Winsor, Kathleen (66 page)

Jemima
smiled now, for her tears were sudden and light and left no traces. "Oh,
thank you! I knew you wouldn't turn against me! And when Lord Carlton comes—you
will help me then, won't you?"

"Yes,
Jemima, of course. Every way I can."

Amber,
crossing the front courtyard to get into her coach, stopped suddenly and stared
at another coach which was standing there. It was Almsbury's. And since it was
not likely the Earl could have any business with Samuel, it must mean that
Bruce was back. He was there, at that very moment, inside with Samuel!

For
an instant she stood, stunned, staring at the crest; and then without a word
she whirled and ran back across the courtyard. She had been in Samuel's offices
no more than three or four times and the various men working there looked at
her in some surprise and curiosity as she rushed through the outer rooms toward
his private office. Without stopping for an instant to decide what she would
say or do, to try to gather her composure, she flung open the door.

The
room was large and handsomely furnished with carved oak tables and chairs and
stools, dark rich velvet hangings, panelled walls, and numerous candles burning
in brass sconces. Samuel and Lord Carlton stood before a great framed map of
the New World, and though Samuel was facing her Bruce had his back turned. He
had on one of the new cassock-coats, made of dark-green-and-gold brocade and
reaching to his knees, with a broad twisted satin sash about the waist and a belt
slung from one shoulder to hold his sword. A broad-brimmed
hat was on his
head and he wore a periwig which was not, however, much different in appearance
from his own hair; only the fops wore the long extravagantly-curled wigs.

Even
from the back he looked different to her from any other man, and her heart was
beating so violently she was almost stifled. I'm going to faint! she thought
desperately. I'm going to do something terrible and make a fool of myself!

"Oh,
I'm sorry, Samuel," she said, still standing in the opened doorway and
holding to the knob. "I thought you were alone."

"Come
in, my dear. This is Lord Carlton, of whom you've heard me speak. My lord, may
I present my wife?"

Bruce
turned and looked at her and his eyes showed first surprise and then amusement.
You—he seemed to say—of all people. You, married to a respectable rich old
merchant. And she saw too that he had not forgotten their last parting, made in
anger and tragedy.

But
he merely took off his hat and bowed to her gravely. "Your servant,
madame."

"Lord
Carlton is just returned from America with his ships —and several others, as
well," Samuel added with a smile, for the merchants were proud of the
privateers, and grateful to them.

"How
fine," said Amber nervously, and she had a terrible feeling that she was
going to fall apart, collapse in little pieces from head to toe. "I just
came to tell you, Samuel"—she spoke rapidly—"that I won't be home in
time for dinner. I've got a call to make." She gave Carlton a swift uncertain
glance. "Why don't you come to supper this evening, Lord Carlton? I'm sure
you must have a great many exciting tales to tell of your adventures at
sea."

He
bowed again, smiling. "I don't believe sea-going stories hold much
interest for ladies, but I shall be very glad to come, Mrs. Dangerfield. Thank
you."

Amber
gave them both an abrupt smile, curtsied, and went out in a rush of taffeta
petticoats; the door banged noisily behind her. She ran back across the
courtyard as if afraid that her legs would not carry her all the way to the
coach. She climbed in, dropped down onto the seat, and closed her eyes.

Excitedly
Nan seized her hand. "Is he there, mam?"

"Yes,"
she whispered weakly. "He's there."

Half
an hour later she was at Almsbury House and Emily was greeting her with eager
enthusiasm. Together they started upstairs toward the nursery.

"How
kind of you to call! We've been in town less than a fortnight and we tried to
find you but at the Theatre they could only tell us you'd married, but didn't
know where you were living. Lord Carlton is here with us—"

"Yes,
I know. I just saw him at my husband's office. Do you think he'll come back
here for dinner?"

"I
don't know. I believe that he and John were to meet somewhere at one."

They
had reached the nursery and found the children having their porridge. Amber's
disappointment over the prospect of missing Bruce was partly eased by her
reunion with her son, whom she had not seen since the previous September. He
was an extraordinarily beautiful child, healthy and happy and friendly, with
dark waving hair and green eyes. She picked him up in her arms, laughing gaily
when he kissed her and got cream on her cheeks and mouth and tangled his spoon
in her curls.

"Daddy's
here too, Mother!" he announced loudly. "Aunt Emily brought me all the
way to London to see him!"

"Oh,"
said Amber, a little jealous resentment pricking at her. "You knew he was
coming?"

"He
wrote to John," explained Emily. "He wanted to see the baby."

"He
isn't married, is he?"

It
was the one question she dreaded to ask, each time he came back, though she
could not imagine whom a man could find to marry in that barbarous empty land
across the ocean.

"No,"
said Emily.

Amber
sat down on the floor with Bruce and a fat barking spotted puppy which belonged
to him, while Emily's two sons came to join them. Between playing with the
puppy and talking to her son, she managed to ask Emily some questions.

"How
long is he going to stay this time?"

"A
month or so, I believe. He's going to volunteer his ships for the war."

"The
war! It hasn't begun yet, has it?"

"Not
yet, but soon, I believe. At least that's what they're saying at Court."

"But
what's he going to do that for? He might lose them all—"

Emily
looked faintly surprised. "Why, he wants to. England needs every ship and
every experienced seaman she can get. Many privateers will do the same
thing—"

At
just that moment Bruce came through the opened doorway and walked toward them.
While Amber sat speechless and helpless, the baby broke out of her arms and ran
to his father, who swung him up onto one shoulder. He was standing above her
now, looking down and smiling.

