Forever Amber

by Kathleen Winsor

  But the next moment the door was pushed open and Susanna stood in it, dressed in a grown-up, green-taffeta gown with the tiny skirt tucked up over a pink petticoat, and her golden glossy hair caught back at one side with a pink bow. She looked at her mother first and then, somewhat bewildered, at the two men, wondering what was wanted of her.

  "Don't you remember your Daddy?" asked Amber.

  Susanna gave him another dubious glance. "But I have a Daddy," she protested politely.

  Charles had told her, when she had said that she had no Daddy, that he would be her Daddy now. And since then she had regarded the King as her father, for she saw him often and he always made a great fuss over her because of her prettiness and his own fondness for children.

  Bruce laughed at that and coming forward he reached down, took hold of her, and swooped her into his arms. "You can't fob me off with any such tale as that, young lady. You may have a new father, but I'm still your first—and it's the first one who counts. Come now—give me a kiss—and if it's nice enough perhaps I'll find a present for you."

  "A present?"

  Susanna's eyes turned big and round and she looked back at her mother, who winked and nodded her head. Without further hesitation she flung her arms about his neck and kissed his cheek resoundingly.

  Almsbury grinned. "Her mother's own child. I see it more every day."

  Amber made him a face, but she was too happy now to take offense at his quips. Bruce carried Susanna to the door, opened it, reached outside and picked up a box, and then putting her down he dropped to his heels beside her. "There," he said. "Open it up and we'll see what's inside."

  Both Amber and Almsbury came up close to see what it was as Susanna, now very self-important, picked up the lid. There lay a beautiful doll, perhaps a foot and a half tall, with light blonde curls done in the latest mode and wearing a fashionable French gown. Packed beside her was a wardrobe containing several more gowns, petticoats and smocks, shoes and gloves and fans and masks, all the paraphernalia of a lady of quality. Susanna, all but delirious with pleasure, kissed him again and again. Then, very carefully, she lifted her treasure from its satin-lined bed and held it in her arms.

  "Oh, Mother!" she cried. "I want to have her in my picture too! Can I?" Susanna was having her portrait painted by Mr. Lely.

  "Of course you can, darling." She glanced at Bruce and found him watching both of them, and though he was faintly smiling there was something moody and almost wistful in his eyes. "It was so kind of you to think of her," she said softly.

  At last, when half an hour or so had passed, Amber glanced at the clock. "It's time for your supper, sweetheart. You must go now, or you'll be late."

  "But I don't want to go! I don't want any supper! I want to stay with my new Daddy!"

  She ran to him where he still knelt on one knee, and he put an arm about her. "I'll come back to see you soon, darling, I promise. But now you must go." He kissed her and then, reluctantly, she made a curtsy to Amber and Almsbury. Primly she walked to the doorway, where, as the nurse held it open for her, she turned and looked around at them.

  "I s'pose it's time to go to bed with my new Daddy now!"

  The nurse hastily covered Susanna's mouth with her handkerchief and hurried her out, closing the door firmly, while the two men burst into laughter. Amber spread her hands and gave a shrug, making a comical little grimace. There was no doubt Susanna had been sent off many times with the excuse that it was time for Mother and Daddy to go to bed. Bruce got to his feet.

  Amber's eyes were on him instantly, questioning, begging.

  Quickly Almsbury took out his watch. "Well—damn me! But I'm late now—I hope you'll excuse me—" Already he was backing from the room.

  But Bruce turned about swiftly. "I'm going with you, John—"

  "Bruce!" Amber gave a little cry of anguish and ran toward him. "You can't go now; Stay just a little—and talk to me—"

  While he stood looking down at her Almsbury went out the door and shut it softly. Bruce glanced back over his shoulder as he heard the sound, hesitated a moment longer and then tossed his hat onto a chair.

  Chapter Sixty-two

  Amber lay on a low cushioned day-bed, her eyes closed, her face serenely peaceful and content. Her hair had come down and fell in tawny masses about her shoulders. Bruce sat on the floor beside her, arms resting on his drawn-up knees, head bent forward to lean on his wrists. He had taken off his periwig, coat and sword, and his wet white-linen shirt clung to his back and arms.

