'No,' she said. 'I did not notice. And so they hate us.'
Corbeau shrugged. 'There is always someone, who hates someone else. It is a fact of life to which one must become used. Unless, like us, one is sufficiently fortunate to be above hate. Would you agree?'
She continued to look out of the window; she suspected he was baiting her again. 'Of course.'
'You are hoping for an early view of Rio Blanco? You have been riding over your own property for some time.'
'Have I?' She could not restrain her enthusiasm. The road had clung to the seashore, with no more than the wide strand of pink beach between the trees and the white-topped blue rollers which thundered in from the Atlantic. For the moment there was no suggestion of cane, or indeed of any cultivation, but the scene was the more beautiful for that, with the mountains seeming to rise immediately on their right, although she knew they were several miles away. But what mountains. Twice the height of any she had ever seen in Jamaica, they stretched interminably away from her. And yet this was also a country, she had been told, of enormous plains and impenetrable forests. 'Everything is on such a grand scale,' she confessed.
'There is the magnificence of the place. You will not find that Rio Blanco disappoints.'
And of course he was right. The canefields, when they appeared, seemed to stretch interminably, just as the road over which they had travelled, bending only slightly away from the seashore, might have taken them from one end of Jamaica to the other, instead of merely from the boundary of their plantation to the house, just as the Negro village seemed a miniature city, and the overseers' village at least a town, just as the huge shade trees which lined the river itself and spread themselves over the cleared area between the factory and the houses seemed taller than anything she had previously known, just as the factory seemed to make Hilltop's no more than a workshop.
But, thus entranced and bewildered by every mammoth discovery, Georgiana was yet not prepared for the
chateau
which now appeared, close by the river, shaded from the eye of an unwelcome visitor by the huge trees, and yet itself on a scale to make any house in Jamaica, and not a few stately homes she had seen or visited in London, scarcely more than shacks. The carriage rolled to a halt and pink-coated Negro footmen were waiting to help her down, their wigs powdered, their feet encased in brilliantly polished leather shoes. Beyond them was a perfect regiment of pink-and-white-clad Negresses, bowing and clapping their hands to greet their new mistress, and beyond them again were the rest of the male staff. She left the carriage and gazed at the turrets which overhung her, at the balconies and the wings, at the brick patios which could only be insulted by calling them verandahs, and at the raised rose gardens which surrounded the grand staircase, and found herself being carried forward by Corbeau's hand on her elbow.
'Oh, smile at them,' he begged. 'They wish only to serve you.'
On the patio itself were the overseers and their wives, the bookkeepers and their wives, the engineers and their wives, the chemists and their wives, all with their children, not less than a hundred representatives of the
petit-blancs,
every one wearing his or her best on this most illustrious occasion, bowing and smiling, and Corbeau was making her halt at the top of the great staircase, while a little girl with long ash-blonde hair and a pale complexion came forward, to make an elaborate curtsy and a short speech in French so rapid Georgiana could understand not a word of it, before presenting the new lady of the plantation with an enormous bouquet of flowers.
Then, her head whirling, keeping a fixed smile on her lips, she walked slowly through their ranks, nodding her head to their greetings, listening to her husband calling them byname, praying for the ordeal to end that she might lie down, and have her sweat-sodden gown removed, and perhaps wallow in a warm bath, and being faced with another mountainous staircase as wide as a road, this one carpeted and lined with pink-coated footmen, and overlooked by a continuous row of grim-faced Corbeaux, both men and women. It occurred to her with a start that no doubt her own portrait would shortly hang there. And that of her children.
She reached the top of the stairs, and Louis's fingers tightened on her arm. There will be a fete later on,' he said. 'But I have explained that you wish to see your own apartments, and to have a bath and change of clothes. Nevertheless, just smile and wave to them before you go.'
She turned, and looked down at the throng which had clustered in the great parquet-floored hall, and drew back her lips as she waved her hand, and then, with a sudden inspiration, took off her hat and waved it as well, forgetful about the immediate collapse of her coiffure.
Her people responded with loud applause, and even Louis looked pleased. 'Oh, well done,' he said. 'That will please them all enormously. Now come.'