"I
thought I might find you here."

Jemima
came running into the bedroom that evening as Amber was getting dressed for
supper. "Amber!" she cried joyously. "Oh, Amber, thank
you!"

Amber
turned and saw to her annoyance that Jemima,
dressed in a gown of cornflower-blue
satin, with the skirt caught up by artificial roses and real roses pinned into
her glossy curls, was looking prettier than she ever had. "Thank you for
what?"

"For
inviting Lord Carlton to supper, of course! Father told me he was coming and
that you had asked him!"

"Joseph
Cuttle's coming too, remember," said Amber crossly. "And if you're
not nice to him your father will be mighty displeased."

"Oh,
Joseph Cuttle! Who cares about him! Oh Amber, I'm so excited. What'll I do?
What'll I say? Oh, I do want to make a great impression! Tell me what I shall
do, Amber, please— You know about those things."

"Just
be quiet and modest," advised Amber, somewhat tartly. "Remember, men
never like a pert woman."

Jemima
was instantly subdued, struggling to compose her face. "I know it! I've
got to be very formal and languishing— if only I can! But, oh, I think I'll
faint at the sight of him! Tell me—how do I look?"

"Oh,
tearing fine," Amber assured her. She got up to put on her gown.

Amber
was unhappy and worried and sickeningly jealous, desperately afraid of her
step-daughter. She and Bruce had been together all afternoon, and the glow of
those hours still lingered, throbbing and reverberating through every cord of
her being. But now here was Jemima, young, lovely, audacious, who suddenly
seemed to her a dangerous rival. For by her own marriage to a rich old merchant
Amber had acquired a sort of counterfeit respectability which she felt made her
less alluring. She was married but Jemima was not; and for all Samuel's
certainty that Lord Carlton would not care to marry into the Dangerfield
family, Amber was scared.

Don't
be a fool! she had told herself a hundred times. He wouldn't marry a simpleton
like Jemima for
all
the gold in England! Besides, he's rich enough
himself now. Oh, why doesn't Jemima look like Lettice!

She
did not look at Jemima as she got into her gown but she could feel the girl
watching her, anxiously, and her own confidence began to return. The gown was
made of champagne-coloured lace over champagne satin, and was spangled with
thousands of golden stars. She turned, still avoiding Jemima's eyes, and walked
back to the dressing-table to put on her emeralds.

"Oh!"
cried Jemima at last. "How beautiful you are!" her eyes wistfully
sought out her own reflection in a mirror. "He won't even see me!"

"Of
course he will, sweetheart," said Amber, better-natured now. "You've
never looked half so pretty."

At
that moment Jemima's woman, Mrs. Carter, stuck her head in the door. "Mrs.
Jemima!" she hissed. "His Lordship's here! He just came in!"

Amber's
heart gave a bound, but she did not turn her head or move. Jemima, however,
looked as distraught as a girl summoned to her execution. "He's
here!" she breathed. "Oh, my God!" That alone was enough to show
her mortal desperation, for blasphemy was no more allowable in Dangerfield
House than was bawdry.

And
then Jemima picked up her skirts and was gone.

Five
minutes later Amber was ready to go downstairs herself. She was eager to see
how he looked at Jemima, what he seemed to think of her—but most of all she
wanted nothing but to see him again, to hear his voice and watch his face, to
be in the same room with him.

"Take
care, mam," cautioned Nan softly, as she gave her her fan.

Amber
saw him the moment she entered the drawing-room. He was standing across from
her talking to Samuel and two other men, and Jemima was there at his side,
staring up at him like a flower with its face turned to the sun. She started
toward them but had to stop a great many times on the way to greet her other
guests, most of whom were familiar to her for they had been there often during
the past five months.

They
were merchants and lawyers and goldsmiths, part of that solid body of
upper-middle-class rich which was rapidly becoming the greatest force in
England. More and more they were able to control governmental policies both at
home and overseas, because they now controlled the largest share of the
country's money. Almost without exception they had been on the winning side in
the Civil Wars, and their fortunes had continued to grow during the years that
the defeated Royalists suffered imprisonment and ruinous taxes at home or lived
in desperate poverty abroad. Even the Restoration had not been able to bring
about a return of the old conditions; these were the rich strong men of the
kingdom now.

It
was the merchants who were loudest and most insistent in demanding a war
against the Dutch, which was necessary to protect England's commerce and trade
from the most formidable rival she had in that sphere. And Lord Carlton, as a
privateer who had been sinking Dutch ships and capturing Dutch merchandise, was
vastly respected and admired by them, in spite of the fact that he was an
aristocrat.

At
last Amber came up to the small group which stood framed by the new
gold-embroidered velvet draperies she had put in the drawing-room. She made a
deep curtsy and Bruce bowed to her. Jemima watched them both.

"I'm
glad you were able to come, Lord Carlton." She could face him more calmly
now, though her inner excitement was still intense.

"I'm
extremely happy to be here, Mrs. Dangerfield." No one could have guessed
that only three hours ago they had lain together. Now they were cool and
polite—strangers. Supper was announced and the guests began to straggle into
the dining-room
where the meal was being served in French Buffet style. There was food enough
to feed three times the hundred people there were to eat it, and gallons of
white and red wine. Wax candles cast a soft bright light on the women's hair
and shoulders; music of fiddles drifted from the rooms beyond. Some of the
women were dressed with as great splendour as the Court ladies; the men were
for the most part in sober dark velvets or wool.