HF - 03 - Mistress of Darkness

by Christopher Nicole

  'At least she is now respectable,' Mistress Ellison remarked.

  'How that... well, I don't know what to say.'

  Lady Campbell looked across the room to where Sue was deep in conversation with the bridegroom. 'Indeed. I suppose she had to attend her sister's wedding, but to make her the matron of honour ... why, 'tis an insult to us all.'

  'Oh, indeed it is,' Marjorie agreed. 'And it was Georgy's doing. Clare Ridding was quite appalled. Poor, poor Robert. He is the most unfortunate of men. It comes from being a bachelor, you know.'

  Harriet Campbell tapped her nose with her fan. 'Perhaps. No doubt if he had had children, if he could have had children, poor misshapen man, they'd have turned out badly as well. Do you know, Archibald whispered to me that Matthew Hilton was here? No doubt still is.'

  Marjorie surveyed the room. 'I do not see him. Nor do I see how he could dare attend. Is that not Meinheer Huys?'

  'Indeed it is. As you say, Robert must be praying for this day to end without a catastrophe.'

  'Poor Robert,' Marjorie said again. 'Then he will be all alone in this great house, in the middle of this great estate...' she rested a most speculative gaze upon her husband, as if mentally totting up how many years were left before she could undertake the business of being an eligible widow.

  'A year's profit,' Robert declared to Sir Archibald Campbell. 'Would you believe it were possible to spend so much on a single morning? But it will be worth it, by God. Every penny of it. Why I see Corbeau as the only prop of my old age. Now you must excuse me, Archibald. I have a painful duty.'

  Campbell nodded, and fell to muttering to the man beside him. Robert shouldered his way through the throng, well aware that every head in the room was turning to watch his progress, and becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the sweat gathered beneath his cravat and seemed to be bubbling up his high collar.

  'Dirk. I had not the chance to greet you before. But I will confess I had expected you to call before now.'

  'I thought it best to remain out of the way, at least until after the ceremony.' Dirk stared across the room to where Sue continued to talk with Corbeau.

  'Yes. Yes. By God, you and I must have a meeting, Dirk. You'll stay behind after the others have gone.'

  At last the Dutchman's head turned. 'Will you be alone?'

  'Why, I ...' Robert felt the heat in his cheeks and cursed himself for a fool. ‘I can arrange to be. Have you spoken with her?'

  'I would not trust myself so far,' Dirk said.

  'Ah.' Robert stopped a Negress walking past with a tray and rescued two glasses. 'You'll know...'

  'That she is twice a mother? I know.'

  'Ah. And you'd not ...' he glanced from left to right. It seemed almost all conversation in the room had ceased, as everyone tried to overhear what the two men were saying. 'By God, our talk will not wait. You'll join me in the study?'

  'Robert.' Georgiana swept towards them. 'It is twelve of the clock. You'll summon everyone to lunch, please. I'd not undertake the ride to Port Antonio in the dark, if I can avoid it.'

  'Eh? Oh, yes. Maurice. Maurice, you black devil. Announce luncheon, by God. Dirk, we'll talk. Yes, we'll talk.'

  'If you wish it,' Dirk agreed. 'You'll not change my mind.'

  'Oh, you ... you wretched man,' Georgiana declared, loudly enough to be heard at some distance. 'You remind me of a dog in the manger, indeed you do.'

  Dirk flushed, his entire bull neck seeming to suffuse with blood. 'I did not come here to quarrel, Georgiana. Indeed I wonder that I came at all. Perhaps ... but no matter. I will take my leave. I wish you and Monsieur Corbeau every happiness in the world. Robert, I shall remain in Kingston for three more days. You will know where to find me if you wish to discuss anything.'

  He turned and made his way through the crowd, which parted readily enough before him.

  'Oh, my God,' Sue whispered.

  'You should at least have smiled on him,' Corbeau suggested.

  'I couldn't, I...' she bit her lip. Well' said Marjorie Ellison.

