HF - 03 - Mistress of Darkness

by Christopher Nicole

  For a moment longer they hesitated, then they turned and went for their carriages. Their women hurried down the steps to join them.

  'Well,' said Marjorie Ellison.

  ‘I do not include you in that herd, Marjorie/ Robert said. 'Nor you, Ellison. You'll stay to lunch, Sir Archibald? Harriet?'

  Harriet Campbell gazed at her husband, then at the group 363 of Hilltop overseers carrying Matt towards the House. ‘I suppose someone must eat all that food.'

  'Bless my soul,' said the Governor. 'Bless my soul.' He gazed at Sue, still kneeling by the bloodstained grass, then carefully stepped round her and went towards the house.

  'My wedding,' Georgiana said. 'My wedding,' she shouted. 'Now the Hiltons will be totally spurned, throughout the West Indies.'

  Corbeau squeezed her against him. 'But you are a Corbeau now. As for being spurned, it has happened before, to both our families, without in any way harming our fortunes. But I think you and I had better slip away before our wedding day is entirely spoiled.'

  She glanced at him, frowning. 'Should we not wait, to see if Matt will survive?'

  'I have no doubt he will survive,' Corbeau remarked, and Georgiana's frown deepened at the suggestion almost of disgust in his tone. 'And besides,' he said, 'he has mourners enough.'

  Dirk Huys continued to stand above his wife, staring at the bloodstained grass.

  'You had best go with him,' he said. She raised her head.

  'Aye,' he said. 'Maybe I meant to kill him. Maybe I thought that, because he had wronged me, he would not stand before me. Maybe I thought that when you saw the two of us, face to face, you'd realize your mistake.'

  She shook her head, slowly.

  Dirk nodded. 'I'll not understand the ways of a woman's heart. You've chosen a hard road, just to be with him. You heard those people just now. Were he not a Hilton I doubt he'd have survived.' He sighed. 'But I'll not have you a slave, Sue. You'll be divorced, and I'll wish you joy of your new life.' He turned away, and hesitated. 'I'll not forget you, Suzanne. But I'll not stand in your way again. You've my promise.'

  'Aaaaagh.' And slowly the breath left Georgiana's body, seeming to be expelled from the very last recess of every bone, every muscle, scraping the very bottom of her lungs.

  Her head had dropped over the side of the berth, and her hair trailed on the deck. Her mouth was wide, and she could feel her saliva drying in her throat, such of it as was left. And the ecstasy was only just beginning to fade, leaving her lazily happy, lazily aware that before her was a lifetime of just this, of lying beneath Louis, of being his wife.

  'It was so long,' she said. 'So long. But worth the wait. Louis?'

  His weight was gone, and she opened her eyes, to watch him roll off the bunk and reach for a towel, bracing himself against the slight heel of the sloop. He had not spoken a word since taking her in his arms. But then, he had spoken little enough during their ride from Hilltop, had merely commanded his captain to raise anchor and make sail.

  She sat up. 'Louis?'

  'Do not constantly bleat my name,' he said.

  Georgiana stared at him, watched him pull on his robe. He had never spoken to her like that before. No one, save Robert, and Matt on the occasion they had quarrelled in London, had ever spoken to her like that before.

  'You will have to do better,' he said. 'Or I will have to make you do better.'

  She licked her lips. 'Did I ... did I not please you?'

  He gave a short laugh. 'I doubt you know what pleasing a man means, Georgy. But you will learn. By Christ, you will learn.'

  ‘I pleased you well enough before,' she said angrily.

  He turned, violently. 'You'd argue?' His hand snaked round her neck before she could move, twined itself in her hair, brought her close and at the same time tilted her head backwards as he tightened his grip, causing her eyes to widen and her mouth to open. 'A wife does not argue, with her husband,' he said. 'A woman does not argue, with her lover.'

  'You ...' she struck at him, punched him on the chest, tried to bring up her knees, and was thrown away from him, so hard that she rolled across the bunk and into the bulkhead of the ship itself, where she lay panting.

  ‘I can see,' he remarked, 'that you have a lot to learn, about pleasing a man.'

  Georgiana gasped for breath. Her brain was in a totally confused whirl. ‘I...'

  'Pleased me well enough, before? On the contrary, my dear,' he said. 'I pleased you. As I just pleased you again. You are a simple, stupid little girl, who desires only the thrust of a man's weapon to be transported into ecstasy. How many men have you bedded in the year we were separated?'

  Her head jerked, from side to side. 'None. None, I swear it, Louis. Is that what you supposed?'

  He laughed, a short brittle sound. 'No. No. I did not suppose you'd possess that much courage. Because if I suspected that were the case, or could ever be the case, I'd string you from that yardarm out there and flog you like a slave.'

  "You'd ... you'd not dare. Robert...'

  'Is my brother-in-law,' he said. 'But you are my wife. I have the right to shoot him, should he attempt to interfere between us. It would be well for you to understand that.'

  'You ... you ...'

  'As for hurting you,' he said, 'why, there might be the answer to our current problem.' He reached across the cabin, plucked his belt from the bulkhead where it hung. 'Aye. That would please me, I think.'

