'I doubt that I would know how to go about that,' Matt confessed. 'But Robert did mention the matter to His Grace of Dorset, and we have been promised an invitation to coffee...'
'Oh, for God's sake, Matt. Coffee?'
' 'Tis all the rage. Why do you imagine they set so high a store by our sugar? Coffee at the Sackvilles will be like a reception at Court, only you will meet more interesting people. Believe me, you have but to be patient.'
She sighed, and tucked her arm through his. 'Oh, I am used to patience. I cannot help but suppose, however, how much simpler life would be were you to take my hand yourself.'
'I have explained ...'
'And I have explained that that is utter nonsense. I suspect it is because of that nigger girl.'
'The next time I hear you use that expression about Gislane I shall most certainly whip you.'
'Then I shall use it all the time. Nigger girl. Nigger girl. Nigger girl.'
'On second thoughts,' Matt decided, 'I shall not whip you. I shall merely decline His Grace's invitation.'
'Oh, you wretch.' But she was frowning, as they had reached his destination, 'and twice wretch, you horrid man. Is that not her house?'
For as he had hoped, from a little tree-shrouded rise in the park they looked across at the small houses on the far side of the lane. 'Why, so it is.' He glanced at her, and was surprised at the expression on her face. For just a moment it was almost hard; for that brief second she truly looked like Robert Hilton's sister.
But he was not disposed to concern himself with Georgiana's expressions, only her presence. And that problem was easily solved. He pointed out that her clothes, while very pretty, were not really suitable for a reception at the Duke of Dorset's, and even less suitable for the winter which would soon be upon them. He found her a good seamstress in the city, and dispatched her there every day to be measured and fitted, an occupation which delighted her, while he reflected that if it was Hilton money he was squandering, then it was due to be his own in the not too distant future, and therefore he was impoverishing no one but himself.
His own days, he announced, would be spent in studying, for Robert was undoubtedly right; he had been neglecting the academic side of his education in the pursuit of cricket and boxing, and the university term was soon due to recommence. He would retire to his room until Georgiana had left the house, and then himself make his departure by the side gate, cross the park, and take up his position in the little copse from whence he could overlook the Nicholson household, returning home only to lunch, and to spend the afternoon either driving with Georgiana in the phaeton, if it was fine, or playing chess if it was not; she had recently learned the moves, and he had once met the composer Philidor, who had visited Oxford to display his enormous skill at the game blindfold. Once a week he took her to the play, where she attracted a good deal of attention, and soon flowers and notes began appearing at the house, all of which pleased her enormously and removed her interest entirely from his affairs, as he steadfastly refused to be drawn into her bedchamber, or to allow her into his, or to take up the thousand and one little offers and flirtations she threw out during each day.
He lived for the mornings, and in fact it took him just a fortnight to establish the daily routine of the Nicholson family, which indeed was utterly simple, for they drove only once a week, and then in a hired gig which suggested they were not very wealthy; the same gig took Mrs. Nicholson and Gislane to the market twice a week, and the entire family took a walk in the afternoons. Discreet inquiries revealed that they never went to the theatre, and that he was not the only gentleman caller to be discouraged. "Which he found extremely encouraging.
And on the second Tuesday, to his delight, Gislane emerged without her stepmother and accompanied only by a serving maid, who remained a discreet distance behind her. She wore a dark green pelisse and a matching bonnet and carried a parasol, crossed the road, and walked a short distance into the park, passing within twenty feet of his trees, while he found himself quite unable to move, and cursed himself for a total coward.
He observed that she never actually left the sight of her maid, and that it was a very short walk indeed. But clearly it provided his best opportunity for approaching her. The following week he was at his post again, and on the Tuesday morning Gislane once again emerged, crossed the lane, and walked slowly along the path beneath him. He straightened his cravat, slapped his leg with his cane, and stepped from amongst the trees, raising his hat before she even noticed him. 'Why, Miss Nicholson. What a pleasant surprise.'
She glanced at him, stopped walking and looked again, and half smiled while she flushed at the same time. The rush of colour into her cheeks made her twice as lovely as before, and he nearly dropped his hat.
'Mr. Hilton. How nice to meet you.' She made a gesture with her parasol, no doubt to tell her companion to remain out of earshot.
He stood beside her. 'I ... I had doubted whether you would wish to see me at all, after my cousin's rude invasion of your home.'
'On the contrary.' She resumed her walk. 'My parents were at least as forthright as your cousin.'
Matt remained at her side. 'Our wishes were not allowed to enter into the situation at all. Or at least, mine.'
She would not look at him, but the pink remained in her cheeks. 'You flatter me, sir. I really would like to apologize for first of all accepting your kind wish to call upon me, and then closing the door in your face. But you see, when I met you, and when I received your first letter, I had no idea who you were.'
'And when you received my other letters? Or did you receive them?' 'I still possess them, Mr. Hilton.'
