Sunset

by Christopher Nicole

  'I am sorry,' Meg said. 'I have been in prison before, my lord. I have no doubt at all that a Jamaican cell will be more comfortable than a Cuban one.'

  The court remained silent, and the Chief Justice went very red in the face. Meg could almost read his thoughts: Hiltons, they think they own the earth.

  'You will step down, Mrs Hilton,' he said. 'I will give a judgment regarding your contempt at the conclusion of this trial. Kindly leave the box.'

  Meg inhaled, filled her lungs to their fullest capacity, and then released them again, slowly descended the stairs. The clumps of her heels echoed in the noiseless room. The side door was already open, and the same clerk was waiting for her. His face remained expressionless, but his manner was stiff.

  'The Crown asks for a recess, my lord,' Courtney said, then the door closed, and she heard nothing more. 'Are you staying in town, Mrs Hilton?' inquired the clerk. 'Am I required to?'

  'You are not under arrest, if that is what you mean. No doubt his lordship will know where to find you, when he is ready.'

  'Then I shall go home,' she said. She wanted to lie down. She wanted to sit in a warm tub and then go to bed and sleep and sleep and sleep. 'I would like a message sent to Captain McAvoy.'

  'As you wish, madam.' The clerk escorted her on to the porch, where the crowd stared at her, voices humming with excitement. The news had not reached them yet, although it was just beginning to, she suspected.

  'Ask him to join me at Hilltop, if you will.' She hurried down the steps, was assisted into the trap by Washington. 'Home, please, Washington, as quickly as you can.'

  She leaned back on the cushion, closed her eyes. It is over, she thought. It must be over. Now she could turn her back on Billy without remorse, without regret, without bitterness. She had put him in his position, she had kept him there when it was a matter of life or death, and now she could remove him from it. And try to live. My God, she thought, how I just want to live.

  And Cleave would understand. Of all the men she had known, she supposed Cleave was the most capable of understanding.

  Almost she dozed; she was exhausted. It was quite a surprise for her to discover herself once again on Hilltop, once again pulling to a halt before her own front stairs.

  Lawrence waited at the top. 'But you back soon, mistress. Is all well?'

  'All is well, Lawrence.' It was still early in the afternoon. 'I shall be taking a siesta today, Lawrence. Don't wake me until Captain McAvoy arrives, but ask him to come right up.'

  'Yes'm, Miss Meg. But you ain' taking lunch?'

  She shook her head. 'Not today, Lawrence. I doubt I could stomach a thing.'

  She went upstairs, dismissed Muriel, undressed, and lay on her bed, on top of the covers. She wondered what old Sir Harry would do with her. She did not really suppose he would send her to gaol. Not Margaret HILTON. Not the Hilton. But she didn't really care. Because she had acted the Hilton for the very last time, satisfied every requirement of every ancestor. Now she could turn her back on them, and be plain Meg McAvoy. Why, she had never considered such a name before, but it had a ring to it.

  She awoke with a faint headache, listened to the clatter of hooves outside, and sat up.

  The clock on her bedside table told her it was just past six. Alan must have waited to see how the case was going to develop. She got out of bed, scooped her robe around her shoulders, listened to the knock on her door. 'Yes,' she said. 'Come.'

  The door opened, and Oriole Paterson stood there.

  For a moment the two women stared at each other. Then Oriole reached for Meg's hands. 'Oh, my darling, darling, Meg,' she said. 'Oh, my darling.'

  Meg felt herself being drawn forward, checked herself. 'I thought you had left Hilltop for good.'

  'I had. I thought you were a changeling. But of course I was wrong. You are Meg Hilton, and proved that today, to all the world. Meg, forgive me, for everything. Oh Meg ...' Her eyes were moist, and she was pulling again.

  'I'm sure you are, as usual, quite wrong, Oriole,' Meg said, giving a tug to free her hands. 'I decided, after due reflection, that I owed Billy something. There is nothing more than that. I propose to place Hilltop in the hands of an attorney, to divorce Billy, whatever the outcome of the trial, and to marry Alan McAvoy.'

  Oriole's grip relaxed. 'You ... marry that common sailor?'

  'I should have married him long ago. Yes, I propose to marry Alan.' She allowed herself a smile. 'And then, if you wish, you may marry Billy. Wouldn't you like to ?'

