Mistress of Darkness Page 8

  ‘You mean ... disfigured? 'Tis breaking the law we will be, Miss Georgiana.'

  Georgiana snapped her fingers. 'We'll break no laws, Barton. I have it. You'11 seize the girl, but you'll not harm her, you understand. You'll have her taken privily to Bristol, and set her aboard a ship bound for Nevis. That were not difficult. She is an absconded slave, belonging to James Hodge. We are doing nothing more than returning him his property. I will give you money to pay the captain.'

  'You are a cool one, Miss Georgiana. But will not Mr. Matthew be able to trace her whereabouts?'

  'No doubt he will, in time,' Georgiana agreed. 'But, in time, will he wish to? When she has spent but a year as a slave, and of a man like Hodge .., you will have heard of Hodge, Barton?'

  'Oh, yes, indeed, Miss Georgiana. Everyone connected with the West Indies has heard of Hodge.'

  'He comes of bad stock. His great-grandfather was once in the employ of Meg Hilton, as I remember. And he is as known for his lechery as his cruelty. He'll be more than pleased to have his little half-breed cousin returned to him. He'll put some colour into those pale cheeks, I'll wager you that. Not even Matt will wish to have her when Hodge is finished. Besides, it is no more than an infatuation with a pretty face. It will die.'

  'No doubt,' Barton agreed. And downed his wine. "Yet is he a powerful young man, Miss Georgiana. We will not frighten him.'

  'No more you should,' Georgiana agreed. 'You will have to assault him.'

  'We will have to break his head.'

  She stared at the agent for a moment. 'Very well, if that is necessary. And so long as you are sure you do him no permanent harm. But he cannot be left on the ground. Arrange for one of your people, someone he doesn't know, to happen by a few minutes after the assault, and fetch him back here.'

  Barton hesitated, peered into his empty glass, then sighed and stood up. 'Ten o'clock, you said.'

  'Ten o'clock. So you'd best make haste.'

  Barton nodded, and sighed, and remained still. There will be repercussions, Miss Georgiana.'

  ‘I will take full responsibility, Mr. Barton. In the name of my brother Robert. I have no doubt that I am doing what he would do in these circumstances, saving that he might not be so prepared to save the girl's life. You'll not fail me, Barton.'

  'No, Miss.' Barton went to the door, paused again. 'And I'm to have Mr. Matthew returned here as soon as possible.'

  Georgiana was looking at herself in the mirror, smoothing her fichu back on to her shoulders to leave as much bare flesh exposed as possible.

  'Aye,' she said. 'I'll look after Mr. Matthew.'

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE SEEKER

  DISTANT drumbeats shattered the darkness, filled the universe, louder and louder and louder. Matt forced his eyes open. He would do anything to escape the incessant crashing of the drums, for the drummers seemed to be using his very skull as a surface on which to exercise their sticks,

  'God,’ he screamed. 'God.'

  'Matt?' Georgiana, leaning anxiously over the bed on which he lay. 'Oh, thank God, We have been so worried.'

  There were other people in the room, and now an elderly man bent over him. Dr. Bennett, the Hilton physician. 'Careful now, young man. I think a cooling draught, Miss Georgiana. With just a trace of spirit in it'

  'Richards,' Georgiana snapped. 'Quickly. An iced drink for Mr. Matt. And add a little gin.'

  'My head,' Matt moaned, rolling to and fro.

  'Aye,' Bennett agreed. 'You've some more ice there, woman?' A fresh handkerchief filled with ice was laid on his brow. 'You've taken a nasty crack across the skull, Matthew. But so far as I can see there is no real damage. A little concussion, perhaps. Nothing another twenty-four hours of rest will not cure.'

  'A crack?' Matt tried to focus.

  'With a stick, Dr. Bennett thinks,' Georgiana explained. 'You must have been set upon by footpads.'

  Now her face did come into clear focus, and with it, memory stormed back, of another face, Gislane's face, lit up by her smile as she crossed the darkened lane towards him, her bundle of clothes beneath her arm. And then frowning, as she stopped, and would have said something, and then ,..

  'Gislane,' he said. 'What has happened to Gislane?' Georgiana frowned and shook her head. 'But I must know.' With a great effort he raised himself on his elbow.

