Forever Amber

by Kathleen Winsor

  "What the devil is she about?" asked Amber. "She hasn't got a shilling!"

  But she thought that she knew well enough. The old jade was spending her money. If she had not been so intensely preoccupied with Bruce and her interests at Court she would not have let the Baroness continue her spending spree for even two days—but as it was she let her go ahead and was relieved not to be troubled by her. One of these days, she promised herself, I'll pluck a crow with that woman. But Lady Stanhope sought her out first.

  Amber was never awake before nine o'clock—for it was late when she returned from the Palace—and by that time Bruce was always gone. She would sip her morning cup of chocolate, get into a dressing-gown and go to see the children. From ten until noon she spent getting dressed. It took that long, partly because painting her face and having her hair arranged and getting into her clothes was a complicated process, but also because she admitted great numbers of those mercers and jewellers and perfumers who flocked to the anterooms of the rich and noble. No one was ever turned away from her door.

  She liked the noise and confusion, the sense of importance

  it gave her to be great enough that she should be so pestered, and she liked to buy things. If the material was beautiful she could always order a new gown; if the setting was unusual or extravagant she could always find use for a new necklace or bracelet; if it had come from far away or was said to be very rare or if it merely caught her fancy she never refused another vase or table or gold-framed mirror. Her prodigality was well known among the tradesmen and before noon her apartments were almost as crowded as the courtyard of the Royal Exchange.

  She would sit at her dressing-table wearing a loose gown, a pair of mules hanging on the tips of her toes, while Monsieur Durand arranged her hair. Nan Britton had advanced quite beyond such tasks. She was now waiting-woman to a countess and had no duties but to dress handsomely, always look her best, and accompany her mistress wherever she went. And, like most waiting-women of fashionable ladies, she had her coterie of lovers—many of them the same lords and fops who circulated among the ladies themselves. Nan enjoyed her life with all the gusto and enthusiasm she brought to everything she did —though it was a triumph and success she had never expected, for which she would have made no effort herself.

  The tradesmen and women hovered in a buzzing circle about Amber, thrusting first this and then that beneath her nose. "Pray, look at these gloves, madame—and smell them. But place them to the nose and you'll never have another scent. Is it not exquisite?"

  Amber smelled. "Neroli, isn't it? My favourite scent. I'll take a dozen pairs." She whisked a tiny brush over her curved black brows, smoothing them and taking off the specks of powder.

  "I've been saving this length for you, madame. Feel that nap, as deep as anything ever woven. And the colour—it becomes your Ladyship to a miracle. See how it matches your eyes!— as near as anything could. And let me add, madame," leaning close and whispering, "the Countess of Shrewsbury saw it the other day and was mightily taken with it. But I told her it was already gone. I could see it for no one but you, madame."

  "I'll have to take it now, won't I, you crafty knave?" She slid a pair of diamond drops into her ears. "But it is beautiful. I'm glad you saved it for me—and don't forget me when your next shipment comes in. Nan, give him the money, will you?"

  "Madame, I beg of you, take this bracelet into your hand. See how it strikes the light—how it flashes like fire? Finer stones were never mined. And let me tell you—though it's worth five hundred pound and more—I'll give it to your Ladyship at a great loss to myself, only for the honour of having my work upon your Ladyship's arm. Though anyone else would demand at the very least five hundred pound—I'll give it to your Ladyship for but one hundred and fifty."

  Amber laughed, holding the bracelet in her hand and admiring it. "At that price how can I afford not to have it? Leave it then. I'll buy it." She tossed it onto the dressing-table amid the heap of boxes and jars and bottles, letters, fans, ribbons. "But send me a bill—I never keep such sums on hand."

  "S'il vous plaît, madame—" It was Monsieur Durand's agonized voice. "I beg of you, do not move about so much! First this way and then that. I can accomplish nothing! Mort Dieu, madame!"

  "I'm sorry, Durand. What've you got there, Johnson?"