  'My God.' Oriole sat in the chair by the window. 'Marry your husband ? My God. I've had a husband, thank you very much. I do not propose ever to have another.'

  'Ah,' Meg said. 'Then you actually prostituted yourself to control Hilltop. Oh, I am not condemning you, Oriole. I think that was splendidly Hilton. Far more Hilton than I could ever be, now. I did prostitute myself once, you know, for the sake of Hilltop. And very successfully too. I suppose you know about that. Billy will have told you. But I still think you are much more of a Hilton than I. What a shame I was the one to inherit. Now, if you'll excuse me, Oriole, I really must get dressed. I am expecting Alan for dinner. I'm surprised he has not come already.'

  'Alan McAvoy?' Oriole stood up, tossed her head. 'You are a dreamer, Meg. He won't be coming out here.'

  'Oh, do be quiet, Oriole. And do leave.' Meg picked up her brush, started to stroke through her hair.

  'Because, my darling, you see, whether you wish to be or not, you are a Hilton,' Oriole said. 'You are the Hilton. Alan McAvoy? He cannot stand the light which surrounds you. He left the court shortly after you did this morning. And returned to his schooner. I believe he gave orders that it is to be prepared for sea as rapidly as possible. What did you promise him, my darling? That you would send Billy to the gallows? Whatever you said, you have ended that particular dream.'

  Meg had turned, slowly, gazed at her. Then she ran to the door, pulled it wide. 'Lawrence,' she shouted. 'Muriel. Have my horse saddled. Quickly.' She hurried back into the room threw off her robe, reached for the clothes she had tossed carelessly over the chair.

  'Oh, Meg, Meg,' Oriole said. 'You are so very beautiful. So very Hilton. So ... Meg ...'

  Meg stepped into her second petticoat. 'If you touch me, Oriole, I will have you thrown down those stairs. And I do mean it. Oh ...' She turned at the knock. 'What is it?'

  Lawrence stood there. 'Is Washington, mistress. Man, mistress ...'

  'Washington ?' She went to the door, forgetting her state of undress, peered at the exhausted groom. 'What has happened ?'

  'Is them boys, mistress. Man, mistress, them boys in the jury.'

  'What?' Oriole shouted, hurrying to Meg's side. 'What was the verdict ?'

  'Man, Mistress Paterson, despite all, them boys did find Mr William guilty.'

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SUNSET

  THERE was a moment of silence, then Oriole uttered a shriek and reached forward. For a moment Meg thought she was actually going to seize a black man by the shoulders. But she checked herself in time.

  'Convicted?' she shouted. 'How could he be convicted?'

  'How could it happen so quickly?' Meg asked.

  Washington looked from one to the other. 'Well, is a fac' it happen too quick, Miss Meg. What happen is, the Chief Justice he say they got for lunch during the recess, and then, when they done, that Courtney man say the Crown finish, and Mr Reynolds start the defence. But he only call Mr Billy, Miss Meg, and he ask Mr Billy for to say what happen, and Mr Billy say that when he see you with that Cleave man he lose he head, what with jealousy and thing, and he shoot. So then Mr Reynolds say that is he case, and when he addressing the jury he saying that they got for believe Mr Billy, because is you what bring the case, and then you what saying you ain' givin' no evidence, so the truth got for be that you knowin' Mr Billy only done what he got for do.' He paused for breath.

  'Oh, go on,' Oriole shouted.

  'Well, Mistress Paterson, the fact is ...' Washington shift
ed his feet uneasily. 'That Mr Courtney, you see, he done ask me, like he ask Massie and them others, what we did talk about while we looking for Miss Meg, and well, Mistress Paterson, we is under oath and that thing, and we had to say well, Mr Billy saying, all the time we looking for

  Miss Meg, I knowing where she is gone, she gone to them black people what does beat the drum, and you knowing what I goin' do when I catch up with them, this is he talkin' you understanding, I goin' blow them head right off.'

  'You bastard,' Oriole said. 'You unutterable bastard.'

  Washington shifted his feet some more. But he was looking at Meg as he spoke. 'Man, Mistress Paterson, we did be under oath and thing. And then, what happen, the Judge he addressing the jury, and he saying, all you got for decide is what Mr Billy thinkin' in he mind when he goin' after Miss Meg, whether he thinkin' well I got for get me wife back, or whether he is thinkin' goddam I goin' kill the boy what she is with. That is the crux of the matter, the Judge saying, and then, seeing as how it is five o'clock, he saying well, I goin' adjourn this here court until tomorrow, while you does consider your verdict.' This time he paused to wipe his brow.

