He sang as he walked back through the Park, flicking at the flowers with his cane, disturbing more than one courting couple with his boisterous passage, enjoying the soft spring air on his face, the loom of the rising moon peeping through the trees, the distant rumble of the traffic on the Lane and down Grosvenor Street. Colonel Taggart's port bubbled in his veins, the scent of Ellen filled his nostrils, the touch of her hand, of her lips as they had been allowed another brief moment alone together before parting, seemed imprinted on his flesh. It was the most glorious evening of his life, he decided. There was nothing which had ever happened which could possibly stand comparison. He could not, indeed, envisage anything ever happening in the future to compare. Except of course the night they were wed.
And even that could have been his, this night, had he wished. The song disappeared with the smile, and he sloped his cane across his shoulder as he walked into the darkness. She would have surrendered everything a woman should most hold dear, on the spot. And indeed, had become angry when he would not accept her surrender.
Of course, in retrospect, she would be grateful for his forbearance. And himself? Now, he felt like it. Now his breeches were full. Now he would seek out the lowest whore to spend his desire as rapidly as possible. And now he had given his word, to remain chaste for a year.
It had been the correct, the only thing to do, in the circumstances. His instincts had not played him false. Yet the fact was, he had known nothing but cold fright at the prospect of Ellen; Ellen, with all that her body, her mind, her personality, her very name, meant to him, surrendering to his passion. He had been afraid that she would be disappointed, that he would be disappointed, that they would not have the time to survive the slightest setback, that they might be interrupted to compound a catastrophe, that
...
it would all be different when they were married. Once that was accomplished, all difficulties would melt away, because they would be tied to each other, unable to escape, forced to love each other, or hate each other. What a remarkable thought.
And what a vast gulp of the future he was attempting to digest at a single swallow. Marriage to Ellen, possession of Ellen, with all the joy and all the passion that that would entail, was better than a year in the future. Perhaps longer than that. Suppose Uncle Robert did not like him? Suppose he did not like Uncle Robert? Oh, he would like Uncle Robert. No question about that. But suppose Uncle Robert dismissed him as incompetent, or as a milksop? The West Indies. Sugar cane. He knew nothing of sugar cane. He must get some books from the library, for a start.
And then slaves. What had Tony said? They strip them, to whip them. His step slowed. Men as well as women. Black people. He would supervise. Would he have to use the whip himself? He doubted that he could. Well, then, when commanded to do so, what then? And after his promise to Father.
Another gulp of the future. He was anticipating, too far and too fast. Suppose he did not survive the voyage itself? Mrs Taggart had been right about the dangers of an Atlantic crossing. He had not properly considered the matter. He had supposed himself snapping his fingers, and finding himself in Jamaica, safe and sound. He knew nothing of the sea, either, save the tales Father had told him of life in the Navy, and those had been grim enough.
He found himself hesitating upon his own doorstep, his hand on the latch. Another anticipation. There was decision, crisis, closer at hand than even that. Tomorrow he must resign from Bridle's Bank. What would Perkins say? What would Maurice say? Oh, Maurice would throw his hat in the air for joy. No doubts for Maurice. So, then, why doubts for Dick Hilton?
But suppose . . .
'Dick. Come in here, will you?'
He checked his tiptoe, turned to the parlour door. The fire had burned low, and so had the candles. In the dim light he could just make out the loom of his mother's hair.
'You should not have waited up.'
'Should I not? To welcome you home on the most fateful evening of your life?'
He closed the door behind him.
‘I
was just considering that very fact.'
'And you are exhaling port,' Suzanne said. 'Am I to take it that I can congratulate you?'
'Oh, Mama.' He crossed the floor, knelt beside her chair. 'It had quite slipped my mind. The Taggarts were overwhelmed.'
'And when is the great day?'
'Well, I explained that I must make my mark with Uncle Robert first. We agreed to wait for a year, when I would hope to return to England. To see you all. And to be married.'
'Sensible,' she said. 'Sober. You are very like your father.' She smiled, sadly. 'He once assaulted a young lady's house in just that fashion.'
'Yours?'
She shook her head. ‘N
ot mine. And it led to tragedy. Pray God your venture shall be different. You have had no second thoughts?'
'Second, third, and fourth, I am trembling like a jelly.' Her smile widened, and she thrust her fingers into his hair. 'But you'll not change your mind.' 'No, Mama. This is our chance. All of our chance.' 'To be rich, to be famous.'
'You almost sound disapproving. I had thought . . .'
'Quite correctly, Dick. Planting, money, power is in my blood. I have found it uncommonly hard these last twenty years. But I would have you understand what you do. Here, in London, not even Boney has been able to trouble us, to trouble you. You are blessed with some size, with splendid health, with a very level head, as you have just illustrated. You have naught to fear, from life.'
'And as Master of Hilltop,
I will have something to fear?’
Her other hand joined the first, to hold his head. 'Something,' she said. 'Your past, to begin with. Hush. Listen. The Hiltons, the Warners, were not given their sugar plantations, their islands; they took them.'
'You could say the same of every family, did you reach back far enough into their past.'
'I am reaching back not two hundred years, Dick. And in that taking, they committed horrible crimes. Tom Warner, Tony Hilton the first, they once massacred an entire Indian nation, to obtain St Kitts. Your great-great-grandfather, Christopher Hilton, marched with Morgan on Panama. Your Uncle Robert, this man you go to live with, my own brother, once mutilated and hanged a Negro for uncovering himself before my sister.' 'Uncovering himself?'
