HF - 04 - Black Dawn

by Christopher Nicole

  'Out,' Tony said.

  'Oh, really, Tony,' Ellen complained. 'You are not going to play the fool, I hope.'

  'Out,' he said again. 'Your mistress will manage for herself today.'

  Bridget gave Ellen a terrified glance, and received a quick nod. She scurried through the door.

  Tony kicked it shut behind him, released his wife. 'I don't believe what you said yesterday,' he remarked. 'If I thought it was true, I'd set the dogs on him.'

  'Oh, pfft,' she said, and sat at her dressing table. It was huge, with three mirrors, and made out of best Honduras mahogany to her own design.

  'So, tell me it is not true.' He sat on the bed.

  She watched him in the mirrors. 'We made a bargain, you and I. As mistress of Hilltop, you promised me, I could do what I liked, when I liked, and with whom I liked.'

  'As long as you were also my wife.'

  She smiled, at herself, and at him, in the mirror. 'I am quite prepared to be your wife, whenever you wish me, Tony. I had supposed you were well suited.'

  He sat up. 'You'll not pretend you are jealous of Judith?'

  'That creature? No, no. I suspect she can attend to your needs better than I. She was trained to it, by her poor, unlamented mother. I was, unhappily, educated to be a lady.' 'You are a bitch.'

  She turned, and stood up. And continued to smile. 'I am speaking with my husband, in the privacy of my bedchamber. Will you assist me?' She crossed the room, stood in front of him, turned her back. She waited, for his fingers to touch the buttons on the neck of her gown. 'We are both perverted, you and I, Tony. In the oddest of ways, I suppose. People imagine us to be far worse than we are. They respect us for it. They would be utterly contemptuous, did they know the truth of us.'

  The gown was loose, she shrugged it from her shoulders, past her thighs, stepped out of it. She left it lying on the floor, herself took off her petticoats, but returned to the bedside, and again presented her back to him.

  'You are talking rubbish.' His fingers plucked at the ties for her stays. Although she wore a cotton shift under the whalebone, the garment was still soaked with sweat, and the bows rapidly turned into knots.

  'Oh, indeed. But look at yourself, Tony. Tony Hilton. The Hilton. You are the wealthiest man in Jamaica, and possibly the most handsome. You have other assets, such as your name and even an understanding wife. You could take your pick, over and over again, of every woman in this island. Of every woman in the West Indies, I would say, should you choose to travel. Yet you find all your comfort at the hands, quite literally, of a little whore whose mother was a whore and whose grandmother, I have no doubt at all, was also a whore.' She spoke perfectly quietly and evenly, allowed herself a faint sigh of relief as her lungs and belly were at last released, reached over her shoulder to take the garment.

  'I have always felt responsible for Judith,' Tony pointed out, and lay down again, his hands behind his head. 'You know that. What with her childhood, and then, being raped by Dick . . .'

  'Do you really believe that?' Ellen stood in front of her mirror to remove her shift. She did it slowly, raising the garment first of all to her thighs, to expose her legs, long and strong and powerful, and then higher, to allow him to inspect her wide thighs, her pouted belly, and then over her head, slowly, inhaling at the same time to push her somewhat low slung breasts away from her chest.

  'And with her mother dead,' Tony muttered. But he was watching her, as she could see in the mirror.

  The shift joined the rest of her clothes on the floor. Only her hair remained. Slowly she unfastened the bows, keeping her breathing carefully under control. 'A man should try to be honest with himself,' she said, quietly. 'Judith is the only woman you dare approach. You only lie about the others. As you lied about the night before last.'

  He sat up. 'Lie? Me? Why . . .'

  'I had Charmian keeping an eye on you.' The chestnut hair fell past her ears, rested on her shoulders.

  'Then she saw us go into the study.'

  'She also saw dear Phyllis leave again, very briefly, and very angry. And she also saw you sleep in there, later on. All by yourself. My God, how absolutely childish, to be quarrelling about whether you did or whether you did not sleep with that detestable woman.' She crossed the room, slowly, sat on the bed, close enough for him to touch her, if he chose.

  His face was red and angry. When he was angry, only the coarseness showed through. The Hilton grandeur quite disappeared.

  'Well, then,' he demanded. 'What of you?'

  'Ah.' She lay down, beside him, rested her head on his shoulder, placed her left leg carefully across both of his. From where he lay he would look down a long sweep of very white, faintly freckled flesh. 'I am more honest than you.' She exerted all her strength to keep him flat. 'I did try a buck, once.'

  'You . . .' He attempted to get up, was held still. She rolled on to his stomach, straddling him with her legs, placing her hands one on each side of his face. She shook her head to tickle him with her hair.

  And smiled at him. 'You always knew I wanted to.'

  His hands rested on her back, but lightly. 'I knew you wanted to whip a man.'

  She nestled her head against his neck. 'It is merely a form of sexual attraction, to wish to whip a man. But as I say, I only tried it once. Oh, it was magnificent. But I felt ashamed afterwards.'

  'And where is he now?'

