Winsor, Kathleen (115 page)

My
God! thought Amber. Look at that old bawd.

The
two women embraced, casually, but Lady Stanhope had seen the surprise on
Amber's face and she looked at her triumphantly as though now demanding, not
giving, admiration. But after the first shock of seeing how she had changed,
Amber's horrified thought was that all this had been accomplished on her money.
The Stanhopes, she knew, had lost their one small source of income when their
tenements had burned in the Fire.

"You
must forgive my rudeness, Madame," began Lucilla immediately. "I'd
have called sooner but I've been so furiously busy!" She paused, somewhat
breathless, to fan herself. Though she thought it must be envy in her
daughter-in-law's eyes she could not but be conscious for all her finery and
dyed hair and false curls that she would never be three-and-twenty again and
that the years between had been long and stubborn.

"Oh,
it's I who should have called on you, madame," protested Amber politely,
trying to count up in her head the number of pounds sterling she saw
represented in Lady Stanhope's ensemble; and the higher that total amounted the
angrier she became. But she smiled and asked her to be seated while she
finished her toilet and then, as Lady Stanhope caught sight of a length of blue
velvet, Amber quickly told the tradespeople that it was time for them to go.

"Come
to my apartments tomorrow morning," said Lucilla
with a wave of
her hand, and the man took up his velvet and left with the others.

Amber
sat down to stick on her patches while Lucilla panted, obviously uncomfortable
in her too-tight corset. "Heavens!" said her Ladyship, crossing her
small feet and cocking her head on one side to admire them. "You wouldn't
believe how taken up with business I've been this fortnight! I've a great
acquaintance here in town, you know, and everyone must see me at once!
Provoking creatures! I've been most horribly towsed." She put one hand to
her head, preening. "I've scarcely seen Gerry at all. Pray tell me, how has
my dear boy been?"

"Very
well, I think, madame," replied Amber, too angry over the thought of her
hard-gotten money going to decorate this old woman to be able to pay much
attention to what was being said.

Now
she got up, crossed the room and went behind a magnificent blue-lacquered
Chinese screen, beckoning one of the women to bring her gown. Monsieur le Chien
was nosing curiously about Lucilla's shoes and yapping from time to time, not
at all intimidated by the sharp looks she gave him. Only Amber's head and shoulders
could be seen now and while she was not looking Lucilla's eyes studied her,
slightly narrowed, hard and critical and disapproving. But as Amber glanced
suddenly across at her she smiled, a quick and guilty smile.

"It's
strange I never see Gerry in the mornings. At home he always called on me each
day before he did anything else. He's always been the most devoted child a
mother could want. He must go abroad very early." She spoke rapidly,
looking at Amber as though she expected her to lie.

"Why,
as far as I remember," said Amber, sucking in her stomach while the maid
jerked tighter the strings of her busk, "he hasn't been here at all since
the day you arrived."

"What!"
cried Lady Stanhope, as horrified as though she had heard that her son was
under arrest for picking pockets. "Doesn't he sleep with you!"

"Tighter,"
muttered Amber to the maid. "It's
got
to be tighter." Her
waist was growing larger but she intended to lace it in just as long as she
could. Far more than the agony of labour she hated the months of being
misshapen, and this time more than ever, for Bruce was here and she wanted
desperately to look her best. Then she replied, casually, "Oh, yes. He
has." He had, in fact, just three times, and Amber had permitted that only
because the King hoped to make him think that the child was his own.

"Well!"
Lady Stanhope fanned herself harder than ever and her face flushed, as it
always did at the slightest hint of nervousness or embarrassment or anger.
"I never heard of such a thing! A man not sleeping with his wife! It's—
Why, it's immoral! I'll take a course with him about this, my dear! I'll see he
doesn't neglect you any more!"

Amber
gave her an amused lazy smile over the top of the
screen and bent slightly,
stepping into first one petticoat and then another. "Don't trouble
yourself, madame. His Lordship and I like the arrangement as it is. The young
men have a great deal of business nowadays, you know—going to theatres and
taverns, drinking till midnight and scouring about the streets afterward. It keeps
'em well occupied, I assure you."

