HF - 04 - Black Dawn (48 page)

The forced humour had left her face. The pink spots he remembered so well were gathering in her cheeks. And now she swung her hand.

But he caught her wrist without difficulty. The force of her blow carried her onwards, so that she half fell against him.

'Mr Hilton,' she cried. 'The beast is assaulting me.'

The hubbub became uproar. Women screamed, men scrambled to their feet with a scraping of chairs and a scattering of crystal and crockery. Mr Mortlake stood in the doorway and tore his hair.

'Scoundrel,' Tony bawled, starting forward, supported by Evans and Tresling. 'Wretch, I'll have you whipped, by God.

I'll. . .' He gave a gasp and fell to his hands and knees, Cartarette having allowed one of her feet to creep out from under the table and catch his ankle.
^‘
By God, madame
,' he spluttered.

Dick had by now completely turned Ellen round, so that her back was to him, while he retained his grip on her wrist.

'I see you, at the least, have not changed at all, Ellen,' he said. 'How is your dear mother?'

'You . . . you . . .' She wriggled and tried to kick backwards, and only succeeded in dislodging her hair, which fell forwards down her face, fluttering as she tried to breathe.

'Why, Ellen,' Gwynneth Evans remarked. 'You are coming undone.'

Tony held on to the table to pull himself to his feet. Cartarette prudently rose as well, backing against the wall.

'John,' Tony bawled, waving at Trcsling, who had stopped and seemed uncertain what next to do. 'Arrest that man.'

'Who, me?'

'You are Chief Custo,' Tony bawled. 'Arrest him. Throw him in gaol.'

'On what charge, would you say?'

'Why, common assault. Look at the way he is manhandling my wife.'

'You may have her back,' Dick said, giving Ellen a gentle push which sent her into the arms of her husband.

'You must call him out,' Evans said. 'Oh, yes. He has insulted you, Tony.'

Tony gazed into his brother's eyes. 'Call him out? Call that . . . that monstrosity out? I fight with gentlemen, Evans. Not renegade nigger lovers.'

'And perhaps not with your brother,' Cartarette said, speaking for the first time.

Tony glared at her, then turned back to his friend. By now the other diners had retreated to the far side of the room, where they clustered around Mortlake as if protecting him, or seeking his protection themselves.

'Arrest him,' he said again. '
I'll prefer the charges. Fraud.
Perjury. Oh, I'll prefer the charges.'

Tresling took an uncertain step forward.

Tf you come one step closer without a warrant,' Dick said, speaking quietly, 'I shall break your head.'

'My word,' Tre
sling said. 'My word.'

'Oh, Ellen,' Gwynneth whispered, loudly. 'You do look a mess.'

'Am I to take it,' Dick remarked, 'that you intend to persist in denying that I am Richard Hilton, that you intend to attempt to hold on to your possession of Hilltop, illegally?'

'Why, you . . .' Tony's face was dark with blood.

Ellen finally gave up trying to blow her hair away and used her hands, scraping it to either side of her face. 'We intend to charge you with attempted fraud, with perjury, and with assault,' she said, also keeping her voice under control. 'We are going to see that you go to prison for the rest of your life. Mr Tresling will obtain a warrant in the morning.'

Dick gave her a slight bow. 'And tomorrow morning, Mr Hilton, I shall file formal claim to Hilltop and Green Grove, as Richard Hilton. I look forward to seeing you ladies and gentlemen again, in court.'

15

The Witness

'His Excellency will see you now, Mr
...
ah, Hilton.' The secretary was a small, precise man, with a pince-nez. 'And . . . ah, Mistress Hilton, of course.'

Dick rose, gave his arm to Cartarette. He had abandoned his uniform in favour of a severe black broadcloth coat over white buckskin breeches, to look the perfect picture of a planter. As Cartarette, in dark blue, was also most soberly dressed. There could be no questioning her utter support, her utter loyalty. As if he had ever questioned that.

But it was amazing to consider that this was the first time he had ever set foot in Government House since leaving his card, twenty years before.

The double doors were opened, the long sweep of the Governor's office stretched in front of them; at the rear french windows led to the garden, an expanse of lawn. It was a large, pleasant, cool room. But the floor needed polish as the walls needed paint.

The Earl of Belmore stood behind his desk. He looked tired, and his heavy features had dissolved into jowls. He wore a black band on his arm, as the flag on the staff beyond his window drooped at half mast, as some of the shops on Harbour Street were draped in black crepe. But the news of the King's death had had little impact on Jamaica; George IV had not been the most popular of men. People hoped for more from his brother, who at least had a personal acquaintance with the West Indies.

'Mr Hilton,' he said. 'Madame. You would prefer me to use Hilton?'

'It is my name, your Excellency.'

'Of course. Of course.' Belmore peered at Dick's features. 'Of course,' he said a third time. 'Please be seated. Lomas. Chairs.'

The secretary had already placed two straight chairs before the desk; now he held one for Cartarette.

The earl lowered himself, slowly. His hand flapped on the desk. 'A warrant, for your arrest.'

'I understood there was to be one, your Excellency.'

The earl sighed. His hand flapped on another piece of parchment. 'An affidavit, attested by Mr Reynolds, claiming that you are Richard Hilton, the rightful owner of Hilltop. The warrant alleges intent to defraud, conspiracy, assault. To prove your innocence of that charge, you will have to prove the validity of the affidavit.'

'I intend to do so, your Excellency.'

'Exactly. There have been representations. By the planters, to ignore the affidavit until the criminal charges have been proven.'