  For a long while they continued silent.

  Finally Amber, not opening her eyes, reached out and put one hand on his, her fingers tender and warm. He raised his head to look at her. His face was moist and flushed. Slowly he smiled, bent his head again and laid his lips on the back of her hand where the blue veins swelled.

  "My darling—" Her voice lingered over the word, caressing it. Then slowly she lifted her lids and looked at him; they smiled, a smile born of recent memories and long acquaintance. "At last you're back again. Oh, Bruce, I've missed you so! Have you missed me too—just a little?"

  "Of course," he said. It was an automatic reply, made as if he thought the question a foolish or unnecessary one.

  "How long will you be here? Are you going to live here now?" She could have been almost grateful for Corinna if she had insisted that they live in England.

  "We'll be here a couple of months, I think. Then we're going to France to buy some furniture and visit my sister. After that we'll go back to Virginia."

  "We." Amber did not like the sound of it. It reminded her again that his life, all his plans, included a woman now—a woman who was not herself. And it hurt her pride that he was taking Corinna to visit his sister for she had asked Almsbury once what kind of woman Mary Carlton was; he had told her that she was very beautiful, proud and haughty—and that she and Amber would not like each other.

  "How d'you like being married?" she challenged him. "You must find it mighty dull—after the gay life you've lived!"

  He smiled again, but now she knew that with every word she said he drew farther away from her. She was scared, but she did not know what she could do. She felt, as always, helpless to contend against him and hold her own. "I don't find it dull at all. In Virginia we have a better opinion of marriage than you do here."

  She rolled her eyes at that and sat up, straightening her bodice around and beginning to fasten it again. "Hey day! How mightily proper you've grown! I vow and swear, Lord Carlton, you're not the same man who left here two years ago!"

  He grinned at her. "I'm not?"

  She looked down at him sharply, then suddenly she was on her knees beside him, held close in his arms. "Oh, my darling, darling—I love you so! I can't stand to know you're married to another woman! I hate her, I despise her, I—"

  "Amber—don't talk that way!" He tried to make a joke of it. "After all, you've been married four times and I've never hated any of your husbands—"

  "Why should you? I didn't love any of them!"

  "Nor the King, either, I suppose?"

  She dropped her eyes at that, momentarily abashed. Then she faced him again. "Not the way I do you— Anyway, he's the King. But you know as well as I do, Bruce, that if you'd let me I'd leave him and the Court and everything I have on earth to follow you anywhere!"

  "What?" he asked her mockingly. "You'd leave all this?"

  As he spoke she realized all of a sudden that he did not consider her position, the luxury and pomp in which she lived, to be of any real worth at all. It was the sharpest disillusionment she had had. For she had expected to brag about it, to impress him with her title, her power, her money, her gorgeous rooms. Instead, he had made her feel that all she had got from life—these things for which she had been willing to make any compromise—were unimportant. Worse, were trash.

  "Yes," she said softly. "Of course I'd leave it." She had an inexplicable feeling of humility and almost of shame.

  "Well, my dear, I wouldn't dream of
asking such a sacrifice of you. You've worked hard for what you have and you deserve to keep it. What's more, you're exactly where you belong. You and Whitehall are as well suited as a bawd and brandy."

  "What do you mean by that!" she cried.

  He shrugged, glanced at the clock and got to his feet. "It's growing late. I've got to go."

  Amber sprang up after him. "You're not going so soon? You haven't been here two hours!"

  "I thought you were engaged for supper."

  "I won't go. I'll send a message I've got the vapours. Oh, stay here with me darling and we'll have supper together! We'll have—"

  "I'm sorry, Amber. I'd like to, but I can't. I'm late now." Her eyes, golden and hard with jealousy, accused him. "Late for what!"

  "My wife is expecting me."

