HF - 03 - The Devil's Own (47 page)

'Yet must it be my care. My credit remains, although I would not impose upon it more than I must.'

'I do not care how we shall live,' she said again.

'I will write to Sir William Stapleton, and ask him for a position. It was an idea I had, many years ago, before other events overtook my common sense. I have never been a planter. The sea is my home, as it is in my blood. I will sail with the revenue frigate.'

The brush slowly travelled to the end of the last strand of hair, and remained there, at the end of her fingers. 'You will go to sea?'

'Oh, fear not, sweetheart. Only on overnight passages, and Agrippa will remain here always, to guard you and protect you.'

She turned. 'You spoke of a house.'

He laughed, and swung his legs from the bed. 'That first. Come, dress yourself, and we shall breakfast, and go forth to inspect our new kingdom.'

It was no more than a cottage, set somewhat apart from the village itself, and therefore overlooked by the Caribs, nestling amidst the trees and looking down at the beach and the sea beyond. From the bedroom window they could see St Kitts, with the pointed finger of Mount Misery aiming at the sky.

'But there is only one bedroom,' Lilian wondered.

'We will build another at the back,' Agrippa said. But he was more interested in the amount of flat land surrounding the building. 'Space for a garden. Flowers, man,' he said to Kit. 'Have you never seen flowers?'

'There are flowers on Green Grove,' Kit said.

'We shall outmatch them here.'

'You, a gardener?'

'I like to watch things grow,' Agrippa said. 'I like to feel them come to life under my hands.' He slapped Kit on the shoulder. 'Man, for the first time since I was a little boy, I am happy. You can't be happy as a slave. And you shouldn't be happy as a buccaneer. And it is hard to be happy when the only man in all the world you love has got himself into something outside his nature. I can say that now, Kit. That woman was an obsession. She turned you inside out, made you something you were not. Kit Hilton, a planter? Kit Hilton, armed with a whip instead of a sword? That was unnatural. Maybe
you didn't treat the Christianssens quite right. But I figure a man is a man and a woman is a woman, and when they want each other, they should take each other, religion or no religion. Be sure now, that you have done the right thing at last, Kit. And going back to sea is the right thing, too. And so I am happy.'

'To stay here? I cannot leave her alone.' 'To stay here, Kit. I will guard your woman, and I will tend my garden, and I will be happy.'

'Then it is decided. I'll see the attorney this day.'

Not that Mr Walker was happy with the situation. He perused the bill for several seconds. ' 'Tis a confused world we live in, Captain.'

'You'd question my credit?'

Mr Walker gazed at the big man in front of him, at the cutlass and the bulges in the pockets of the coat which denoted the presence of the pistols. Then he removed his periwig and scratched his bald head. 'I'd not dream of doing so, Captain. I have no doubt at all that if I present this paper at the Ice House, at Christianssen's Warehouse, or at Green Grove itself, it will be exchanged.'

He was asking a question. 'It will,' Kit promised.

'Aye,' Mr Walker said. 'And it will be done this day, I do promise you, Captain. As I have said, we live in too confused and uncertain a world for credit.'

'Meaning that some rogue may seek to strike me down, before I leave town?'

'I doubt there is a man on this island possesses the courage to risk such an attempt, Captain. No, no, I merely suggest that the island is in such a state of flux, with family divided against family, with our Deputy Governor by now, no doubt, incarcerated in the Tower of London, with the owners of the richest plantation on the island at loggerheads, with the House of Assembly prorogued, why, no man may tell what tomorrow will bring.' He took the conveyance from his clerk; the ink was still wet. 'There is your deed, sir. The house is yours. You at least should be content.'

'You make me feel a villain,' Kit muttered. 'Who has extracted this document from you by force of arms.'

Mr Walker permitted himself a dry smile. 'Indeed, sir, were this bill
not
to be honoured, then you would have done nothing less. But we are entering the realms of speculation. That is ever an unsound practice for lawyers, would you not agree? Should I need to contact you about any small matter, no doubt I will know where to find you.'

'You will.' Kit went outside into the street. Passers
-
by averted their eyes and hurried on their way. There was no one in St John's would challenge him now. Philip Warner had been gone a fortnight, and memories were short. There was work to be done, and rum to be drunk, and lives to be led. Dominica was a long way away, and England even farther, and the war was done. No doubt there would be a stir, when the outcome of the trial was learned, but even that would cause little of a ripple at this distance, saving in the Warner family.

His family. He mounted, and rode for Green Grove, following the roads he knew so well. Already the fields were restored, the houses repaired and repainted. Save that the crop had been set back perhaps two months the raid might never have been.

And the sun was just beginning to dominate the sky. She would have returned from aback, and be in her bath.

Maurice Peter took the bridle. 'Welcome home, Captin.'

"Tis only a visit, Maurice Peter. Where are the children?'

'Here I am, Papa.' Tony stood on the verandah, staring at him with solemn eyes. 'Where have you been, Papa?'

'Away. Here, I've a present for you.'

It was a short sword, hardly more than a dirk. Tony took it even more solemnly, turned it over.

'It is very beautiful, Papa. Have you something for

Rebecca?'

'Aye.' He kissed the girl, gave her the doll. 'All for you.' 'Oh, Papa,' she squeaked. 'It has eyes, Papa. It has eyes.' None of Rebecca's dolls had eyes, after the first twenty-four hours.

'All the better to see us.' He entered the drawing-room, and Miss Johnson hastily stood up.

'We had not expected you, Captain Hilton.'

