Haggard (22 page)

Emily, as ever, was a copy of her sister, in dark blue instead of red; but Haggard had eyes only for the original.

'My agent has secured me rooms at the Albany,' he said.

The Albany. Why, you could not do better.' She raised one eyebrow, a disconcerting gesture at the best of times, but one indicative in addition of surprise that he should have done so well.

'Aye, well . . .' Brand drank the last of his port. 'You'll excuse me for half an hour, Haggard. There are some letters to be seen to.'

Haggard also rose. 'Then perhaps I should leave. It has been a tiring day.'

'Stuff and nonsense, my dear fellow. I'll not be longer than half an hour. Emily, you'll not forget that task you set yourself.'

He was so heavy handed it was nearly laughable. Yet Haggard found himself at Alison's elbow as they left the table and made their way into a deserted and somewhat darkened gallery which ran beyond the withdrawing room, it is cool here,' she said. 'And quiet. Will you require anything else to drink, Mr. Haggard?'

‘I
have had sufficient, thank you, Miss Brand.'

She nodded to the footman, who silently withdrew. 'The last time we met, you did me the honour of addressing me by name.'

'And with your permission I shall do so again.' He held a chair for her, sat himself, opposite her.

'May I ask if you received my letter?'

‘I
did.'

'And were offended, of course. You did not reply.' 'I am no correspondent, Alison.' 'What
are
you, Mr. Haggard?'

The question, asked in that soft, gentle voice, took him by surprise. He leaned back. 'A man-'

'An ambitious man,' she said,
‘I
am sure of that. As well as a wealthy one. Which means that most of your ambitions should be within reach. Will you share them with me?'

To hold you in my arms,' Haggard said. His heart seemed to leap from his chest into his throat and then sink all the way back to his belly. He had not meant to be as forthright as that.

Alison Brand gazed at him for some moments. She did not blush, nor was she smiling in embarrassment. 'So you indicated at our last meeting, Mr. Haggard. Before fleeing into the night.'

My God, he thought; she lectures me like my mother. But how pleasant, how delightful, it was to be lectured by those lips.

'Aye, well, I doubted I would be doing you a service.' Of course, he realised. This was the line to follow.

indeed?'

'As everyone points out to me, continually, I am a wild colonial boy. That they accept me in even the smallest degree is due to my money. I do not dress as they. I refuse to wear a wig, or a corset . .

in which direction you but anticipate the future, Mr. Haggard, as both wigs and corsets are going out of fashion, for men as well as women.'

'Indeed? But those are only exterior points.'

At last her face relaxed. 'And are you also wild and uncouth in your personal habits?'

'Indeed I am,' he said.

She regarded him for some moments, in a most speculative fashion. Her tongue came out and just touched her upper lip, before disappearing again. He had a sudden thought that the gesture reminded him of a snake, and as hastily rejected it. It was blasphemy to suggest there could be any reptilean quality about so much beauty.

'I do not suppose,' she said, 'that such a man would be beyond the capability of a woman of sense and understanding.'

'Alison,' he said, reaching for her hand, which was immediately withdrawn.

'Providing,' she said, 'that she could be sure of his love for her. That it was shared with no other.'

He leaned back in his chair. 'No doubt my domestic arrangements are the talk of London.'

'You flatter yourself, Mr. Haggard,' she said. 'But they are common knowledge, to be sure.'

'And you would change them?' He was beginning to be angry.

‘I
, sir? I have no interest in the matter.'

'No interest?' He got up. 'You have contrived this interview with me, Miss Brand, merely to tease me into using words I am already regretting. I shall bid you good-night.'

'Mr. Haggard,' she said. 'Why do we always quarrel? I have heard it said that people who appear so violently to dislike each other are really attempting to conceal a much more sublime emotion.'

He stood above her. How confident she was. But no doubt with reason; for how he longed to hold her in his arms,
‘I
apologise.'

Then you'll stay and talk with me. At least until Papa returns.'

Haggard hesitated, and sat down. There are aspects of the situation which are not common knowledge.'

'I do not seek to pry, Mr. Haggard.'

'But you'd make certain conditions.'

A trace of pink darkened her cheeks. 'I am but a girl, Mr. Haggard, and know little of the world. But I do understand my own nature, which is as unruly and passionate as your own. And in addition I am a woman. As a sex we lack a man's aptitude for sharing, save with one other.' She bit her lip to indicate she may have been too bold, but like everything else she did it was clearly a studied gesture.

'Aye,' he said, and got up again. 'I
will
take my leave, Alison. Not in anger, I do promise you. I wish to think.'

Her frown cleared. 'And I would interrupt no man's thoughts, Mr. Haggard.' She stood up as well. 'I shall look forward to seeing you again.' She held out her hand.

He took it, began to lift it to his lips, and then stopped. 'When last we met, you allowed me the use of your lips.'

Once again the tongue, just peeping through the barrier of her teeth. 'I apologise for my wantonness, sir. I was somewhat disturbed by my father's illness.'

'Yet, having established such an understanding . . .'

She hesitated, then smiled, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him on the mouth. His hands attempted to close on her shoulders, but with an expert wriggle she slid from between them. Her cheeks were pink. 'May Heaven aid your thoughts, dear Mr. Haggard.'

