'Oh. Yes, of course.' He glanced around the suddenly empty hallway. 'But where is everyone?'
'The house servants, you mean?' Clarissa Laidlaw inquired. 'I have sent them packing. They are the laziest swine, who only wish to stand and stare. Your coffee is being prepared.'
'At this hour?'
' 'Tis the normal time, man. The normal time,' Laidlaw said. 'Well, Boscawen, you black devil, get on with it. And send that other scoundrel back to town.'
'Yes sir, Mr Laidlaw,' Boscawen said.
'Wait a moment,' Dick said. 'That other, ah, person, is Mr Merriman. Am I correct?'
'Mr Merriman?' Laidlaw looked at him in amazement.
'Reynolds' clerk,' Dick explained. 'A very good fellow, who accompanied me out here despite the inconvenience. He certainly needs a good rest and a square meal before he can return, and I would like to thank him personally. Will you attend to that, Mr Boscawen?'
'Oh, yes, sir, Mr Hilton,' Boscawen agreed, and hurried off.
'Mr
Boscawen?' Laidlaw remarked at large.
Clarissa Laidlaw cleared her throat. 'I'm sure you are also very tired, Mr Hilton.'
'And quite overwhelmed by my circumstances, Mrs Laidlaw,' Dick agreed. 'I had no idea my uncle had died, or that I had inherited, until yesterday afternoon.'
'Oh, good Lord, you poor boy,' she cried. 'We just did not realize.' She hesitated, her hand on his arm, frowning at him. 'I am told you have already encountered the Gale woman.'
'Mistress Gale? Oh, yes. She seemed a little unwell, so I put her to bed. 'Tis not correct, I know, but hardly so incorrect as leaving her on the floor.'
'Unwell?' Laidlaw demanded. 'The woman was drunk.'
'Well, yes, I suppose she was.'
'Incorrect? You'd not find it easy to be incorrect with that woman, Mr Hilton,' Clarissa Laidlaw said. 'But now you've arrived, we'll be seeing the last of her, and thanking the Lord for that.'
'Seeing the last. . Dick scratched his head. 'I'm told she was my uncle's housekeeper. Will she not perform the same duty for me?'
'Land's sakes,' cried Mrs Laidlaw.
'The lad does not understand,' her husband said. 'Housekeeper, Mr Hilton, why, 'tis just a word used in Jamaica, for . . . well
'The wretched girl was Mr Robert's mistress,' Clarissa Laidlaw declared. 'Why, she is nothing more than a prostitute. But you'll be sending her packing this morning, Mr Hilton. Oh, yes.'
'His mistress?' Dick exclaimed. 'Good Lord. But you mean, she has been living here . . .'
'As openly as you could wish,' Clarissa Laidlaw said. 'Disgusting. And then, when Mr Robert died, she just refused to move out, if you please. Said she'd wait to discover what the new owner would be like.'
'Good heavens,' Dick said. 'No wonder she was nervous.'
'But now you are here, why, you will see to it.'
'Oh, of course,' Dick agreed. 'I mean, she can't possibly
stay. I could settle some sort
of an income on her, I suppose ..’
'On that woman?'
'Well, I rather feel this is what Uncle Robert had in mind,' Dick said. 'You may leave it to me, Mrs Laidlaw. Now . . ." 'Coffee,' she said.
'The bookkeepers are waiting,' said Laidlaw, who had stepped outside for a moment.
'Bookkeepers?' Dick asked. 'I'm sure that can wait until I have seen something of the plantation.'
'Bookkeepers are overseers, really,' Mrs Laidlaw explained. 'It is a local terminology. They
assemble every morning for their
orders.'
'We, that is, you and I, Mr Hilton, must decide which fields need the most weeding, and where we shall employ our work gangs,' Laidlaw explained. 'When we are grinding, of course, it is simpler, in a sense. But we are still some weeks away from that, thank the Lord.'
'Coffee,' Mrs Laidlaw decided, very firmly. 'Mr Hilton has been up all night.' She smiled at Dick. 'I'm sure you'll permit Mr Laidlaw to give the necessary orders, Mr Hilton. He has been doing it for years.'
'Why, yes, if you would,' Dick said. 'I wish to meet my overseers
...