Dick waited. He would not have been invited here had the Governor intended to take notice of the planters.

'That of course, would be a grave injustice, if you
are
Richard Hilton,' Belmore said. 'So I will hold the warrant, for the time being. Or perhaps I should say, I am inclined to do so.' He sighed again, and looked at Cartarette. His features relaxed just a little before once more tightening. 'If I am persuaded.'

'By my proof?'

The Governor's head turned, slowly, back towards Dick. 'That in a moment. Are you familiar with events in Jamaica? Present events?'

'I am rapidly becoming so.'

'Matters are rushing to a crisis,' Belmore said. 'Between Great Britain and the planters here. Depending upon what happens in the general election in England, now King William is on the throne, the crisis may already be upon us. There is a spirit of rebellion abroad. And the planters' leader is Hilton of Hilltop.'

'So I have heard.'

'I never knew Richard Hilton,' Belmore said, half to himself. 'I have heard he became involved in scandal, and social ostracism, almost immediately upon his arrival in Jamaica. But I have also heard his reputation, as a man who looked after his people, brooked no unnecessary ill-treatment. I have heard that he dismissed his entire bookkeeping staff for brutality, within twenty-four hours of his arrival on Hilltop.'

'That is incorrect, your Excellency. The bookkeeping staff left Hilltop because of that very scandal you have just mentioned.'

The Governor gazed at him for some seconds. 'Do you know,' he said at last, 'I am beginning to believe in you, Mr Hilton.' He picked up the warrant, folded it into two halves, and then tore it across, dropping the pieces daintily into the wastepaper basket beside his desk. 'I am assuming you have not changed your point of view.'

'I have not, your Excellency.'

'Yet you will understand my personal belief in your ability to recall one or two things which Richard Hilton may be expected to remember will not win you your suit. When I sit in judgment, I must be entirely impartial. Have you any plan of offence, or defence for that matter?'

'I have written to my mother,' Dick said.

'A good beginning. She knows your handwriting, no doubt?'

'Unfortunately, that too has changed,' Dick said. 'Slightly, but enough to remove the difference between the real thing and a skilful forgery. At least according to Mr Reynolds.'

'Hm,' said the Governor. 'Hm.'

‘I
must also tell you that this is the first letter I have written my mother for sixteen years.' 'Why?'

'Well. . .' Dick bit his lip. 'I was very ill, following my shipwreck, and when I recovered my senses, it was to discover myself as you see me now. I doubt my own mother would have recognized me then. And I was myself upset by my appearance. I put off writing to my family, until I felt more familiar with my new self, but then I became enrolled as an officer in Christophe's army, and in the midst of that brutal war I could no longer bring myself to believe in Richard Hilton, or that my mother would wish to recognize me.'

'Hm,' the Governor said again. And looked at Cartarette. 'But you know the truth, madame?'

She flushed. 'I know nothing that will be of value to a court, your Excellency. I met my husband as Matthew Warner. But I believe in the truth of what he says, as I know the man.'

'As you say, hardly proof,' the Governor mused. 'What do you hope of your mother, Mr Hilton?'

'That she will write back and acknowledge me,' Dick said. 'I have fisted in my letter certain events which happened in my youth, which she should remember.'

The Governor sighed. 'I should say that in the application for your arrest as a fraud, Mr Hilton, your . . . ah . . . brother dismisses your claim to remember certain events on board the
Green Knight
twenty years ago, as being possibly told to you by the real Richard Hilton, his words, before his decease. The same stricture could be made with regard to boyhood incidents. Nonetheless, I agree that acknowledgement by Mistress Hilton of you as her son, would be of the greatest value to your case. Obviously we must put back the court hearing until such word is received. And just as obviously your opponents will wish it held as soon as possible. You may leave that in my charge. It is a civil case, and these matters always take a great deal of time. However, I do feel that you would be well to attempt to obtain some additional proof of your identity.'

Dick frowned at him. Then slapped his hand on the desk. 'There are a great many people who knew me when I lived here sixteen years ago. My manager, James Hardy . . .'

'Hm,' said the Governor. 'Hardy is very much an adherent of his employer,
the
Hilton. He is indeed a rabid anti-Abolitionist.'

'Well, then, my slaves. What of Joshua Merriman, my field manager?'

'Ah. When I realized that this case was coming before me, I looked up the files on that event. Joshua Merriman ran away from Hilltop, about a year after Richard Hilton's disappearance. Frankly, there were disquieting suggestions about the whole affair. As you say, Richard Hilton had employed him as a field manager, whereas Anthony Hilton promptly demoted him to being a field slave, and I believe inflicted a merciless flogging as well. Alas, whatever the truth of the matter, Merriman certainly ran away, and was never heard of again. Nor did he seek refuge in the Cockpit Country, for we had the matter investigated. I am afraid he very likely died, from exposure or starvation.'

'My God,' Dick said. 'Josh? He was my truest friend.'

'An honourable sentiment, Mr Hilton. But one which cannot help your case.'

'Mr Boscawen?'

'Anthony Hilton's butler? I would remind you that he has been the butler on Hilltop for the last sixteen years, at the least. What does that suggest to you?'

'I would not have expected my brother to do less than reinforce his position to the utmost.'

'In every way,' the Governor pointed out. 'Marrying your erstwhile fiancee, for example. Were Ellen Hilton to identify you, and who better? You must have been . . . ah . . . intimate with her during your betrothal, so presumably she would be capable of identifying you. But she has added her denunciation to that of your brother.'