Winsor, Kathleen (68 page)

"She's
mad in love with you."

"A
hundred thousand pound or so, I've discovered, will make a man more attractive
than he'd ever suspected himself of being."

"A
hundred thousand! My God, Bruce! What a lot of money! When Samuel dies I'll
have sixty-six thousand. Think what a fortune that will be if we put it
together! We'd be the richest people in England!"

"You
forget, darling. I won't be in England."

"Oh,
but you—"

Suddenly
he stood up and swung her into his arms; his mouth closed over hers. Amber
sailed away dizzily, her arguments
effectively stopped. But he had not
heard, by any means, the last of it. For now she had contrived to get something
which she knew he valued, money, and she hoped to bargain with it. If only he
would marry her—if only she could have him forever. There was nothing else she
wanted, really. All her other great ambitions would vanish like a piece of ice
dropped on a red-hot stove.

She
did not go back to Almsbury House the next two mornings, for Bruce had warned
her that unless she was very careful she would be found out. "If you're
sailing that ocean under false colours," he said, "and I suppose you
must be—you'd better remember it won't take much to make them suspicious. And
if they ever caught you—your sixty-six thousand might dwindle
considerably." She knew that it was the truth and determined to be
cautious.

But
when Jemima asked her what she had thought of Lord Carlton the blood shot
suddenly to her face and she had to bend over to retie her garter.
"Why—he's mighty handsome, of course."

"I
think he liked me—don't you?"

"What
makes you think so!" Her voice was sharp in spite of herself, but she
hastily changed its tone. "You mustn't be so bold, Jemima. I'm sure
everyone thought you were flirting with him—and courtiers are all the
same."

"All
the same? In what way?"

Worried
and annoyed by what seemed to be Jemima's stupidity she snapped: "Just
remember this—take care he doesn't do you some harm!"

"Harm,
pish!" said Jemima scornfully. "What harm
could
he do me when
I love him?"

Amber
had an impulse to run after her and grab her by the hair and slap her face, but
she restrained herself. It would certainly not be in keeping with the character
she had built for herself, a structure put together at too much pain and cost
to kick it over carelessly now because of a silly girl who meant nothing to
him. Nevertheless, she and Jemima were henceforward somewhat cool when they met
and Jemima—who was even now puzzled as to what had caused this change in their
friendship—again began to call her "Madame."

The
next afternoon she returned from visiting some of Samuel's innumerable
relatives and found Jemima waiting in the entrance hall with Carter, both of
them dressed to go out. Jemima was painted and patched and perfumed, her hair
was curled and her buttercup-yellow satin gown cut so low that it seemed her
small round breasts might escape at any moment. There were yellow roses in her
hair and she wore her yellow-lined black-velvet cloak hung carelessly on her
shoulders, to cover as little of her as possible. She looked for all the world
like a Court beauty or the town's reigning harlot.

"Ye
gods, Jemima!" said Amber, pausing in shocked
amazement to
look at her step-daughter. "Wherever are you going dressed like
that?"

Jemima's
eyes sparkled and her voice was triumphant, almost defiant. "Lord Carlton
is coming to take me for a drive in Hyde Park."

"I
suppose you asked him?"

"Well,
maybe I did! You don't get what you want by sitting and waiting for it!"

Amber
had told Jemima something like that once, but now Jemima said it without
remembering its source. She thought it was her own idea. And Amber, who had
meddled in a spirit of malicious mischief, encouraged Jemima's rebellion
against family traditions, was faced with the prospect of having her own advice
turned against her. Three months ago Jemima would never have dared ask a man to
take her riding. Amber was not thinking of retributive justice, however, as she
stood staring at Jemima with her hatred showing plain in her eyes. Oh! if only
I wasn't married to her father! she thought, furious at her own impotence.

"Jemima,
you're making a fool of yourself! You don't know the kind of man Lord Carlton
is!"

Jemima
lifted her chin. "I beg your pardon, Madame, but I know exactly. He's
handsome and he's fascinating and he's a gentleman—and I love him."

Amber's
lip curled and she repeated the words, mimicking her with cruel accuracy.
"He's handsome and he's fascinating and he's a gentleman—and you love him!
Hoity-toity! And if you're not mighty careful you'll find that your maidenhead
is missing!"

"I
don't believe you! Lord Carlton isn't like that at all! Besides, Carter is
going along!"

"She'd
better! And see that she stays along, too!"

She
was now so angry that, in spite of Nan's frantic nudges and grimaces, she might
have gone on to say much more, but the knocker clattered and the footman who
answered it admitted Bruce. He swept off his hat to both of them, and his eyes
glittered with amusement to find Amber and her stepdaughter so obviously
engaged in a quarrel.

Damn
him! thought Amber. Men always think they're so superior!

"This
is a pleasant surprise, Mrs. Dangerfield," he said now. "I hadn't
expected to have your company too."

"Oh,
Madame isn't coming!" said Jemima hastily. "She's just returned from
a drive!"

"Oh,"
said Bruce softly. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Dangerfield. I'd have enjoyed having
you with us."

Amber's
eyes stared at him, hard and shining and slanting like a cat's.
"Would
you,
Lord Carlton?"