I mean, my bookkeepers, as soon as possible. Perhaps later on this morning.'
Laidlaw gave a brief smile. 'These men are going four, five miles aback, Mr Hilton. They'll not return before eleven, and then it will be time for siesta.'
'Aback?' Dick asked. 'Siesta? I can see I have a great deal to learn. When would you suggest?'
'Perhaps this evening,' Laidlaw suggested. 'You'll have had a rest by then. Will you excuse me?'
Dick allowed himself to be led into the archway to the left of the stairs, found himself in a dining room hardly smaller than the huge withdrawing room, containing a mahogany table which would seat sixty without discomfort, he estimated, and lined with equally large mahogany sideboards, laden with silver and crystal, while the walls were once again covered with the paintings of previous Hiltons. In the midst of this splendour the single cover looked distinctly lonely.
'But are you not going to eat with me, Mrs Laidlaw?'
'I have already had my coffee,' she explained. 'We rise early on Hilltop. Do sit down, Mr Hilton.' She rang a brass bell from the sideboard, and immediately a parade of black girls entered, each dressed in white and with a white cap on her head, each bearing a large silver dish from which arose a most delicious aroma of fried eggs and bacon and bread.
Dick sat down, had his plate loaded, and suddenly remembered Joshua. 'The man, Merriman,' he said.
Clarissa Laidlaw's smile was a trifle less warm. 'He will be fed in the kitchen, Mr Hilton. You did not really expect him to sit with you?'
'Well, no, I suppose not.' He chewed. How good it tasted.
Mrs Laidlaw poured coffee. 'You were born in Jamaica, I understand?' 'Oh, yes.'
'But left as a child. I wonder
...
do you mind if I call you Richard, Mr Hilton? It would be so much simpler. And of course I would be most obliged if you would call me Clarissa.'
'Well, of course, Mrs Laidlaw. I mean, Clarissa.'
She sat next to him, placed the mug of steaming black liquid beside his plate. 'Because the sooner you learn something of the manners and, er, morals, of the country the better.' She gave him one of her bright, paper-thin smiles. 'Not all of our morals are as loose, as, well, one hates to speak ill of the dead, and Mr Robert Hilton was a good friend, oh a very good friend, but of course towards the end of his life, he had troubles, you know, oh yes, he had troubles.' She stopped, perhaps because she needed breath, perhaps because of the clipclop of hooves outside the window. 'We are busy today.'
She got up, walked to the door, and was almost bowled over by Tony. 'Eggs,' he shouted. 'By God, there's a meal. Eggs.' He sat at the table. 'Shove some over, there's a good lad. Christ, what a place. Have you seen it, Dickie lad? Have you taken a good look? Christ what a place.'
'Who is this person?' demanded Clarissa Laidlaw.
'My brother. Mrs Laidlaw, Tony Hilton.'
'Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am,' Tony said, through a mouthful of egg.
'Your brother?' Clarissa Laidlaw frowned at Tony. 'Of course, he has the Hilton nose. But I would have supposed he was the elder.'
'He is,' Dick said.
'But . . .'
Tony swallowed, drank some coffee, hastily placed at his elbow by one of the servants. 'It's a rum world, Mrs Laidlaw. Yes, indeed. Now, Dickie boy, you'll not credit it, but at the hotel I put up for the night there was a school of cards. And my luck was simply abominable.'
Dick sighed, also drank some coffee. 'How much?'
'I suspect they were sharpers. Before I knew what hit me, it was up to fifteen guineas. That is why I did not stay. Galloped all the way, I did, with an old nigger to guide me.'
'Where is he?'
'Oh, I sent him packing when we reached the valley. But the point is, my friends were reluctant to let me go until I signed a note. They were happy when I told them I was Robert Hilton's nephew.'
'I can imagine,' Dick said.
'Trouble is, I told them to fetch out here today and it would be settled. So if you'd be so kind, old son . . .'
'Fifteen guineas?' Dick cried. 'I have not fifteen shillings in the world in cash. Mrs Laidlaw, Clarissa, what am I to do?'
'Send
them
packing,' she said. 'Give them an order on your agent, and tell them to clear off or you'll set the dogs on them. We don't have any dogs now, more's the pity; Robert had them put down when he found he was dying. But you can have Absolom chase them with his stick.'
