Mistress of Darkness (33 page)

'Oh, be quiet man,' Robert snorted, getting down. 'Georgiana, you'll entertain Monsieur Gorbeau to a glass of punch. Suzanne, you'll come with me. You too, Matt.'

'Are we then to be whipped like runaway children?' Suzanne inquired, still speaking quietly, but with flints of steel seeming to form parts of her eyes.

'By God,' Robert shouted. 'It would be nothing less than you deserve.' He stamped up the stairs.

'And is Rio Blanco anything like Hilltop, Mr. Corbeau?' Georgiana inquired, tucking her arm through his.

Corbeau watched Suzanne's hips moving beneath her skirt as she mounted the stairs in front of him. 'Rio Blanco is more beautiful, Miss Georgiana. If only because of the river which gives it the name.'

'Oh, fie on you,' Georgiana shouted. 'You are a despicable froggie.'

'You'll excuse my sister, Mr. Corbeau,' Suzanne said from the foot of the great staircase. 'And me, for the moment. We'd best hear what the old tyrant has to say, Matt. Robert,' she called. 'We shall pay our respects to Aunt Becky, first.'

Robert stopped at the landing, looked down at her. 'Becky is dead,' he said. 'She had a seizure the day after you left for St. Lucia on the packet. There's the effects of your absurdities mounting all around you.'

Suzanne had stopped, and colour flamed into her cheeks. 'Then I should like to see her grave.'

'And so you shall, when I am done with you.' Robert stamped into the room he kept as an office; the walls were lined with books, which were never read, and the furniture consisted of a huge desk, and half a dozen cane chairs. He sat down, sweeping field returns and slave registers to one side. A little, bald-headed man hastily got to his feet from a smaller desk in the corner. 'Out, man, out,' Robert bellowed. 'We have serious matters to discuss.'

'Good morning to you, Mr. Hardiman,' Suzanne said. 'I hope we are not interrupting your work.'

'No trouble, Miss Suzanne. No trouble. Glad to have you back.' Hardiman sidled towards the door. 'Good to see you again, Mr. Matthew. Good to see you again.' He closed the door behind himself.

'Sit down,' Robert shouted. 'Sit down, the pair of you.'

Suzanne had already taken a chair immediately before the desk. Now she removed her hat, and fanned herself. Her hair scattered lightly before the self-created breeze. Matt sat beside her. His brain was in a whirl. It had, indeed, been in a whirl since leaving the
Formidable.
Or perhaps, he was beginning to think, it had been in a whirl for too long before that. Now he only knew that he was entirely at Suzanne's mercy. But that was a pointless exercise. She had come on deck to work the gun beside him. She had made herself into a deathless legend. It was not likely that she would ever desert him now. So then, where did that leave him?

Robert was sifting papers, not looking at them, but with some embarrassment. 'Now,' he said. 'I have penned a letter to Dirk which I have not yet despatched, because I deemed it best that you should yourself carry it, Sue. In it I have done my best to explain the situation, have offered him my most profound apologies for what has happened, and have begged him to take you back as my friend, and as the gentleman I know he is, and because he loves you, which I know he does. I have no doubt at all that when he sees you again, when he holds you once again in his arms, and when you add your entreaties to my own, he will be prepared to forgive you this escapade, and who knows, in time you may even regain your previous felicity. Of course there is absolutely no hope of your ever being accepted in polite society again, at least, not for many, many years. But there it is. You will at least have a husband. Now, then, as for you, you young scoundrel...'

‘I beg your pardon,' Suzanne said. 'But we have not finished talking about
me,
and it is useless discussing Matt until that is done.'

'What?' Robert demanded. 'What? I am afraid it would be very unwise of either of you ever to attempt to see each other again. Scandals of this nature are only mended by strict behaviour and confidence in the ability of the human race to forget.'

'Robert, sometimes you are capable of playing the absolute fool,' Suzanne said, without anger.

'What? What did you say?'

'Do you seriously suppose I intend to return to Dirk Huys? Even supposing I did not love Matt, and had acted out of some whim, do you possibly imagine that I could go back to my husband, and experience all the continued humiliations which would be heaped upon me, as well, no doubt, as the physical mistreatment? I should have to be demented.'