  'It had to happen, my dear,' remarked Harriet Campbell. 'We are perhaps fortunate there has been no actual fracas.'

  'Ladies and gentlemen,' Maurice announced from the archway to the hall. 'Luncheon is served. Ow man, but what is this?'

  Dirk Huys had halted at the top of the stairs, his big hands opening and shutting.

  'I had intended to remain out of sight until after luncheon,' Matt said, quietly enough. 'But if you are leaving, Dirk, I'd ride with you a little way. Unless you object.'

  'Object?' Dirk demanded. 'By Christ boy, I have nothing to say to you, unless it be at the end of a sword. But you, I understand, know nothing of swords. Well, sir, if it pleases you to pit your fists against mine, be sure that I am ready for that also.'

  Matt flushed. He had deliberately abstained from drinking, had kept to himself in a corner of the verandah, unwilling to embarrass either Robert or Sue. Had Sue not insisted, indeed, he would not have come. And now he cursed himself for stepping forward at this moment, when Maurice had just called the attention of everyone in the room. But then, why else had he come, but to speak with this man he had so wronged? His life was compounded of so many crimes he could only survive by atoning for them, one after the other.

  Yet the contempt in the big man's tones sent his temper soaring. 'Be sure, if you demand satisfaction,' he said, still speaking quietly, 'I will give it to you, Dirk. And with whatever weapon you choose.'

  Dirk stared at him, heavy brows slowly drawing together.

  'Well? remarked Marjorie Ellison.

  'It had to happen,' Harriet Campbell pointed out. 'It just had to happen.'

  'Oh, my God,' Sue said again. She stepped away from the wall, and Corbeau caught her arm.

  'You cannot interfere, now.'

  She glanced at him so imperiously he released her. 'Even if they must fight over me? And on such a day?' She hurried through the crowd, accumulated Robert on the way. 'Dirk. Matt. I beg of you.'

  Dirk's stare moved from the young man to his wife. 'You'd beg for his life?'

  She flushed, and bit her lip.

  'She will not,' Matt declared. 'You may be sure I'll hide behind no woman.'

  'Ah, cut the puppy's ears,' said a voice from the crowd. ' 'Tis no more than he deserves.'

  'Hold your tongue, by God,' Robert bellowed, causing everyone to start. ' 'Tis a wedding, not a brawl.'

  ‘Yet since he is here,' Dirk said, 'I will have satisfaction.'

  'Dirk,' Sue screamed. 'Robert, you must stop them.'

  Robert sighed, and ran his finger round the inside of his collar. ‘I doubt I can do that. Unless you will return to him.'

  'Well? said Marjorie Ellison.

  'My wedding,' Georgiana declared. 'By God, the lot of you should be horsewhipped. My wedding.'

  ‘Yet it is a serious matter,' Corbeau said at her side.

  'There can be nothing more important than a man's honour. Here there is several people's honour at stake.'

  'I will fight you, sir,' Matt said. 'I repeat, when and where you choose, and with what weapons you choose. Here and now, sir.'

  'By Christ,' Dirk shouted. 'Then let it be now.' 'By God,' Robert said. 'By God.'

  'You cannot mean to let them fight at your sister's wedding, Robert,' the Governor objected.

  'Why not,' someone shouted, and it was a different voice to the one which had recently spoken.

  'Aye,' called another voice. 'Let's have them at it.'

  'Kill the bastard,' said another voice.

  'You've the right to insist, Meinheer,' called another. 'Wife-stealer.'

  'Oh, my God,' Sue whispered, and clutched Robert's arm. 'Well, sir?' Dirk demanded.

  Matt's colour had faded, leaving his face pale. Perhaps he had not before realized how deeply he was hated. And Sue was no more than the excuse. They hated him for the charges he was bringing against Hodge. Well, then, he thought, let them hate. Let them lust for my blood. I have right on my side, and t
hat should suffice.

  'Here, sir, and now,' he said, and looked at Robert. 'I have no doubt that my cousin can supply us with weapons and seconds.'

  'By God,' Robert said. 'By God.'