He guided her through double doors, hastily opened, through a succession of withdrawing-rooms to another huge pair of double doors, panelled in pink and white satin. These were thrown open and she discovered herself in a bedroom in which every article of furniture was in pink and white, and every window thrown wide to allow the sea-breeze to enter and rustle the drapes and the mosquito-netting. And here too there already waited a filled tub, and four maids, robes and towels in their hands, and another woman.
'Your bedroom,' Corbeau said. ‘Ill leave you now, to bathe and have a rest. But first there is someone I wish you to meet.' Still he held his wife's elbow. 'Gislane, this is Madame Corbeau. Georgiana, this young woman's name is Gislane Nicholson.' He paused for a moment, as Georgiana's head came up with a jerk, and as Gislane's mouth fell open in a quite unsuspected expression of human weakness. 'But of course,' he cried, slapping himself on the thigh. 'I had entirely forgot. You two are old friends, are you not? How splendid. You will have a great deal to talk about, I am sure. Why, Gislane, you will not credit this, but I believe Madame Corbeau was responsible for your return to the West Indies in the first place. Did you not arrange her passage for her, my sweet?' He smiled, and kissed his trembling wife on the forehead. ‘You must tell Gislane all about it.'
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE HOUGAN
G
EORGIANA
stared at her husband in utter horror, discovered her mouth was open, and closed it with a snap.
Corbeau continued to smile. 'Now I will leave you,' he said. 'I am afraid my slaves understand only French, and you may find their accents difficult. But Gislane of course speaks English as well as you.'
He turned for the door, and she grasped his arm; she dared not turn her head towards the mustee.
"You can't go, Louis.'
'My sweet,' he said, gently removing her fingers. ‘I have been away from my plantation for some days. I must discover that all is well.'
'But...' she licked her lips.
'There is nothing to be afraid of,' he said, still smiling. 'Gislane will not dare harm you, dearest. She knows that as well as I. And I forbid you to harm her. She is far too splendid an object to be needlessly spoiled, would you not agree? And she was extraordinarily expensive. But I would like the pair of you to be friends. Indeed, I command it. I will see you at breakfast, in an hour.'
He left the room, closing the double doors behind him. Georgiana remained staring at the pink and white satin.
‘You look tired, madame,' Gislane said. 'And hot. Allow me to assist you.'
Hands touched her shoulders, and she sucked air into her lungs. The fingers were releasing the bows on her gown, sliding the material away from her shoulders.
'Ah, madame.' Gislane made a clucking noise with her tongue. 'The master has used his belt.' A finger ran along one of the still red weals. 'But it is mending well. And I shall care for you. Some powder, and an ointment of which I know ...'
Georgiana swung round, stepping back, finding herself against the wall, panting. The four maids looked at her in amazement.
'Madame?' Gislane's face was closed, expressionless. But her eyes were the deepest and blackest pits into which Georgiana had ever looked.
'I could have had you murdered,' she whispered. 'Indeed, I should have.'
Gislane nodded, gravely. 'It would have been best, madame.'
'Instead I...' she frowned. 'What did they do to you?'
Gislane appeared to consider the matter. 'They beat me, madame. And they raped me. And they mistreated me in various ways.'
Georgiana stared at her, while the released gown slowly slipped down to her thighs. 'And you stand there, unharmed? Not even your face has changed.'
'Has it not, madame? I am sure you flatter me. But indeed I survived. I have come to the conclusion that one can survive anything, if one wishes to do so.' She came forward. 'Now you must permit me to undress you.'
'Don't touch me,' Georgiana whispered. 'Don't touch me. Get out.'
Gislane sighed. 'Madame, I will bow to your will in all things, except where my master,
our
master, has previously instructed me. And he instructed me not to leave you alone, until he so commands.'
‘Not to leave me alone? Not to ...' Georgiana gathered the gown before her breasts. ‘Do you not hate me?'