  It went on morning after morning, this daily fair, offering entertainment and profit for all, and Amber gave them at least as good a show as she got. Fiddlers were almost always in the room, playing the latest ballads or the newest tune from a play. Half-a-dozen maids came and went. Tansy strolled among them and sometimes made a request for himself; he had grown inordinately vain of his clothes and Amber dressed him at great expense, though he still refused to put on a shoe which was not worn out. The King had given her a spaniel puppy which she called Monsieur le Chien and he nosed at everyone, snapping and barking at whoever had not been previously identified.

  Amber was thus occupied one morning when a little page entered the room and came to her. "Madame, the Baroness Stanhope to wait upon you."

  Amber rolled her eyes impatiently. "Hell and furies!" she muttered, and looked around over her shoulder just as her Ladyship entered the room. Then her eyes opened wide in amazement, and it was a moment before she could gather her wits enough to stand and welcome her mother-in-law.

  Lucilla was now so different a woman as to be scarcely recognizable. Her head was as golden as Susanna's, curled in the latest fashion and decorated with ribbons and flowers and a twisted strand of pearls. Her face was painted like the face of a China doll and there were evidently "plumpers" in her cheeks to keep them firm and round. Her gown—made of pearl-grey satin over a fuchsia-coloured petticoat—looked as though it had been turned out by deft French fingers and the busk she wore beneath it narrowed her waist and thrust her breasts high above the neckline. There was a string of pearls about her neck, diamond pendants swinging from her ears, half a dozen bracelets on her wrists, and rings on three fingers of each hand. All of them had a wicked glitter that looked both genuine and expensive. She had become, in just a fortnight, a very elegant lady of fashion, somewhat over-ripe, but still inviting enough.

  My God! thought Amber. Look at that old bawd.

  The two women embraced, casually, but Lady Stanhope had seen the surprise on Amber's face and she looked at her triumphantly as though now demanding, not giving, admiration. But after the first shock of seeing how she had changed, Amber's horrified thought was that all this had been accomplished on her money. The Stanhopes, she knew, had lost their one small source of income when their tenements had burned in the Fire.

  "You must forgive my rudeness, Madame," began Lucilla immediately. "I'd have called sooner but I've been so furiously busy!" She paused, somewhat breathless, to fan herself. Though she thought it must be envy in her daughter-in-law's eyes she could not but be conscious for all her finery and dyed hair and false curls that she would never be three-and-twenty again and that the years between had been long and stubborn.

  "Oh, it's I who should have called on you, madame," protested Amber politely, trying to count up in her head the number of pounds sterling she saw represented in Lady Stanhope's ensemble; and the higher that total amounted the angrier she became. But she smiled and asked her to be seated while she finished her toilet and then, as Lady Stanhope caught sight of a length of blue velvet, Amber quickly told the tradespeople that it was time for them to go.

  "Come to my apartments tomorrow morning," said Lucilla with a wave of her hand, and the man took up his velvet and left with the others.

  Amber sat down to stick on her patches while Lucilla panted, obviously uncomfortable in her too-tight corset. "Heavens!" said her Ladyship, crossing her small feet and cocking her head on one side to admire them. "You wouldn't believe how taken up with business I've been this fortnight! I've a great acquaintance here in town, you know, and everyone must see me at once! Provoking creatures! I've been most horribly towsed." She put one hand to her head, preening.
"I've scarcely seen Gerry at all. Pray tell me, how has my dear boy been?"

  "Very well, I think, madame," replied Amber, too angry over the thought of her hard-gotten money going to decorate this old woman to be able to pay much attention to what was being said.

  Now she got up, crossed the room and went behind a magnificent blue-lacquered Chinese screen, beckoning one of the women to bring her gown. Monsieur le Chien was nosing curiously about Lucilla's shoes and yapping from time to time, not at all intimidated by the sharp looks she gave him. Only Amber's head and shoulders could be seen now and while she was not looking Lucilla's eyes studied her, slightly narrowed, hard and critical and disapproving. But as Amber glanced suddenly across at her she smiled, a quick and guilty smile.

  "It's strange I never see Gerry in the mornings. At home he always called on me each day before he did anything else. He's always been the most devoted child a mother could want. He must go abroad very early." She spoke rapidly, looking at Amber as though she expected her to lie.