  "You ...' she drew up her knees. 'You wouldn't dare. You ...' her voice got lost in a strangled gasp as the heavy leather cut across her calves. Instinctively she reached down for her ankles, and was struck across the shoulders. Now the cry mingled rage with pain, and she struck at his face, to be hurled backwards by another blow, thrown horizontally to cut into her stomach like a flail and bring her forward on to her elbows and knees, gasping, while the tears, of anger as much as of pain, started from her eyes. The belt descended on her buttocks, but she lacked the breath to scream and could only moan, while she tilted to one side, lost her balance, and fell out of the bunk, striking the deck with a jar which drove right through her body. She looked up and saw his body stretching it seemed forever above her, watched the flailing strap descend, and turned on her face with a wail of horror. Twice more the searing blows cut into her shoulders, each one carefully avoiding her face or neck or breasts which could possibly ever be exposed to a public inspection.

  Then the belt struck the deck beside her, and instead his hands were digging into her armpits, bringing her back to her feet and then laying her on the bunk. She stared at him with wide eyes, only seeing his face through a mist of tears, while she writhed and moaned, twisting her body to and fro because very contact with the mattress was sheer agony. But soon enough she could not move at all as his weight pinned her to the bunk, and she knew the utterly incomprehensible delight of an orgasm while shrouded in pain, and knew too, as his mouth thudded on to hers and she tasted blood, that this time they were as one.

  She gasped, and once again discovered her head drooping over the bed. She felt him move, and attempted to tense her flaccid muscles for some new assault. And instead was kissed, quite beautifully on her torn lips, as her head was raised, with incredible gentleness, and restored to the pillow. He left the cabin, and returned a moment later with two goblets of wine, sat on the side of the bunk, and held one to her lips.

  'Then you pleased me’ he said.

  She drank, staring at him every moment, afraid to take her eyes from him for an instant, lest he begin some new torture.

  'And you,' he said. 'You'll not pretend you do not feel utterly sated.'

  She finished her wine, cautiously explored her lips with her tongue. 'I had supposed I was about to be murdered.' 'From a few strokes of a belt?' 'From the look in your eyes.'

  'Ah.' Once again he left the cabin, and this time returned with the flagon, and refilled their goblets. 'I am a man of moods.'

  'And our wedding put you in a bad mood? Or was it because of the duel? Because, I think, Matt
, the man to whom you owe your life, survived his encounter with Dirk?'

  Even as she spoke she was amazed at her courage; her back still stung. But this was an entirely different man to the monster of a few minutes before.

  He smiled. 'Because of many things. You will get used to my moods. Be sure I shall never do you a permanent harm.'

  'But I must be prepared for a body full of bruises, from time to time.'

  He continued to smile. 'From time to time. Perhaps you are unfortunate, in that I had allowed my desire for you to build, to an unbearable level. Normally there are sources whence I may slake my passion, and thus approach you only with due propriety. If you would have it so.'

  She hesitated, looked into her glass. 'I would have my husband love me, rather than treat me as a tiresome duty.'

  'Even if it means, from time to time, a scarred back?'

  She shrugged. 'No doubt I shall get used to it. And it may, as you suggest, have its compensations. I am not so dull, I hope, as to expect service where I offer none.'

  'Quite the great lady,' he remarked, but his smile continued to rob his words of the contempt she might have otherwise suspected. 'But if you would truly be my wife, then must you rid your tone of that coldness. I hurt you, to inflame my passions, because they would not ignite themselves. You may find that I have even less civilized inclinations, from time to time. I must tell you my philosophy of life. It is that in my public life, I must sacrifice all, and I use the word advisedly, to the honour of the Corbeaux. As you now bear that proud name, my sweet, you would do well to remember that. Our public honour is paramount to our very lives. Then in my business life, I will sacrifice all to profit. Again, as my profit is now yours as well, you'd do well to remember that. And perhaps most important of all, in my private life, I desire only to be amused. I use the term in its most embracing sense. Whatever interests me, titillates me, makes me laugh, excites me, that is what I mean. Of course I do not expect you to bear that burden entirely by yourself, but it is another of your responsibilities, none the less.'

  'I wish you had informed me of your requirements before asking for my hand,' she said, still maintaining her stiffness. . 'Or you would have refused me?'

  'I doubt that. The challenge does not seem so great. Rather is it stimulating. But perhaps I might have spent this last year in better preparation, rather than in just looking forward to the continuing embrace of a man I loved.'

  He leaned forward, took her chin between thumb and forefinger, and tweaked her head from side to side. 'And I will not be reproached. Not even by you, my darling. Now get yourself dressed and come on deck. The wind was fair all night, for a miracle. I'd expect to see the peaks of Hispaniola at any moment.'

  He was already at the door.

  'Louis,' she said. 'You have, I think, been telling me that I must expect to share your passion, and indeed, that I should be grateful for the occasional rest. Of course I make no criticism of your needs. But I should rather not be informed of them in particular. I imagine that Rio Blanco is sufficiently large a plantation, as St. Domingue is sufficiently large a country, for that to be not difficult.'

