Forever Amber

by Kathleen Winsor

  Jemima was chattering at him and smiling, her eyes ashine with happiness and passionate admiration as she plied on him all the pretty tricks of a natural flirt. Bruce sat and watched her and now and then he said something, but though he seemed only lazily amused Amber was in a state of anguished jealousy.

  She made several starts to go over and interrupt them, but each time someone stopped her. At last one old dowager with a bosom like a shelf and the face of a petulant spaniel said to her: "Jemima seems mightily smitten with his Lordship. She's been making sheep's-eyes at him all evening. Let me tell you, Mrs. Dangerfield, if Jemima was my daughter I'd find a way to get her out of his company—I admire his Lordship's exploits on the sea as much as anyone, but his reputation with women is none of the best, you can take my word for that."

  Amber was horrified. "Oh, heaven! Thank you for telling me, Mrs. Humpage. I'll take a course with her this instant."

  And immediately she was off across the room to where Joseph Cuttle stood in a corner talking to Henry and trying to pretend he did not know Jemima was with a man who was not only handsome and titled but a hero into the bargain.

  "Why, Joseph!" she cried. "Where have you been all evening? Whatever are you doing over here? I'll wager you haven't spoke so much as a word to Jemima!"

  Joseph blushed and shuffled one foot awkwardly, while Henry looked into his step-mother's neckline. "I'm having a fine time, Mrs. Dangerfield. Jemima's busy."

  "Nonsense, Joseph! Why, she'll never forgive you if you serve her at this rate!" she took his wrist, kindness and encouragement in her eyes. "Come along, Joseph—you can't help your cause with her by standing over here."

  They began to make their way across the room and Amber kept a firm hold on Joseph's hand, as though afraid that he would bolt and run. But Amber dragged him up to Bruce and Jemima, ignoring the reproachful accusing stare Jemima gave her, and presented him to Lord Carlton.

  "I'm going to let you and Joseph start the dancing, Jemima," she said sweetly. "You can begin with coranto."

  Reluctantly Jemima got to her feet, but her face began to sparkle again as she turned to Bruce. "Excuse me, your Lordship?"

  Bruce bowed. "Certainly, madame. And I thank you for your company at supper."

  Jemima gave him a long smile, one he was not intended to forget—ignoring the tormented boy by her side—and then with a brief curtsy to Amber she went off toward the ballroom, but she did not take Joseph's arm or seem aware that he was with her.

  Amber waited until they were out of ear-shot and then she turned to Bruce, to find him smiling down at her. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. "Well!" she said, "And did you have a pleasant evening!"

  "Very pleasant. Thank you for inviting me. And now—" He glanced across the room at a clock. "I must be going."

  "Oh, you must be going!" she repeated sarcastically. "As soon as I come along you must be going!"

  "I have business at Whitehall."

  "I can imagine what your business is!"

  "Smile a little, Amber," he said softly. "Some of your guests are beginning to wonder at your familiarity with me. A woman never quarrels with a man she doesn't know well."

  His mocking tone made her furious, but what he said scared her even more. And now she forced a bright smile onto her mouth if not into her eyes, and gave a quick sweeping glance to see if they were being watched. I've got to be careful! she warned herself. If anyone guessed— Oh Lord, if they ever guessed!

  She raised her voice a little, smiling. "I'm so glad you could come tonight, Lord Carlton. It isn't often we have the company of a man who's done so much for England."

  Bruce bowed, bending with his careless, light feline grace. "Thank you, madame. Good-night."

  He left her then and made his way across the room to speak to Samuel. Suddenly Amber, who had turned about to talk to a white-haired old gentleman, left him with the excuse that she must see about replenishing the wine. In the hallway she picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she could go, out the door and round to the front courtyard where she saw Bruce just getting into a coach.

  "Lord Carlton!" she cried breathlessly, her high heels clicking as she ran across the brick pavement toward him.

  He stopped, turning to look at her. "Did you call me, Mrs. Dangerfield?"

  "I have a message from my husband, your Lordship." With that she climbed into the coach and beckoned him to follow her, motioning the footman then to close the door. "Bruce— when can I see you again?"

  "Amber, you little fool! What are you thinking about?" His voice was impatient and there was an angry look in his eyes. "You've got to use more sense this time!"

  She frowned a little as she glanced out the window, wishing that that stupid footman would go away with his torch, for it sent a flaring light in upon them. "I'll be careful! Only I've got to see you, Bruce! When? I can come any time."

  "Come to the ships tomorrow, then. We'll be unloading and no one will be surprised if you're there."

  "I'll be there in the morning."

  She leaned a little toward him, longing for a kiss.

  "Amber!"

  Reluctantly she got out of the coach and ran back into the house again. To her horrified amazement she found the drawing-rooms in an uproar of excitement and turmoil, though she had left her guests talking and laughing and beginning to dance.

  "What is it? What's happened?" She rushed up to the first person she saw.

  "It's your husband, Mrs. Dangerfield. He's fainted."

