But that same morning as she was riding from the New Exchange to a rehearsal, her coach stopped at the golden-crowned Maypole, and while Tempest was bellowing abuse at the driver and occupants of the coach that blocked his way, the door was flung open and a girl leaped in. Her hair was dishevelled and her eyes looked wild.
"Please, mam!" she cried. "Tell 'im I'm your maid!" Her pretty face was intense and pleading, her voice passionate. "Oh, Jesus! Here he comes! Please, mam!" She gave Amber a last imploring look and then retreated far back into one corner, pulling the hood of her cloak up over her red-blonde curls.
Amber stared at her in amazement and then, before she could speak a word, the door was thrown open and a blue-coated constable, carrying his staff of office, pushed his head in at them. At this Amber gave an involuntary backward start. But, remembering that a constable could mean nothing to her now, she quickly recovered herself.
He made her a half salute, evidently mistaking her for a lady of quality. "Sorry to trouble you, mam, but that wench just stole a loaf of bread. I arrest you," he shouted, "in the King's name!" And he lunged across Amber toward the girl, who cowered far into one corner, skirts drawn close about her. Even from where she sat, Amber could feel her tremble.
Suddenly furious, all her memories of Newgate rising like a tide, Amber brought her fan down with a hearty smack on the constable's wrist. "What are you about, sir? This girl is my serving-woman! Take your hands off her!"
He looked up at her in surprise. "Well, now, mam— I wouldn't care to be calling a lady a liar-—but she just stole a loaf of bread from off that bulk over there. I seen 'er myself."
He leaned far in now, grabbing hold of the girl's ankle and dragging her toward him. A curious restless crowd was beginning to gather outside in the street—and as Amber gave him a kick in the chest with the toe of her shoe and a violent shove that sent him staggering, a loud joyous laugh went up. He lurched back; she leaned forward and slammed the door shut.
"Drive on, Tempest!" she shouted, and the coach rolled off, leaving justice to pick itself up from a swimming kennel of rain-washed filth.
For a moment both women were silent, the girl staring at Amber with gratitude, Amber breathing heavily from anger and the nervousness which the sight of a constable still roused in her.
"Oh—mam!" she cried at last. "How can I ever thank you? But for you, he'd have carried me off to Newgate! Lord, I didn't see 'im till he made a grab for me, and then I ran—I ran as fast as anything but the old fat pricklouse was right on my heels! Oh, thank you, mam, a million times! It was mighty kind for a great lady like yourself to care what happens to the likes of me. It wouldn't 've been any skin off your arse if I'd gone to Newgate—"
She rattled along in a quick light musical voice, the expressions playing vivaciously over her pretty face. She could have been no more than seventeen, fresh and dainty with clear blue eyes, light lashes and brows, and a golden sprinkle of freckles over her little scooped nose. Amber smiled at her, liking her immediately.
"These damned impertinent constables! The day's a loss to 'em that they don't throw a half-a-dozen honest citizens into jail!"
The girl lowered her lashes guiltily. "Well—to tell you truly, mam, I did steal that loaf of bread. I've got it here." She tapped her cloak, beneath which it was concealed. "But I couldn't help it, I swear I couldn't! I was so hungry—"
"Then go ahead and eat it."
Without an instant's hesitation she took out the crusty split-topped loaf, broke a piece off one end and crammed it into her mouth, chewing ravenously. Amber looked at her in surprise.
"How long since you've eaten?"
The girl swallowed, took another great bite and answered with her mouth full. "Two days, mam."
"Ye Gods! Here, take this and buy yourself a dinner."
From a little velvet bag inside her muff she emptied several shillings and dropped them into the girl's lap. By now they had drawn up before the theatre and the footman came to open the door. Amber gathered her skirts and prepared to get out and the girl leaned forward, staring through the glass windows with great interest.
"Lord, mam, are you goin' to the play?"
"I'm an actress."