'Or you'd have dressed them in their best? Am I that much of a stranger?'

'Indeed you are,' Marguerite said from the top of the stairs. 'But none the less welcome.'

She wore her crimson undressing-robe, and her skin glowed; she must just have left the tub. And how beautiful, how arrogant, how confident she was. Because he had come home? But if ever he might have thought of staying, here was reason to leave again.

'Ellen Jane,' she called. 'Sangaree, for the master and myself. Will you come up, Kit?'

He slowly climbed the stairs. She did not wait for him, but turned and entered the bedroom. Yet was there still a memory; she did not take off her robe.

'Do you wish me to apologize?' she asked.

'Why should you do that?'

She sat on the bed. 'I lost my temper. I lose my temper too easily.'

'You had every reason, on that occasion.' He watched the maid bring in the tray, and fill the two glasses. He took his, and raised it. 'I wish good fortune to your father.'

She smiled. 'Oh, he will have that, never fear. You sailed with Morgan. You no doubt recall the terrible fate which overtook him, and you must also remember that his crime was far greater, in political eyes, at any rate, than Father's.'

'Indeed it was. Then you imagine that he will be returned here, in triumph.'

She poured some more sangaree. 'I anticipate that, Kit, certainly. But I do not suppose that you have come here to speak of my father. You have had a honeymoon with your Danish charmer, and you are purchasing her a house down in Falmouth. Capital. It is exactly what I suggested.'

'I signed the bill for that, and for some other necessaries, this morning,' Kit said.

'Very good,' she said. 'I am sure you were not robbed. Now, when are you returning here?'

' 'Tis that I come to see you about. I shall not be returning here.'

She set down her glass. 'Do not be a fool, Kit.'

'I think I have always been a fool, when it comes to expediency,' Kit said. 'Lilian has given up a great deal, for me. I will not have her nothing more than a kept woman.'

'I do not see how you can change her status,' Marguerite pointed out. 'There can be no question of a divorce between us. I have committed no crime against you.'

'That I know, and appreciate. I but wished to make my position clear.'

'Your position,' she said contemptuously. 'You are a man who carries deep grudges, and for a long time. Very well, then. Kit. Go to your blonde bitch. You will soon weary of her. You will soon remember where your rightful place lies. And then you will be back.' She smiled at him, but her mouth was twisted. 'And I shall have the coverlet turned down, for that day.'

'I shall not trouble you for money, after this bill is settled.'

'You will seek employment, in St John's?' she inquired. 'I know. You can be foreman of the stevedores. Oh, Kit, Kit, were you not so serious, so determined, so
upright,
you would be amusing. Your expenses are Green Grove's expenses, for you are master of Green Grove. What, would you suddenly decide not to be a man any more, but instead a dog, because you fancy a dog's life is more acceptable? Are you a magician, that you can throw off your humanity? You are master of Green Grove. I made you that, Kit. And the day you die, regardless of where it may be, in what stinking hole it may be, what stinking disease may be the cause of it, you will still be master of Green Grove.'

'I wish I could understand you,' Kit said. 'If it is a matter of pride ...'

'Pride,' she shouted, coming upright on the bed, her eyes molten pits of green hell. 'Pride? Fear? Avarice? Greed? Courage? Anger? Love? What have I to do with words? Do you think I rule the slaves because I am prouder than they? Because I am braver? Because I fear less? Because I love more? Should I ever stop to consider what emotion must govern my power I am lost. As you are continually lost by making just that inquiry. I am here, and they are there, because I accept no limitations, no puerile humanities.'

'By God,' he said. 'You
do
see yourself as a demigoddess.'

'And am I not, to them? To everyone on this island? To everyone in the world who knows of my existence? And I placed you beside me, Kit Hilton. After due consideration. So
even I can make a mistake. But there you have it. I cannot make a mistake. Go to your Danish whore. Love her and love her and love her, until she makes you sick, and then come back here and take your place. I will not reproach you. For who should dare to criticize a god? Not even another god. Go. Hurry. The sooner you leave here, the sooner will you be tired of her.'

Be tired of Lilian. As if such an eventuality could ever be imagined, much less be considered possible. Lilian was not a tiring person. Where Marguerite had always exhausted, she sought only to soothe. Their love play was cool, almost restrained, in its beginning, and yet always with the promise of more, of the sudden overflow of passion which convulsed her as much as him. And yet even the passion contained a different quality. Lilian sought to please him, and in doing that found pleasure herself. She demanded nothing more, nor could he persuade her to accept anything more. But in pleasing him she was anxious to accept his every whim, his every mood, his every desire, and could any man
ask
for anything more?

But loving and possessing Lilian's body was no more than a part of it. On Green Grove, he was coming to realize, he had loved Marguerite, physically, or managed the estate, physically. When she had played the spinet it had been to consume the tireless energy of her own fingers; just as when he had opened a book it had inevitably been an account book. There was no stress, no goal in sight, with Lilian. She liked to walk, and they strolled for miles along the foreshore, holding hands. Marguerite had never walked anywhere except up a flight of steps in her life; it would never have occurred to her to do so.

And when she walked, Lilian talked, about Denmark, about the frost-bitten winters, about the balmy summers, fluctuations of climate which Kit had never known and found it difficult to appreciate. But she could talk of other places too, for her father had wandered for much of his life before coming to rest in Antigua. She spoke of Holland and of France and of England. And she grew excited when he told her of Morgan and Panama. She was a young girl in her mind, avid for tales of adventure and faraway places, unaware that she had more of a tale to tell than he, that she was in herself a more interesting person.