The Devil's Own

by Christopher Nicole

  13

  The Revolution

  'You cannot mean to go through with this madness?' Kit protested.

  Lilian's frown had an almost Marguerite-like quality of imperiousness. 'Why should you call it madness?'

  'Why, because ... because ... women do not fight with weapons.'

  'It is not customary for them to do so, certainly,' she agreed. 'But I fail to see why they should not. In all the essentials required for the usage of arms we are not different to men.'

  'Except in the mind,' he said. 'There you have it. Women have not the cast of mind to wish to harm or kill.'

  'Then will we do each other no harm,' she pointed out, with maddening logic. 'But I am sure your remark can hardly apply to your wife. I would have said, there is a woman with sufficient presence of mind to harm, and to kill, if she chooses.'

  'By God,' he said. 'You are right.' He seized her hands. 'Not only will Marguerite have the mind to maim you, at the very least, but she has the skill. She has challenged you to fight with pistols. Have you ever fired a pistol in your life?'

  Lilian flushed. 'It is not my father's custom to have weapons in the house. But it is a simple matter, is it not?'

  'God give me patience,' Kit cried. 'Oh, indeed, it is a simple matter. All things in life are simple enough, to those who understand them. Did you know that Marguerite practises with a pistol at least once a week, and has done so since childhood? She has always conceived it possible that the slaves might rise against their tormentors. She shoots with a deadly and heartless accuracy. Why, this will be no duel, Lilian. It will be, it must be, nothing less than murder.'

  'Have you no faith in justice?'

  'Ah,' he said. 'Trial by battle. Does the God of the Quakers admit to that?'

  She glanced at him; her cheeks continued to glow, but she was no longer embarrassed. 'Is it not time we should be returning?'

  He flicked the whip and the trap moved down the hill. 'The house is finished. I have no doubt that Dan will wish to move in as soon as possible.'

  'My plans will scarcely interfere with his, Kit.'

  'But you will move in with me, will you not?'

  She gazed ahead of them at the road. 'Oh, indeed I shall, Kit. I am Kit Hilton's woman. Come next week, I shall be Kit Hilton's only woman, or I shall be dead. It seems to me to be a simple solution to everyone's problem. For be sure that with me gone, Marguerite would welcome you back. And I imagine that even you would welcome that situation. But I will at least have died with the knowledge that I am as good a woman as she.' Once again the quick glance. 'Or should I not even consider the possibility of death, before the duel? You could at least give me that much benefit of your experience.'

  'My experience?' he cried. 'For God's sake, Lilian, what experience do I have? Would you believe that I have never fought a duel in my life?'

  'You?' Her surprise was genuine.

  'You have been listening to too many of your father's strictures. I have come to the point, often enough, but never have I actually had a challenge accepted.'

  'Because of your known prowess. That must be a most comforting feeling. Yet you have killed often enough. So what do you feel immediately before battle? Do you doubt your own survival?'

  'No,' he said. 'I have never doubted my own survival.' They entered the sleeping town, clattered gently down the street. Curtains moved at the windows, as usual. Captain Hilton and his woman. How they would stir when they heard of this.

  'Well, then,' Lilian said. 'I must not consider my own death, either.' She rested her hand on his as the trap came to a halt. 'I am looking forward to moving in with you, Kit. But I could not do so under the present circumstances. When I bring my clothes up that hill I must be able to look any man, and more important, any woman, straight in the eye. I would hope that you could understand that.'

  'I understand the sentiment,' Kit said.

  'But you still feel it is unnatural. Well, it is unnatural, of course. But then, is not my entire position unnatural?' She smiled at him. 'I have not yet asked you to second me. Is that not the proper thing to do?'

  'Lilian ...'

  'Will you second me, Kit? Or must I go elsewhere?'

  How steady her gaze. How little he knew, of what he had commenced when he had offered this girl his love. For how selfish is the human mind, how one-sided the human gaze. What had he seen, when first he had looked on Lilian Christianssen? A certain beauty, a certain charm, a certain quiet contentment with life? Or merely a woman eager to respond? He had seen no character, no depths of determination, no deep-seated knowledge of herself. Because had he seen those qualities, admirable in a man with whom one will fight a war, but daunting in a woman with whom one would share a bed, he would doubtless have turned and run.

  And proved himself a fool. For is not all life a war? Against age, and poverty, and disease ... and other people who are also seeking their share? And would a woman, lacking those qualities, be worth having?

  'I will second you, Lilian,' he said.

  'Thank you. Presumably Marguerite will supply the pistols. Do you think I should practise?' She smiled at his bewilderment.

  'I think not,' she said. 'An unsuccessful rehearsal might dispel what confidence I possess. I will please Papa by spending the evening in prayer.'

  'Your father knows of this madness?'

  She shook her head. 'No doubt he will learn of it, in due course. But he at the least will not try to stop me. He considers me nothing more than a daughter of the devil in any event, and searches his own past for the unthinking sin which could have produced me from his loins. But I would prefer not to distress him more than necessary. Do you remain at Mr Parke's house, and I will come to you at dawn.'

  Kit hesitated. It cannot be, he thought. I cannot let this happen. But I cannot stop her. Even supposing I could, that would be to destroy her all over again. For this truly is the only solution she could ever have come to.

  'Aye,' he said. 'I will wait for you, at dawn.'

  He flicked the whip and the trap rolled away. He cantered beneath the archway and into the yard of the rented Government House, threw his reins to the waiting slave, and ran up the inner staircase. Colonel Parke was in the downstairs gallery with Mr Wolff.

  'Kit,' the Governor cried. 'Great news. Wolff tells me everything is in place.'

  'Why, so it is,' Kit agreed. 'I have just come from there.'

  'Then we shall move up the hill on Monday. Thank you, Wolff. That is splendid news.'

  I did the best I could, Your Excellency.' The engineer bowed to Kit and hurried for the door.

  'And indeed he has done well.' Parke leaned over the plans. "And then, then we shall see what we shall see, Kit. I have been soft with these rapscallions. I have been too aware that while living here in the centre of their schemes I have been open to ambuscade and annoyance. But when I sit in that citadel, looking down on them, with the fort commanding the harbour at the other extreme, by God, sir, then will I call some of them to account. You'll know they have written letters to London, demanding my recall?'

  'I had not heard,' Kit said. 'But how ...?'

  Parke laid his finger alongside his nose. 'The captain of every ship that trades here is in my pay. Why, should they not humour their governor and principal employer? I took care of that aspect of the situation before I ever left England. So they take care that such of the letters as may be of importance to me are made available.'

  'You mean you have confiscated them?'

  '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 only 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.