  'So what happened ?' Meg asked.

  'Well, Miss Meg, the foreman of that jury, and he a white man, too, he standing up and he saying, well, they been whisperin' to one another one time, while them lawyers did be speaking, so he saying, well, Mr Judge, he saying, we ain' got no need for to be lock' up for the night, because we done make up we mind already. Now how is that? askin' the Judge. But they ain' budging, so he for ask them, and they saying that they reckon Mr Billy did be thinkin' all the time that he goin' shoot whoever he finding you with, and that is that. So the Judge done pronounce Mr Billy guilty, and saying then, I ain' goin' adjourn this court, I goin' say sentence.'

  'Oh, my God.' Oriole sank to the chair.

  'Is a fac', Mistress Paterson, he saying the same thing, about God and thing. But then he putting on he black cap and he sayin' that Mr Billy mus' be hangin' from the neck until he does be dead.'

  'Oh, my God,' Oriole moaned. 'Oh, my God. Meg, what are we to do?'

  Meg gazed at her for a moment. But what was she to do about Alan, who thought she had lied to him, who supposed she had betrayed everything he held dear?

  'Washington,' she snapped. 'Saddle me a horse. Quickly.'

  Washington scratched his head. 'You goin' to town, Miss Meg? Man, it is very late, and I does be too weary.'

  'I'll ride alone,' she said. 'Just get me a horse. Quickly, man.' She pushed him through the door, reached for her gown.

  'Meg.' Oriole attempted to grasp her arm. 'What can you do ? Appeal. Oh, yes, we'll appeal. But Walter will already have thought of that.'

  'Billy is guilty of murder, Oriole,' Meg pointed out. She abandoned the idea of trying to put on her hat - her hair was loose in any event, and it would take half an hour to put it up - pulled on her gloves, went to the door.

  'Meg...' Oriole wailed.

  Meg hesitated. But she did not have the heart to order her from the plantation, at this moment. She closed the door behind her, ran down the stairs; she would not look at the portraits this night. Washington was already at the front steps, with a saddled horse.

  'Man, Miss Meg,' he said. 'In this dark, you can' go so by yourself.'

  'Of course I can, Washington,' she said. 'Who'd molest Meg Hilton?' Who indeed, she wondered. She sat astride, urged the horse forward, thundered along the roadway out of the plantation and up into the hills, had to remind herself to slow to a walk, as there was a long way yet to go.

  She preferred not to think. What she would do if the Dreamer was no longer in the harbour, she just did not know. Because this time he would not come back. This time he would know, without a shadow of a doubt, that a Hilton could not throw off the burden of his or her past; that the name, the family, the plantation, would always dominate every other thought, every other hope, every other fear, every other emotion. As it had done to her, for all of her life.

  The clock was striking twelve when she walked her exhausted horse into a sleeping, darkened city. A beat policeman peered at her, but she ignored him and walked on to the waterfront. She stared at the harbour; there were several ships moored out there; an American naval squadron was visiting Jamaica, and in the darkness they were no more than a cluster of lights. She dismounted, left her horse standing, walked to the edge of the nearest dock, stared again. But it was quite impossible to identify any ship.

  'Eh-eh,' remarked a voice. 'But is Mistress Hilton?'

  She turned, peered at the black man, a sailor by his clothes. 'You know me ?'

  'Well, I got for know Mistress Hilton,' he pointed out. 'I see you in court today. You lookin' for the Captain?'

  Her heart gave a tremendous bound, which threatened to choke her. 'Captain McAvoy? He is still here?'

  'Oh, yes, mistress. He come aboard last evening, and he sayin' we must prepare for sea, but we can' sail until we is loaded, mistress, and that can' be until tomorrow.'

  'Then he's aboard ?' Meg cried. 'Take me out, please. I'll see you are well rewarded.'

  'Well, mistress, I goin' take you out if that is what you wish, but the Captain ain' aboard.'

  'What? Where is he?'

  The seaman shifted his feet. 'Well, mistress, he sayin' he got for have a drink, and he comin' back ashore. I did bring he.'

