“That’s a very good idea, my dear. I’ll see the lawyers tomorrow. It’s kind of you to take an interest in my family.”
Amber smiled modestly.
Joseph Cuttle was among the guests they had that night and though Amber had met him before she had not remembered him. He was a tall awkward boy, eighteen years old, with a face which looked unfinished. His manners were clumsy and embarrassed, as though he always wished that he might run away and hide. It was almost ridiculous to think of dainty effervescent little Jemima married to so gauche a creature.
But Amber sought him out and though at first he was desperately uncomfortable she succeeded so well in putting him at his ease that presently he was confiding his troubles to her and begging her to help him. She promised that she would and hinted that Jemima liked him much better than she seemed to but that shyness kept her from showing her feelings. Once she caught Jemima’s eyes on her, surprised and hurt and accusing. It was not long before Jemima, pleading that she had a headache, left the company and went upstairs to her own apartments.
She rushed into Amber’s room early the next morning, while Amber lay drowsily sunk in her feather-mattress, contemplating the tufted satin lining of the tester over her head. She was indulging, as she often did when not quite awake, in a sensual reverie, half memory, half wishful imagining, about herself and Bruce Carlton. She had long since forgiven him for Captain Morgan’s death and did not doubt that he had likewise forgiven her. And, since Jemima had talked about him, she felt that he was closer than he had been, that perhaps she would see him again before so very long. Now Jemima’s appearance jerked her rudely from her voluptuous musing.
“Heavens, Jemima! What’s the matter?” She half sat up.
“Amber! How could you be so civil to that nasty Joseph Cuttle last night!”
“I don’t think he’s nasty at all, Jemima. He’s a good kind-hearted young man, and he adores you.”
“I don’t care! He’s ugly and he’s a fool—and I hate him! And you promised you’d help me!” All at once she began to cry.
“Don’t cry, Jemima,” said Amber, rather crossly. “I’ll help you if I can. But your father told me to talk to him, and I couldn’t very well refuse.”
“You could if you wanted to!” insisted Jemima, wiping the tears from her face. “Lettice says you make him do anything you want—like a tame monkey!”
Amber repressed a burst of laughter at this, but said severely, “Well, Lettice is wrong! And you’d better not say things like that, Jemima! But make yourself easy—I’ll help you all I can.”
Jemima smiled now, for her tears were sudden and light and left no traces. “Oh, thank you! I knew you wouldn’t turn against me! And when Lord Carlton comes—you will help me then, won’t you?”
“Yes, Jemima, of course. Every way I can.”
Amber, crossing the front courtyard to get into her coach, stopped suddenly and stared at another coach which was standing there. It was Almsbury’s. And since it was not likely the Earl could have any business with Samuel, it must mean that Bruce was back. He was there, at that very moment, inside with Samuel!
For an instant she stood, stunned, staring at the crest; and then without a word she whirled and ran back across the courtyard. She had been in Samuel’s offices no more than three or four times and the various men working there looked at her in some surprise and curiosity as she rushed through the outer rooms toward his private office. Without stopping for an instant to decide what she would say or do, to try to gather her composure, she flung open the door.
The room was large and handsomely furnished with carved oak tables and chairs and stools, dark rich velvet hangings, panelled walls, and numerous candles burning in brass sconces. Samuel and Lord Carlton stood before a great framed map of the New World, and though Samuel was facing her Bruce had his back turned. He had on one of the new cassock-coats, made of dark-green-and-gold brocade and reaching to his knees, with a broad twisted satin sash about the waist and a belt slung from one shoulder to hold his sword. A broad-brimmed hat was on his head and he wore a periwig which was not, however, much different in appearance from his own hair; only the fops wore the long extravagantly-curled wigs.
Even from the back he looked different to her from any other man, and her heart was beating so violently she was almost stifled. I’m going to faint! she thought desperately. I’m going to do something terrible and make a fool of myself!
“Oh, I’m sorry, Samuel,” she said, still standing in the opened doorway and holding to the knob. “I thought you were alone.”
“Come in, my dear. This is Lord Carlton, of whom you’ve heard me speak. My lord, may I present my wife?”
Bruce turned and looked at her and his eyes showed first surprise and then amusement. You—he seemed to say—of all people. You, married to a respectable rich old merchant. And she saw too that he had not forgotten their last parting, made in anger and tragedy.
But he merely took off his hat and bowed to her gravely. “Your servant, madame.”
“Lord Carlton is just returned from America with his ships —and several others, as well,” Samuel added with a smile, for the merchants were proud of the privateers, and grateful to them.
“How fine,” said Amber nervously, and she had a terrible feeling that she was going to fall apart, collapse in little pieces from head to toe. “I just came to tell you, Samuel”—she spoke rapidly—“that I won’t be home in time for dinner. I’ve got a call to make.” She gave Carlton a swift uncertain glance. “Why don’t you come to supper this evening, Lord Carlton? I’m sure you must have a great many exciting tales to tell of your adventures at sea.”
He bowed again, smiling. “I don’t believe sea-going stories hold much interest for ladies, but I shall be very glad to come, Mrs. Dangerfield. Thank you.”
Amber gave them both an abrupt smile, curtsied, and went out in a rush of taffeta petticoats; the door banged noisily behind her. She ran back across the courtyard as if afraid that her legs would not carry her all the way to the coach. She climbed in, dropped down onto the seat, and closed her eyes.
Excitedly Nan seized her hand. “Is he there, mam?”
“Yes,” she whispered weakly. “He’s there.”
Half an hour later she was at Almsbury House and Emily was greeting her with eager enthusiasm. Together they started upstairs toward the nursery.
“How kind of you to call! We’ve been in town less than a fortnight and we tried to find you but at the Theatre they could only tell us you’d married, but didn’t know where you were living. Lord Carlton is here with us—”
“Yes, I know. I just saw him at my husband’s office. Do you think he’ll come back here for dinner?”
“I don’t know. I believe that he and John were to meet somewhere at one.”
They had reached the nursery and found the children having their porridge. Amber’s disappointment over the prospect of missing Bruce was partly eased by her reunion with her son, whom she had not seen since the previous September. He was an extraordinarily beautiful child, healthy and happy and friendly, with dark waving hair and green eyes. She picked him up in her arms, laughing gaily when he kissed her and got cream on her cheeks and mouth and tangled his spoon in her curls.
“Daddy’s here too, Mother!” he announced loudly. “Aunt Emily brought me all the way to London to see him!”
“Oh,” said Amber, a little jealous resentment pricking at her. “You knew he was coming?”
“He wrote to John,” explained Emily. “He wanted to see the baby.”
“He isn’t married, is he?”
It was the one question she dreaded to ask, each time he came back, though she could not imagine whom a man could find to marry in that barbarous empty land across the ocean.
“No,” said Emily.
Amber sat down on the floor with Bruce and a fat barking spotted puppy which belonged to him, while Emily’s two sons came to join them. Between playing with the puppy and talking to her son, she managed to ask Emily some questions.
“How long is he going to stay this time?”
“A month or so, I believe. He’s going to volunteer his ships for the war.”
“The war! It hasn’t begun yet, has it?”
“Not yet, but soon, I believe. At least that’s what they’re saying at Court.”
“But what’s he going to do that for? He might lose them all—”
Emily looked faintly surprised. “Why, he wants to. England needs every ship and every experienced seaman she can get. Many privateers will do the same thing—”
At just that moment Bruce came through the opened doorway and walked toward them. While Amber sat speechless and helpless, the baby broke out of her arms and ran to his father, who swung him up onto one shoulder. He was standing above her now, looking down and smiling.
“I thought I might find you here.”