HF - 03 - The Devil's Own (63 page)

'I am not that shallow, Kit. I but make myself acquainted with the contents, and then they may go their way. Thus forearmed, I am able to forestall their machinations. So they plead for my recall, and more, for my arrest on grounds of tyranny and misconduct. As long as I may inform the Queen that they will follow these lines, and before
their
letters reach their destinations, they are doomed to failure. As they deserve. Oh, make no mistake about it, soon enough they will have to come out into the open and declare their opposition to me, rather than have their people sneaking about in the dead of night attempting murder, or sending clandestine complaints home to England.'

Kit frowned at him. ‘
You wish to provoke this?'

'Indeed I do. For when they oppose me, they oppose the Crown, and all the majesty of the Crown. Then may I call upon them to stand up and be counted, and then may I take overt measures against them. And then shall I need your strong right arm, Kit.'

Kit
sighed. 'And no doubt you shall have it. Although I must say again I find it a strange way to set about governing a people, first to set them at your throat.'

'I will set them at their own throats,' Parke explained, and smiled. 'Nor is the concept as sinister as you would make it sound. For how may a surgeon set about curing a man shot through with ball? Why, first of all by causing the patient yet more pain while cutting away the diseased flesh and removing the afflicting lead. This is no more than I seek to do with these people.'

'Aye,'
Kit
said. 'No doubt politics of this nature are a shade too deep for me. I would speak to you on another matter, one which is a great deal closer to my heart. Lilian
...'

'Is pregnant. Say no more. I have expected the news almost daily. And you are distressed, for mother and child. So he will be a bastard. There can be no criticism of that, Kit. Where or how a man is born is of no account whatsoever. It is what he inherits from his parents that matters, in the way of character and personality, and your son will ever possess the best of both. Why, should you ask me to stand godfather, I would be flattered, and I accept, here and now.'

Kit
sometimes felt that talking with Daniel Parke was like trying to walk a lane with his arms round a wild horse. 'Lilian's not pregnant. At least, not to my knowledge. She has found a way, she supposes, to resolve her difficulties, to expiate her humiliation.'

Parke's turn to frown.

'She has challenged Marguerite to a duel,' Kit said. 'And
her challenge has been accepted. They meet with pistols on the beach, at dawn tomorrow.'

Parke's frown slowly cleared; it was replaced with a look of blank amazement. 'Two women, I beg your pardon, two
ladies,
mean to fight a duel? With pistols?'

'Exactly,' Kit said. 'A more preposterous idea has surely never been heard.'

'Preposterous,' Parke said. 'Oh, indeed, it is preposterous. Why, it is
..."
he burst into a peal of laughter. 'By God, Kit, but you will have to excuse me. It is the jolliest piece of news I have received in ten years.'

'I have no doubt,' Kit said, 'that it will similarly amuse everyone who hears of it. I will not quarrel with that. I but require you to forbid it, and I will rest content.'

The frown was back, hovering in the middle of that high forehead. 'Forbid it? I?'

'You are the Governor of these islands.'

'Why, so I am. Yet must I obey the law. Is there a law against duelling?'

'Why, no. But women
...'

'There is not even a law governing the proper conduct of a duel between women. Why, had they elected to meet while stripped naked and armed only with their teeth, I would have no say in the matter.'

'Except that, no doubt, you would find
it
even more amusing,'
Kit
remarked coldly.

'Kit, Kit, must you see all life in such sombre colours? So they
will
exchange fire. What damage can they possibly do to each other? And it will give the gossips something to occupy their time while I mature
my
plans.'

'What damage?' Kit shouted. 'At twenty paces? Twenty female paces? At twenty paces, Dan, Marguerite could shoot the cigar from your mouth.'

'Oh, nonsense. Because this wife of yours has managed to obtain the advantage over you time and again, through your own carelessness, I have no doubt, you begin to give her the attributes of a goddess. I will hear no more of it, Kit. I do not believe any harm will come of this affair. Indeed, I suspect a great deal of good may result, for you at least. And I have no legal powers to interfere between two adult white ladies.'

'Oh, do not treat me as a complete fool,' Kit said angrily. 'You put your finger on the nub of the matter, from your point of view, but a moment gone. It will distract the people. By God, sir, that you should use two such women for such a purpose.' He picked up his hat and stormed from the room.

And whipped his horse over the roads to the south. That he should be riding on such a mission after all that had happened. Yet what alternative did he have? But could he honestly suppose there would be any succour to be obtained from a Warner, in this matter?

Yet must he try. The alternative was unthinkable.

It was dusk by the time he flogged his horse down the Goodwood drive. What memories came flooding back, of how many visits in the past, in the carriage, seated beside Marguerite. And of that very first visit, so long ago, now, when he had seemed to rise from disaster to scale the heights of wealth and prosperity.

'Halt, there.'

He reined, faced the blacks, armed with staves, and a white man, carrying a pistol. 'Good evening to you, Haley. I seek Colonel Warner.'

The overseer peered at him. 'Captain Hilton? It cannot be.'

Kit dismounted. 'What, will you set the dogs on me?'

Haley's head shook, slowly, from side to side. 'You'd speak with the Colonel? He is in the withdrawing-room. 'Tis no quarrel you're about, I hope.'