  "Your wife!" An ugly expression crossed her face. "And I suppose you don't dare stay out by so much as half-an-hour or she'll have you by the ear for it! It's mighty strange, Lord Carlton, to see you, of all men, turned Tom Otter!" Tom Otter was the prototype of the hen-pecked husband.

  He was getting into his coat and though he did not look at her his voice was sarcastic. "I'm afraid living in America has put me somewhat behind the fashion." He buckled on his sword, set the periwig on his head and took up his hat. Casually he bowed to her. "Good-night, madame."

  But as he started out of the room she ran after him. "Oh, Bruce! I didn't mean it, I swear I didn't! Please don't be angry with me! When can I see you again? And I want to see Bruce, too. Does he remember me?"

  "Of course he remembers you, Amber. He asked me today when he was going to visit you."

  Suddenly her eyes took on a bright malicious sparkle. "What does Corinna—"

  "Corinna doesn't know that his mother is alive."

  The sparkle went out. "A pretty arrangement," she said sourly.

  "You agreed to it. And please, Amber, if she ever sees you together don't let her find out. I've made it clear to Bruce that he must never mention you."

  "Good Lord! I never heard of anything so ridiculous! Most wives don't have to be pampered and protected so! Why—I give my husband's whore an allowance!"

  He smiled down at her, slowly and with a certain sad and cynical quirk at the corners of his mouth and in his eyes. "But Corinna, my dear, hasn't had the advantages of your education. In fact, until she was married, she lived somewhat retired."

  "You men! Why is it the greatest whoremaster among you always marries some simple little sugar-sop who doesn't know one end of him from the other!"

  "When shall I bring Bruce here?"

  "Why—any time. Tomorrow?"

  "Two o'clock?"

  "Yes. But, Bruce—"

  He bowed to her again and went on, out of the room, while Amber watched him between anger and tears, undecided whether to break something or cry. So she did both.

  They came together the next day at two. The little boy, now eight and a half, was much taller and looked a good deal older than when she had seen him last. His resemblance to his father was stronger than ever. He was not at all like her. He was a very handsome decidedly masculine child with great charm and delightful manners, and it seemed incredible to Amber that he could be her own, born of some brief ecstatic moment so many years ago.

  His face was eager and joyous at seeing her again, but like a gentleman he paused just inside the door, swept off his hat, and bowed very formally. Amber ran forward with a little cry, dropped to her knees and flung her arms about him, kissing him passionately while her throat ached with tears. Abandoning his own manners then he returned her kisses but kept his face turned so that his father could not see the tears in his eyes.

  "Oh, my darling!" cried Amber. "How fine you look! And how tall you've grown—and strong!"

  He gave a surreptitious little sniffle, dashing the tears off his face with the back of one hand. "I've missed you, Mother. England's so far away when you're in America." He grinned at her now, one brown hand on her shoulder. "You look mighty pretty, ma'm."

  She longed to break into sobs, but managed to smile. "Thank you, darling. I hope I'll always look pretty to you."

  "Why don't you come back to America with us? We live in a great house now, in Virginia. There's room enough for all of us and more. Will you come, mother? I'm sure you'd like it better than London—it's mighty nice there, I promise you."

  Amber gave Bruce a quick glance, then kissed the little boy again. "I'm glad you want me to live with you, darling, but I don't think I can. You see, this is where I live."

  He turned now and appealed to his father, with the air of one man stating a practical business proposition to another. "Then why don't we all live here, sir?"

  Bruce dropped down so that his weight rested on his heels and his face was almost on a level with his son's; he put one arm about the boy's waist. "We can't live here, Bruce, because I can't leave the plantation. America is my home. But you may stay here, if you prefer."

  Quick disappointment showed on his face. "Oh, but I don't want to leave you, sir. And I like America." He turned back to Amber. "Will you come visit us someday?"

  "Perhaps," said Amber softly, but she did not dare look at Bruce, and then she jumped to her feet. "Would you like to see your sister—Susanna?"

