HF - 03 - The Devil's Own (28 page)

'And you will pretend that there is no fornication on this plantation save as instructed by you?'

'Once a woman is past child-bearing, she may couple to her heart's content, and any young man may put her to good use. Girls who may bear children know well that should they do so without my permission they will be punished. And severely, I do warrant that.' But her frown was back as she studied him. 'I wonder if we have not worked enough for the first day of our married life. I think we shall leave the fields and return to the house.'

She urged her horse up to the right-hand path, and Kit rode behind her. Christ, how confused he was. How uncertain.

'And is what you have shown me today common practice on all the plantations in Antigua?'

'By no means. Nor was it common practice here, until four years ago. For the most, my fellow planters allow the blacks, in whom they have invested nearly their entire fortunes, to go their own way, live and die and fornicate and drop their children with as little interference from their masters as possible. Truly are they a thoughtless society. But then, is there a society which is not?'

'And for this they speak of you in whispers.'

Once again she reined her horse. 'For this they feel that I am beyond their understanding. Were I a man, perhaps, with ideas to put into practice, they would be less aghast. That I am a woman, and young, and even beautiful, would you not say, but yet will go amongst my blacks, and feel their wounds, examine a male weapon, deliver, on occasion, a babe myself and cut the cord myself, this they feel is indecent, unbecoming. Would you not say they are fools? I do the same when one of my mares is in foal.'

Kit stared at her.

'Aye,' she said. 'You are, aft
er all, no more than a man, Kit.

But you are my man. We'll not forget that, either of us. Now race me to the house.'

Her whip cracked on the rump of her horse, and it started off at a gallop. Dust flew from its heels, and her hair scattered behind her as she charged up the hill. Kit followed more slowly, keeping his hand tight on the reins. He doubted his ability to keep his seat at that speed, and besides, it was an opportunity to think. As if he dared, to think. Marguerite Warner, Marguerite Templeton, Marguerite Hilton. She was everything he had ever wanted. She was everything any man could ever have wanted. She was a walking dream, in her smell, in her confidence, in her very being.

So then, had he supposed he was marrying a doll? A creature without thought or judgement of her own? He had never supposed that. He had wanted her as much for her spirit and her obvious intelligence as for the promise of her thighs. So then, that spirit and that intelligence was now his, had he the spirit and the intelligence to master them. But to master them he must first of all master the world of which she had made herself the mistress.

So she was universally ... what was the word he sought? He could not be sure. Abhorred by her fellows? Hardly. They had come quickly enough to attend her wedding. Perhaps feared would be a more accurate description of the emotion she inspired, in the planters no less than in her blacks. She was feared for her ruthless certainty. She evaluated her situation, decided what must be done, and then did it, without a glance to left or to right, without hesitation, without a thought as to the possible hardship she might be inflicting.

And he was taking her to task for that? Had she not acted always upon such a principle, and with such determination, he would not now be riding up to the Great House, the master of Green Grove. She had defied family and convention and society in taking a buccaneer as her husband. Because she had chosen to do so. Only a fool would question her for that.

But only a coward would not. Because why had she made that decision? There was a disturbing thought. It could not alone be centred upon his virility, for the decision had been taken long before she had accompanied him to bed.

He was at the house, and George F
rederick was hurrying
down to take his bridle as he dismounted. Marguerite's horse already waited at the steps. 'The mistress says you must go to her, Captin,' George Frederick looked embarrassed. 'If you please.'

' 'Tis a lecture you'll be receiving, Mr Hilton,' Dutton remarked. The overseer had come round the corner of the house unobserved. 'For losing your phlegm at the execution.'

Kit stared at him. 'Aye,' he said. 'I have something to learn about the planting business.'

Dutton grinned. 'You'll not find a better teacher than Mrs Templeton. Ah, I must apologize, sir. I had meant Mistress Hilton, had I not?'

Kit went up the steps and handed his hat to the waiting girl. The house was quiet, and cool, and sweet smelling. The house was the Green Grove he loved. The house and its inmate. But to come back here and claim that inmate, he must ride the fields, and the people in them.

'Where is the mistress?' he asked.

'She taking she bath, Captin,' the girl said, and simpered.

Kit nodded, climbed the stairs to the bedchamber used for her tub; it contained nothing else save a gigantic mirror and a low table. From behind the closed door there came the sounds of splashing and the chatter of the girls. But Martha Louise waited outside the door. For him. Because as he approached she knocked, and the sounds within immediately died.

'The master is here,' she said.

Hands clapped, and the door opened. Five girls came running out, their hands still wet, and their dresses also soaked. They giggled and bowed, and scattered towards the servants' staircase.

'You is to go in, Captin,' Martha Louise said, and drew the back of her hand across her nose; she seemed to have caught a cold.

Kit nodded, hesitated for a last moment, and then stepped through the door, which promptly closed behind him.

'I am the victor,' Marguerite said. She sat in the huge tin tub, which was some four feet in diameter, and round, and filled with bubbling suds. Her hair was bound up on the top of her head to expose that splendid, strong face, but for the
rest she was almost lost to sight beneath the bubbles. 'Pour some sangaree, my darling.'

Kit obeyed; the jug and the glasses waited on the low table.

'Now give me a sip.'

He knelt beside the tub, held the glass to her lips. She drank, and smiled at him. 'Did I ever tell you how happy I am, Kit?' she asked. 'Just to look at you, and know you are there. Just to know that this body belongs to you, and will always do so.'