'By God,' Robert said. 'By God.'

'But as it happens,' Suzanne continued, speaking very quietly and very clearly, 'I am in love with Matt. And I propose to continue being in love with him. I never loved Dirk, as you well know. You elected that I should marry your friend, and I was not then twenty-one years of age. I am now twenty-three, and I have had three years of living with that great boring hulk of a man. I think I have obeyed you long enough.'

'By God.' Robert stared at Matt in absolute consternation.

'So you see,' Suzanne continued, 'wherever Matt goes, whatever Matt does, I shall also go and do. And whatever befalls him, shall undoubtedly befall me also.' She held up her hand as Robert would have exploded again. 'And before
you
have a seizure, let me remind you, and Matt, that he also is now more than twenty-one years of age, and entitled to form his own life. He has for too long been concerned with your opinions.'

'By God,' Robert said. 'By God. That any man can be so unfortunate ...'

'As to be handicapped by two whores as sisters, you were no doubt going to say,' Suzanne interrupted. 'I think you are totally wrong. I think that, in forcing me to marry Dirk, you were then making me act the whore. I have come to my senses.'

'Senses,' Robert bellowed. 'Senses? By God. By God. And suppose I cut you both off without a shilling, turn you from my door, leave you to starve upon the streets of Kingston?'

'Then at least we shall starve in each other's arms,' Suzanne said. 'Unless Matt has some better suggestion.'

Certainly she had fought alone long enough; but Matt's mind was once again reeling. That Sue, dearest, darling, magnificent Sue, should be willing to sacrifice all for him, seemed an utterly incomprehensible concept.

'Well?' Robert demanded.

'I am not entirely bereft of wits or accomplishments,' Matt said. 'Why, I doubt not that your friend George Rodney would be happy enough to have me back. Certainly we could find refuge with Louis.'

Now why, he wondered, did Suzanne suddenly frown.

'Oh, aye, Corbeau,' Robert said. 'You'd do well to be wary of that gentleman, the pair of you. Oh, he is a gentleman, do not mistake me on that. But the French planters, well, and especially those of St. Domingue, have a different attitude to life than us. Not that it is relevant. Have you considered what you will do when Dirk comes looking for you, pistol in hand? As he most certainly will once this accursed war is done. He could take the mole from your cheek without bruising the flesh.'

'Then I shall have to practise,' Matt said quietly.

'By God,' Robert said again. 'By God.' He got up, turned his back on them, and stared out of the window.

'No doubt you would like us to take our leave,' Suzanne said.

'And what of the cause of all this misfortune?' Robert asked, still not looking at them. 'As I recall the matter, when last we met, Matthew, your heart was irretrievably gone in favour of a nigger.'

Matt felt his cheeks burning, and looked at Suzanne. But both her face and her eyes were quite cool, as she returned his gaze.

'Well?' Robert demanded.

Matt licked his lips. ‘I doubt Dirk, were he standing here with a loaded weapon, could have done quite so much pain to me,' he said. 'My honour demands that I find Gislane, Robert. Be sure that I shall do so. Nevis is still only a few days' sail.'

'Your honour? By God. Nevis, by God. And what of the dishonour you have inflicted upon Sue?'

'I love her as she loves me,' Matt said. 'I shall remain by her side for the rest of my life, if she will but have me. No doubt you were right, and my affection for Gislane was no more than infatuation, but...'

'But now you would set up a
menage a trois?
Oh, very French you are suddenly become. What do you say to that, Sue?'

'I well understand Matt's predicament, Robert. I also respect his desire to behave in an honourable fashion.'

'Bah. Words. Words, by God. I wonder I do not take my whip to the pair of you, indeed I do.'

'Because I would twist it from your hands and break it over your head,' Matt said, his embarrassment taking refuge in a sudden anger.

'By God,' Robert said, in total wonder.

Suzanne smiled, for the first time that morning.

Matt waited.

Robert filled his lungs with air, and allowed them to explode. 'What a family to be cursed with,' he remarked.

'I do not think we are any different to any other members of the family,' Suzanne said. ‘I think we Hiltons, and the Warners as well, perhaps have a truer sense of values than ordinary folk.'

