HF - 05 - Sunset (55 page)

The door opened, and she turned, heart pounding, sweat returning with a renewed rush.

'They are waiting, Mrs Hilton,' said the young man.

'So am I,' she said, and was amazed at the calmness of her voice.

She followed him along the corridor, and through a side door, found herself in the courtroom before she properly realized it. For a moment she was surrounded by sibilant sound, a rustling of papers, a gentle whisper which welled out of the spectators' gallery, and was immediately quelled by the hammer of the gavel.

She was facing curved steps. Slowly she climbed, holding the rail with one hand, her skirts with the other, found herself in a pulpit. On a level with her, and to her right, the Chief Justice sat alone, giving her a benevolent smile. His red robes seemed to glow at her. Beneath her were collected the various black-gowned lawyers and clerks of the court. And opposite her, on the other side of the judge, and at a lower level, stood Billy, also in a pulpit. He wore one of his best suits, and looked pale but perfectly composed. He stared at her, as if trying to communicate, but after a brief glance she looked away.

To Billy's left were the jury, six white men and, she discovered with surprise, six black. That proportion surely could not have been drawn by lot. But this was the most important trial of the year, perhaps of all time, in this courtroom.

And to her left were the public seats. She gave them a quick glance, but they contained no more than a blur of faces. She could not pick out Alan, she could not discover whether or not Oriole was present.

The clerk was speaking to her, from just beneath the witness box. 'If you will take the book in your right hand, Mrs Hilton, and repeat after me.'

She noticed the Bible for the first time, picked it up, said, 'I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.'

The clerk disappeared back to his desk, and she became aware that Courtney was on his feet, fingers grasping the lapels of his coat, wig slightly askew. Now for the first time she saw Walter Reynolds, sitting beside his adversary, and watching her with total hostility. Oh, my God, she thought. Oh, my God.

'Will you state your name, please, madam,' Courtney said quietly. 'Margaret Hilton.' 'Occupation ?'

'I am the propriet
r
ess of the banana plantation known as Hilltop,' she said.

Courtney appeared to hesitate. But the question had to be asked.

'Are you acquainted with the defendant, Mrs Hilton?' She stared at him, her brain seeming to be seized in an icy grip.

'Mrs Hilton?' Courtney asked, his voice slightly louder. 'Are you acquainted with the defendant?'

Meg found her head turning, so that she looked at Billy. His hands rested on
the sill of the dock, and his li
ps were slightly parted. And he was staring at her.

'You must answer the question, Mrs Hilton,' said the Chief Justice gently.

Meg licked her lips. 'I am his wife,' she said.

"Thank you, Mrs Hilton,' Courtney positively exuded relief. 'Now, Mrs Hilton, I would like you to tell the court in your own words what happened on the morning of November 18th last.'

Meg gazed into Billy's eyes. My husband shot my lover, she thought. My husband shot a black man with whom I had cohabited. My husband acted the Hilton, for the first and last time in his life. Oh, my God, my husband acted the Hilton. I made him a Hilton, and he played his role. Oh, my God.

'Mrs Hilton?' Courtney was now definitely sounding nervous.

Meg's tongue circled her lips. 'I
...
I must refuse to give evidence which may incriminate my husband,' she said.

There was a moment of utter silence, then the entire court burst into sound. Meg continued to look at Billy; his mouth had opened ever so slightly, and he had actually taken a step back in the dock.

The gavel banged, and again and again, and the noise slowly subsided.

'Mrs Hilton ?' Courtney looked as if he had just swallowed an overdose of strychnine.

Meg licked her lips.

'You must answer the question, Mrs Hilton,' the Chief Justice said softly.

'I cannot be forced to testify against my husband,' Meg said, turning to face him.

The whispers began again, and were immediately quietened by another series of blows from the gavel.