  "Why, as far as I remember," said Amber, sucking in her stomach while the maid jerked tighter the strings of her busk, "he hasn't been here at all since the day you arrived."

  "What!" cried Lady Stanhope, as horrified as though she had heard that her son was under arrest for picking pockets. "Doesn't he sleep with you!"

  "Tighter," muttered Amber to the maid. "It's got to be tighter." Her waist was growing larger but she intended to lace it in just as long as she could. Far more than the agony of labour she hated the months of being misshapen, and this time more than ever, for Bruce was here and she wanted desperately to look her best. Then she replied, casually, "Oh, yes. He has." He had, in fact, just three times, and Amber had permitted that only because the King hoped to make him think that the child was his own.

  "Well!" Lady Stanhope fanned herself harder than ever and her face flushed, as it always did at the slightest hint of nervousness or embarrassment or anger. "I never heard of such a thing! A man not sleeping with his wife! It's— Why, it's immoral! I'll take a course with him about this, my dear! I'll see he doesn't neglect you any more!"

  Amber gave her an amused lazy smile over the top of the screen and bent slightly, stepping into first one petticoat and then another. "Don't trouble yourself, madame. His Lordship and I like the arrangement as it is. The young men have a great deal of business nowadays, you know—going to theatres and taverns, drinking till midnight and scouring about the streets afterward. It keeps 'em well occupied, I assure you."

  "Oh, but Gerry doesn't live that kind of life, I'm sure of it! He's a good quiet boy, you may believe me, madame. If he doesn't come here it must be he's of the opinion he isn't wanted!"

  Amber swung about and looked directly at her mother-in-law, her eyes cool and with a malicious slant at the corners. "I'm sure I can't think where he could have got such a notion as that, madame. What's o'clock, Nan?"

  "Almost half-after-twelve, your Ladyship."

  "Oh, Lord!" Amber stepped out from behind the screen, fully dressed now, and a maid handed her her fan and muff while another came to set the cloak on her shoulders. She picked up her gloves and began pulling them on. "I have a sitting with Mr. Lely at one! I must beg to be excused, madame. Mr. Lely is so furiously in demand he cannot stay a moment for anyone. If I'm late I'll lose my turn and he has the portrait half done."

  Lady Stanhope got to her feet. "I was just going abroad myself. I'm engaged to dine with Lady Clifford and then we're going to the play. One never has a moment to oneself in town." The two countesses started out of the room, walking side by side, followed by Nan and Tansy and Monsieur le Chien. Lucilla gave Amber an arch sidewise glance. "I suppose you knew that Lord Carlton is a guest in the house?"

  Amber looked at her sharply. What did she mean by that? Was it possible she had heard gossip about them? But they'd been very discreet—always entering and leaving by their own doors, paying each other no undue attentions in public. Her heart hammering hard, Amber tried to give her an off-hand answer.

  "Oh, yes. I know. He's an old friend of the Earl."

  "I think he's fascinating! They say every woman at Court is mad in love with him! And have you heard? They say he's one of my Lady Castlemaine's lovers—but of course they say that about everyone." She rambled on, for she always talked as if she had more to say than time would allow, but Amber was conscious only of relief. Evidently she knew nothing—she just wanted to prattle. "But to think of the venturesome life he's led—soldier-of-fortune, privateer, and now a planter! I've heard he's one of the richest men in England—and of course his family's most distinguished. It was Marjorie Bruce, you know, who was the mother of the first Stuart King of Scotland, and that's his family. And his wife, they say, is a great beauty—"

  "Everyone's a great beauty with a portion of ten thousand pound!" snapped Amber.

  "Well," said Lucilla. "He's a fine person, I vow and swear. He's everything in the world that I admire."

  Amber bowed to her. "Good-day, madame."

  She walked off, down the stairs, seething inside, furious and hurt. Oh, I can't stand it! she thought wildly. I can't stand knowing he's married to that woman! I hate her, I hate her, I hate her! I hope she dies! Suddenly she stopped, catching her breath. Maybe she will. She began to walk on, her eyes glowing. Maybe she will die, over there with all those sicknesses— maybe she will— She had completely forgotten her grievances against the Baroness for spending her money.