"You are!" She seemed both pleased and shocked that her benefactress should be engaged in so exciting and disreputable a profession. But immediately she jumped out on her own side and ran around to make her curtsy to Amber. "Thank you, mam. You were mighty kind to me, and if ever I can do a good thing for you, I wish you'd be pleased to call on me. I'll not forget, you may be sure. Nan Britton's my name—serving-woman, though without a place just now."
Amber stopped, looking at her with interest. "You're a serving-woman? What happened to your last place?"
The girl lowered her eyes. "I was turned out, mam." Her voice dropped almost to a whisper and she added, "The lady said I was debauchin' her sons." But she looked up quickly then and added with great earnestness, "But I wasn't mam! I vow and swear I wasn't! 'Twas just the other way around!"
Amber laughed. "Well, my son's not old enough to be debauched. I'm looking for a woman myself, and if you want to wait in the coach after you've had your dinner we'll talk about this later."
She hired Nan Britton at four pounds a year and her clothes and lodging and food. Within three or four days they were good friends—Amber felt that Nan was the first real woman friend she had ever had—and Nan did her work quickly and well, taking the same delight in polishing a pewter pitcher or arranging Amber's hair that she did in riding to the 'Change or accompanying her and Rex on a visit to the Spring Gardens.
She was energetic, vivacious, and unfailingly good-natured, and as she became more sure of her place and accustomed to it, these qualities remained. Nan and Amber found much to discuss, exchanging the most unabashed feminine confidences, and while Nan learned almost all that there was to know about her mistress (except that she had been in Newgate and Whitefriars) Amber likewise heard the tale of Nan's adventures as a girl-servant in a household where there were four handsome boys. Her dismissal had come when one of them, deciding that he had fallen in love with Mrs. Nan, announced to his horrified parents that he intended to marry her.
When Rex was not there Nan shared the bed, but otherwise she slept on the trundle. As was customary, she was as much his personal servant as she was Amber's, helped him in and out of his clothes, was not embarrassed to be in the room when he was naked, and soon decided that Captain Morgan was the finest gentleman she had ever known. He enlisted her on his side and she urged Amber again and again to marry him.
"How Captain Morgan loves you, mam!" she would say in the mornings, while she brushed Amber's hair. "And he's the handsomest person, and the most genteel! I vow, he'd make any lady a mighty fine husband!"
But Amber, who merely laughed at first and teased Nan with having fallen in love with him herself, grew less and less interested in such advice. "Captain Morgan's well enough, I suppose," she said finally. "But after all, he's only an officer in the King's Guard."
"Well!" cried Nan, offended at such disloyalty. "And who will you have, mam? The King himself?"
Amber, smiling at this sarcasm, gave a superior lift of her eyebrows. She was just setting out for the theatre and now began pulling on her gloves. "I might at that," she drawled and, when Nan gasped, repeated, "Yes, I might at that." She strolled toward the door, leaving Nan staring pop-eyed after her, but just with her hand on the knob she turned suddenly. "But don't you dare breathe a word of this to Captain Morgan, d'ye hear me!"
After all, it might be only gossip that King Charles had told Buckingham who had told Berkeley who had told Kynaston who had told Amber that the King had a mind to lay with her.
Chapter Nineteen
Amber unlocked the door and started up the steps two at a time. She was eager to look at herself in a mirror, for she was sure that she must be very much changed. She had almost reached the top when the door to her apartments was flung open, and Rex loomed there above her. The ligh
t was at his back and she could not see the expression of his face, but knew by his voice that he was angry.
"Where in hell have you been?" he demanded. "It's half after two!"
Amber paused for one astonished moment, staring at him almost as if he were some intruding stranger. And then, with, a haughty lift of her chin, she came on toward him and would have gone by without a word, but he grabbed her wrist and snatched her up close to him. His eyes had the dangerous glitter she had seen before when his ready jealousy was aroused.
"Answer me, you jilting little baggage! The plays at Whitehall are done by eleven! Who've you been with since then!"