  'And now you're waiting to take him back?'

  'Ay, well, no, mistress. The fact is...' Again the feet did a quick shuffle. 'He did be drink so much he did pass out, mistress. So I did think the best thing is to put him to bed like.'

  'Where? Please tell me.'

  'Well, is the last place we was at, mistress. Bladings' Hotel, like.'

  'Bladings? Oh, thank you. Thank you. I shall see that you are rewarded.' She ran for her horse.

  'But Mistress Hilton,' the sailor called. 'The Captain ... well, he did drink a lot of rum. And he did speak against you, Mistress Hilton.'

  She turned the horse, walked it up the street. He did speak against you, Mistress Hilton. And he was drunk. Then perhaps he would beat her, as Billy had done on their honeymoon. Perhaps he would also wish to throttle her. Unlike Billy, once Alan's fingers wrapped themselves around her throat, there would be no letting go.

  She dismounted before Bladings, and the major-domo hurried down the steps to peer at her. 'Mistress Hilton?' He fumbled in his fob.

  'It is just midnight,' Meg said. 'Captain McAvoy is staying here, I believe.'

  'Well, he is here, Mistress Hilton. We did give him a room for the night. But Mistress Hilton ...'

  'I'd be much obliged if you'd stable my horse, give it water and oats.' She walked up the stairs, pulling off her gloves, pushing hair from her forehead and eyes. The night clerk peered at her in turn.

  'Mistress Hilton?'

  'Good evening to you,' she said. 'Which room has Captain McAvoy ?'

  'Captain McAvoy? Why, Mistress Hilton, I really could not.. .’

  'Or shall I try every one in turn?' Meg inquired. 'Oh, my God. Oh, no, Mistress Hilton, you couldn't do that.'

  'Watch me,' Meg said, and turned for the stairs. 'Number thirty-nine, Mistress Hilton,' the clerk called. 'Third floor. Number thirty-nine.' Then give me your pass key.'

  'Yes, Mistress Hilton.' He gave her the key, watched her walk across the lobby, scrabbled for the house phone.

  Meg climbed the stairs slowly. How her heart pounded. And how simple it was to act the Hilton, to leave everyone scandalized and immobilized before her utter arrogance, her total determination to have what she wanted when she wanted it. How little did they suspect the uncertainties which lurked beneath that mask of omnipotence.

  On the second floor she met Charlie Blading coming down. 'Mrs Hilton? Do you know..

  "That it is midnight, Charles? I do. But do you know that these stairs are uncommonly steep? When are you going to fit an elevator?'

  Blading gaped at her. 'When... when I have the funds to install electricity, to be sur
e, Mrs Hilton.'

  'You have high tension wires attached to your roof.'

  'A convenience for the Electricity Company. To bring it right through the hotel would cost a fortune, money I just have not got in these troubled times. But really, madam, Meg, I must protest, this is not a ... well...'

  'A brothel, you were going to say,' Meg said. 'Well, I hope it is not. But Captain McAvoy and I have been lovers for a very long time, Charles. You could not possibly describe this as an overnight affair, or even a clandestine one. And I do propose to see him tonight.'

  'Yes, well...' Blading pulled his nose.

  'And we will be quiet about it, I promise you.' Meg climbed the next flight of stairs, reached the third floor, paused to regain her breath. Blading did not follow her. Poor man, he must have already cursed the day Meg Hilton had followed Lord Claymond in here. Or had it really been good for his business?

  Very gently she inserted the key in the lock, turned it, pushed the door inwards. The bedroom was utterly dark, and she waited in the doorway for some seconds while her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, and to allow the light from the corridor to enter. The third floor contained only single rooms, and not the most expensive in the house either. The furnishings were sparse, a table and two chairs, a wash-stand with a china basin and ewer, and a tin slop bucket. And a single bed, over which the mosquito netting had not been dropped, and across which there lay the body of a man, breathing heavily, and still dressed. He even wore his boots.

  It was Margarita all over again. How she wanted it to be the Margarita all over again, but with the right to change the course of their lives, to make them wiser, to eliminate all the misery that had happened since.

  But she could not undress him in the dark without wakening him. And besides, she wanted to see his face. She took the candlestick into the corridor, lit it from one of the wall lights returned it to its holder. Then she locked the bedroom door on the inside.