  ‘You were lucky,' Georgiana said loudly. 'A gentleman passed by, and the robbers took fright and ran off before they could empty your pockets. Fortunately he recognized the phaeton, and so placed you in it and brought you back here.'

  'A gentleman?' Matt asked.

  Georgiana raised her eyebrows. 'He would not give his name. Nor would he accept any reward. And I will confess that the sight of you lying there, covered in blood and dead for aught I knew, drove all other considerations from my mind.'

  'But Gislane was there.’ Matt lay back on his pillows. 'She must have been assaulted as well.' 'Gislane?’ inquired Dr. Bennett.

  'Perhaps you would excuse us, Doctor,' Georgiana suggested. 'It is a private matter.'

  'Oh, certainly, Miss Georgiana. There is no more I can do, in any event. Rest, Matthew. Just rest will soon have you on your feet I'll stop by again tomorrow.'

  He went to the door, and encountered Richards with a tray. 'Your drink.'

  'I'll take it. Georgiana closed the door behind them both, returned to stand by Matt. ‘Drink this, and you'll feel better.

  Matt discovered he was parched. He sipped, and then again.

  The gentleman who brought you home spoke nothing of Gislane,' Georgiana said.

  'But she was there,' Matt insisted. 'She was coming towards me, when I was attacked.'

  'So perhaps it was not footpads, after all,' Georgiana said, thoughtfully. 'Perhaps your elopement was prevented.'

  'For God's sake, who would do such a thing? Who knew of it?'

  'The Nicholsons, for example?'

  'Good God.' He sat up, and held his head. 'Ow. Give me the rest of that wine.'

  'Now you are not to get out of bed,' she insisted, holding the goblet for him. You really must rest. But don't you see, Matt, who else can it have been, and in such a place? I thought it a little fortuitous that a friend should have happened along in time to prevent the footpads from robbing you. No, no, they made their objections to you as a son-in-law quite plain. Gislane obviously was indiscreet, and they decided to prevent her escaping.'

  'I cannot believe it.'

  The goblet was empty. She placed it on the table, and sat beside him, put her arms round his shoulders, brought his head down on to her breasts. 'I understand that it must be a terrible shock. But I can see no alternative possibility.'

  He struggled to free himself. 'But Gislane ... what will they have done to her?'

  'Given her a good thrashing, perhaps,' Georgiana suggested.

  ‘I must get over there,' Matt said. 'By heaven, I'll make them sing a different tune.' He pushed her away, scrambled from the bed, began to dress, on this occasion quite forgetting the need for modesty in her company.

  Georgiana remained on the bed, rubbing her shoulder where his hand had gripped as he had pushed her aside. 'You cannot go out. Dr. Bennett said you should stay indoors. And what will you do, Matt? They have right on their side; the girl is not yet of age.'

  'They have no right at all if they inspired the assault on me,' Matt said. 'And I shall know, believe me. They must suppose me a very sorry fellow if they imagine a tap on the head will drive me from Gislane forever."

  'Oh, God's teeth,' Georgiana said, and lay down in his place. 'Stop acting the fool and come back here, You'll likely fall from your horse and do yourself some permanent damage. Look at you, swaying all over the floor.'

  Matt found himself sitting in a chair, his shirt unfastered, his breeches still around his thighs. God, how the room heaved.

  'So there.' Georgiana came towards him, 'Poor, poor Matt. You remind me of Don Quixote, indeed you do. Nor would you have any more success against the Nicholsons th
an he did with his windmills. I would suppose they are as alarmed as you. Indeed, it is a surprise that they have not come calling. Now let me help you back to bed.'

  Her arms were once again round his shoulders, her strength gently pulling him to his feet. How sweet she smelt, and how soft. And how eager, to look after him and be at his side.

  'Now you are trying to confuse me,' he grumbled. The bed came up to meet him, and she released him to heave his legs on to the mattress.

  'I must get these breeches off,' she said. 'You just lie still, sweet Matt.'

  He lay still, and sighed, while her fingers slid over his hips. 'You are too good to me, Georgy. I am a perverse fellow.'

  'Oh, indeed you are,' she agreed. 'But if your mishap has taught you where your fortune truly lies, then perhaps you are the gainer. I have written to the Duke, informing him that because of your accident we shall not be attending his reception.'