  The next night she and Bruce came home from Whitehall together. He had completed the most urgent part of his business and was beginning to go there in the evenings to gamble and talk. They climbed the stairs, laughing over the current story that Buckingham, still in hiding, had been arrested for rioting in the streets and locked up and then released again without being recognized. Outside her rooms they parted.

  "Don't be long, darling," she whispered.

  She came into her own drawing-room still smiling, but the smile froze unpleasantly as she found Gerald and his mother sitting there, before her fireplace.

  "Well!" She swung the door shut.

  Gerald got to his feet. He looked wretchedly unhappy and Amber knew that coming here had not been his idea. The Dowager Baroness gave her a languid look over her bare shoulder, then stood up and made just the suggestion of a curtsy. Amber did not return it, but she came on into the room, glancing from one to the other.

  "I didn't expect to find you here," she said to Gerald, who immediately cleared his throat and stuck a finger into the high close-fitting cravat about his neck. He tried to smile, but nervousness made his face break into little pieces.

  "I just came to talk to Gerry while he was waiting for you to return," interposed his mother hastily. "I'll be going along now and leave you two young people together. Your servant, madame. Good-night, Gerry dear." As Gerald obediently kissed his mother's cheek Amber saw her give him an admonitory but encouraging pat on the arm.

  With a triumphant flaunting little smile she left the room, her long train swishing after her, making a definite sound in the stillness, and all at once a clock began to chime. Amber did not watch her go but kept her eyes on Gerald, and as she heard the door close she tossed her muff and gloves to Tansy and waved him off. Monsieur le Chien was prancing and barking at Gerald, for he had seen him but seldom and was not sure he belonged there.

  "Well," repeated Amber again, and walked to the fire to warm her hands.

  "Eh, bien, madame," said Gerald. "Here I am. And after all"—suddenly he straightened his shoulders and faced her defiantly—"why shouldn't I be here? I'm your husband, madame." It sounded like what Mother had told him to say.

  "Of course," agreed Amber. "Why shouldn't you?" Then all at once she put one hand to her stomach and, with a little groan, dropped onto the settee.

  Gerald started. "Good God, madame! What is it? Is something amiss with you?" He turned and would have run out. "I'll fetch someone—"

  But Amber stopped him. "No, Gerald. It's nothing. It's just that
I'm with child, I think—I didn't want to tell you until I knew for sure—"

  He looked delighted, amazed, as though this had happened to no man before him. "Already? My God! I can't believe it! But, Lord! I hope it's true!" She had surprised him out of all his airs and French grimaces; he was merely a frightened pleased English country boy.

  Amber was amused, thinking him a complete dolt. "I hope so too, my lord. But you know how a woman is in this circumstance."

  "No—I don't. I—I never thought about it before. Are you better now? Can I get something for you? A pillow for your head?"

  "No, Gerald, thanks. I just want to be let alone—I— Well, to tell you truly I'd rather sleep by myself—if you don't mind—"

  "Oh, but of course, madame. I didn't know—I didn't realize. I'm sorry—" He started to back away. "If there's ever anything you want—anything I can do—"

  "Thanks, Gerald. I'll let you know."

  "And I wonder, madame—may I call sometimes—just to see how you're doing?"

  "Of course, my lord. Whenever you like. Good-night."

  "Good-night, madame." He hesitated, plainly wishing that he could think of something appropriate to say on this occasion, and then with a helpless little laugh he repeated, "Well, good-night," and was gone.

  Amber shook her head and made a face; then got up and went into the bedroom. Nan gave a questioning lift of her eyebrows, to which Amber replied with pantomime gestures that sent them both into hilarious laughter. The two women were alone in the room, chattering and giggling together, Amber now in smock and busk and a froth of lacy petticoats. When Bruce knocked at the door she called out for him to come in.

  He had removed his periwig, coat and vest and sword, and his white shirt was opened. "Still undressing?" he asked her with a smile. "I've written two letters." He stopped at a table and poured himself a tall glass of brandy and water. "It's always seemed to me that women would gain five years of their lives if they'd wear simpler clothes."