'It is operated by a boy in the room beyond,' Corbeau explained. 'It is my private sanctuary, where I sit, and think, and dream. Of you.'
'You did not know I was coming,' she pointed out. 'So your dreams must have been of someone else.'
'Quite the contrary,' he insisted. 'I have long dreamed of you here, in Rio Blanco. A proper setting, I think, for the loveliest woman I have ever known. I am beside myself with joy.'
'Indeed you are,' she agreed. 'Were you not my brother-in-law I'd feel positively unsafe. I wonder where Georgy can be?'
'I think I hear her.' Corbeau pulled the bell-cord.
The door burst open. 'Sue? You? Well, well, well.'
Sue stared at her sister in total amazement. Georgiana was several months pregnant, but even so there was very little suggestion of the slim girl she had once known, as lively and effervescent as a bouncing ball. Or even, she realized, of a grand dame of just thirty. Here was a fat dowager, whose pale brown hair straggled, whose once fine features were dissolved in rolls of fat ending in three chins, who waddled rather than walked, and whose expression, always undecided between bubbling humour and impatient rancour, had finally dissolved into petulance. Nor did she look the least pleased to see her sister.
'Why, Georgy,' she said. 'How lovely to see you, after all these years.'
'All these years,' Georgiana remarked, and sniffed. 'My dear, Matt must be poorer than ever. You looked positively starved. Louis, if I don't have a drink I shall be very bad-tempered.'
'I have rung for the punch, my sweet,' Corbeau said.
'And what are you doing here?' Georgiana demanded. 'Has Robert finally thrown you out, or have you come to see for yourself?'
'I'm afraid I don't understand,' Sue said. 'Except that I am apparently not welcome...'
'Oh, what rubbish,' Corbeau declared. 'Have I not spent the last hour telling you just how welcome you are?'
Georgiana laughed. It was an unpleasant sound. 'Hasn't he got his hands between your legs yet? Oh, don't trouble to deny it. And what did you do with Angelique? Or did she ride with you?'
‘Your punch is here,' Corbeau said, a trifle wearily. 'We may as well have some too, Sue.'
He took the goblets from the tray, and held one out. But Sue did not take it.
'I really feel I had better stay in town,' she said. 'It is only for a short while.'
'I'll not have it,' Corbeau insisted. 'Georgy welcome your sister, or by God I'll take my belt to you.'
Georgiana glanced at him, the ill humour seeming to ooze from her shoulders like sweat. 'He will, you know, Sue. He will. My child will be born with stripes.'
'Really, I ...'
'You are staying here, and there's an end to the matter,' Corbeau said. 'It will be splendid, having you both under the same roof.'
'You never wrote,' Georgiana muttered, her voice toneless. 'All those years, all those letters, and you never wrote.' She drank her punch noisily, and the footman, who had remained standing like a statue in the corner of the room, hastily offered another goblet.
'I wrote every month,' Sue said. 'Until I realized you were not going to answer. Even then, I wrote at least twice a year.'
‘You... you liar,' Georgiana shouted.
Corbeau smiled. 'Now really. Whenever two Hiltons get together there is a shouting competition.'
'She never wrote,' Georgiana shouted. 'Did she, Louis? Did she?'
'Of course she did,' Corbeau said. 'But I did not think you were always in a suitable frame of mind to read Sue's letters.'
'You kept them from her?' Sue asked. 'But...'
'You wretch,' Georgiana shouted, and burst into tears. 'Oh, you wretch. I'm a prisoner, you know, Sue. I could as well be wearing chains. I ... my God, I'll skin that nigger woman. What of
my
letters?'
'Why, Gislane delivered them to me, of course,' Corbeau said. 'But you have not met Gislane, Sue. I'm sure she is lurking in the hall. She is usually close to Georgiana.'
'Gislane?' Sue asked. 'Now there is a strange coincidence.'
Georgiana stopped crying and began to laugh.
'No coincidence,' Corbeau said. 'Gislane, come in here.'
There was a moment's hesitation, then the mustee stepped into the room.
'Mistress Suzanne Huys, Miss Gislane Nicholson,' Corbeau said.
Sue stared at the girl in consternation. 'Gislane Nicholson?' she whispered.
