Winsor, Kathleen (77 page)

She
knew that he was skeptical about a great many things in which she believed, and
a unicorn's horn was one of them. Wearing it pinned inside her smock she felt
perfectly safe as she went out to make arrangements for their supper, for she
thought that tomorrow morning would be early enough to leave. She ordered their
supper at the Blue Bells, a very fine French tavern in Lincoln's Inn Fields,
and then went back to set the table herself. All her silver had been stored
with Shadrac Newbold but there was pewter enough in the kitchen to make a
handsome show and she amused herself for most of an hour experimentally folding
the napkins to resemble weird birds. In the courtyard she gathered a great
armful of limp yellow roses that climbed over the walls and onto the balconies,
and arranged them in a large pewter bowl for the dining-room table.

She
took delight in each small detail, each unimportant little thing which she did,
with the hope that later it would make him comfortable or cause him to smile.
The plague began to seem almost a blessing to her now, for it meant that they
would be together for several weeks, perhaps months—perhaps, forever. She
thought that she had never been so happy, or had so much cause for happiness.

The
last hour before she set out she spent brushing and arranging her hair,
polishing her nails, and painting her face— very subtly, for she did not want
him to look at her with the smile she knew so well, which always made her feel
that she was both foolish and wrong. She was standing at the window fastening a
bracelet when she saw a funeral procession turn the corner. There were banners
floating, horses and men tramped solemnly, and though it was still light
several torches burned. She turned quickly away—resenting the intrusion of
death into her happiness—threw on her cloak and went downstairs.

The
wharf was half deserted now and as she rode out along it the wheels of her
coach rumbled noisily. He was talking to two other men, and though he gave her
a nod he did not smile and she saw that he looked even more tired than before.
After a few minutes all three returned to one of the ships and disappeared from
sight.

By
the time a quarter of an hour had gone by she was beginning to grow impatient.
Now, just
what
can be keeping him all this time! Here he hasn't seen me
for ten months and what does he do? Goes back to his damned boat for a drink, I
suppose! She
began to tap her foot and flutter her fan. From time to time she sighed and
scowled, and then she smoothed her features again and tried to compose herself.
The sun had set, dark red over the water, and now there was a slight breeze
which seemed refreshing after the hot day just passed.

It
was at least another half-hour before he came back and by then her eager
anticipation had turned to angry pique. He got in and sat down heavily. She
gave him a sideways glance and said tartly.

"Well,
Lord Carlton! Have you come at last! Pray don't let me keep you from something
important!"

The
coach began to move again. "I'm sorry, Amber—I've been so damned busy
I—"

She
was instantly contrite and ashamed of her meanness, for she could see that his
eyes were blood shot and even though the air was cool now, little drops of
sweat stood on his forehead. She had never seen him look so tired, and her hand
reached over to him.
"I'm
sorry, darling. I know you didn't keep me
waiting on purpose. But why did you have to work so hard and so long? Sure now,
those men aren't such fools they can't unload a ship by themselves."

He
smiled, stroking her fingers. "They could have unloaded it alone, and
would have been only too glad to. But these prizes are the King's, and God
knows he needs them. These sailors haven't been paid and the men are refusing
to work any more for tickets that can't be cashed— Contractors won't supply
commodities they know they won't be paid for. God, you don't have to be here
three hours to hear a tale of woe that would make a lawyer weep. And I might as
well tell you—the three men who were sick yesterday are dead, and four more got
it today."

She
stared at him. "What did you do with them?"

"Sent
them to a pest-house. Someone told me that the gates are guarded now and that
no one can leave without a certificate-of-health. Is that true?"

"Yes,
but don't trouble yourself about it. I got a certificate for you when I got
mine and Nan's and all the others. Even Susanna had to have one. And what a
bother it was! The streets were packed for a half-mile around the Lord Mayor's
house. I think everyone in town is leaving."

"If
they issue them for people they've never seen they can't be worth much."

Amber
held out her hand, rubbing her thumb and first two fingers suggestively
together. "For enough money they'd give a dead man a
certificate-of-health. I offered them fifty pound for the lot and they didn't
ask a question." She paused. "I'm mighty rich now, you know."

He
sat slumped low, as though every muscle was tired, but he gave her a faint
smile. "So you are. And is it as pleasant as you'd expected?"

"Oh,
much more! Lord, everyone wants to marry me
now! Buckhurst and Talbot and I can't
think how many others. What a pleasure it was to laugh in their faces!"
She laughed now, thinking of it, and there was a malicious sparkle in her eyes.
"Oh, gad, but it's a fine thing to be rich!"

"Yes,"
he agreed. "I suppose it is."

Both
of them were silent for a few minutes and then he said, "I wonder how long
this plague will last."

"Why?"

"Well,
I'd hoped to be back at sea in another month—but the men won't sign now. And
anyway it would be foolish— they've found some Dutch ships with everyone aboard
dead."

Amber
did not reply, but she felt that if there must be a plague at all it could not
have happened more to her advantage.

When
they reached her lodging-house she ran on up the stairs ahead of him, full of a
trembling eager excitement. Sometimes she felt that moments like this one were
almost compensation enough for the long periods of time when she did not see
him at all. Such wild frantic happiness, ecstasy that was almost torture,
pleasures that racked and exhausted— these things could be no everyday
occurrence, no matter how truly you loved! They fed on loneliness and longing,
and came to full blossom over slow months of separation.

She
unlocked the door and flung it open, then turned about quickly to face him.

But
he was still only halfway up the staircase, mounting it with slow heavy steps
that were strangely and almost frighteningly unlike him. As he reached the top
he paused for just an instant, one hand lifting as if to touch her, but he did
not and walked on, into the parlour. A cold wet chill went over her and for a
moment Amber stood, sick with disappointment, staring at the wall. She turned
slowly then and saw him drop wearily into a chair, and at that moment her
selfish feeling of jilted expectation was gone in shock of horror.