  "Fainted!"

  The terrible thought went through her mind that he had somehow guessed or been told about her and Bruce and that the shock had brought on a stroke. She was more worried for herself than for Samuel, as she ran up the stairs.

  She found the outer rooms full of people, servants and members of the family, but without stopping to speak to them she went directly into the bedroom. Samuel lay at full length on the bed and Lettice knelt beside him, while the four oldest brothers stood anxiously nearby. None of them glanced at her.

  Dr. de Forest, who was his physician and who had been at supper, was holding his wrist and taking the count of his pulse.

  Instinctively Amber lowered her voice to whisper. "What happened? I went out to see about the wine and when I came back they said he had fainted."

  "He has," said Sam curtly.

  Amber went to stand beside the bed, on the opposite side from Lettice. She did not dare look at her or at the others, but she sensed that none of them was paying her any attention; all interest was focused on their father. And though it seemed to her that she waited there for an endless time, it was actually but a few minutes. When he opened his lids he was looking up at Lettice; his eyes shifted, searching for Amber, and when he found her he smiled. She was watching him breathlessly, afraid that now he would say something that would tell her she was caught.

  She bent across the bed and kissed him gently. "You're here, Samuel, with us. There's nothing to worry about."

  "I don't remember what happened—I thought we were—"

  "You fainted, sir," said Dr. de Forest.

  Lettice was crying, very softly so that she would disturb no one, and her eldest brother reached down and took her by the shoulders to raise her to her feet. At the doctor's request they left the room, all but Amber. He began to talk to them both then, very seriously, of the necessity for Samuel to be perfectly quiet for a few days, to avoid exertion of any kind—and he particularly addressed himself to Amber who looked at him solemnly and nodded her head.

  "You must help your husband, Mrs. Dangerfield," he said privately to Amber when she was showing him out. "His life's in jeopardy if you don't. You understand me?"

  "Yes, Dr. de Forest. I will."

  When she came back Samuel took her hand and smiled. "Dr. de Forest is full of ridiculous notions. We won't pay any attention to him, will we?"

  But Amber answered him firmly. "Yes, we will, Samuel. He says it's for your good and we will. We must. Promise me, Samuel—pr
omise you'll do as he says."

  He was obviously embarrassed, but Amber was insistent. She would allow him to do no thing, not the smallest, which might be injurious to his health. And they would be just as happy as before—he must never think that it mattered to her in any way at all. Nothing mattered to her but his safety and well-being. Samuel, deeply touched by this manifestation of tender devotion, could not restrain a few tears. But while she sat beside him and talked and stroked his head Amber was thinking that if she became pregnant now the child would be Lord Carlton's —and if only it happened soon, Samuel would think it his own.

  The next morning he was feeling somewhat better, but Amber insisted that he remain in bed as the doctor had said he should, and much against her will she stayed in the room with him. About one o'clock Jemima came in with her two oldest brothers to say that they were going down to watch Lord Carlton's ships being unloaded.

  "Why don't you go with them, my dear?" Samuel asked Amber. "You've been shut up here with me all day."

  Jemima looked at her anxiously, obviously hoping that she would not come, and though for a moment or two Amber insisted that she could not leave him she allowed herself to be persuaded. But the trip was a disappointment. They had not so much as a word alone together and Bruce was so busy he seemed scarcely aware of her presence. Her only consolation was that Jemima was as much disappointed as she was, and did not conceal it so well.

  He did, however, make each of them a handsome present To Jemima he gave a magnificent length of material which looked as though molten gold had been poured over a piece of silk, and a pattern etched in it by sensitive fingers holding a feather; to Amber he gave an elaborate necklace of topaz and gold. Both gifts had been captured from one of the Dutch ships returning from the East Indies.

  But early the next morning she slipped out of the house in a black cloak and mask and took a hackney to Almsbury House. They spent half an hour in the nursery with the baby and Emily and Almsbury, and then they went back to his apartments.

  "Suppose someone finds out about this," he said.

  Amber was confident. "They won't. Samuel was asleep and Nan was to say I went to have a gown fitted, so I wouldn't have to trouble him with women about in the room." She smiled up at him. "Oh, I'm a marvellously devoted wife, I'll warrant you."

  "You're a hard-hearted little bitch," he said. "I pity the men who love you."

  But she was too happy to get angry about anything, and there was a light in his green eyes as he sat looking at her which would have made her forgive anything. She went over and sat on his lap, putting her arms about his neck and her mouth against his smooth-shaven cheek.

  "But you love me, Bruce—and I've never hurt you. I don't think I could if I tried," she added with a pout.

  He gave a lift of one eyebrow and smiled. He had never indulged in the extravagant compliments which were a fashion among the gallants, and she sometimes wondered jealously if he paid them to other women. Jemima perhaps.

  "What do you think of Jemima?" she asked him now.

  "Why, she's very pretty—and naïve as a Maid of Honour her first week at Court."

  "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 Bruc
e. 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."