The mustee's face was as beautiful, as impassive, as a painting. Only the black eyes moved, from the woman in front of her to Corbeau, and then back again.
Corbeau smiled. 'Mistress Huys lives with Matthew Hilton,' he said. 'She will be his wife. One presumes.'
Gislane's lips parted, just a little, and then closed again.
Georgiana sent peal after peal of laughter racing to the ceiling. 'You'll have lots to talk about,' she shouted. 'Oh, lots.'
Sue had recovered her composure. 'I am sure we shall, Miss Nicholson,' she said. 'I look forward to it.' She glanced at Corbeau. 'Is she also a part of your establishment?'
'Of course.' He jerked his head. 'Now begone, both of you. I believe madame has something to reproach you with, Gislane. She has just discovered that you have been purloining her letters, instead of sending them on. Oh, she is very angry with you. Be careful you do not turn your back on her.'
'You ... you bastard,' Georgiana hissed.
'Come along, madame,' Gislane said.
Georgiana hesitated, looked from her husband to her sister, an expression of almost childlike humility on her face, and then turned and followed the mustee from the room. The footman placed the tray of goblets on a table, and also left, closing the door softly behind him.
'You have lots of time to talk with Georgy,' Corbeau said. 'For this evening I wish to enjoy you, all by myself.'
Once again he held out the punch.
'That girl,' Sue said. 'You keep her here, with Georgy? But do you not know...'
'Of course I do. That is what makes it so amusing. And they really get on very well. And so will you. You'd never met her, had you? She
is
lovely, don't you think? You are the only woman who can stand beside her. And you can tell her about Matt.'
Sue gazed at him, her desire melting into disgust. 'I think I shall leave,' she decided. 'It would be best, in the circumstances. But I should be very obliged if you would permit Georgy to visit me in Cap Francois. I imagine that even in her condition she could manage the journey, were the coach to travel slowly. And I am sure we have much to say to each other. Much that we have already said, perhaps, without being able to reach each other.'
Corbeau smiled at her. 'When you are angry, you are the most beautiful creature in the world. So tell me, my sweet. After you have had your chat with Georgy. What will you do?'
‘I shall return to Jamaica. I told you, Matt and Robert only wanted me out of the way while the trial was in progress.'
'And no doubt you will tell Matt and Robert everything that you have seen here?'
‘I have no doubt they will be interested,' Sue said.
'And what will they do then? Do you think Robert will come to St. Domingue, because my wife has turned into a lecherous, drunken cabbage? That is my misfortune. Oh, Robert might suppose that I was perhaps to blame. What then? Will he come here, pistol in hand? Robert is past fifty, Sue. I would kill him. Then what of Matt? Will he come here, seeking to regain his Gislane? Would you really want that to happen? Seeking to regain you? He shall, in time. And his children. But should he come uninvited, be sure I would kill him as well.'
She gazed at him, the coolness of her expression masking the tumult in her chest. ‘I wonder if you are quite sane,' she said. ‘I wonder if too many years of living like a king have not made you suppose you are a king.'
He raised his goblet to her. 'Then share my throne. At least for a while, Sue. If I am mad, it is at the sight of you again, after all of these years. Do you know, I fell in love with you, the first time I ever saw you, deep in the bowels of that English warship. I lay there, panting for life, and you stood but inches away, washing smoke from your body.'
'You remember that?'
'It has been a secret of mine, Sue. I fell in love with you then, and I have remained in love with you, ever since. Oh, I had to make do with a substitute. But no longer. And now I shall tell you some secrets of my own. My philosophy, for a start. In my public life, I sacrifice everything, or anything, or anyone, to my honour. But you will have no part of my public life ...'
The sound of music filtered upwards, through even the vastness of the house. It was late spring, and the strong sea breezes had not yet begun to blow; the noise travelled without distortion, an even boom of rhythm. Georgiana lay on her bed and wept, cried with great sobs and heaves of her trembling shoulders.
'I am sorry,' Suzanne said. 'Truly sorry, Georgy. But the invitations were apparently sent before I could protest.'
Her sister raised her head, gazed at the ice-pink ball gown, shoulderless and slashed in a deep decolletage, which only seemed to make the golden splendour above the more radiant. 'And the gown?' she cried. 'They did not have to fit the gown?'