He's
sick!

But
instantly she pushed the thought away, superstitiously furious with herself for
having allowed it into her mind. No! she thought fiercely. He isn't sick! He's
just tired and hungry. When he's rested a while and had something to eat he'll
be well and strong again.

Determined
that he should not suspect what treacherous fear she had had, she now came
toward him with a broad gay smile, taking off her cloak and throwing it over
one arm. He looked up at her with an answering grin, but gave a short
involuntary sigh.

"Well—"
she said. "Aren't you even going to say that you like my lodgings?
Everything's in the latest style—and nothing's English." She made a
comical little face and gave a sweep of one hand, but as he looked over the
room her eyes watched him anxiously.

"It's
lovely, Amber. Forgive my bad manners. To tell the truth I'm tired—I was up all
night."

The
news relieved her. Up all night! Why, who wouldn't be tired? Then he wasn't
sick at all. Oh, thank God—thank-God!

"I've
got just the thing for that. Here, darling, let me take your cloak and hat-—and
the sword, too, you'll be more comfortable without it."

She
would have bent to unbuckle it for him, but he did so himself before she could,
and handed it to her. Then, laying everything on a nearby chair, she brought
him a tray on which were two decanters, one of water and one of brandy. He gave
her a grateful smile and picked up a bottle while she turned to take their
wraps into the bedroom.

"I'll
be back in a trice. And we can eat right away. Everything's here."

She
ran into the bed-chamber, which opened out of the parlour, and while she took
off her gown and unpinned her hair she talked to him from the doorway—still
hoping that he was not so tired as he seemed, that he would get up and come to
her. But he merely sat, watching her and drinking the brandy, saying very little.
She stepped out of her dress, untied the bows on her shoes and stripped off her
stockings, let her petticoats drop to the floor and bent to pick them up.

"I've
got everything you like best for supper: Westphalia-style ham and roast duck
and an almond pudding and champagne. It isn't easy to get French wines any
more, either, since the war. Lord, I don't know how we'll shift for new styles
if we go to war with France! Do
you
think we will? Buckhurst and Sedley
and some of the others say we're sure to—" She talked fast, to keep both
of them from thinking. She disappeared from sight for a moment and then came
into the room wearing a white silk dressing-gown and a pair of silver mules.

She
walked toward him, slowly, and his green eyes darkened like water. He swallowed
the rest of the brandy and got to his feet, and though for a moment they stood
staring at each other he made no move to touch her. Amber waited, almost afraid
to breathe; but as he scowled and turned half away, picking up his glass and
the brandy decanter again, she said softly: "I'll put the food on the
table."

She
went through the dining-room and into the kitchen where the waiter who had
brought the food had left the hot soup simmering over some embers in the
fireplace. When she had served the soup they sat down to eat and though both of
them tried to keep up a lively conversation, it stumbled and lagged.

He
told her that he had taken five Dutch merchant-vessels,
all of them
valuable prizes. He said that he thought there would be war with France because
France did not want England to win a decisive victory, and had to protect
Holland to keep her from forming an alliance with Spain. Amber told him some of
the gossip she had heard from Buckhurst and Sedley: that the Lowestoft victory
would have been a much greater one but that Henry Brouncker gave orders in
York's name to slacken sail, so that the battered Dutch fleet escaped. And—
more exciting, she thought—she told him how the Earl of Rochester had kidnapped
the great heiress, Mrs. Mallet, and been put in the Tower by the King for his
effrontery.

He
said that the meal was delicious, but he ate slowly and obviously had no
appetite. At last he laid down his fork. "I'm sorry, Amber, but I can't
eat. I'm not hungry."

She
got up from the table and went around to him, for her fears had been growing
steadily. He did not look tired; he looked sick. "Perhaps you should
sleep, darling. After staying up all night you must be—"

"Oh,
Amber, there's no use pretending about this. I've got the plague. At first I thought
it was only lack of sleep. But I've too may symptoms the other men had—no
appetite, headache, dizziness, sweating, and now I begin to feel
nauseated." He flung down his napkin and pushed back his chair, slowly,
heaving himself to his feet. "I'm afraid you'll have to go alone,
Amber."

She
looked at him steadily. "I won't go without you, Bruce, and you know it!
But I'm sure it isn't the plague. It can't be! You're well and strong— When
you've had a night's sleep I
know
you'll feel better."

He
smiled faintly, but shook his head. "No, I'm afraid you're wrong. I only
hope to God I haven't exposed you. That's why I didn't kiss you. I was
afraid—" He looked around. "Where's my hat and cloak?"

"You're
not going anywhere! You're going to stay here with me! Lord, I've looked and
felt as bad as you do a hundred times and next day I was up and about!
Everybody
who gets a pain or ache can't have the plague! If you're not sick we'll
leave tomorrow morning. And if you are—I'm going to take care of you."

"Oh,
Amber, my dear— You don't think I'd let you? I might be dead by—"

"Bruce!
Don't say that! If it
is
the plague I'll take care of you and make you
well again. I learned how to take care of a sick person from my Aunt
Sarah."

"But
it's infectious—you might catch it too. And it's highly fatal. No, darling, I'm
going. Get my hat and cloak—go on."

He
turned away and the look of worried anger he had tried to conceal before now
showed plainly. His face was wet with sweat, so that the drops slid along his
jaw, and he moved like a man half drunk. His muscles seemed almost useless.
There was a pounding headache over his eyes and a dull aching pain had filled
his back and loins and went down into his legs. At a sudden chill he shuddered
involuntarily, and the feeling of nausea was overwhelming.