  'You cannot allow this,' Sue said. 'You cannot.'

  'Oh, let them fight,' Georgiana shouted. 'Let them shoot at each other. Then perhaps we can all enjoy our lunch.'

  'Robert,' Sue begged.

  'It would be best, Suzanne.' Corbeau said. 'There is so much hatred in the air the day is spoiled anyway.'

  'The day?' she cried, in a sudden fury. 'Is that all you can speak of, the day?'

  'I but meant...'

  'Aye,' Robert said. 'One exchange, by God. No more. And then honour is satisfied between you.'

  'And that is a duel?' someone asked. 'A single exchange?' 'By God,' Robert shouted. 'The next man who seeks to challenge my judgement will face me, by God. And I'll promise you I'll need no more than a single shot to settle him:

  'Now Robert,' Sir Archibald said. 'Calm yourself, I beg of you.'

  'Well,' said Marjorie Ellison.

  'I've never seen a duel,' said Harriet Campbell. 'Oh, isn't it splendid.'

  'Then we'd best hurry,' Marjorie suggested, for the entire throng was moving towards the verandahs, and Robert's pistol case was already being brought down.

  'Ladies will remain on the verandah,' Robert bellowed.

  lMy wedding,' Georgiana said. 'Christ Almighty, who would belong to such a family. Louis, you are an utter fool to have so exposed yourself.'

  Corbeau smiled at her and kissed her ear. 'Yet will your wedding day be remembered above all others, sweet Georgy. And I thought you hated Matt?'

  'Oh, I do.' Then she frowned. 'But you love him.'

  'Like a brother,' Corbeau promised her. 'But it is a question of honour. I would expect my own brother to do no less.'

  She burst into laughter. 'And it will be a famous day. Oh, but I hope poor Matt isn't killed.'

  'With a single shot?' Corbeau demanded. 'There is an unlikely chance.'

  'I will second the boy,' Robert announced. 'No offence to you intended, Dirk. But it would be best.'

  'No offence taken.' Dirk seemed to have lost all his anger now the business was actually in hand. They stood at the foot of the steps and the midday sun scorched out of an empty sky, while the slaves, given a holiday to celebrate the wedding, came flooding up the hill at the news that two of the white men were actually going to fight.

  'And I will second Meinheer Huys, as he entirely lacks a friend,' announced Patrick Rawdon. A planter who was clearly one of the inflammatory voices of a moment ago.

  'Then consider these.' Robert took the pistol case from Maurice, opened the lid.

  'They will do admirably,' said the planter.

  'Very good. Sir Archibald, will you conduct the affair?'

  'Me? Bless my soul.' The Governor came down the steps, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. 'Both your principals understand the laws of duelling?'

  'Indeed they do,' Robert said.

  'Well, then. Ellison, will you pace out thirty yards, please.'

  Robert offered the pistol case again, and Rawdon selected one of the guns. Robert took the other one, gave the case back to Maurice, and walked over to Matt.

  'Why do you second me?' Matt demanded. 'You'll know by now I have cause to hate you more than anyone.'

  'Like you, I have no doubt, I do what I think best,' Robert replied, without heat. 'And you'd do well to keep your mind on the business in hand. Have you been practising?'

  'I had not supposed I would ever be called upon to take a life.'

  'Nor will you, unless fortune is in a very odd mood. But with a single shot the odds are that you will not be hit either. And then this dreadful business will be completed. Now when the signal is given, do you level the pistol, and take him through the sight.'

  'There will be no need for that,' Matt said. 'I have no desire to hurt Dirk more than I already have.'

  'God give me patience,' Robert declared. 'If you have any sense in that addlepate of yours at all, you will aim at least at his legs and attempt to bring him down. That way you stand less chance of being struck yourself. Now let us have no more argument about the matter.'

  'Robert.' Matt gripped his arm. 'Why do you help me? Do you not agree with every word that was said against me?'

  'Indeed I do. And you deserve to be struck down, believe me. But you are my cousin, and by God if you are going to die you'll do it properly. I'll wish you God-speed.'