  She gave her secret laugh. 'I'll not tell you that, Tony dear. And it was not Peter Eleven, if that is what you are thinking.' She raised her head, smiled at him. 'Does that knowledge repel you, or make you want me?'

  'I ought to whip you.7

  She shook her head. 'I would not enjoy being whipped. But you could make love to me. The amusing thing is, you could have made love to me, last night. I also slept alone.'

  His eyes were watchful. 'You?'

  'Why not?' She smiled at him. ‘I entertain your friends. I do not accommodate them. When I wish to share my bed I seek a more positive approach. And at this moment that positive approach is absent.'

  His brows slowly drew together as a terrible suspicion crystallized in his mind. 'You are lying.'

  Ellen kissed him on the nose.

  'I'll kill him.'

  'You won't. Firstly because I would not let you, secondly because without him you are nothing. And you know that.'

  Once again he strained, once again she pressed him flat.

  'And anyway, your jealousy is quite absurd. I am not jealous of Judith. And I am your wife, wherever I find my pleasures. I think you ought to make me pregnant.'

  'Eh?'

  'Well, really, Tony dear, have you no thought of the future? I am thirty-seven years old. I shall shortly be too old for motherhood. I have shared your bed for fifteen years. And we have no children. Worse, there are no Hilton children anywhere. At least, no legitimate ones. You do not even have any distant cousins to inherit. What will happen to the Hilton wealth, the Hilton name? 'Tis a most serious matter.'

  Her voice mocked him, her smile mocked him, the faint movements of her body mocked him. She was angry, because she had so deliberately gone about seducing him, and he remained unseduced.

  And did he not want to be seduced, by his own wife? Had he not dreamed, for so long, of having this so self-possessed woman in his arms, surrendering to his passion? Or having him surrender to her. But there was the entire cause of the estrangement. She enjoyed mastering men, but not her own husband. His confession, on only the fifth night of their honeymoon, that his secret desire was to be tormented into orgasm had brought contempt, not understanding. The mistake had been his. He had sought more than was perhaps possible from a marriage. Than was perhaps possible from anyone, save Judith.

  Then what did she find in Hardy?

  Her face twisted. 'Or can you not manage such a thing, Tony dear?' she whispered softly.

  'Aaaah,' she gasped. 'Aaagh.' Her body writhed to and fro, but he'd not let her go. His fingers dug deeper and deeper into the taut brown flesh, squeezing tight
er and tighter. She had small buttocks, and he had large hands. She lay on her face, on his belly, and tears mingled with the sweat on her cheeks, distorting the handsome, almost beautiful features, making the huge dark eyes expand, the whites show, while that splendid mouth sagged open, to reveal her teeth and her tongue, and saliva dribbled over her lips. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever known, and to turn that beauty into a mask of despair was the greatest pleasure he had ever known.

  But today, there was no pleasure. He released her, violently, threw her away from him, watched her scatter across the bed, got up himself, with equal violence, went to the dresser, poured himself a glass of rum.

  Judith Gale lay on her side, her head on her arm, and watched him. He had not climaxed, was in fact, still totally aroused, his naked body a quiver of blood-filled veins and arteries. Therefore he was still dangerous. Only she knew how dangerous. On the rare occasions he would play the master and not the victim, his whole being seemed consumed with hate, because it was hate which inspired the passion in the first place.

  And she could only wait, for the pain in her back to subside for a new pain to start. When he was ready.

  Waves of apprehension drifted up her legs, into her belly. They were thin legs, as it was a thin belly. As they were narrow shoulders and small breasts. She worried about her thinness, but Tony told her it was what he liked about her. When he was in a good mood. He liked to trace the lines of muscle beneath the skin, and he liked to trace the arteries on her neck, and he liked to be able to take an entire breast in his hand, just as he would never permit her to wear her long dark hair other than loose on her back. Whatever her age, she must remain always the child he had first known, and wanted.

  A child to be beaten, when he so desired. And what did the child feel about her tormentor, she wondered? It was not a luxury she usually permitted herself, to wonder about her situation, about her love, about her future. Her present was secure, in a purely material sense. Tony Hilton had paid for this house, and he had bought her slaves, and he paid for her clothes and her food. All he wanted in return was her utter obedience to his whims. So sometimes she thought other men would pay as much for Judith Gale. And demand much less. But would other men arouse her passion? Because in a strange, perhaps a horrible, way, this man did.

  He turned, his cup in his hand. 'Did I hurt you?' He was beginning to subside.

  'Yes,' she said.

  'So have a drink.' He held out the cup, and she hesitated, because if he was in one of his moods he would just as readily empty the liquid over her and the bed. Then she sat up, slowly, took the cup, sipped, felt her chest burn, some of the fear leave her mind. 'Why are you angry?'

  He took back the cup, sat on the bed. 'I am angry. There is all that need concern you.'

  She lay down again, rolling on her belly, propped her chin on her hands, allowed her eyes to gloom at him. She knew her assets. Her eyes counted higher than her hair. 'I thought, if I knew the reason, I could help you.'

