Kathleen Winsor - Forever Amber

Amber had taken off her gown and stood yawning and stretching in her puff-sleeved smock and frilly petticoats, when a low knock sounded at the door. Both of them started and then looked at each other, and Amber waited tensely as Nan crossed the room and flung back the bolt. Can it be-can it-It was Captain Morgan who stood there, his long riding-cloak thrown across his shoulder, his hat pulled low. He looked in and his eyes met hers, pleading, his expression that of a small boy who has run away and now returns to his home. Instantly forgetting that she had hoped it might be the King’s messenger, Amber ran to him with her arms outstretched.

“Rex!”

“Amber!” He swung her up off the floor, kissing her face again and again, and at last he gave a kind of sobbing exultant laugh. “Oh, my God! I’m glad to see you!” He put her onto her feet again but kept her in his arms, stroking her head, running his hands eagerly over her back. “Jesus, darling! I couldn’t stay away any longer! I love you—oh, God, I love you so much!”

There were tears in his eyes and from behind them came Nan’s surreptitious snifHe as she stood and watched them, smiling and crying at the same time. They both turned to look at her and suddenly all three of them began to laugh.

“Come in, Rex darling! Close the door. Oh, how sweet of you to come back! Why- Have you been waiting outside for the others to leave?”

He smiled, gave a nod.

“But you knew them all! Why didn’t you just come in! Lord, it’s bitter-cold out there!”

He hesitated. “Well-I wasn’t sure you.’d-let me in.”

“Oh, Rex!”

Suddenly and thoroughly ashamed Of herself Amber stood staring at him, fully aware for the first time how kind and generous and good he had been to her, and great tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Here, darling! What are you crying for, you little minx? This is a night for celebrating! Look at this-” He reached into his pocket and drew out a jeweller’s box, holding it toward her.

Slowly Amber took it from him and as she opened it Nan edged forward so that she could see too. As she lifted the lid both women gave a cry of astonished delight: there was a great topaz stone set in a golden heart, depending from a heavy golden chain. She looked up at him, doubtfully, for it must have cost a great deal. “Oh, Rex!” she said softly. “It’s beautiful—but—”

He gave a wave of his hand, dismissing her objections. “I had a run of luck with the dice not long ago. And here, Mrs. Nan, is something for you.”

Nan opened the box he handed her to find a pair of gold ear-rings set with tiny pearls. She gave a little scream of pleasure and jumped up to kiss him on the cheek-for he was at least a foot taller than she-and then quickly recovering herself she blushed and curtsied and turned in confusion to run into the bedroom.

“Hey!” called Rex. “Just a moment there, Mrs. Nan! Your mistress and I have a fancy to that place.” He swung Amber up in his arms and started toward it. “You’ll have to sleep out here tonight, sweetheart. This is a very special occasion.”

The months began to go by swiftly, for she was happy and popular and thought herself very famous. The winter was unusually cold and through December, January and February there were hard frosts with much snow and ice, but at last the frost broke and there came the slush and mud and the new green buds of spring. Killigrew had put her into leading parts again, and she was very busy with her singing and dancing and guitar lessons.

When they played at Court or when he came to the Theatre Amber saw King Charles, and though he sometimes smiled at her, that was all. She heard the gossip that he was less interested in Castlemaine than he had been and was now engrossed in lovely Frances Stewart, though so far, they said, he had not succeeded in overcoming her scruples. Some thought that Mrs. Stewart was a fool and others that she was very clever, but there was no doubt she had captured the fickle heart of the King, and that was distinction enough in itself. Amber did not care whom he fell in love with if only Barbara Palmer lost by it.

In the middle of February Amber found herself pregnant again. And though she hesitated for some time, not telling Rex but arguing with herself as to whether or not she should marry him, in the end she went to Mrs. Fagg and had an abortion. This time it took more than a pot of herbs and a ride in a hackney and made her so sick that she had to spend most of a week in bed. Rex was wild with anger and fear when he found what she had done and begged her to marry him immediately.

“Why won’t you, Amber? You say you love me—”

“I do love you, Rex, but—”

“But what?”