'Indeed you cannot,' the Chief Justice said, his voice hardening. 'But your position should have been made clear before this case came to trial. By adopting this attitude, you are obstructing the working of my court. I have every right to commit you for contempt.' He gazed at her, watched her mouth settle into a firm line. 'Indeed,' he added,
‘I
would be failing in my duty were I not to do so, if you persist in your refusal.'

'I am sorry,' Meg said. 'I have been in prison before, my lord. I have no doubt at all that a Jamaican cell will be more comfortable than a Cuban one.'

The court remained silent, and the Chief Justice went very red in the face. Meg could almost read his thoughts: Hiltons, they think they own the earth.

'You will step down, Mrs Hilton,' he said. 'I will give a judgment regarding your contempt at the conclusion of this trial. Kindly leave the box.'

Meg inhaled, filled her lungs to their fullest capacity, and then released them again, slowly descended the stairs. The clumps of her heels echoed in the noiseless room. The side door was already open, and the same clerk was waiting for her. His face remained expressionless, but his manner was stiff.

'The Crown asks for a recess, my lord,' Courtney said, then the door closed, and she heard nothing more. 'Are you staying in town, Mrs Hilton?' inquired the clerk. 'Am I required to?'

'You are not under arrest, if that is what you mean. No doubt his lordship will know where to find you, when he is ready.'

'Then I shall go home,' she said. She wanted to lie down. She wanted to sit in a warm tub and then go to bed and sleep and sleep and sleep. 'I would like a message sent to Captain McAvoy.'

'As you wish, madam.' The clerk escorted her on to the porch, where the crowd stared at her, voices humming with excitement. The news had not reached them yet, although it was just beginning to, she suspected.

'Ask him to join me at Hilltop, if you will.' She hurried down the steps, was assisted into the trap by Washington. 'Home, please, Washington, as quickly as you can.'

She leaned back on the cushion, closed her eyes. It is over, she thought. It must be over. Now she could turn her back on Billy without remorse, without regret, without bitterness. She had put him in his position, she had kept him there when it was a matter of life or death, and now she could remove him from it. And try to live. My God, she thought, how I just want to live.

And Cleave would understand. Of all the men she had known, she supposed Cleave was the most capable of understanding.

Almost she dozed; she was exhausted. It was quite a surprise for her to discover herself once again on Hilltop, once again pulling to a halt before her own front stairs.

Lawrence waited at the top. 'But you back soon, mistress. Is all well?'

'All is well, Lawrence.' It was still early in the afternoon. 'I shall be taking a siesta today, Lawrence. Don't wake me until Captain McAvoy arrives, but ask him to come right up.'

'Yes'm, Miss Meg. But you ain' taking lunch?'

She shook her head. 'Not today, Lawrence. I doubt I could stomach a thing.'

She went upstairs, dismissed Muriel, undressed, and lay on her bed, on top of the covers. She wondered what old Sir Harry
would
do with her. She did not really suppose he would send her to gaol. Not Margaret HILTON. Not
the
Hilton. But she didn't really care. Because she had acted the Hilton for the very last time, satisfied every requirement of every ancestor. Now she could turn her back on them, and be plain Meg McAvoy. Why, she had never considered such a name before, but it had a ring to it.

She awoke with a faint headache, listened to the clatter of hooves outside, and sat up.

The clock on her bedside table t
old her it was just past six. Al
an must have waited to see how the case was going to develop. She got out of bed, scooped her robe around her shoulders, listened to the knock on her door. 'Yes,' she said. 'Come.'

The door opened, and Oriole Paterson stood there.

For a moment the two women stared at each other. Then Oriole reached for Meg's hands. 'Oh, my darling, darling, Meg,' she said. 'Oh,
my
darling.'

Meg felt herself being drawn forward, checked herself. 'I thought you had left Hilltop for good.'

'I had. I thought you were a changeling. But of course I was wrong. You are Meg Hilton, and proved that today, to all the world. Meg, forgive me, for everything. Oh Meg
...'
Her eyes were moist, and she was pulling again.

