Mistress of Darkness (50 page)

'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 that 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.

^l
My
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 crowd. '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.'

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?'