'Oh, indeed, madame. I would have hated you anyway, I think. But now ... to me you are two people, you see. A white woman of wealth and position, and now my mistress, which is cause for hate certainly. And also a nameless Thing, whom I have hated for five years, because he ... I had supposed it was a man, you see ... chose to condemn me to a living death. Now I discover those two hateful objects come together into one person, why, I really do not know how I feel. I shall have to think about it.
It occurred to Georgiana that she was dreaming. No one could actually be standing in front of her, uttering such words. ‘I shall have you whipped,' she said.
Gislane smiled at her. 'You will not, madame. The master would not approve.'
'You...' Georgiana looked around the room, seized a vase from a table by the door, and hurled it. Gislane merely ducked her head, and the china shattered against the wall. The maids stared.
'Your bath water is getting cold,' Gislane said.
‘You ...' Georgiana bit her lip, reached for the bell cord, and hesitated. She had no means of knowing if she would be supported. She had no means of knowing what Louis thought of it all, what he intended. 'Get out,' she shouted at the maids. 'Oh...
Allez. Allez... Allez:
They gazed at Gislane in turn, and she nodded. They scurried from the room. _
'You do not mean that I am actually allowed to give an order which will be obeyed?' Georgiana demanded.
'Of course, madame,' Gislane said, choosing to ignore the sarcasm. 'They but require to understand your wishes in all things. Now, will you take your bath?'
Georgiana stared at her for some seconds. So it is all another part of Louis's desire to be amused, she thought. No doubt we suffer equally, this creature and I. Well, then, we shall see who will stand it the longest.
'Of course,' she said. 'And you will attend me.'
Gislane bowed her head, and began removing the rest of her mistress's clothes.
'Clearly I have a lot to learn,' Georgiana said, standing before the full-length mirror and watching her body slowly-appearing. 'But you may be sure I shall learn.'
Gislane removed the shift, and busily began to accumulate the soft brown tresses on the top of Georgiana's head, binding them there with a blue ribbon.
'And be sure, too,' Georgiana said, 'that I will replace you in my husband's esteem, as I shall indeed study to do so, with success, I have no doubt. I am more intelligent than you. Or would you grant me that?'
'I would not,' Gislane said. 'But then I am prejudiced.'
'Ah. But even that is not the sum of the matter.' Georgiana inspected the huge diamond on her finger, the thick gold band beyond. 'I am his wife, whereas you are nothing more than his housekeeper. I shall soon be the mother of his children. I could say that your days are numbered, Gislane.'
'All our days are numbered, madame. From the day of our birth.'
'Oh, you ...' Georgiana stepped into the tub with a splash. 'Undress.' 'Madame?'
'I have dismissed all my maids save you, Gislane. I now appoint you my personal maid. I am sure Louis will be most pleased. Now I would have you bathe me. And I should not like your gown to get spoiled.'
’I assure you it will not, madame. I have but to turn up my sleeves.'
Georgiana sat down in the hot water, her flesh became tinged with pink. 'I have made a very reasonable request, Gislane. One I have no doubt at all Louis would approve. You will see that I have already commenced understanding my husband.'
Now at last it was Gislane's turn to hesitate; she drew her upper lip under her teeth, for just a moment. Georgiana smiled.
'I am waiting, Gislane. And my bath is getting cold.'
Gislane removed her gown, laid it carefully on the bed, knelt beside the tub.
'Neither would I have you ruin your shift,' Georgiana said. 'It is such a pretty thing.'
Gislane gazed at her for some seconds, then stood up, and removed the shift.
'There,' Georgiana said. 'Now we may compare, you and I. I am waiting to be bathed, Gislane.'
Gislane knelt beside her, slowly massaged Georgiana's shoulders with the sponge. Georgiana turned her head, gazed at the white body moving beside her own, felt a remarkable sensation of excitement. On the day of her wedding she had been plunged, quite without warning, into a world she had not known to exist, had not known could exist Even Robert, who had a considerable number of vices as she well knew, had always kept them strictly under control. But Louis was a man who apparently indulged his every whim, as he was fully entitled to do, and rather gloried in it than felt ashamed of it. And she was Louis's wife, who had to yield only to him, on the whole earth. And there was no doubt of what he would approve.