Winsor, Kathleen (138 page)

While
the others stood staring, babbling, ecstatically "oh-ing," Amber
looked at herself in the mirrored walls with a thrill of triumph. She lifted
her ribs and tightened her chest muscles so that her breasts stood out like
full pointed globes.

He'll
die
when he sees me! she told herself in a delirium of confidence.
Corinna could not scare her now.

Madame
Rouvière came to adjust her head-dress which was a great arch of black
ostrich-feathers sweeping up over her head from a tight little helmet. Someone
handed her her gloves and she pulled them on, long black ones, clear to her
elbows. Against the nakedness of her body, they seemed almost immodest. She
carried a black fan and over her shoulders they laid a black velvet cloak, the
lining edged in black fox. The stark black against her rich cream-and-honey
colouring, something in the expression of her eyes and the curve of her mouth,
gave her the look of a diabolical angel—at once pure, beautiful, corrupt and
sinister.

Amber
turned now from the mirror to face Madame, and their eyes met with the gleaming
look of successful conspirators. Madame put her thumb and fingers together and
made the gesture of kissing them. She came up to Amber and said with a hiss in
her ear: "They'll never see her at all—that other one!"

Amber
gave her a quick grateful hug and a grin. Then she bent to kiss Susanna, who
approached her mother very carefully, almost afraid to touch her. And with her
heart beating fast, her stomach churning maddeningly, Amber walked out of the
room, put her mask to her face and went along a narrow little corridor leading
out to where her coach waited. She had not felt so excited at the prospect of a
party, so apprehensive and frightened, since the night she had first been
presented at Court.

Arlington
House, which had been Goring House before Bennet bought it in 1663, stood next
to the old Mulberry Gardens on the west of the Palace. In it the Baron and
Baroness gave the most brilliant, the most elaborate, and the most eagerly
attended parties in London. Nothing else could be compared to them. The
invitations they sent out were a sure barometer of one's social standing.
Nonentities were never asked.

His
Lordship was known as the most lavish and thoughtful host of fashionable
society. He served superlative food, prepared by a dozen French cooks, and
wines from a vast cellar. There was music in every room; gambling-tables were
piled with gold; candles burned by the thousand. The house swarmed with earls
and dukes and knights, countesses and duchesses and ladies, and to the casual
eye everything seemed most decorous. Satin-gowned ladies curtsied and smiled
over spread fans, brocade-suited gentlemen bowed from the waist with a
flourishing sweep of their hats. Voices were low and conversation apparently
polite.

But
in fact they were gleefully at work destroying one another's characters. The
men, as they stood watching a pretty woman, boasted that they had laid with
her, discussed her physical defects and compared her behaviour in bed. The
women yanked reputations apart with equal or greater vigour. Darkened bedrooms
all over the house sheltered couples seeking a temporary refuge. In some
obscure corner a Maid of Honour was lifting her skirts to let the gallants
decide whether her legs were as pretty as another's, squealing and giggling
when they ventured to employ their hands too boldly. One of the fops had
sneaked a girl from Madame Bennet's into the house under the guise of mask and
cloak and she was performing for several young men and women somewhere behind
locked doors.

Arlington
never interfered with his guests but let each amuse himself according to his
own tastes.

At
seven o'clock, the night being still young and most of the guests sober as well
as curious, they were gathered in the main drawing-room and keeping one eye at
least on the new arrivals. They were waiting for two women who had not yet
come: the Duchess of Ravenspur, and Lady Carlton. Her Ladyship— whom almost no
one had seen—was rumoured to be the greatest beauty ever to appear in England,
though opinions on this score were already strong and divided. Many of the
women, at least, were prepared to decide the moment she arrived that she was by
no means as beautiful as had been reported. And the Duchess of Ravenspur, no
doubt from fear that her Ladyship would outshine her, was expected to do
something spectacular in order to save herself.