  'But that is absurd,' Matt protested. 'You were going to go by yourself, in any event.'

  'I must look after you,' she said firmly, and gently pushed him on to the pillows. 'Anyway, it is too late. The reception will have started an hour ago.'

  'An hour. But...'

  'It is Saturday morning. Did you not know? You have lain there, no more than halfconscious, certainly not aware of who or where you are, for a good thirty-six hours.'

  'Thirty-six hours? My God. Gislane. I must find out what happened to Gislane. If you would truly assist me, Georgy, send a messenger to the Nicholsons.'

  'I shall do no such thing.'

  'But you said ...'

  'I have no idea what has happened to the girl.'

  'And you do not care,' he said angrily.

  'Indeed I do not. This whole venture was ridiculous in the first place. It was filled with danger, from the very start. A Negress...'

  'Now you are being ridiculous,' he protested.

  'A half-caste? What is the difference? Can you be sure your children would not have had kinky hair? I swear, you are perhaps a fortunate fellow, in that your mad scheme was interrupted. By whoever is responsible.'

  Matt was frowning at her. 'But it has, only been interrupted. I shall find her. And if she has been harmed, why...'

  'Find her?' Georgiana demanded. 'Now you are piling absurdity upon absurdity. Why should you find her? To have your head broken a second time?'

  'I should like someone to try,' Matt said. 'No doubt Robert was right, as usual, and my fists alone are not sufficient protection. I will learn the use of a pistol, by God. And a sword. And then let us see.'

  'Very admirable.' Georgiana left the bed and walked the room, restless as ever. 'And supposing Robert is, as usual -your words - right, was he not also right about your infatuation?'

  'How else should I feel about the woman I am going to marry, but infatuated? Now, I repeat, if you would truly assist me, Georgy, send to the Nicholsons and see if they have her there, or if they know what has happened.'

  'And suppose they do not have her there?'

  'Of course she is there. If I was found alone, then Gislane must have made her escape. And where would she go but home?'

  'Leaving you perhaps dead on the ground?' Georgiana asked, coldly. 'Oh, indeed, there is an example of true love.'

  'She would have been terrified,' he said, once again sitting up. 'Oh, my darling Gislane. Give me back my breeches, Georgy. If you'll not help me, I must go myself.'

  'Oh, stay there,' she said disagreeably. 'But there is little enough point in sending to the Nicholsons. The girl is not there.'

  'How can you know that?' 'I... I am sure of it.'

  He frowned at her. 'That man who brought me here. You did speak with him. Come on, out with it. What has happened to her?'

  'Well ...' Georgiana licked her lips. But she was quite incapable of keeping any sort of a secret, as Matt well knew. 'She was taken away. By the men who attacked you.'

  'Taken away?' he shouted, and put both hands to his head to stop the throbbing. 'Taken away? You mean she was kidnapped?'

  'I suppose you could call it that,' Georgiana said, sulkily. 'But... my God. What can they have done to her?' 'I doubt they harmed her.'

  'You doubt...' he was out of bed, crossing the floor, holding her shoulders. 'You know what happened. Tell me.'

  'Do you mind not holding me so tight?' she requested, quietly enough. 'I imagine, from what I was told, that their purpose was to return her to the West Indies.'

  Matt stared at her in horror. 'Hodge's people, you mean? But how did they find her?'

  'How did you find her?'

  'I? I was not looking for an absconded slave. I was looking for a girl I love.'

  'Oh, how you do talk nonsense,' Georgiana said. 'She is an absconded slave, and now she is being returned to her owner. There's an end to the matter, surely.'

  'An end to it? An end?' He released her, stepped away. 'Good Christ in heaven. Can you imagine what it would be like, for a girl like Gislane, educated, gentle, refined, to discover herself a slave? And of a man like James Hodge? I must find her. They'll have sent her to Bristol. Aye. But they'll have to find a ship for her. I'll catch them.' He pulled open the door. 'Richards,' he bellowed. 'Richards. Have me a horse saddled. And prime me a pair of pistols. Make haste now. Christ, that my head would stop this confounded banging.'