'Far from it.' Kit took off his hat and went
up
the steps, Haley at his shoulder. 'But it is a matter of importance, none the less. Aunt Celestine.'

She stood in the doorway, a slave behind her with a lantern. She was thinner than he remembered, and thus seemed taller than he remembered. A skeleton of a woman, waiting for death. Her mouth was tight, and this he also remembered. Only the presence of Marguerite and himself had ever made that mouth relax. But they had had to be together.

'You will not have the children,' she said.

'The children?' Kit frowned at her. 'My children are here?'

'Papa.' Tony ran out of the house.

'Papa. Papa.' Rebecca was at his heels. 'Mama said you would

not come. But we knew you would.'

Kit knelt between them, hugged them tight, looked over their heads at Celestine. 'Perhaps you would explain what has happened?'

'You did not know they were here?'

'I did not.'

She sighed. 'Well, then, why did you come?'

'To speak with your husband. But now I would also like to ask a few questions.'

Again the sigh. 'Tony and Becky are staying a season with us. No more than that. Off you go, now, children. Your father and Grandpapa have business to discuss.'

'But we'll see you again before you go, Papa,' Tony said.

'You will,' Kit promised.

They ran inside. Celestine Warner glanced at the overseer. 'You'd best leave us.'

Haley hesitated, and then touched his hat. 'As you wish, Mrs Warner. I'll not be far.'

'Who is
it,
Celcstine?' came the voice from inside. But this tone was scarce recognizable, so thin had it become.

'A guest, Philip,' she said, and lowered her voice. 'You'll understand that he is far from well, Kit. Indeed, I fear for his life. He had a seizure six months ago, and three since. 'Tis all he can do to speak, and movement is next to impossible without assistance.'

'I understand,' Kit said. 'Believe me, Aunt Celestine, I have come to cause him no hardship. I but wished to beg a favour.'

Again the long stare. 'You, wish to beg a favour of my husband?" Her mouth flattened in disbelief, but she turned and led him into the great withdrawing-room. 'You'll take a glass of punch?'

'That would be very kind of you.'

She rang a little bell which stood on the table by the withdrawing-room door, then led him into the room itself. And here he paused, in surprise and embarrassment.

Philip Warner sat in a large armchair in the far corner, close to the green baize topped table on which, in happier days, they had dealt their cards and rolled their dice. He seemed to have shrivelled, to occupy onl
y half of the chair. Perhaps
because he wore no wig, and what hair of his own he still possessed was quite white. But more, Kit thought, because his shoulders were hunched, and seemed to be drawn together.

Yet far more alarming was his face, which was mottled purple and white, with no trace of healthy colour remaining, while one side of it seemed to be contracted; when he spoke it was with great difficulty, and from die corner of his mouth.

But there was nothing the matter with his brain. 'Kit Hilton,' he said. 'By God, sir, you've impudence.'

Kit glanced at Celestine Warner. She would not speak, but she begged, with her eyes.

'Indeed, sir,' Kit said. 'You may believe that I would not have intruded upon you had the matter not been sufficiently grave. And I had no concept of how ill you are.'

'Or you would have come sooner?' Warner asked. 'Drink, man, drink.'

Kit discovered the Negro butler at his elbow, but to his dismay saw that the silver tray carried but a single glass.

'We neither of us find any pleasure in drink, these days,' Celestine said. 'But please take yours. And sit down, Kit. Philip has survived sufficient misfortunes in his life to survive a seizure as well, I have no doubt.' But she was speaking for the benefit of her husband. She understood the outcome of this illness.

Kit sat down, straight, like a schoolboy. But then he would always feel like a schoolboy, where the Warners were concerned. 'Yet am I indeed sorry to see you, or any man, Colonel Warner, brought so low.'

Philip Warner's brows drew together. 'You rode out here, at this hour to sympathize with me? Speak plain, man. Speak plain. You have come about the children.'

'Indeed, sir, I had no idea they were here until a few moments ago. I came out to speak about Marguerite.'

'Ah,' Philip said.

'You still consider her a responsibility of yours?' Celestine demanded.

Kit frowned at her. 'I doubt
she
would allow that, Aunt Celestine. I have not spoken with her this last year.'

'You have not?' Celestine inquired, genuinely surprised. 'Why
...'

'No more have we,' Philip muttered.

Kit's turn to stare
in
surprise. 'I do not understand, sir. She is your daughter, and
...'
he hesitated.

'And I am dying. But I have not seen her since the day we placed you in that cell, Kit. Nor has anyone else, save her domestics.'

'But
...
what of Tony and Rebecca?'

'They were brought here, some weeks ago, by one of Marguerite's overseers.'

Some weeks. Thus her decision could not have been influenced by the challenge. 'You mean they were delivered like two parcels?'

'There was a letter,' Celestine said.

'May I see it?'

'No, you may not.'

'But was there a reason given. Is she ill?'

'It would not appear so,' Celestine said. 'She rides aback. Her crop was shipped with the others. Although it was not so rich a crop as you used to produce.'

'But
...
there was some talk of an ailment of the eyes. Mere gossip, I understood it.'

'It does not seem to hinder her greatly. Although I believe she docs go veiled much of the time. Believe us, Kit,' Celestine said. 'We are more concerned than you can possibly imagine. I have ridden over there, on several occasions, and been refused admittance.'