"How
I pity her Grace," said one languid young lady. "It runs through the
galleries she lives in terror now of losing what she has. Gad, but it must be a
bothersome thing to be great."

Her
companion smiled with lips pressed together. "Is that why you never
climbed the ladder?—for fear of falling off?"

"I
don't care a fig for Lady Carlton or what she looks like," commented a
thin young fop who kept his hands busy with manipulating a woman's fan,
"but I'll be her slave if she can put the Duchess's nose out of joint.
That damned woman has grown intolerable since his Majesty gave her a duchy. I
used to lace her busk for her when she was only a scurvy player— but now every
time we're presented she makes a show of never having seen me before."

"It's
her vulgar breeding, Jack. What else can you expect?"

A
voice like a trumpet interrupted them. "Her Grace, the Duchess of
Ravenspur!"

Every
eye in the room swept toward the door—but only the usher stood there alone
beside it. They waited for an impatient moment or two and then, with her head
held high and a kind of fierce challenging pride on her face, the Duchess came
into view and slowly walked through the doorway toward them. A wave of shock
and amazement swept along before her. Heads spun, eyes popped and even King
Charles turned on his heel where he was talking to Mrs. Wells and stared.

Amber
came on imperturbably, though it seemed all her insides were quaking. She heard
some of the older women gasp and saw them set their mouths sternly, square
their shoulders and fix upon her their hard reproving glares. She heard low
whistles from the men, saw their eyebrows go up, their elbows reach out to
nudge one another. She saw the young women looking at her with anger and
indignation, furious that she had dared to take such an advantage of them.

Suddenly
she relaxed, convinced that she was a success. She was hoping that Bruce and
Corinna were there somewhere to have seen her triumph.

Then,
almost at once, she became aware that Almsbury was just at her side. She looked
at him, a faint smile touching the corners of her mouth, but something she saw
in his eyes made her expression freeze suddenly. What was it? Disapproval?
Pity? Something of both? But that was ridiculous! She looked stunning and she
knew it.

"Holy
Christ. Amber," he murmured, and his eyes went swiftly down over her body.

"Don't
you like it?" Her eyes hardened a little as she looked up at him and even
in her own ears her voice took on a confident brassy sound that was part
bravado.

"Yes,
of course. You look gorgeous—"

"But
aren't you cold?" interrupted a feminine voice, and turning swiftly Amber
found Mrs. Boynton beside her, looking her over with feline insolence.

Another
voice, a man's this time, came from her other
side. "Ods-fish, madame.
But this is the greatest display that ever I've seen in public since I was
weaned." It was the King, lazy, smiling, obviously amused.

Amber
felt suddenly as if she had been hurt inside.

She
turned sick with a feeling of horror and self-disgust. What have I done! she
thought. Oh, my God! what am I doing out here half undressed?

Her
eyes swept around the room and every face she saw was secretly smiling,
covertly sneering at her. All at once she felt like the person in a dream who
sets out confidently to go uptown stark naked, gets halfway there and then
realizes his mistake. And, like the dreamer, she wished passionately that she
were back home where no one could see her—but to her wild dismay she realized
that this time she was caught in her own trap. She could not wake up from
this
bad dream.

Oh,
what am I going to do? she thought desperately. How am I going to get out of
here? In her anguish and self-consciousness she had all but forgotten Lord Carlton
and his wife.

And
then, so unexpectedly that she almost started, she heard their names called
out, loud and clear: "My Lord Carlton! My Lady Carlton!"

Without
even realizing that she had done so she grabbed Almsbury by the hand and her
eyes turned toward the door. The colour drained out of her face and neck as she
watched them walk in; she did not even see the quick glance Almsbury gave her
but she felt the warm reassuring pressure of his hand.

Bruce
looked very much as he had when he had left London two years before. He was
thirty-eight years old and perhaps a little heavier than when last she had seen
him, but still handsome, hard-skinned and vigorous-bodied, a man who changed
little with the years. Amber only glanced at him—and then shifted her attention
to his wife who walked beside him, her fingers resting upon his arm.

