust cloud as the equipages came to a halt before the Great House. The breeze also fluttered the flags and banners which had been implanted all around the house itself, the Union Jack of Great Britain and the fleur-de-lis of France, together with various other devices, while from the flagpole on the house itself, for this special occasion, there flew the white banner of the Corbeaux, with the hawk's beak in ice pink frowning from the centre.

  This colour motif had been applied inside as well, to drapes and loose covers, and as icing on all the cakes. ' 'Tis next year's entire profit I squander today,' Robert grumbled to Hardiman, his accountant,

  'But for the last time,' Hardiman said.

  'Oh, aye, and there is a blessing. Although hardly to be compared with actually seeing that rapscallion wed, and to a man of stature. For that privilege I'd have paid double.'

  By ten o'clock the guests were assembled, thronging the verandahs, clustering in the withdrawing-room, haunting the great hall to await the descent of the bride. There were so many of them it was impossible to identify anyone, even had he known more than the few who had made the journey from Gap Francois, Corbeau decided. Nor was it possible to concentrate, as couple after couple were presented to him by Mistress Ridding, wife of the head overseer, this day acting the part of the lady of the house. There were short women and there were tall women, there were pretty women and there were ugly women, there were women who giggled and women who lowered their eyes demurely, there were blonde women and there were dark women, each one a swelling, sweating accumulation of femininity beneath a broad-brimmed hat, with bare shoulders and heaving breasts, bulging from yards of tulle and silk and satin.

  But no less anxious were the men, in dark broadcloth coats or military uniforms, sweating even more profusely than their ladies, as they had less opportunity to expose themselves, stiffly bowing from the waist as they shook his hand, mentally totting up the probable value of his ice-pink silk coat with its gold embroidery, or the gold thread which made the design on his silk waistcoat.

  And not one of them registered even for a moment on his mind. That remained upstairs, where his bride was being dressed by her maids, under the supervision of her matron of honour. As he had seen neither of them today, perhaps his memory actually lingered over dinner, last night. She had arrived just before dusk, sent for by Robert, and riding alone in the Hilton carriage. And she had sat beside him at supper, and talked, and laughed with her family as if she had never been separated from them for a day. Even Robert, this night under the strictest of instructions from Georgiana, had been almost charming.

  He calculated that she must be twenty-six years old. And he knew she was twice a mother. Indeed, according to Georgiana, her latest child could only just have finished tugging at those tits he longed to touch. He had, in fact, seen her naked, once. It had the quality of a dream. On that dreadful day when Matt had plucked him from the shark-filled ocean, on his return to the flagship he had been carried below, into the cockpit, to be examined by Dr. Blane. Apart from the wounded, the deck had been full of women, and one of them had been washing herself in a bucket of water. He had stared at her, at the powder-streaked yellow hair, the muscular shoulders, the heavy breasts, and then she had faded into the darkness and he had been surrounded by ministering hands.

  When next he had seen her, she had been Suzanne Hilton - he could never consider her as Suzanne Huys - tall and cool and self-possessed and utterly confident. And utterly unaware that he remembered anything of what had happened below decks the previous day. So then, must she always remain a memory? She had none of the classic but static beauty of Gislane. She had none of the bubbling earth-iness of Georgiana. But of the three of them she was clearly the only one truly worth possessing. The thought of lying beside her, of watching those remote eyes fill with passion, of watching those firm lips widen with desire, of feeling those slender strong fingers on his flesh, made his mind quite incoherent. And she had neither aged nor changed in any way. He had taken the opportunity, as they had left the table last night, to slip his arm round her waist, and had established beyond doubt what he had already suspected, that she wore no stays; yet her belly was as flat as it had ever been, and he did not doubt that those long, powerful legs he had glimpsed on that one unforgettable day had remained as splendid as ever.