'Good Lord,' Dick said. 'Won't they have the law on me?'
'You are the law on Hilltop, Richard,' she said severely.
'Good Lord,' he said again.
'Sounds good, eh?' Tony said.
'But if I am the law, then I can't break it, can I?' Dick asked. 'This order on my agent, will he pay it?'
'From the proceeds of the crop, when it is ground,' Clarissa explained.
'But your husband says that is some weeks off.'
'So they'll have to wait. They'll be glad to, for an order on the Hilton crop. Now, then, if you are finished . . . oh, what is it, Boscawen?'
The butler cleared his throat. 'Is Mistress Gale, Mistress Laidlaw. She has woke up, and is calling for Mr Hilton.' 'Calling for him, indeed,' remarked Mrs Laidlaw. 'Ah,' Dick said. 'I suppose . . .'
'Who is Mistress Gale?' T
ony asked, helping him
self to more eggs. 'A lady,' Dick began.
'A lady, indeed,' snorted Mrs Laidlaw.
'I suppose we'd better see her,' Dick said, getting up.
'We'd?'
'Well, I. . .'
' Tis a time to show your authority, Richard,' Clarissa declared. 'A time to be a Hilton. A time to be
the
Hilton.' 'But. . .’
'Besides, she has a most foul tongue. She'd likely slander herself if she saw me. But you, now, she'll listen to
the
Hilton.'
Dick glanced at Tony, who winked; his mouth was too full to speak.
'Well,' he decided, 'I'm sure Uncle Robert intended to see her all right.'
'Friend of Uncle Robert's, was she?' Tony inquired, having swallowed.
'His kept woman,' Clarissa explained, in a huge whisper.
'I say, what fun. Good luck, Dickie old boy. Better hope she's not like him, eh?'
Dick sighed, and followed Boscawen into the hall. 'Where is she?'
'Oh, she in bed, Mr Hilton. Where you put she last night.'
Dick hesitated, then climbed the stairs, knocked on the door. After all, it was simply a matter of being firm. Courteous, but firm. And anyway, she would be so pleased to receive money she'd go without argument. The question was, how much should he give her?
He found himself staring at a young girl, and being stared at in turn. The child was definitely a relation of Harriet Gale's, with the same bold features, the same potential breadth of shoulder and therefore voluptuousness of figure; he estimated she was not more than ten.
'Who're you?' she inquired.
'My name is Richard Hilton,' he said. 'I believe Mistress Gale wishes to have a word.'
The girl stared at him for some seconds longer, her mouth forming a disturbing O. Then she turned and ran into the room. ' 'Tis Mr Hilton, Mama. Oooh, but he's young.'
'Mr Hilton. Oh, please come in, Mr Hilton.' Her voice was low, and had a delightful brogue. Dick stepped round the door and realized his worst fears; Harriet Gale had undressed and got beneath the covers, and was now sitting up, naked from the waist up, and, he could not doubt, from the waist down as well; her left hand held the sheet imperfectly across her chest, her right hand held a handkerchief obviously containing ice, which she was pressing to her temple.
'Are you all right, Mistress Gale?' he asked.
'Save for me head,' she said. 'Christ, it bangs.'
'Ain't he young, Mama,' screamed the child. 'Ain't he young.'
'Ah, shut up,' bawled her mother. 'And get out. Close the door.'
The girl pouted, then gave Dick a quick smile as she sidled past. The door closed.
'Her name is Judith, Mr Hilton, and she's naught but a pack of trouble. You'll sit down?'
There was a chair in the room, but the legs beneath the sheet had moved to one side. Cautiously he lowered himself on to the bed, and inhaled her scent, which was a compelling mixture of woman and musk and stale gin.
'Perhaps you'd rather rest a little while longer.' His resolution was oozing away.
'Ah.' She tossed the handkerchief over her shoulder, and it settled on the floor. 'It does me no good at all. But I'm to apologize, Mr Hilton, indeed I am.' She peered at him; she had splendid eyes, in keeping with the rest of her, large and dark and fathomless. 'I've had that difficult a time since your dear uncle died. You
are
young.'
'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I hadn't expected to be in charge quite so soon, you know. As for apologizing, please don't. I do understand. Mrs Laidlaw has explained . . .'