'But then you knew who I was, and that puts me forever beyond the hope of being even your friend?'
She stopped, and he realized with a wildly pounding heart that she had navigated them down a side path and behind some trees so that she was completely out of sight of the lane; and the serving girl had also been left behind.
'Believe me, Mr. Hilton, I would welcome you as a friend, were it possible, but there are circumstances which render any conversation between us quite impossible. I am only grateful for this opportunity to meet you again, and to assure you that my reasons are by no means personal, but alas are derived from sources beyond both our controls.' She held out her hand. 'I pray you not to think too unkindly of me, Mr. Hilton. But it would be best for you to forget me.'
He took the hand, gazed into her face. Now, he told himself. It must be now, or you will be damned forever as a coward. Worse, you will have lost her forever. 'May I say that I know the reason you mention, Miss Nicholson?'
She frowned at him. 'You cannot.'
'And I would prefer not even to consider it. I did not, in fact, consider it, until it was brought to my notice by my cousin. Then I but loved you the more.'
Still she frowned, but now she half smiled as well, presenting an utterly delightful picture of irresolution. 'That could be sheer perversity.'
'It could also be love.'
'Sir, I must ask you...'
'Please.' She had given the faintest tug on her hand, but he would not let it go. 'It seems I must be bold, Gislane, else the combination of your parents and my cousin will separate us forever. I swear I care nothing for your background or your forbears. I care nothing for the prejudices of others. I care only for you. I have thought of nothing and no one but you since the moment of our first meeting. If that is not love it is most certainly devotion, would you not say?'
She had regained possession of herself, and now looked down at her imprisoned hand, but made no further attempt to withdraw it. 'It is most certainly gallantry, Mr. Hilton. And I would have expected nothing less from a man such as you. But I am not sure that I can permit you to offend your family by talking with me.'
'My family need know nothing of it,' he assured her. 'Nor would I care if they did. And does not gallantry deserve a certain reward?'
Now the frown had quite disappeared, and the smile had widened. 'May I consider the ma
tter?'
'Then you will meet me again?'
She allowed herself the slightest hesitation, and then nodded, and in the same moment, his grip having relaxed, withdrew her hand. 'I will walk in the park again on Thursday morning, Mr. Hilton.'
And indeed he was happy to have the opportunity to enjoy his delight, to rethink his approach, to anticipate what might develop from her obvious pleasure in his company. But thought was difficult. Any emotion save for sheer joy was difficult. He burst into whistling over dinner, and Georgiana raised her eyebrows. But surprisingly, for that evening, she made no advances, and preferred to discuss her gowns, and the invitation to the Duke's which had just arrived, and was for a week on Saturday morning. As if the Duke mattered, or Saturday week. It came after Thursday, and there was all the importance in the world.
This time he allowed her quite to disappear into the copse which would hide them from her home, before he followed. He had to pass the maid, and raised his hat to her, to her evident delight, before gaining Gislane's side. 'I have not slept for two nights, with excitement.'
She gave him her hand, allowed him to kiss it. 'And I am prepared to believe you, so red are your eyes. You must not injure your health on account of me.'
'I would do more. Gislane ...'
She shook her head. 'First you must listen. Shall we sit down?'
He spread his cloak for her, and she sat at the foot of an old oak, allowing him to the ground beside her.
'We arc of course being very improper, meeting like this,' she said. 'I justify it by necessity. And I have reflected hard and long upon your claim to understand the barrier that lies between us. I cannot believe that you do, but I do know that to allow you to pursue an affection such as you declare without placing you in full possession of the facts would be criminal on my part. So I would be greatly obliged if you would listen to me, without speaking, as it is sufficiently embarrassing to me merely to have to utter the words, and if, at the end of it, you should get up and leave my side without a sound, then believe me, Mr. Hilton, I will bear you no ill will at all, but may even consider that you have acted with wisdom.'
Which was clearly a carefully prepared speech, he decided. 'May I hold your hand while you speak?'
'I should like you to.'
Nor did she raise any objection as he drew off the glove, to feel the warm white fingers in his. He could not resist a closer look at her fingernails, and certainly they were slightly more colourful than his own, but the more attractive for that. And did it matter? Did he not know the truth, and love her just the same, and was she not about to confirm the truth, and make him love her the more?
'I must confess I have not done a great deal of sleeping either,' Gislane said. 'Since our chance meeting. Was it a chance meeting?'
He shook his head. 'I had watched for you every day.'
'I suspected as much. And yet you claim your cousin told you that I have African blood.'
'He did. And I told him I cared nothing for it. Why does that so surprise you?'
She shrugged. 'You are the son and grandson and cousin of a planter. Your cousin announced that you would be his heir. You are a white man. My mother was a slave.' She raised her finger when he would have spoken. 'You promised. Mama was not a pure-blooded Negress, obviously. She is what is known in the West Indies as an octoroon. Do you understand what that is?'