Her eyes held his. She was fighting a battle, with all the intensity of her body, of her mind, with all the power that she could command. But it was a battle for which she had prepared, for at least a month. Whereas he had stumbled into an ambush, unawares.

Nor would she admit less than a total victory. 'And as I won our race,' she said, 'I claim a forfeit. A duty of you, my sweet. I have sent my girls away. I would have you bathe me. Would you not do that, as a forfeit?'

He placed the glass on the floor, empty. As he had drunk he had tasted her perfume, or so it seemed. Now he took off his coat and pushed up his sleeves. Because how much did he want to touch that body? How much had everything he had seen and heard and smelt this morning made him want to renew his possession of that body.

And besides, she was the victor.

'What's this?' Kit stepped out of the front door, flicking his boots with his riding whip; it was remarkable how easily one picked up the habits of the planters and the overseers. 'A carriage?'

'Did you not know that we possessed a carriage?' Marguerite smiled. 'It is housed in that shed yonder.'

'Then you do not mean to go aback today?' But now he looked at her more closely he could see that indeed she did not, for she had abandoned her divided skirt and her boots and her tricorne in favour of a dark blue taffeta gown decorated with cream silk cuffs and matching bows, and wore lace on her head, while her hair was dressed, although loose. And she carried a fan and a cane.

'A surprise,' she said. 'Do you not realize, my sweet, that for six whole months I have not been to St Joh
n's? The only
occasions on which I have left my plantation have been to visit Goodwood. But now ... now that I am a bride of a fortnight and more, I thought we might venture forth and show ourselves to the idle populace.'

'St John's?' His heart bounded at the thought. Now why? Had he then been a prisoner? Oh, indeed, in the most splendid prison imaginable. But now he was more master of his surroundings; practice had even taught him to sit a horse at more than a walk. The flogging of a recalcitrant slave no longer had him trembling, as the sight of the blacks' nudity and desires no longer aroused his own manhood. He had realized that he could reconcile his present position with his innermost ambitions. For the slaves on Green Grove were undoubtedly healthy, and cared for, and in so far as a slave could ever be happy, they were happy. Certainly their lot seemed infinitely preferable to those of any other plantation, nor did it seem to interrupt their concept of themselves to be treated as animals. Because at the very least they were treated as valuable animals, and in that sense protected from the worst evils of climate and human frailty. Whereas on most other plantations in Antigua their lot fluctuated between total neglect and a constant apprehension of the worst of human vices, which reached out to encompass all ages and both sexes, and varied from lust to sadistic brutality.

And for looking after her slaves as she cared for her horses and indeed for her cane itself, Marguerite was feared and disliked by her fellows. Well, then, he was proud to stand at her side, now and always.

'As the idea pleases you, my sweet,' she said, 'I suggest you sit beside me. I shall be attending the auction, Dutton, as I am going that way. You will join me with the wagon in an hour.'

'Yes, Mistress Hilton,' the overseer said, and touched his hat. A man to watch, Dutton, with his constant smile, and his determination to take orders from none but his mistress.

As Marguerite had noticed. She settled herself comfortably as the carriage moved off behind George Frederick and the liveried coachman. 'A drive, with my husband, on a cool morning. Is that not a delight?'

'Indeed it is. I wonder that you spare the time.'

'The cane is nearly ripe,' she said. 'There is little harm can come to it, now. Next month we shall grind. Then, then you shall see us labour. And you shall labour yourself; I would like you to supervise the boiling.'

'Willingly,' he agreed. 'If I could be at all sure how to go about it.'

'I will have Passmore instruct you. But you must be sure that you understand what you are about. Boiling is a time of great effort, and not all are willing to give that effort. You must drive them to it, Kit. I would estimate that you have now completed what we might call your probationary period as master of Green Grove. Now I would have you
be
master. You understand my meaning?'

'As well as I can.'

'I doubt you do,' she said. 'The blacks will not go against you. They dare not, as they know I ride at your side. I would have you be more assertive with the whites. Perhaps they find it hard to consider you as their superior, as when you came here you appeared no more than their equal.'

'I was no more than their equal.'

'You underestimate yourself. Life had perhaps treated you unkindly, but you should never forget that your background is infinitely superior to that of any poor white. Your grandfather was Governor of Tortuga.'

Kit burst out laughing. 'Really, dear one, you must have forgotten that hea
p of rubble, that colony of cut
throats. And it had improved since my grandfather's day.'

'None the less,' she insisted, with unusual heat. 'Anthony Hilton was a colonial governor, and will remain forever in the history books as a colonial governor. I would have you bear that always in mind, Kit. As for the other, it would be a good thing were you to give one of these fools a proper taste of your character. They know you only by reputation, and your one aggressive act since coming to Antigua earned you a beating from my father's blacks. Believe me, I see no reproach for you in that. You were attacked from behind and by numbers too considerable even for you to manage, but still I would have you remind these louts of what danger they play with when they mock you. I do not think it would be sound policy for me openly to encourage you t
o brawl in front of them, so
I make my request now, and trust that you will act upon it in due course.'

'But Marguerite, darling,' he said. 'Why should I? I assure you that their remarks or sly grins bother me not in the least. And I would really like to turn my back on violence.'

'No man can do that, and be a man, Kit,' she said. 'And if their pinpricks do not bother you, be sure they bother me. Would you have your wife insult
ed, even at second hand? You are
master of Green Grove, Kit. No law can touch you were you to kill a man in the main street of St John's. I give you my word on that. You have but to act the part.'