HF - 03 - The Devil's Own (58 page)

'Well, Edward,' Philip said. 'Would you not say he is at last where he belongs, behind bars?'

'Oh, indeed, Philip,' Chester agreed. 'The whole island seems a safer place.'

But Kit was determined to keep his temper this day. 'Good morning to you, Philip,' he said. 'I never had an opportunity to congratulate you on your fortunate verdict.'

'By God, sir,' Philip declared. 'But you are a cool r
ogue. Nevertheless, we shall see
how long your humour survives this gaol.'

'I have no doubt it will survive my release,' Kit said. 'I have already despatched a message to Mr Walker, requesting him to take out a writ of habeas corpus.'

'Indeed you have,' Philip agreed. 'He showed me it not an hour gone.'

'Showed it to you?' Kit asked, frowning as a sudden alarm gripped at his belly.

'And should he not?' Philip inquired. 'Alas, I doubt it will be possible for him immediately to act on your behalf, Kit. Mr Walker, being the only attorney on the island, is most uncommonly busy. Oh, yes, indeed, he has not a moment to call his own. Of course he has no intention of abandoning so valuable a client as yourself. He has placed your name on his list, and hopes to be able to attend to you just as soon as he is able; certainly within a twelvemonth.'

'Within a twelvemonth?' Kit asked, slowly.

'But then, you see, Kit,' Philip explained. 'It will be at least a twelvemonth before the case against you is prepared and ready. There are witnesses to be interrogated, and briefs to be prepared, and I do not see how it is possible for a mere magistrate to hear a charge of murder against so illustrious a personage as yourself. But alas, you see, Kit, we lack a governor at this moment. For which sad state of affairs you have no one but yourself to hold responsible. Worse, it seems we even lack a governor in St Kitts. So you will have to wait. But let me give you a word of advice, from the depths of my experience, lad. Do not despair. Eat sparingly, take regular exercise, and all will be well. Why, man, I spent all but a year in prison, awaiting trial. And near two months of that time was upon the sea, coming and going. I doubt there can be a worse fate than that, sir. And look at me. I have survived, and am as hale and hearty as ever before in my life, and believe me, sir, to my regret, I lack the sustenance of your youth.'

'By God,' Kit said. 'You but seek to avenge yourself upon me for your own misfortunes.'

'Indeed not, sir. You did kill a man.'

'In self-defence.'

'Your story, Kit. And if I may say so, it is no more than natural that you should insist upon it. But there are witnesses, including your own wife, against yo
u. Now she may not testify,
but the overseers were there, full half a dozen of them. And their tale is sadly different.'

'By God, sir,' Kit said. 'You have it all decided to your satisfaction, no doubt. Yet there is still justice in this world. The Queen's Majesty is still represented here in Antigua, and I will seek my freedom at that door. I will set my case before Mr Trumbull in his capacity as Speaker of the House.'

Philip Warner continued to smile. 'You are indeed entitled to set your case before the Speaker, Kit, as he is charged with preserving the Queen's authority in this island pending the arrival of a new governor. But you would waste your time to approach Mr Trumbull. Had you attended the Chamber more often you would be aware that he has long desired to lay down his burden, and has in fact now done so, a suitable replacement having been discovered.'

'A suitable replacement?' Kit demanded. But now the weights in his belly were more than he could bear.

'Indeed, sir,' Chester put in, 'by unanimous vote of the Assembly, we have elected Colonel Warner to the vacant speakership, there surely being no gentleman more deserving of the honour, both on account of his past services to the community, and the past suffering he has undergone on behalf of the community.'

'So, now, Kit,' Philip said. 'You may put your case before me. Or have you, indeed, just done so?'

12

The Challenge

'A visitor to see you,' said Jacks the gaoler.

Kit scrambled to his feet, and the drunk retreated to the far end of the cell.

Jacks grinned at him, safe on the outside of the bars. 'Oh, you've not been forgotten, Captain Hilton. Not a man like you.'

Desperately Kit straightened his clothes; they would have stood up by themselves, he had no doubt, so soaked were they with sweat and dirt. And with equal desperation he thrust his fingers through his hair, and even scraped at the fortnight old beard. Because it surely had to be ... Barnee?

'Captain Hilton,' the tailor said. 'By Christ, what have they done to you?'

'Why, they have done nothing to me,' Kit said. 'Save confine me in this filthy hole. I am allowed into the yard for half an hour every morning. And I am fed twice a day. I suppose you would call it food. And for the rest, I am ignored. But I have constantly changing company, so I am never bored.'

Barnee glanced at the drunk. 'Nobody could blame you for being bitter, Captain. I'd have come sooner, had I supposed it wise. But now, why, the tumult has all but died away.'

'Then they will bring me to trial?'

Barnee
sighed. 'Somehow, sir, I doubt that is their purpose.' He frowned at Kit's clothes. 'Such a tragedy. Why, do you know I spent three weeks on those breeches?'

Kit grasped the bars. 'What do you mean, Barnee? Have no papers been prepared against me?'

Barnee shook his head. 'Not to my knowledge, sir.'

'By God,' Kit said. 'But my wife, has she not been after the matter?'

'Mrs Hilton has not been seen in St John's, sir, since the night she and the Colonel returned in triumph.' 'Not seen? The devil. Two weeks?'

'Indeed, sir. Nor has there been any entertainment in Green Grove in that time. There are rumours, certainly. To the effect that she regrets her quarrel with you, and is ashamed of the outcome, or even that she regrets what happened to Miss Christianssen. And then her overseers say she is unwell, and spends much time in her room, visits the canefields but occasionally, and then heavily veiled as if she had been weeping.'