‘Values, by God. Values.' Robert sat down again, and leaned across his desk. 'Now you listen to me. Two whores and a scoundrel, by God, are my lot, no doubt decided by God to punish my pride. But as you are my lot, by God, I must make the best of it. Sue, you are determined upon this course?'

'I have made that plain, I think.'

'Aye. So you have. Then you shall take ship to Green Grove, tomorrow.' He banged the desk as she would have protested. 'Matt will go with you. God alone knows what Antigua society will make of it, but at least they are less in numbers than Jamaican society. You will live there as you choose, for three years. I wish you to swear me that. Three years, never leaving that island.'

'But...' Matt began.

'You'll hear me out, by God. In that time, I will accomplish what I can with Dirk, and attempt to persuade him to divorce Sue. I cannot see why he should not, as she has utterly disgraced him. Then you may marry, and live honourably at least in the sight of God. Three years, Matt. Then we'll talk about the future. By God, boy, you'd be a fool as well as a blackguard to refuse me that.'

Matt glanced at Suzanne. Now at last the pink was gathering in her cheeks. But she would not attempt to persuade him either way.

'Three years,' he said, half to himself. Oh, Robert was cunning enough. After three more years, Gislane would be nothing but a memory. Could be nothing but a memory. And he would be then an utter scoundrel. But he would have Suzanne, and would be able to keep her, honourably, and in comfort. Christ, he thought, what a tangled world we can create by but a single careless moment. Had I not confided in Georgiana that October afternoon ...

Suzanne was still staring at him. He reached across to take her hand. 'I never doubted that blood was thicker than your notions of propriety,' he said. 'And I doubt that three years will be long enough, for Sue and me to honeymoon.'

'Cricket? What is this cricket?' asked Louis Corbeau.

Georgiana had reined her horse on the edge of the racecourse, and now she clucked her tongue impatiently. 'Oh, really, Louis. It is an utterly foolish game, played with sticks and a ball.'

'Tennis,' Corbeau suggested. 'We call it tennis.'

'No you do not,' she insisted. 'We also play at tennis. This is altogether different, and even less intelligent. But do we have to talk about Matt all the time?'

'And should I not? Were he not the man he is, I would not be the man I am.' He smiled as he spoke; when she was angry, or even pretending to be angry, she was twice as pretty as when her rather waspish features were in repose. It was a thousand pities that she was the unattached one, while her truly lovely sister - lovely in every way, he had no doubt at all - was hopelessly compromised. But yet, this girl promised much, in her laughter, in her flights of humour, in the traces of utter delight his practised eye could discern beneath the thin muslin.

'And that is probably the only good deed he has ever accomplished,' Georgiana agreed, walking her horse over the track. 'You will be attending the races, Louis?'

'But of course, Miss Georgiana. I have no choice, as I am your prisoner.'

'Now there's an attractive thought,' she said, and her ill-humour disappeared into one of her beguiling laughs.

Because, he thought, it was impossible not to be continually amazed at the workings of fate. It had never occurred to him to plan his life before, or even for one moment to consider the future further than a day ahead. He was thirty-one, and for the first twenty-five years of his life he had pursued nothing more important than pleasure, whether in Cap Francois or in Paris or in Fort Royal. The death of dear Papa six years ago had been no more than an interlude of sorrow; the plantations had been so well organized they had required nothing more than the assurance that there remained a Corbeau's hand on the whip to continue as prosperous as ever in the past. Even the Great Storm which had bankrupted so many lesser men had been no more than an irritation to him. He had elected to spend a year in Martinique entirely because it had occurred to him that it might be a good idea to get married, partly to preserve the name and heritage, of course, and partly because of what had happened to Helene. He had lost his temper, as he often did when drunk, and hit her, and she had cracked her skull open.

He regretted it. Helene had been, if not beautiful, certainly pretty, and most accomplished at her art, while one would hardly have supposed she was very nearly half black - unlike so many of his friends he had never been able to discover anything attractive in a pure Negress, however much he might occasionally desire their acknowledged ability in love-making. So Martinique had had an ulterior motive in beckoning him, for he remembered how when he had been a boy he had played with Rose Tascher de la Pagerie; even then she had been the most beautiful creature he had ever met. He had not doubted that as a woman she would be twice as desirable.