She
was rather tall, though slender and graceful, with clear blue eyes, dark hair,
and a skin pale as moonlight. Her features were delicate, her expression
serene. To look at her brought up some elusive emotion—the same feeling evoked
by an exquisitely painted porcelain. The gown she wore was cloth-of-silver
covered with black lace and a black-lace mantilla lay upon her head; about her
neck was the diamond and sapphire necklace which had belonged to Bruce's mother
and which Amber had always hoped might one day be her own.

The
King, ignoring ceremony, went forward with Lord and Lady Arlington to greet
them—and as he did so all the room set up a noisy buzzing.

"My
God! But she's a glorious creature!"

"I
know that gown was made in Paris, my dear, it must have been, it couldn't
have—"

"Can
they really have women like that in Jamaica?"

"Poise
and breeding—than which I admire nothing more in a woman."

Amber
was actually sick at her stomach now. Her hands and arm-pits were wet, all her
muscles seemed to ache. I've got to get out of here before they see me! she
thought wildly. But just as she made an involuntary movement to escape,
Almsbury's grip on her hand tightened and he gave her a little jerk. She looked
up at him, surprised, but then quickly composed herself again.

Charles,
with no respect for etiquette, was asking Lady Carlton to dance with him, and
now as the music started for a pavane he led her onto the floor. Others
followed and it was soon crowded with slow-moving figures, pacing to the
rhythmic cadence of spinets, flutes and a low-beating drum. Amber scarcely
heard Almsbury asking her to dance. He repeated his request, louder this time.

She
glanced at him. "I don't want to dance," she muttered, distracted.
"I'm not going to stay here. I—I've got the vapours —I'm going home."

This
time she picked up her skirts and took a step, but the Earl caught her wrist
and gave her so vigorous a jerk that her breasts shook and her curls bounced. "Stop
acting like a damned fool or I'll slap you! Smile at me, now—everyone's
watching you."

With
a quick shifting of her eyeballs beneath half-lowered lashes, Amber glanced
round the room. She wanted to turn and scream or pick up something to throw at
them, something that would destroy them all where they stood and wipe out of
her sight forever those pleased smirking faces. Instead she looked up at
Almsbury and smiled, pulling the corners of her mouth as tight as possible to
keep the muscles from quivering. She put her hand on his extended arm and they
moved toward the floor.

"I've
got to get out of here," she told him, under cover of the music. "I
can't
stay!"

His
expression did not change. "You won't leave if I have to tie you up. If
you had the courage to wear that thing in the first place, by God you'll have
the courage to stay till the end!"

Amber
clenched her teeth, hating him, and as her feet kept moving in time to the
music she began to plan how she would escape—slip away through some side-door
the first time he let her out of his sight. Damn him! she thought. He acts like
my grandmother! What's it to him if I stay or don't! I'll go if
I—

And
then, all unexpectedly, she saw Lady Carlton not more than ten feet away.
Corinna was smiling at Almsbury, but she gave a little gasp of surprise as she
caught sight of his partner. Amber's eyes blazed in fury and Corinna looked
swiftly away, obviously embarrassed.

Oh,
that woman! thought Amber. I hate her, I hate her, I hate her! Look how she
minces and smiles and sets her foot so! Hoity-toity! How mightily prim and
proper! I wish I was stark naked! That
would
make her eyes
pop out! I'll
pay her back
for that! I'll make her sorry she ever clapt eyes on me! Just wait—

But
suddenly her energy was consumed. She felt weak, lost, helpless.

I'm
going to die, she thought wretchedly. I'll never live through this. My life
won't be worth tuppence to me now— Oh, God, let me die right here, right now—I
can't take another step. For the moment it seemed that Almsbury's arm was all
that kept her from collapsing. Then the music stopped and the crowd began to
move about, gathering into groups. Amber, with Almsbury still at her side,
pretended to see no one as she made her way among them.