  He turned. How desperately she fought to preserve her individuality, her status as a Hilton. Perhaps breaking her to his will would be more difficult than he had supposed. But then, surely it would be more enjoyable. 'I'm afraid that will be impossible, my sweet. I do not maintain a harem, like some. But I do possess a housekeeper. I shall expect you to be her friend, as I know that she will desire to be yours. Already desires to be yours, in fact."

  'You ...' colour flared into her cheeks.

  'And as you say,' he continued, as if she had not interrupted. 'Rio Blanco is a large plantation, and of course unlike you English, we do not entertain our overseers in St. Domingue, as they are by some distance our social inferiors. You will be glad of the company, I do assure you, especially as there will obviously be no subject you may not discuss with complete freedom.'

  'You ... you cannot mean that,' she said.

  'But I do. I always mean what I say.'

  'And suppose I absolutely refuse to see the creature?'

  Corbeau's smile was gentle. 'My dear, sweet child, how can you refuse your husband what he asks of you? I had supposed that on that point, at the very least, we had just achieved a perfect understanding.'

  The door closed behind him.

  Cap Francois, Georgiana recalled, was known as the Paris of St. Domingue, or indeed, by its own residents, as the Paris of the Western hemisphere. And even her eye, prepared to be prejudiced, was forced to accept the suggestion that here was a city transported from the very heart of European civilization to grace the magnificently lush green of the mountains and the forest which had dominated the skyline for the past three days as the sloop had skirted the coast. She had never been to Paris, but the somewhat sombre aspect of London, to her mind the greatest city of all, suddenly became shabby and drab as she surveyed her new home through the telescope provided by Captain Ledon, while when she stepped ashore from the sloop's jolly-boat on to the greenheart dock she discovered that Kingston was scarcely better than a slum.

  Almost she smiled at Louis, as her breath was taken at once by the buildings, every one seeming to be new and most splendidly appointed, by their architecture, which cascaded from turrets and high balconies to verandahs and patios, to massed banks of multi-coloured flowers, to ornate and indecent statuary carved from purest marble, to tall shade trees leaning across the wide boulevards; by the kaleidoscope of humanity which bustled everywhere, grand-blancs driving in carriages and sporting the latest in silk and satin, ostrich feather drooping and decolletage plunging, cafi-au-laits gossiping on street corners, brown faces animated, gowns the colours of firework explosions, heads bound up in no less brilliant bandannas, or noirs working on the docks themselves, faces gleaming with sweat and endeavour; by the variety of scents and aromas, almost every one pleasant, which arose from the perfumed gardens and the no less perfumed bodies of the population; by the accumulation of vast ships anchored in the harbour; and perhaps most of all by the deference paid to the Corbeau entourage, which exceeded even that paid to the Hiltons in Kingston, where at the least everyone possessing a white skin considered himself as good as everyone else, even if ready to admit that there were those more fortunate.

  But here the petit-blancs were positively menial, and even the carriages of grand-blanc families were eager to stop, and greet Louis, and pay their immediate respects to his new bride, all the while promising to call in the immediate future. The only discordant note was provided by the cafe-au-laits, who glowered at the boxes of clothes and the crates containing the wedding presents as they were unloaded, and averted their gazes when she would smile at them.

  'Wretched people,' Louis said, as at last, having given all the instructions he could think of to his waiting overseers and agents, he settled himself beside her in the barouche bearing the emblem of the hawk's beak. 'They consider themselves much wronged, you know, my sweet, for all that here in St. Domingue there is no question as to their freedom, at the least. But because most of them recall a grand-blanc father or grandfather, and not a few of them were educated in Paris, they resent their inferiority, and take no trouble to hide it.'

  He treated her as if there was no cause for disagreement between them. Indeed, from the moment after their quarrel he had been his old self, although the knowledge that he could have such moods was sufficiently sobering. But certainly he allowed her no positive feelings of her own, and had come to her bunk on each of the remaining three nights of the voyage, and extracted from her all the passion he required, as he could do so easily. So then, it was apparently up to her, she realized. She had plunged into marriage with him, and she was honest enough to know that she could make no extravagant claims about being forced to it. So then, she was Madame Corbeau, wife of one of the two richest planters in the West Indies, and that meant one of the two richest men in all the world, as she was the sister of the other. She was indeed
a queen in this society, and would be treated like a queen in any society. And this was what she had always wanted. Thus if her husband possessed certain vagaries of temperament she must be prepared to sustain them, and perhaps even enjoy them, much as she might have to sustain a bout of malaria, which would return again and again as ague without the slightest warning, but which it were surely stupid to allow to ruin her life.

  Besides, she thought, as Louis is not less than ten years older than I, our relationship will slowly change with time, and he will become more dependent upon me, if I go about it the right way, while I become less dependent upon him.

  Such a prospect almost made her happy all over again.

  Certainly she was prepared to dissemble for the time being. 'And have they any inferiorities, Louis? Being free?'