'I doubt that, somehow,' Kit said. 'But Lilian, Barnee. You spoke of Lilian. What news of her?'

'Now that is why I came, Captain.'

'And you have dawdled these last ten minutes? Speak up, man.'

'She is well, sir. At least, she is much better.' 'Her mother is still with her?'

'Better than that, sir. She is with her mother and father.' 'Here in town?'

'Indeed, sir. It was my fortune to play the part of mediator between them, and now she is in good hands, and indeed, asks of you continuously.'

'But ... what of her condition? The shame of it?'

'Oh, well, sir, we brought her into St John's privily, and she remains indoors of a day, only occasionally venturing out after dark to enjoy the breeze. Her hair is not yet grown, you understand, nor is her complexion clear. Indeed, I fear it may be some time before she will again be the girl you remember, Captain. But it will be.'

'You have seen her?'

'In a manner of speaking, sir. She wears a hooded cloak, and a veil, when in company.'

'But what of her manner? Her spirits?'

'Ah, well, sir, there is more of a problem for those who love her. You will know that she was always a solemn girl, sir, given to quiet thought. That side of her character now entirely dominates. She does not smile, and she speaks seldom. Indeed, she gives the impression of a woman wrestling with
some deep, and possibly irremediable, problem.'

'And would you not be similarly downcast, had you suffered but a tithe of what she suffered?' Kit demanded. 'That I should be here, behind bars, while she is in such despair ... I sometimes feel like taking that gaoler by the neck and choking the life from his body. It were an easy thing.'

'And then would you truly be hanged, Captain,' Barnee pointed out. 'No, no, sir. Patience is the key to your problem. I have said, I do not believe they mean to bring matters to a trial. For one thing it could set a dangerous precedent, should a planter be tried for the death of an employee; God knows that is not such an uncommon occurrence. And for another, I believe the answer rests with your wife, and I cannot believe, despite all that has passed between you, that she hates you to that extent. It is she who is paying for your keep here.'

'And for that I must be grateful?' Kit asked. 'She will know better than ever to let me come near her again. For, by God, I will finish what I began.'

'No doubt, sir,' Barnee said soothingly. 'But I would again beg of you, be patient. The gossips have it that a new governor has been appointed for the Leewards, and he could already be on his way here. There is an end to your problem, surely, as he will bring the approbation of Her Majesty, and 'tis well known that she is displeased with the attitude of the planters in favour of Colonel Warner.'

'Aye,' Kit agreed. 'Yet much will depend on the character of the man himself. It will take no little resolution to oppose so unitedly stiff-necked a body. Have you no word of his name?'

'None, sir,' Barnee said. 'Yet am I convinced that his arrival cannot but mean a speedy end to your imprisonment. Now I must be away.'

'You'll take a message for Lilian,' Kit said. 'Tell her that I love her, now and always. Tell her that she shall be avenged, this I swear. Convince her, Barnee, that this is but a brief episode in our lives. She must be sure of that.'

'She is, Captain. Of that I am certain. Yet will I give her your words, of course.'

'And you'll come again, Barnee? This place is almighty tedious.'

'I will come again, Captain. And until then, take care.'

Take care. Of what, he wondered. Of his safety? That was well looked after. The other inmates, all transients, feared him and shunned him as if he suffered from the plague. Of his appearance? There was an impossible task. He possessed no mirror, and could only judge on feel, and smell. Thus his hair and his beard both grew, untidily and dirtily, and the dirt accumulated beneath his fingernails as the sweat accumulated throughout his body to give him an extra skin, he thought. As for his clothing, that surely was beyond recall, as he slept in his suit, lived in it, took his scanty exercise in it. Of his health, then? Oh, he would take care of his health, in so far as it was possible. The first meal after Barnee's departure he had almost rejected. Marguerite's money? But then it had occurred to him that if she meant to keep him alive it would be foolish of him to reject that. She fought in her way, and he must fight in his, counting upon the ultimate victory.

Of his mind? Here was the true nub of the matter. To sit in a noisome, over-heated cell, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, week after week, and even month after month was surely more than man had been intended to suffer. Certainly a man like Kit Hilton, to whom the sea and the sky and the breeze on his face were a large part of what was worth possessing. Not to know what was happening, what Marguerite was doing and planning, tucked away behind the protection of her cane-filled acres and her scent-filled house, what Philip Warner was saying and doing, in the House of Assembly, and what Lilian was suffering and feeling. To know that she was just down the street, in fact, and yet as distant as if she had been on another planet, was the bitterest thought of all.

Perhaps, then, his sanity depended on Barnee. For the tailor came every week with what news he could glean, of John Benbow's death, but strangely of no new depredations by DuCasse, of the execution of two of Benbow's captains for cowardice in the battle of Santa Marta, of the successes of the Anglo-Dutch army in Europe, where the Duke of Marlborough was making his reputation, of the soaring price of sugar, and of more domestic matters, too.

Philip Warner had resigned the Speakership. He had, in
fact, but taken the post in acknowledgment of the planters' wish, and to complete his triumph. But age and infirmity were making it less easy for him to get about, and impossible for him to sustain the burden of hours of debate in the Chamber.

'Now there is good news, at the least,' Kit said. 'Surely his successor can hardly be so opposed to my interest.'

'You think so, Captain?' Barnee asked sorrowfully.

'It cannot be John Harding?'

'No, indeed, Captain. From your point of view it is worse. The new Speaker is Colonel Warner's nominee, as you may suppose; Edward Chester.'

Chester, by God. Dear Edward. Possibly the one man in Antigua who hated Kit more than the Colonel himself.