For a long moment they stared at each other, and then at last Amber gave a pout and winced. "You're hurting me, Rex," she whimpered.
His face relaxed, and though he hesitated a moment he released her. But just as she moved away a heavy bag dropped out of her muff and fell clanking to the floor; by the sound it could only contain money. Both of them looked down at it, and then as Amber raised her eyes she saw that his were narrowed and gleaming with rage, and that the veins in his neck stood out.
"You God damned whoring little bitch," he said softly.
And then suddenly he grabbed her by the shoulders and began to shake her, harder and harder, until her head snapped back and forth so fast she felt that the top of it would come off.
"Who was it?" he shouted. "Who've you been laying with! Tell me, or by Jesus I'll break your neck!"
"Rex!" she cried imploringly. But the moment he let her go and she began to recover her senses her own rage mounted to heedless violence. "I was with the King!" she yelled at him. "That's where I was!" She began massaging her neck, and ended with a mutter, "Now what've you got to say!"
For a long moment he stared at her, incredulous at first, and then slowly, gradually, she saw the crumpling of his hopes and confidence. "You weren't," he said at last. "I don't believe it."
Her hands went up to arrange her hair where it had come loose, and she gave him a cruel superior little smile. "Oh, don't you?"
But he did and she knew it.
Then without another word he turned, took his cloak and sword and hat from the chair where he had left them, and started across the room. He gave her a last look of contempt and disgust before he went out, but she met it with merely a cool lift of the eyebrows. And as the door slammed behind him she gave a snap of her fingers, swirled about quickly and ran into the bedroom to a mirror.
For surely a woman who had been made love to by a king could not look like any common mortal. She half expected a glow, a luminous shimmer to her skin and hair, and was disappointed to see that she looked no different except that her hair was tumbled and there were tired shadows beneath her eyes.
But I'm not the same! she assured herself triumphantly. I'm somebody now! I've lain with the King!
When Nan tried to wake her the following morning she shooed her away, rolling over onto her stomach, saying she'd sleep as long as she liked and they could do without her at rehearsal. By the time she finally did wake up it was almost noon and the rehearsal long since over. She yawned and stretched, sliding back the heavy draperies which had made the bed so hot and sultry that she was wet all over, and then suddenly she reached beneath the feather mattress and brought out the bagful of coins, dumping them onto the pillow so that she could count them again.
There was fifty pounds. Only to think of it—fifty pounds as a gift for the greatest honour a woman could have.
Before going to the theatre she took the money to deposit with Shadrac Newbold, and when she finally got there it was after two. As she had expected her appearance in the tiring-room created a considerable sensation; all the women began to babble and shriek at once. Beck ran to throw her arms about her.
"Amber! We thought you weren't coming at all! Quick! Tell us about it—we're a-dying to hear! What was it like?"
"How much money did he give you?"
"What did he say?"
"How long were you there?"
"What did he do?"
"Was it different than it is with ordinary men?"
It was the first time that King Charles had sent for a player and their feelings were divided between personal jealousy and occupational pride. But curiosity over-rode both.
Amber was not reticent; she answered all their questions. She described the rooms of Edward Progers where she had been received first, the appearance of the King in his brocade dressing-robe, the new-born puppies which had slept beside their mother on a velvet cushion near the fireplace. She told them that he had been as kind and easy, as courteous as though she were a lady of the highest rank. But she did not add that she had been so scared she thought she would faint, and she hinted that he had given her at least a thousand pounds.
"When are you going again?" Beck asked at last, as Scroggs began to help Amber out of her clothes.
"Oh," she said casually, "sometime soon, I suppose. Maybe next week."
She was very confident, for though she had not spent more than an hour with him she had come away feeling that of all the women he had known she had pleased him best. It did not occur to her that perhaps the others had thought the same.
"Well, madame!" It was Tom Killigrew's voice, sounding cold and sarcastic as he made his way through the crowded room toward her. "So at last you've come."