  Together the three ran downstairs to the nursery where Susanna was being given her dancing-lesson by an exasperated Frenchman, and just as they arrived she was stamping her foot and screaming at him in a rage. She did not remember her brother at first for she had been only two and a half when he went away, but very soon they were chattering excitedly, exchanging news. Amber dismissed the servants and the four of them were left alone.

  Bruce, for all that he seemed so grown-up, could not resist the temptation to brag to his little sister. For he lived in a great new country now, had sailed twice across the ocean, rode his own horse over the plantation with his father, was learning to sail a boat and had shot a wild-turkey just before they left. Susanna was not to be outdone.

  "Pish!" she said scornfully. "What do I care for all that! I have two fathers!"

  Bruce was taken aback for no more than an instant. "That's nothing to me, miss. I have two mothers!"

  "You lie, you rogue!" cried Susanna. Her challenge might have led to an open quarrel, but just at that moment Amber and Bruce interrupted with the suggestion that they all play a game.

  After that she saw Lord Carlton frequently, and he came even when he did not bring the little boy. Usually he stayed no more than an hour or two, but he made no great effort to be secretive and Amber decided that marriage had not changed him as much as she had feared at first.

  At last she grew bold enough to say to him one day: "What if Corinna finds out about us?"

  "I hope she won't."

  "Gossip spreads like the plague here at Whitehall."

  "Then I hope she won't believe it."

  "Won't believe it? Lord, how naïve d'you think she is?"

  "She's not accustomed to London morals. She'll likely think it's malicious talk."

  "But what if she doesn't? What if she asks you?"

  "I won't lie to her." He gave her a quick scowl. "Look here, you little minx, if I find you've been up to any of your tricks I'll—"

  "You'll what?"

  Her eyes sparkled, her mouth smiled. She rolled over on the bed and her arms went about his, crushing her breasts against his shoulder. Their mouths came swiftly together. Corinna no longer existed for either of them.

  As the time went by Amber's confidence increased. For though he said that he loved Corinna she knew that he loved her too. They had shared so much together, there was so much between them, so many memories—those things remained in his heart and they would always remain there, she was sure of that. She began to feel that his wife was merely an inconvenience, a social handicap, and even Corinna's great beauty held less terror for her than it had at first.

  As she had expected, their meetings did not long remain secret. Buckingham, of course, and Arlington too must hav
e known about them from the first—and, though Charles never mentioned it, undoubtedly he did—but all those gentlemen had other matters of greater importance to them than a woman's love-affairs. The ladies of the Court, however, did not.

  Lord and Lady Carlton had been in London less than a month when the Countess of Southesk and Jane Middleton came one morning to pay Amber a visit—and met Bruce just leaving. He bowed to them both, but though Mrs. Middleton gave him her most languishing look and Southesk tried to rally him into conversation, he made his excuses and left them.

  "Oh, by all means, my lord!" gushed Southesk. "Do go along. Lord, I vow and swear no man's reputation is safe if he's coming out of her Grace's chamber before noon!"

  "Your servant, madame," said Bruce, bowing again, and he walked away.

  Middleton's eyes followed him down the corridor, her pink lips pouting. "Lord, but he's handsome! I vow and swear, the person in the world I most admire!"

  "I told you! I told you!" cried Southesk gleefully. "He's her lover! Come, let's in—"

  They found Amber taking a bath in a large marble tub set on a rug in the middle of her bedroom floor. There was asses' milk in the water to cloud it and a white-fox robe was laid across the lower half of the tub, concealing her body from the waist down. The room was crowded with tradespeople all talking at once, and the monkey chattered, the parrot squawked, the dog barked. Just behind her stood the newest addition to her household, a tall blond eunuch, handsome and no more than twenty-five. He was one of the many seamen captured each year by Algerian pirates and castrated to be sold back into Europe where they were bought as household ornaments by the finest ladies.

  "No," Amber was saying, "I won't have it! It's hideous! My God, look at that colour! I could never wear it—"

  "But, madame," protested the mercer, "it's the newest shade —I just got it from Paris. It's called 'constipation.' I vow and swear, madame, it'll be all the fashion."