And
she turned and ran up the stairs, but as she heard the door close behind them
she stopped abruptly on the balcony above, swirling about to look down. They
were gone. Suddenly
she raised her arm and threw her fan as hard as she could at the floor below.
She had not realized that anyone was about, but at that moment a footman
appeared and looked up in some surprise; her eyes met his for an alarmed angry
instant and then she rushed off.

She
was still somewhat excited when Samuel came up from the office where he had
gone to spend an hour or two. But she kissed him affectionately, made him sit
down, and then took a stool beside him and put her hand into his. For a few
moments they chatted of various small things and then she gave a troubled
little frown, and stared off pensively into space.

He
stroked the smooth crown of her head, where the hair lay in burnished satin
waves. "What is it, my dear? Nothing's amiss?"

"No
Samuel, nothing. Oh, Samuel—I must tell you! It's about Jemima! I'm worried
about her!"

"You
mean about Lord Carlton?"

"Yes.
Why, only an hour ago I met her in the hall and she'd asked him to take her
driving in Hyde Park!"

He
gave a heavy tired sigh. "I can't understand her. She's been as carefully
brought up as could be possible. Sometimes I think there's a taint in the air
nowadays—the young people fall sick of it. Not all of them, of course," he
added with a smile of fondness. "I don't think he's at all interested in
her— Jemima isn't the kind of woman he can be used to associating with—and I
think that if she had let him alone he'd never have given her a second
thought."

"Of
course he wouldn't!" agreed Amber, very positively.

"I
don't know what's to be done—"

"I
do, Samuel! You must make her marry Joseph Cuttle— right now! Before something much
worse happens!"

That
was the end of Jemima's friendship with her stepmother. For by an unerring
feminine instinct she knew immediately who was responsible for her father's
sudden determination to marry her to Joseph Cuttle without more delay. It was
the one thing Amber had done of which the family approved, for they had been
worried too about Jemima's infatuation for a Cavalier—though they considered
that it was Madame's fault Jemima had ever fallen in love with him. They did
not believe it would have occurred to Jemima to admire such a man, but for the
bad example of false values Amber had set. But Bruce seemed somewhat shocked
when Amber told him the contract had been signed and the marriage date set for
August 30th—forty days from the time of betrothal.

"Good
Lord!" he said. "That awkward spindle-shanked boy! Why should a
pretty little thing like Jemima have to marry him?"

"What
difference does it mate to you who she marries!"

"None
at all. But don't you think you're meddling rather impertinently in the affairs
of the Dangerfield family?"

"I
am not! Samuel was going to make her marry him anyway. I just got the matter
settled—for her own good."

"Well,
if you think I intend seducing her, I don't. I took her driving because she
asked me to and it would have been an affront to her father if I'd
refused." He gave her a long narrow look. "I wonder if you have any
idea what a very fine old gentleman Samuel Dangerfield is. Tell me—how the
devil did you manage to marry him? The Dangerfields aren't people who would
welcome an actress to the hearth-side."

She
laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know!" But she never told him.

It
was not long before Amber refused altogether to heed Brace's admonitions—she
went to Almsbury House three or four mornings in every week. Samuel left for
his office at about seven and returned between eleven and noon; she was there
when he left and there when he got back. But even if she had not been it would
have occasioned no comment. He trusted her implicitly and when he asked her
where she had been it was never from motives of suspicion, but only to make
conversation or because he was interested in the little things which occupied
her day. Whatever off-hand tale she told him, he believed.

And
Jemima, meanwhile, turned sulky and bad-tempered, refused to take an interest
in the elaborate preparations for her wedding. Dressmakers and mercers filled
her rooms at all hours; she was to be married in cloth-of-gold and her
wedding-ring was studded with thirty diamonds. The great ballroom in the south
wing of the house where the wedding-feast and masque were to take place would
be transformed into a blooming, green-leafed forest, with real grass on the
floor. There would be five hundred guests for the ceremony and almost a
thousand for the festivities afterward. Fifty of the finest musicians in London
were being hired to play for the ball and a noted French chef was coming from
Paris to oversee the preparation of the food. Samuel was eager to please his
daughter and her persistent sullenness troubled him.

Amber
magnanimously took Jemima's part. "There's nothing wrong with her, Samuel,
but what's wrong with all girls old enough to be married who aren't. She's got
the greensickness, that's all. Wait till after the wedding, she'll be herself
again then, I warrant you."

Samuel
shook his head. "By heaven, I hope so! I hate to see her unhappy.
Sometimes I wonder if we're not making a mistake to insist that she marry
Joseph. After all, there are suitable matches enough for her in London if she—"

"Nonsense,
Samuel! Who ever heard of a girl choosing her own husband! She's too young to
know
what
she wants. And Joseph is a fine young man; he'll make her
mighty happy." That
settled it. And Amber thought that she had managed everything with great cleverness—Jemima
was no source of worry to her now. Silly girl! she thought scornfully. She
should have known better than to cross swords with me!

Scarcely
six weeks had gone by since Bruce's arrival in London when she told him that
she was sure she was pregnant, and explained why she believed the child must be
his. "I hope it'll be a girl," she said. "Bruce is so handsome—I
know she'd be a beauty. What do you think we should name her?"

"I
think that's up to Samuel, don't you?"

"Pish—why
should it be? Anyway, he'll ask me. So you tell me what name you'd like—please,
Bruce, I want to know."