"Oh,
but Gerry doesn't live that kind of life, I'm sure of it! He's a good quiet
boy, you may believe me, madame. If he doesn't come here it must be he's of the
opinion he isn't wanted!"

Amber
swung about and looked directly at her mother-in-law, her eyes cool and with a
malicious slant at the corners. "I'm sure I can't think where he could
have got such a notion as that, madame. What's o'clock, Nan?"

"Almost
half-after-twelve, your Ladyship."

"Oh,
Lord!" Amber stepped out from behind the screen, fully dressed now, and a
maid handed her her fan and muff while another came to set the cloak on her
shoulders. She picked up her gloves and began pulling them on. "I have a
sitting with Mr. Lely at one! I must beg to be excused, madame. Mr. Lely is so
furiously in demand he cannot stay a moment for anyone. If I'm late I'll lose
my turn and he has the portrait half done."

Lady
Stanhope got to her feet. "I was just going abroad myself. I'm engaged to
dine with Lady Clifford and then we're going to the play. One never has a
moment to oneself in town." The two countesses started out of the room,
walking side by side, followed by Nan and Tansy and Monsieur le Chien. Lucilla
gave Amber an arch sidewise glance. "I suppose you knew that Lord Carlton
is a guest in the house?"

Amber
looked at her sharply. What did she mean by that? Was it possible she had heard
gossip about them? But they'd been very discreet—always entering and leaving by
their own doors, paying each other no undue attentions in public. Her heart
hammering hard, Amber tried to give her an off-hand answer.

"Oh,
yes. I know. He's an old friend of the Earl."

"I
think he's fascinating! They say every woman at Court is mad in love with him!
And have you heard? They say he's one of my Lady Castlemaine's lovers—but of
course they say that about everyone." She rambled on, for she always
talked as if she had more to say than time would allow, but Amber was conscious
only of relief. Evidently she knew nothing—she just wanted to prattle.
"But to think of the venturesome life he's led—soldier-of-fortune,
privateer, and now a planter! I've heard he's one of the richest men in
England—and of course his family's most distinguished. It was Marjorie Bruce,
you know, who was the mother of the first Stuart King of Scotland, and that's
his family. And his wife, they say, is a great beauty—"

"Everyone's
a great beauty with a portion of ten thousand pound!" snapped Amber.

"Well,"
said Lucilla. "He's a fine person, I vow and swear. He's everything in the
world that I admire."

Amber
bowed to her. "Good-day, madame."

She
walked off, down the stairs, seething inside, furious and hurt. Oh, I can't
stand it! she thought wildly. I can't stand knowing he's married to that woman!
I hate her, I hate her, I hate her! I hope she dies! Suddenly she stopped,
catching her breath. Maybe she will. She began to walk on, her eyes glowing.
Maybe she
will
die, over there with all those sicknesses— maybe she
will— She had completely forgotten her grievances against the Baroness for
spending her money.

The
next night she and Bruce came home from Whitehall together. He had completed
the most urgent part of his business and was beginning to go there in the
evenings to gamble and talk. They climbed the stairs, laughing over the current
story that Buckingham, still in hiding, had been arrested for rioting in the
streets and locked up and then released again without being recognized. Outside
her rooms they parted.

"Don't
be long, darling," she whispered.

She
came into her own drawing-room still smiling, but the smile froze unpleasantly
as she found Gerald and his mother sitting there, before her fireplace.

"Well!"
She swung the door shut.

Gerald
got to his feet. He looked wretchedly unhappy and Amber knew that coming here
had not been his idea. The Dowager Baroness gave her a languid look over her
bare shoulder, then stood up and made just the suggestion of a curtsy. Amber
did not return it, but she came on into the room, glancing from one to the
other.