  He walked away to where Rawdon and Sir Archibald Campbell were waiting, in front of a cluster of gentlemen. The rest of the male onlookers were gathered in front of the steps to the verandah, thus leaving an open area behind each of the contestants. And the verandah itself was lined with the fluttering skirts of the ladies. The scene reminded Matt of a medieval tourney. He glanced to his left, but could not make out Sue in the throng. Then he looked in front of him, at Dirk, standing four square, the pistol hanging at his side. From the corner of his eye he could see Sir Archibald, hand held high, red handkerchief fluttering. How still it was, and how silent, for the moment. And how hot.

  The handkerchief dropped, slowly to the ground. Matt started to raise his arm, instinctively, and then checked. For Dirk had not moved. He was awaiting the first shot with the utmost composure. Matt found his hand moving again, until it was extended from his body, and he looked along the barrel. Aim at the legs, Robert had said. It made sense. Bring the man down, and he would be safe enough.

  But what cause had he to hurt such a man, and for such a reason? For Dirk, perhaps unwittingly, was not defending his own honour here so much as acting as champion for the outraged plantocracy.

  There was a loud noise and he was blinded at once by the flash and the puff of black smoke. He had squeezed the trigger without meaning to. And still there was utter silence, apart from the rolling reverberation of the shot. And at last he could see, and look at Dirk, still standing, and now smiling, contemptuously, as well he might. The bullet must have missed by a yard. Matt had a sudden urge to throw down the pistol and run forward, hand outstretched. But Dirk was in turn raising his right arm.

  How slowly it moved. Matt gazed at it, and then down at the empty weapon still clutched by his fingers. He could not even throw it down, for that might distract his opponent and leave him dishonoured. Thus the laws. He could not move. He could only wait, and watch, as the pistol barrel came level, and Dirk's eyes narrowed. At what had he decided to aim?

  An enormous weight seemed to come to rest in his chest. He felt no pain, but was vaguely surprised to discover that the entire world had turned upside down, and reasoned that he had hit himself with the pistol. Certainly it was no longer in his hand, and he was lying on the ground, staring at the dazzling sun which hung immediately above him, and was then quite blotted out by faces which loomed over him. Too many faces, obscuring the sky, hiding the wind, inducing a great heat and a sudden startling stab of pain. Too much pain for a man to bear. Matt closed his eyes.

  'Oh, God. Oh, God.' Sue dropped to her knees beside him, stared at the pale face, the blood swelling over the waistcoat. 'Oh, God.'

  'You'll be satisfied, then.' Robert stood next to his sister, spoke to Dirk.

  'Is he dead?' asked the Dutchman.

  'Please,' Sue begged at large. 'Dr. Mounter. Please.'

  The surgeon joined her on his knees, his face grave. ' 'Tis the right side. Much will depend on whether it has pierced the lung.' He forced Matt's mouth open, watched the bubbling saliva for a moment. 'No blood. He may be that lucky. But we must have the bullet out. Gentiemen, you'll assist me to carry Mr. Hilton to the house.'

  'He'll live?' Sue grasped the doctor's arm. 'Say he'll live?'

  'If the wound stays clean, and we extract that lump of lead soon enough, Mistress Huys, he should live.'

  'Oh, thank God, for that.'

  'Amen/ Dirk said.

  'Tis a shame, it is’ said a voice from the crow
d. 'Now the job will have to be done all over again.'

  'Who said that?' Robert bellowed. He ran at them, seized their shoulders and hurled them to one side. 'Who said that? I'll have his hide, by God.'

  They stared at him in surprise. He was their leader in all they attempted, as he had led them in their united opposition to the concept of abolition.

  'Aye’ he said, standing amongst them, hands on hips. 'You'll not admit it. A pack of snivelling curs, 'tis that I am cursed with for neighbours. Begone. Leave my plantation. By God, if a man jack of you sets foot on my property again I'll have him strung up and flogged like a black. Go on. Clear off.'