  'Aye,' he said. 'You will have to. Just now.'

  'But what has so upset you?' she asked.

  'I am a married man,' he said.

  'Ah,' she said. 'Was your entertainment not a success?'

  'It was a great success. Too successful, perhaps. She wants a child. Does she want a child? Or does she merely seek to humiliate me?'

  'Why do you put up with her at all?'

  His head turned, and she realized she had made a mistake. His eyes could also gloom, and when his eyes gloomed, it meant pain. But not for him.

  'Would you replace her?'

  'No, I . . .'

  He turned, quickly and violently, seized her hair as she attempted to roll off the bed. He brought her back, while her eyes seemed to be forced from their sockets, rolled on top of her, bit her shoulder and tore at her flesh, and collapsed in a flood of sudden tears.

  Judith lay still, afraid to move. She had known his moods before, but this was more than she remembered.

  'You would replace her,' he whispered. 'You would be a superb mistress of Hilltop, Judith. You would be a superb wife to me. Wouldn't you, Judith?'

  She gazed at the ceiling, felt his teeth on her ear. If only she could tell when he was baiting her, and when he was serious. She had never been able to tell that.

  He raised his head. Tears still stained his cheeks. 'Well?'

  She licked her lips. 'I ... I would try, Tony. Would you let go of my hair?'

  His fingers relaxed, slowly. 'And you would give me a child.' His frown returned, gathering that high forehead, that slightly receding hairline. 'You have not given me a child.'

  She breathed, cautiously, inflating her chest against his. 'I did now know you wished any. I had supposed it would make you angry.'

  The frown deepened. 'You can choose, whether or not you have a child?'

  'I can make it likely or unlikely.'

  'By using a douche? By counting days? None of those are certain.'

  ‘I did not claim they were. I cannot breathe.'

  'So, you could have become pregnant. Were I able.'

  'I do not know, Tony. Please.'

  For reply he gripped the bed and pressed his body even harder on hers. She gasped, and tried to push against him. 'Ellen has never taken any precautions.'

  She gasped again. 'You do not sleep with her very often.'

  His weight was gone. Cautiously she opened her eyes. He had rolled away, was sitting up.

  'Ellen,' he said. 'If I could treat her as I treat you, just once.'

  Judith drew up her knees, slowly and cautiously. 'Is she stronger than you?'

  His head turned.

  'It is just a matter of will,' she said. 'If it is that important to you.'

  'But after,' he said. 'Would she love me, or hate me?'

  'I do not know.'

  'Do you love me, Judith?'

  It was the first time he had ever asked her that question. ‘I . . .' 'The truth.'

  'I desire you. Even when you hurt me.'

  He stared at her for some seconds, then turned away, got up, went back to the table.

  'But you love her,' Judith said. 'After all this time, you love her, and you fear her.'

  'How perceptive you are,' Tony remarked. 'She regards me with contempt. She regards you with contempt also.' 'She is entitled to do that.'

  He drank, facing the wall. 'To hurt her,' he said. 'To make her beg . . . what the devil is that?' Feet, clattering on the steps. Fingers, rattling on the door. 'Mis' Judith. Mis' Judith.'

  'I shall certainly beat her.'' Tony reached for his pants.

  'It must be important.' Judith got up, pulled on her undressing robe, turned the key. 'What is it, Melinda? You know I'm not to be disturbed when Mr Hilton is here.'

  'Is Mr Hilton he does want, Mis' Judith.'

  ‘He?!

  'Who wants me?' Tony went to the door, fastening his belt.

  'Is a man from the lawyer, sir. He saying it is very urgent.'

  Tony pushed Judith to one side, went down the stairs. He glared at the clerk. 'Hanson? What the devil do you want?'

  'There's a ship in, Mr Hilton,' Hanson panted, and had lost his hat. 'The passengers came ashore an hour gone. And two of them went straight to Lawyer Reynolds.'

  'Eh? What has that got to do with me?'

  Hanson licked his lips, ran his fingers through his hair. ' 'Tis the name he claims, Mr Hilton. He says he is Richard Hilton, sir. Come home.'

  14

  The Claimant

  'Way for the general. Way for the general.' The dragoons rode their horses wide, on either side of the dusty street, scattering passers-by. 'Way for the general.'

  Dick came next, sword slapping his thigh, pistols clinging to his horse's neck. Behind him was another file of dragoons. The general, returning from his tour of inspection.

  To his city. There was a remarkable thought. Cap Haitien had scarcely changed in appearance in the ten years since Christophe had taken his own life; the country was poor, and m
oney was endlessly needed for the war against those black men who continued to resist the unification of the nation, deep in the mountains of the interior. But the people had changed. No doubt they were even more poor than under their legendary emperor. But they were also more happy. President Boyer might lack the personality of his predecessor, but he was a sensible man who understood the strengths as well as the weaknesses of his people. The strengths he had used to conquer the island, to create a nation. The weaknesses he had indulged to the extent of letting them starve in their own way, if they chose. Which left the armed forces the more attractive to any young man with a belly to fill.