He doubted Heaven was involved. And how to think, coherently, when his mind was clouded with the scent of her perfume, the feel of her velvet flesh, the promise of all that lay beneath that crimson gown. Thus night. But morning, with its searching clarity, reminded him of what a plot it was. As if it mattered. He was John Haggard. Alison Brand, or more likely her father, might dream only of his fortune, but to attain that she must grant him the use of her body. And that was all he wished.

As he was a fool. He wanted more than that. But he did not doubt for a moment that once he had possessed her body, he would in the course of time possess her mind and her soul, and her entire love, as well. Had he not achieved as much with Emma, after a far less likely beginning?

But Emma. There was the point. He loved her, and she loved him. If only he could still love her with the passion of that first day when she had been tied to his bed. Oh, Emma. Perhaps, if she could join him in London, he would feel less disloyal to her. But that would be madness, and social and political suicide. There it was; he was risking those fates all the while. They had not mattered in Barbados, but in England, where acceptance was the entire key to a civilised existence, they suddenly clouded his horizon.

At the least it was not a problem to be faced, seriously, until after he had regained Middlesex and settled with Sharp, once and for all; the case was scheduled for immediately after Easter. Cummings had located an a
ttorney named Roeham, who in turn
had briefed a barrister by name of Broughton.
it
is an open and shut case, Mr. Haggard,' Broughton said,
‘I
am amazed it has been referred to a superior court at all. The man Middlesex is your property, and there is an end to it. Property is inviolable.'

'Which is what I told the magistrate,' Haggard pointed out.

'Oh, indeed, you did, sir. But, if I may be so bold, it is nearly always a mistake to represent yourself at affaire of this kind. Magistrates, like judges, indeed, are accustomed to hear legal arguments put forward in proper legal jargon, and they become hostile, very easily, to laymen seeking to present their own cases. In this case, sir, you have nothing to apprehend, save that the man Middles
e
x may already have been secreted from the country.'

'Sharp gave a bond,' Roeham said.

'Indeed, Mr. Roeham, indeed. But then, Mr. Sharp is a wealthy man, and like all philanthropists, a trifle mad, in my opinion. It would matter not in the least to him to forfeit the bond, or even to be sent to gaol for contempt, if he could make his mark with the public. This is your other problem, Mr. Haggard. The case has attracted some attention in the popular press, and it is possible that you may be subjected to the rigours of a hostile crowd. But then, after all, such an experience is nothing more than our noble Prince suffers every time he rides abroad.'

'I do not regard hostile crowds as being serious obstacles, sir,' Haggard said.

‘I
did not think you would, sir. Well, then, see you in court, eh?'

But he was not really looking forward to such an ordeal, especially one which had attracted so much attention, and to decide such an open and shut case. But as Pitt himself had made clear, his political future depended upon it.

At least he was the first witness. He supposed indeed he would be the only witness, unless the defence called Middlesex himself. Nor was he in any way cross examined by the defence counsel, who merely nodded as Broughton extracted each of the relevant facts in turn. But then how could he be cross examined? Middlesex was his property, inherited by him from his father, and there was an end to the matter. He found the proceedings somewhat boring, for Broughton's arguments did not appear to be any advance upon his own at the earlier hearing, nor were the defence submissions in any way different. He preferred to study the face, and hopefully the attitude, of Chief Justice Mansfield, who made notes as each barrister presented his client's case, all with a quite expressionless countenance, only occasionally glancing at Middlesex, who sat with Granville Sharp immediately behind Barham the attorney. He never looked at Haggard at all.

Nor did he adjourn when the defence counsel was finished, but merely considered his notes for a few minutes. Then he cleared his throat, and the courtroom, crowded to the very door—all three of the Brands were here, as well as several other gentlemen of Haggard's acquaintance—fell absolutely still.

The case before me,' the Chief Justice said, in quiet tones, 'is a simple one, in that we are not here today to consider any question of fact. My learned counsel for the defence has not denied the essential claim made by my learned counsel for the plaintiff, that the man Middlesex is, by West Indian law, the property of the plaintiff. This is indisputable. The question which I am asked to decide here today is whether such West Indian law applies here in England.

'Now, of course, when the West Indian colonies were founded, some hundred and more years ago, the gentlemen adventurers who so boldly created for themselves new homes in a new world carried with them the civilisation they left behind, and the laws of that civilisation. Thus the basic law of any British colony in the West Indies, is English Common Law. But certain modifications were necessary to deal with local situations, and in addition, we must remember that these settlements
were
made more than a hundred years ago, and not all of the changes which have taken place in English law since that time, and in particular the Bill of Rights established by the Glorious Revolution of 1689, were translated into the laws of the different colonies.

There was no slavery in the England of 1650. That situation, happily, has been left far behind in antiquity in this happy land of ours. Slavery, however, has been regarded as necessary in the West Indies since the establishment of the first colony, whether slavery of the indigenous population, the Indians, who did not survive such servitude, whether slavery of the indenture variety, to which convicted criminals from this country were attached, or whether it was imported slavery, that is, Negro slaves. The necessity was caused by the basic economy of the islands, which depended first of all on tobacco, and more latterly, and more successfully, on the growth of cane sugar, both industries which require a very high manpower. This situation has always been recognised by successive British governments, and although in recent years we have witnessed a growth of public opinion which is opposed to slavery on moral grounds, the question has not yet been decided by Parliament, and legal slavery remains in force in these colonies. It is not my place to go into the arguments for or against the system. That is the law as it stands today. In other words, no censure or obloquy can possibly be levelled against the plaintiff because he owns slaves. He is behaving in a perfectly legal fashion.'