  'Will you stop being such a fool,' Georgiana shouted, slamming the door shut. 'You will not find her. She began her journey thirty-six hours ago. You will not catch her up. There is a ship waiting. I doubt not she'll be away the moment she arrives.'

  Matt turned, slowly. 'A ship, waiting?'

  The deep red flush spread upwards from Georgiana's neck. 'Is there not, usually? Can you name a busier port than Bristol?'

  Matt crossed the room. 'A ship, waiting? You knew this?' Georgiana backed against the wall. 'The girl is a nigger, Matt. Robert would have done no less.'

  'Robert?' Even the pounding inside his head seemed no more than a spur, driving him at her. 'You thought you'd be his deputy?' He reached her, and she ducked under his arm and ran for the bed, scrambled across it, and landed on the far side, panting.

  'A nigger,' she shouted. 'A slave. And she's gone now. She'll be gone, by the time you can reach Bristol. And she'll be treated as a slave, you stupid boy. Her maidenhead, for a start. A whip to her back. Scraps of dry bread. You'll not find the girl you knew. Because she never was the girl you knew.'

  rYou bitch,' he shouted, and launched himself across the bed. She sidestepped, but he caught her gown, swinging her round and bringing her to the floor against the wall. 'You unutterable little bitch.' He dug his fingers into her hair and dragged her to her feet.

  'Bedded,' she shrieked. 'By common seamen. Oh, she'll have the pox by now. And I'll swear she'll enjoy every moment of it, the nigger bastard.'

  He swung his fist, to and fro. hitting her on each cheek in turn, making her head jump like a puppet, causing blood to flow from her cut lips and bringing a moan from her throat.

  'Master Matthew. Master Matthew.' Richards and two maids, dragging at his shoulders.

  'He means to kill me,' Georgiana whispered, sinking back to the floor as he released her. 'For saving his life.'

  Matt shrugged himself free of the clutching hands; the servants stood around him in attitudes of mingled terror and protectiveness. 'Kill you?' he asked. 'Now that were a waste of a good whore, Georgy. But by heaven I shall, should our paths ever cross again.' He turned, and the maids hastily retreated. 'Get her out of here,' he said. 'And Richards, you'd best have that horse ready. I'll allow you ten minutes.'

  'You'll take a swig of brandy, Mr. Hilton? 'Tis a fresh bottle I've opened this very day.'

  Matt sighed, and turned away from the taffrail, from the unending rolling blue of the white topped seas, from the swaying rise and fall of the horizon. The man was only trying to be friendly, as he had tried to be friendly throughout the week the voyage had so far lasted. His name was Tom Coke, and no doubt he felt that they might be two
of a kind, for he was shunned by the other passengers, as an unfrocked divine. He had, in fact, been dismissed his living in south Wales for holding open-air services in imitation of the Wesleyan method, so it was whispered, and no doubt was on his way to the less conformist West Indies to seek his fortune. He was a short, plump fellow, in his middle thirties, with a shock of thick brown hair and full cheeks. And certainly he liked to live well; he had bought more cheese, more sweetmeats, and more bottles of wine and spirits on board than any other passenger, which come to think of it, Matt realized, supposed that he was not in such dire need of a fortune after all. Certainly he could afford to share.

  And after a week of staring at the sea and sky, and brooding on the hate and anger which filled every corner of his mind, he suddenly felt like company.

  'In the cabin?' he asked.

  Coke smiled, and laid a fat forefinger alongside his nose. 'Indeed no, sir. Mistress Marchbanks is once again emptying her belly in dreadful vomits. I declare that I wonder if she will make land safely. 'Tis monstrous, Mr. Hilton. Monstrous, that twelve people, of both sexes, should be crowded in so confined a space as that cabin. Why, sir, when first we left that accursed port, and I saw you remove yourself and your bundle to the dampness of the deck, I supposed you a very odd fellow. But now I know that you were merely displaying your experience. No doubt you have made this passage before.' He smiled as he spoke, belying the apparent gravity of his words, and now he produced the bottle from the pocket of his coat.

  'Once,' Matt said. 'And some years ago.'

  'Be my guest, sir.' Coke gave him the bottle. 'Some years? And you are yet hardly more than a boy, if you'll excuse my impertinence.'

  'When I came to England, Dr. Coke, I was a boy.' Matt took a long drink of the liquor, and sighed.