"I
didn't expect to find you here," she said to Gerald, who immediately
cleared his throat and stuck a finger into the high close-fitting cravat about
his neck. He tried to smile, but nervousness made his face break into little
pieces.

"I
just came to talk to Gerry while he was waiting for you to return,"
interposed his mother hastily. "I'll be going along now and leave you two
young people together. Your servant, madame. Good-night, Gerry dear." As
Gerald obediently kissed his mother's cheek Amber saw her give him an
admonitory but encouraging pat on the arm.

With
a triumphant flaunting little smile she left the room, her long train swishing
after her, making a definite sound in the stillness, and all at once a clock
began to chime. Amber did not watch her go but kept her eyes on Gerald, and as
she heard the door close she tossed her muff and gloves to Tansy and waved him
off. Monsieur le Chien was prancing and barking at Gerald, for he had seen him
but seldom and was not sure he belonged there.

"Well,"
repeated Amber again, and walked to the fire to warm her hands.

"Eh,
bien, madame," said Gerald. "Here I am. And after all"—suddenly
he straightened his shoulders and faced her
defiantly—"why shouldn't I be
here? I'm your husband, madame." It sounded like what Mother had told him
to say.

"Of
course," agreed Amber. "Why shouldn't you?" Then all at once she
put one hand to her stomach and, with a little groan, dropped onto the settee.

Gerald
started. "Good God, madame! What is it? Is something amiss with you?"
He turned and would have run out. "I'll fetch someone—"

But
Amber stopped him. "No, Gerald. It's nothing. It's just that I'm with
child, I think—I didn't want to tell you until I knew for sure—"

He
looked delighted, amazed, as though this had happened to no man before him.
"Already? My God! I can't believe it! But, Lord! I hope it's true!"
She had surprised him out of all his airs and French grimaces; he was merely a
frightened pleased English country boy.

Amber
was amused, thinking him a complete dolt. "I hope so too, my lord. But you
know how a woman is in this circumstance."

"No—I
don't. I—I never thought about it before. Are you better now? Can I get
something for you? A pillow for your head?"

"No,
Gerald, thanks. I just want to be let alone—I— Well, to tell you truly I'd
rather sleep by myself—if you don't mind—"

"Oh,
but of course, madame. I didn't know—I didn't realize. I'm sorry—" He
started to back away. "If there's ever anything you want—anything
I can do—"

"Thanks,
Gerald. I'll let you know."

"And
I wonder, madame—may I call sometimes—just to see how you're doing?"

"Of
course, my lord. Whenever you like. Good-night."

"Good-night,
madame." He hesitated, plainly wishing that he could think of something
appropriate to say on this occasion, and then with a helpless little laugh he repeated,
"Well, good-night," and was gone.

Amber
shook her head and made a face; then got up and went into the bedroom. Nan gave
a questioning lift of her eyebrows, to which Amber replied with pantomime
gestures that sent them both into hilarious laughter. The two women were alone
in the room, chattering and giggling together, Amber now in smock and busk and
a froth of lacy petticoats. When Bruce knocked at the door she called out for
him to come in.

He
had removed his periwig, coat and vest and sword, and his white shirt was
opened. "Still undressing?" he asked her with a smile. "I've
written two letters." He stopped at a table and poured himself a tall
glass of brandy and water. "It's always seemed to me that women would gain
five years of their lives if they'd wear simpler clothes."

"But
what would we do with 'em?" Nan wanted to know, and they all three gave a
burst of laughter.

Amber's
hair was now undone—for no lady would lift a hand to her head—and Nan had left
the room, herding Tansy and the dog before her. She was standing at the
dressing-table, unfastening her necklace, when she saw his face and shoulders
appear behind her in the mirror. His green eyes watched her for a moment and
then he bent, swept the hair off her neck, and put his lips there. A cold
thrill ran over her body; she caught a deep breath and her eyes closed.

He
set the glass onto the table and one hand closed over her arm to turn her
about. "Oh, Bruce—" she cried. "Bruce—how I love you!"