  But she belonged to that madman - he could no longer be called even a stupid boy - who seemed intent on tearing down the structure of a society it had taken his ancestors better than a century to build. And seemed happy to support him. They had not discussed Matt last night. Again on Georgiana's instructions. There was no way of telling whether or not he would come to the wedding. But there was no way of doubting either, that when the wedding was over, Sue would be returning to his arms.

  And yet, in an hour or two she would be his sister-in-law. Surely, in the course of time, she would come visiting her sister at Rio Blanco. It should not be too much time. To possess all that magnificent womanhood, before it was too late, was his last remaining ambition.

  Strange thoughts, for a bridegroom. And now he was brought back to reality with a start, as Mistress Ridding whispered, 'Meinheer Dirk Huys.'

  Gorbeau raised his head, for the first time truly looked into the face of the person to whom he was being introduced. 'How good of you to attend, Mr. Huys.'

  'Robert is my oldest friend,' Dirk said. 'I regard the two girls as almost my daughters.'

  He bowed again, and moved on. By Christ, Corbeau thought. What a strange world it is, to be sure. And how must he feel, to have possessed all that, and then to have lost it to a boy. But if indeed Matt dared come today, might that not be a settling of the matter? Because things were working themselves out. He could afford to be amused. After all his trouble and effort to secure Gislane, Matt had by his own folly got himself forever excluded from his inheritance. Gislane now became redundant, except that the pleasure of possessing her remained; she was the most magnificent woman, and the most magnificent lover, he had ever known, had ever seen indeed, saving only the one he had never known. And Gislane could be used to destroy Georgiana, if he ever wished. And strangely, he did not doubt for a moment that he would so wish. Not to destroy the eager child, perhaps, but to reduce her to a proper level. Of all the Hiltons, and none of them lacked self-confidence, she was by far the most arrogant.

  'It is time, sir,' said Ledon, the captain of his sloop, who on this occasion would act as his best man. And the throng in front of him was parting, for as there were far too many-guests to be contained by the Hilton family chapel, Robert had decided that the ceremony should take place in the withdrawing-room, and here Father Stanislaus was already waiting, as the guests assembled in their places before the carefully installed altar. As this was a marriage between different denominations, there could be no music, and the enormous room was filled with a stealthy whisper, less of voices than of material brushing against material. But now the noise was behind him, and he was facing the priest, with Ledon at his side, yet half-turning, together with everyone else, to watch his bride walk slowly up the room, Robert on her left and Sue on her right.

  And she was a lovely young woman. That could not be denied. Her gown was white satin, lined with silk, with white lace ruffles on her sleeves, and for this most special occasion in her life she wore panniers, usually considered far too hot and cumbersome for use in the tropics; the applique work was in flesh-coloured silk. Her hair was her own, loose and curled and powdered and decorated with orchids. She wore no veil, and her white silk train stretched from the collar of her gown and was held from the floor by two satin-clad pages, the Ridding sons.

  Sue was in pale blue, and utterly lovely. Robert merely looked hot and bothered, and kept jerking his head; they had tied back his hair with ribbon as he steadfastly refused to wear a wig, and he seemed to find even this restriction uncomfortable. But for this
one day Georgiana dominated them, and indeed dominated the room, with the serene confidence of a bride.

  Corbeau smiled at her, and gave her his hand, and looked past her and down the long line of guests, smiling at them in turn, for equally this was his moment. His gaze brushed across their faces until it reached the very end of the room, and there it picked out the tall young man who had just entered and stood by the arch to the hall, immediately in front of the massed Hilton servants. Matt had dared after all.

  'I have never been to St. Domingue,' remarked Marjorie Ellison. 'A terrible place, so I have been told. Nothing but forests and mosquitoes.'

  'And Frenchmen,' said Lady Campbell, and gave a little titter of laughter. 'No doubt our Georgiana will do very well.'

  They sipped wine and stood together in a corner of the withdrawing-room, endeavouring to evade the heat and the babble of conversation which rose around them. The wind had dropped and the air was still, and clouded with a variety of odours, attractive and repellent, while the servants circulated with the laden trays and guests chattered and gossiped.