Sue bit her lip. 'I ... you'll understand I have to humour him. Until I can think of what to do.'
'Humour him,' Georgiana said disgustedly. 'You'll pretend he has not had you to bed?'
'He has not laid a hand on other than my arm,' Sue said. 'Although of course I am aware of his intention. Hence I must pretend that I need an unusual amount of coaxing.'
'Instead of being the whore we all know you are,' Georgiana said. And then sat up. 'Oh, Sue, I'm sorry. It's just that... it's not what he does to me that I mind. It is his selfishness. A ball... how I have longed for a ball, so often. And he would not have one. Now he is having a ball, and I am confined with this wretched burden. How could ever a man be so cruel?'
'Will he not be condemned for it, in Cap Francois society? Perhaps no guests will come.'
'Not come, to Rio Blanco, to a ball? Condemned? Oh, he will be talked about. But that is all he seeks, to be talked about. Nor will anyone condemn his treatment of me, tonight. The things I could tell you ...'
'The things you must tell me,' Sue said. 'Listen. I will make my way back up here, early, tonight. This night, at the least, that coloured woman will scarce be present, and we shall be able to talk, and tell each other ...' she paused, at the expression on Georgiana's face.
'Monsieur Corbeau desires your presence, Mistress Huys. The guests are arriving.' Gislane wore her ordinary gown, and her hair was loose. She waited, holding the door of the bedchamber open, and the noise was louder.
'Do you not attend the ball, Gislane?'
'No, madame. I am
cafe-au-lait.'
Sue hesitated, glanced at Georgiana again, and went into the antechamber. The doors were softly closed behind her.
'Do you not stay, to torment madame with your presence?' Sue asked over her shoulder. 'Or do you suppose you can torment me the more, with your presence.'
'I do not torment the madame, Mistress Huys. In many ways I am her only support, as we have suffered, and continue to suffer, in much the same way.'
Sue stopped before the outer doors to the apartment, waited for the mustee to draw level. 'Yet you must hate her.'
'I could say that your sister destroyed my life, madame.'
‘You have survived, after your own fashion,' Sue said. 'And I would say that I played a greater part in your destruction, by distracting Matt from your search. Because you may believe me, he was bent upon finding you, and marrying you, even if it caused his own ruin.'
Gislane smiled, for the first time that Sue had noticed. 'Then you have made me very happy, madame. I would not have liked to suppose that he forgot me in a minute.'
'And me?'
'Oh, I imagine I hate you as well, madame. But then, is it not reasonable for someone in my position to hate everything and everyone which is purely white? Especially someone as remarkably white as yourself.' She continued to smile. 'I really would go down now, madame, or the master will become angry. And when he is angry he is capable of the most remarkable acts of violence, regardless of the company.'
Sue hesitated for a moment longer, then opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Gislane followed, but did not go down the stairs. She remained, standing outside the closed door to Georgiana's apartments, listening to the music for some seconds. Another blessed night of freedom. Another blessed night.
She turned left, hurried along the corridor, down the inner stairs and through the pantries. There was no need for concealment. The servants, busy with their bowls of punch, their trays of canapes, waiting to be refilled by the perspiring cooks, carefully averted their eyes. No slave on Rio Blanco would dare suppose where their
mamaloi
might be hurrying while the white people danced. No slave on Rio Blanco would even dare remember that they had seen her, come morning.
She made her way through the rose garden, taking deep breaths of the cool fresh air, reached the marble wall which surrounded the
chateau,
and opened the postern gate. She stood for a moment on the edge of the rushing water of the white river, and then made her way along the bank, beneath the shade of the huge trees, gently rustling, the night to her right a blaze of sound and light and laughter as Mistress Huys was displayed to Cap Francois society. Now there was some need for caution. The
petit-blancs
from the overseers' village always gathered at the foot of the drive when the master was entertaining, to admire and to envy. Usually the
cafe-au-laits
also did so, but this night they were absent. The mulattoes had kept very much to themselves since the dreadful deaths of Oge and Chavannes. And was she not a mulatto? Or were they not merely as much outsiders as the whites themselves, because as they would ape those with fairer skins they went to mass and believed in the Christ, instead of the true master of their souls, the Great Serpent, Damballah Oueddo?