Amber looked up in surprise, and then gave him a friendly smile. She was prepared to be no different from usual, in spite of her changed status—at least until she was more secure in her new place. "I'm a little late," she admitted, ducking her head into her gown which Scroggs held for her.
"You were not at rehearsal this morning, I believe."
"No." She thrust her arms through the sleeves and as Scroggs pulled the dress down her head appeared once more. "But that's no matter. I've played the part a dozen times—I know it well enough without rehearsing." She took up a mirror and half turned to face the light, examining the paint on her face and wiping away a little smear of lip-rouge rubbed onto her chin as she had struggled into the gown.
"With your permission, Madame St. Clare, I shall decide who will rehearse and who will not. I've given your part to Beck Marshall-—I don't doubt you'll be able to play the strumpet well enough without rehearsal."
There was a concerted giggle at that. Amber shot Beck a quick glare and caught a smug look of mischief on her face. She was on the verge of bursting out that she would play her own part or none at all, when caution warned her. "But I know my lines! I know every one of 'em if I never rehearsed again! And the other's but a small part!"
"Perhaps it is, madame, but those who are too much occupied elsewhere must learn to be content with small parts— or with no part at all." He glanced around at the sparkling, smiling faces, on which malicious pleasure was but ill concealed. "And I advise all of you to keep that in mind—should another head be turned by attention from high places. Good-day." He swung about and left the room.
Amber was furious that he should have dared to treat her like that, and consoled herself with the promise that one day she would get even with him. I'll get his patent and run him out of the theatre, that's what I'll do! But for the benefit of the others she gave a shrug and a pout of her mouth.
"Pooh! Much I care! Who wants to be a player anyway?"
As the days began to pass, however, her disgrace was not alleviated by another request from the King. She continued to play small roles—and to wait for another invitation. No one let her forget that she had been sent for once and had expected to go again; the other women, even some of the actors, and the gallants who came back to the tiring-room, all knew about it and taunted her slyly. They seemed to have grown more insolent than ever. And Amber, though she tried to toss off the gibes with a laugh or counter them with some impertinence of her own, was sick at heart, disappointed and miserably unhappy. She felt that after all her bragging she would die of shame if he sent for her no more.
And though she had thought in her first high-flown confidence th
at she did not care whether or not she ever saw Rex again, she soon began to miss him. It was not quite a week after their quarrel that Beck told her he had given a diamond ring to Mrs. Norris of the rival playhouse and that she was saying he had offered to take her into keeping.
"Well, why tell me about it! It's nothing to me if he gives diamond rings to every tawdry little whore in Whetstone Park!"
But it was all bravado.
She was learning that Rex Morgan was more important to her happiness than she had ever suspected he could be. Though she had not realized it before, she knew now that he had protected her from much that would otherwise have been unpleasant. The tiring-room fops, for example, would never have dared patronize and bait her as they were doing. Without him she felt that she had been plunged suddenly into a hard and bleak world which hated her and wished her nothing but misfortune. There was no kindness or sympathy in any of them—they enjoyed her failure, battened upon her humiliation, were amused by her not-well-concealed anger and frustration.
She began to wish again that she had never seen Lord Carlton and never come to London.
Nan, however, continued optimistic even when ten days had gone by. She could think of more reasons why the King had been too busy to see her than he could possibly have found himself. "Don't be downcast, mam," she would say. "Lord, it takes up one's time—being a king."
But Amber refused to be comforted. Slumped in a chair before the fireplace, she muttered petulantly: "Oh, nonsense, Nan! You know as well as I do if I'd pleased 'im he'd have sent long ago!"
Nan sat beside her on a stool, working on a piece of embroidered satin, pale green with a whole English gardenful of flowers on it, which she intended as a petticoat for Amber. Now she gave a little sigh and made no answer, for she was finally beginning to grow discouraged herself. But when, just a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door she leaped up and rushed across the room.
Forever Amber Page 31