'You know what I mean,
Dick. And the affair was Georgi
ana's fault. Robert hoisted the boy with his own hands.' 'Thirty years ago.'
'Is that so very long? But even that, even everything else, done individually, is as nothing beside the greater crime, that of populating the islands with slaves themselves. The Warners, the Hiltons, played their part in that.'
'You sound like Father.'
'Should I not? We have stood shoulder to shoulder, these twenty years.'
‘I
have always supposed you supported him from love, and not conviction.'
'I supported him. There is all that matters.'
He kissed her fingers. 'And I support you both. I meant what I said, this evening. And slavery will soon be a thing of the past. Father says so, and he is winning his fight. The trade is already outlawed.'
'The trade,' Suzanne said. 'What rubbish. There is a nation of Negroes in the West Indies now, Dick. They need no increments from Africa to grow. As for being over, do you think the planters will agree to emancipation? There is their wealth, this wealth you look forward to inheriting, gone at a stroke. And can you imagine, for one moment, what will happen when two million black people are presented with their freedom, suddenly, in the presence of twenty thousand whites? Do you remember St Domingue?'
'Vaguely. As a nightmare. Mama, I know how you must feel about it, about Aunt Georgiana's death, but. . .'
'I feel nothing about it, now. I am merely trying to be sure you understand that this is no sinecure you undertake. Nor will you even be able to stand to one side and watch events shape themselves. As Richard Hilton
, as the Hilton of Hilltop, you
will be expected to lead, not follow.'
'And I will lead as my conscience directs me. I promise, Mama.'
She withdrew her hands, leaned back in her chair. 'I have no doubt of that, Dick. Yet will even that not be easy. The whites will hate you as much as the blacks.'
'As their leader?'
'As their superior, certainly. Jealousy is always a cause for hate. But there is more. You will understand that almost every white man in the West Indies is violently opposed to any interference in his affairs, in the institution of slavery. As I said, it is the foundation of their wealth, if they are wealthy, of their claims to superiority over the blacks if they are poor. You are Matt Hilton's son. And Matt once had one of them hanged, for murdering a black.'
'James Hodge,' Dick said. 'Father has told me.'
'Aye. But not the whole truth, perhaps. You will have to know it. There was a great scandal. That house your father assaulted, was here in London. The young woman seemed to be white. But she had Negro blood. Worse, she was an absconded slave.'
Dick stared at her in horror. 'But. . .'
'Your father loved her, Dick. And Robert found out about it and had her returned to the West Indies. To her rightful owner, James Hodge.'
'My God. But . . . Father says Uncle Robert assisted him in bringing the case against Hodge. In having him hanged.'
'Aye. Perhaps Robert regretted his crime. I do not know for certain. I do know that Matt had no idea Gislane's arrest was due to Robert, at that time. It was after he found out the truth that they quarrelled.'
'What happened to the woman? Gislane?'
Suzanne Hilton shrugged. 'She was sold again. And again. Eventually to Louis Corbeau in St Domingue. She practised
obeah,
the Negro witchcraft, became a leader in the revolt there. Perhaps she still rattles her bones, I do not know. She saved my life and yours, at th
e end. Because by then Matt had
fallen in love with me.' 'Yet you hate her.'
'Should I not? In any event, I have always felt that she saved us out of contempt, not pity. I'm sorry. I did not mean to cause you distress. But the events were well known, and could be thrown in your face.'
'They happened a long time ago,' Dick said. 'Even Hodge was a long time ago.'
'There was a widow.'
'Will she spit in my face?'
'I doubt that. She is probably dead. Anyway, she has disappeared. Robert offered her money, and she spat in
his
face.'
Dick smiled. 'And this is the tyrant?'
Suzanne sighed, and got up. 'He is a strange man. Circumstances made him strange. He inherited Hilltop when he was scarce older than you. He had that fall from a horse. You have heard of that.'
'You have told me.'
'So I have. It left him unable to have children.'
'Thus I am in the position I now find myself.'
'But you must try to understand, Dick, the feelings of a man, left solitary and alone, with omnipotent power as far as his eye could see, and yet without the power inside himself of commanding a decent woman into his bed, for fear of ridicule.'
'I see what you mean.'
'And then, one sister murdered by a mob, the other deserting husband and friends to marry her own cousin, who was an Abolitionist into the bargain . . .'
'Do you regret your life, Mama?'
'Not for an instant. I am attempting to think with Robert's brain. The wonder would be if he were not strange. And now . . .' She turned, violently, stood above him. 'He has made his feelings clear, Dick. He wishes you to inherit, presuming you show a tithe of the ability, the character, I know you possess, and he hopes of you. He has selected you, and not Tony. He is a cunning man. It seems he has had his agents here in England carry out a secret investigation, into the pair of you. And T
ony is dismissed for h
is apparent weaknesses. The weaknesses of trying to be a gentleman. It is hard.' 'Mama . . .'
'Listen a moment. I have told you enough of my brother for you to know that while he is a man of strong hates, he is a man of utter generosity as well, given the reason.'
'Of course, Mama, but. . .'
Suzanne dropped to her knees beside her son. 'And you'd not deny that Tony deserves his chance in the world. Listen to me. I would not interfere with your chance at wealth, your chance to inherit Hilltop. I am only asking you to give your brother at least half of your chance. He is bitterly disappointed. Well, who would not be. But his disappointment may take
him
into strange paths, drink, gambling. Oh, I know he already treads those paths. Here is our opportunity to free him from those vices. Take him with you, Dick.'