He nodded.
'She was the housekeeper of a man named Hodge, on the island of Nevis.'
Matt frowned, and Gislane smiled, a trifle sadly.
'You'll have heard the name. I'm afraid the Hodges have a bad reputation even in the West Indies. Especially my cousin. My father's name was William Hodge, and he owned a plantation just outside Charleston. I don't think Papa was a bad man, as I remember him. He was always very kind to me, because I was his only child. Or at least, I should say I was the only child he cared to recognize, and when Mama died, he took me into the house, gave me a room of my own, and treated me as if I'd been born to his wife. He had in fact never married. Mama Nicholson - Papa Nicholson was Papa Hodge's attorney-at-law - was my own special friend, who looked after me and saw to my education.'
She paused, but once again shook her head as Matt opened his mouth.
'Papa Hodge always intended to give me my freedom, and indeed to make me his heiress, but he hesitated to do so while I was a child, because as I said my cousin, James, who owned a smaller plantation only a few miles away, and who was generally considered Papa's heir, wouldn't have liked that very much, and he was well known as a violent man. I think Papa was afraid of him. In any event, the plan as outlined to me was that when I was sixteen I would be sent to England to complete my schooling, would obviously become free the moment I landed on English soil, and would then also be manumitted in the West Indies. I think it was Papa's hope that I should marry while in England, and thus gain the protection of someone able to oppose anything James might consider doing to regain his inheritance.'
Once again the pause, and the searching look, 'I don't suppose I gave the matter much thought as a child, as I was perfectly happy, on Hodges. But then Papa died. I was twelve, and of course as he died intestate the plantation, with all the slaves, was required by law to pass to James. I really don't know what would have become of me, but Papa and Mama Nicholson were not prepared to contemplate my belonging to James, and Papa Nicholson was not prepared to work for him, either; he had in fact already decided to retire from the West Indies to England, having by his careful habits accumulated sufficient savings to be placed at interest and guarantee his livelihood. Their passages were booked on a ship leaving Nevis the day after Papa was buried, and before James could properly take over the plantation, and on the morning of their departure, when they came to me to say goodbye, they informed me that I was going with them. I left with only the clothes I was wearing, without a single other thing.'
'You mean they absconded with a slave?' Matt cried, his planter's instincts forcing him to break his promise.
Gislane nodded. 'So you see, I am not only of Negro blood, I am also an absconded slave, no doubt with a price upon my head.'
Matt scratched his head. 'But... no one has ever sought you out?' 'Until you.'
‘You don't suppose I ...'
She laughed, a delicious ray of sunshine breaking through her habitual solemnity. 'Of course I don't. But you can understand the reaction of Papa and Mama Nicholson. The first young man who seriously comes courting is himself a West Indian. There was a stroke of bad luck. In their opinion.'
'And in yours?'
'I am surprised to find you still sitting here beside me.'
'That is not an answer to my question, Gislane.'
She was again serious. 'I do not know. You are a handsome man, Mr. Hilton. You are a pleasant one, and I would estimate that you are an honourable one. I am told on all sides that you will one day be an extremely wealthy one.'
'But I am a slave owner, and therefore must be tainted with the same tastes as James Hodge.'
'I did not say so,' she said, quietly. ‘I just find it impossible to believe that you can regard me, especially after what I have just told you, as more than a plaything.' She paused, and the deep red flush spread upwards from her neck. 'Now I have exceeded propriety, and no doubt offended you.' She got up.
'Wait.' Matt caught her hand once more. 'No. You have not offended me. I believe you are justified in everything you say, in everything you believe. I know you are right, and it would be quite impossible for you ever to return to the West Indies. But here in England you have lived in perfect happiness for some years, and could no doubt continue to do so for the rest of your life.'
'Indeed, Mr. Hilton, I hope to accomplish that. At least in contentment.' But she was frowning.
"Then neither will I return to the West Indies, Gislane. I too have grown up here, and Green Grove or Hilltop are no more than memories, and not all of them pleasant,'
'You would renounce your inheritance?'
'If you wo
uld marry me.'
The frown deepened for a moment. 'Mr. Hilton. Is this not but the fourth occasion on which we have spoken?'
He scrambled to his own feet. 'Gislane, in our circumstances there can be no normal behaviour. Be sure your foster parents will now be anxious to marry you off to some - some ogre, as rapidly as possible. And if you did not know
I sought your hand why did you humiliate yourself by recounting that tale?'
Again the flush. 'Why, I ... I thought you had a right to know the truth of me, Mr. Hilton. Lest you permitted yourself to engage your affections.'
'My affections, my mind, my heart, my soul, Gislane, were engaged from the moment I saw you.'
She was shaking her head gently. 'It is too hasty, sir. And I could not permit you to sacrifice so much for me.'
HF - 03 - Mistress of Darkness Page 6