'I'm sure you are, as usual, quite wrong, Oriole,' Meg said, giving a tug to free her hands. 'I decided, after due reflection, that I owed Billy something. There is nothing more than that. I propose to place Hilltop in the hands of an attorney, to divorce Billy, whatever the outcome of the trial, and to marry Alan McAvoy.'

Oriole's grip relaxed. 'You
...
marry that common sailor?'

'I should have married him long ago. Yes, I propose to marry Alan.' She allowed herself a smile. 'And then, if you wish, you may marry Billy. Wouldn't you like to ?'

'My God.' Oriole sat in the chair by the window. 'Marry your husband ? My God. I've had a husband, thank you very much. I do not propose ever to have another.'

'Ah,' Meg said. 'Then you actually prostituted yourself to control Hilltop. Oh, I am not condemning you, Oriole. I think that was splendidly Hilton. Far more Hilton than I could ever be, now. I did prostitute myself once, you know, for the sake of Hilltop. And very successfully too. I suppose you know about that. Billy will have told you. But I still think you are much more of a Hilton than I. What a shame I was the one to inherit. Now, if you'll excuse me, Oriole, I really must get dressed. I am expecting Alan for dinner. I'm surprised he has not come already.'

'Alan McAvoy?' Oriole stood up, tossed her head. 'You are a dreamer, Meg. He won't be coming out here.'

'Oh, do be quiet, Oriole. And do leave.' Meg picked up her brush, started to stroke through her hair.

'Because, my darling, you see, whether you wish to be or not, you are a Hilton,' Oriole said. 'You are
the
Hilton. Alan McAvoy? He cannot stand the light which surrounds you. He left the court shortly after you did this morning. And returned to his schooner. I believe he gave orders that it is to be prepared for sea as rapidly as possible. What did you promise him, my darling? That you would send Billy to the gallows? Whatever you said, you have ended that particular dream.'

Meg had turned, slowly, gazed at her. Then she ran to the door, pulled it wide. 'Lawrence,' she shouted. 'Muriel. Have my horse saddled. Quickly.' She hurried back into the room threw off her robe, reached for the clothes she had tossed carelessly over the chair.

'Oh, Meg, Meg,' Oriole said. 'You are so very beautiful. So very Hilton. So
...
Meg
...'

Meg stepped into her second petticoat. 'If you touch me, Oriole, I will have you thrown down those stairs. And I do mean it. Oh
...'
She turned at the knock. 'What is it?'

Lawrence stood there. 'Is Washington, mistress. Man, mistress
...'

'Washington ?' She went to the door, forgetting her state of undress, peered at the exhausted groom. 'What has happened ?'

'Is them boys, mistress. Man, mistress, them boys in the jury.'

'What?' Oriole shouted, hurrying to Meg's side. 'What was the verdict ?'

'Man, Mistress Paterson, despite all, them boys did find Mr William guilty.'

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SUNSET

THERE was a moment of silence, then Oriole uttered a shriek and reached forward. For a moment Meg thought she was actually going to seize a black man by the shoulders. But she checked herself in time.

'Convicted?' she shouted. 'How could he be convicted?'

'How could it happen so quickly?' Meg asked.

Washington looked from one to the other. 'Well, is a fac' it happen too quick, Miss Meg. What happen is, the Chief Justice he say they got for lunch during the recess, and then, when they done, that Courtney man say the Crown finish, and Mr Reynolds start the defence. But he only call Mr Billy, Miss Meg, and he ask Mr Billy for to say what happen, and Mr Billy say that when he see you with that Cleave man he lose he head, what with jealousy and thing, and he shoot. So then Mr Reynolds say that is he case, and when he addressing the jury he saying that they got for believe Mr Billy, because is you what bring the case, and then you what saying you ain' givin' no evidence, so the truth got for be that you knowin' Mr Billy only done what he got for do.' He paused for breath.

'Oh, go on,' Oriole shouted.