“Well, what if Luke—”

“He’ll never come back and you know it as well as I do! Even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. I could either kill him or get someone at Court to have the marriage annulled. What is it, Amber? Sometimes I think you put me off in hopes the King will send for you again. Is that it?”

She was sitting half propped up in bed, pale and sick and discouraged, staring at nothing. “No, Rex, that’s not it. You know it isn’t.”

She was lying, for she did still hope, but nevertheless she was almost convinced that if she did not marry Rex Morgan now she would regret it in the future. What did it matter if she left the stage? She had been playing for a year and a half and could not see that she had got anything by it. Her nineteenth birthday was less than a month away and she felt that the time was passing rapidly, leaving her in a backwash. And it was true, as she had said, that she loved him, though she could never quite force from her heart the memory of Lord Carlton or her ambitions for a more glorious and exciting life.

“Let me think about it, Rex—just a little longer.”

Her son was to be two years old on the 5th of April and, because she would not be free that day, Amber planned instead to go out on the 1st and take him the gifts she had bought. Rex left at seven while it was still dark outside, and the eaves dripped with rain that had fallen during the night.

He kissed her tenderly. “Twelve hours until I’ll see you again. Have a good trip, darling, and give the little fellow a kiss for me.”

“Why, Rex! Thank you!” Amber’s eyes sparkled with pleasure, for usually Rex ignored her trips as he wanted to ignore the fact that she had a child; but since she had almost agreed to marry him he had evidently decided that he must reconcile himself to his step-son. “I’ll bring one back from him to you!”

He kissed her again, gave a wave of his hand to Nan Britton, and was gone. Amber closed the door softly, leaning back against it for a moment, smiling. “I think I’ll marry him, Nan,” she said at last.

“Lord, mam, you should! A finer, kinder gentleman never lived—it makes my heart ache to see how he loves you. You’d be happy, mam, I know you would.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I suppose I would be happy. But—”

“But what?”

“But that’s all I’d be.”

Nan stared at her, shocked and uncomprehending. “Good God, mam! What else d’ye want?”

It was not long before the singing-master arrived, and after him came the dancing-master to put her through the steps of the minuet—a new French dance which everyone was busily learning. Meanwhile Jeremiah trudged again and again through the parlour carrying buckets of hot water to pour into the wooden tub in the bedroom for her bath.

Nan washed her hair and rubbed it almost dry, piling it on top of her head where she secured it with half-a-dozen bodkins. It was now close to ten and at last the sun had come out, for the first time in many days, so that where she sat in her tub the warmth fell across her bare shoulders and filled her with pleasure. She felt, as she usually did, that it was a wonderful thing to be alive, and was urging herself to leave the soapy luxury of her bath when there was a knock at the door.

“I’m not home,” called Amber after Nan. She had no intention of having her plans for this day disturbed, for anyone at all.

Nan returned a moment later. “It’s my lord Almsbury, mam.”

“Oh. Well, bring ’im in then.” Almsbury had not stayed long in town the last autumn but had recently come again for the spring session of Parliament and he visited her frequently—though he had given her no more money. But Amber did not care, for she was very fond of him. “Is he alone?”

“No, there’s another gentleman with him.” Nan rolled her eyes, but Nan was easily impressed by men.

“Have ’em wait in the parlour—I’ll be out in a trice.”

She stood and began to dry herself with a towel. From the other room came the low sound of the men’s voices; occasionally Nan giggled or burst into a peal of delighted laughter. Amber slipped into a green satin dressing-gown, took the bodkins out of her still slightly damp hair and ran a comb through it, stuck her feet into a pair of golden mules and started out. But she turned back again. After all—he might have someone of some consequence with him. She patted a little powder over her face, touched a perfume stopper to her wrists and throat, and smoothed some carmine into her lips. Then, pulling the neckline apart to show her breasts, she went to the door and opened it.

Almsbury stood before the fireplace and leaning against the mantel, smiling down at Nan, was Bruce Carlton.

HE RAISED HIS head quickly as she came in and their eyes met. Amber stood perfectly still, one arm braced against the doorjamb, staring at him. She felt her head begin to whirl and her heart to pound and she was suddenly paralyzed, unable to move or speak. He bowed to her then but Amber merely stood and trembled, cursing herself for a fool, but utterly helpless.