“Hey day!” said Amber. “Where’s this wonder to be seen?”

Jemima grew wistful at that. “Not here—not in London. At least not now—but I hope he’ll be back one day soon. I’ve been waiting for him for thirteen months and a week—and I’ll never love another man till he returns.”

Amber was amused, for Jemima’s enthusiasm seemed quite childish to her, considering that the girl did not guess what the primary business of love was about. Naive kisses and queer feelings were the limit of her experience. “Well, Jemima, I hope he comes back to you. Does he know you’re waiting?”

“Oh, no. I suppose he scarce knows I’m alive. I’ve only seen him twice—he was here one night for supper and another time I went down with Sam and Bob to see his ships, just before he sailed for America.”

“Sailed for America! Who is this man! What’s his name!”

Jemima looked at her in surprise. “If I tell you will you promise not to tell a soul? They’d all laugh at me. He’s a nobleman—Lord Carlton—Oh! What’s the matter? Do you know him?”

It was like a smack in the face with cold water, rude and shocking, and it made her angry because it scared her. But why should it? she thought, annoyed by her own uneasy lack of confidence. This girl can’t mean anything to him—Why, she’s just a child. Besides, she’s not half as pretty as I am—Or is she? Amber’s eyes were going swiftly over her step-daughter’s face—seeing there now a threat to her own happiness. Don’t be such a fool! she told herself wrathfully. Do you want her to guess—Only seconds had passed before she managed to answer, with a show of casualness:

“Why, I think I met him once at the Theatre. But how d’you come to be entertaining a lord and visiting his ships?”

“He does some business with Father—I don’t know just what.”

Amber lifted her eyebrows. “Samuel doing business with a pirate?”

“But he’s not a pirate! He’s a privateer—and there’s a world of difference between ’em. It’s the privateers we have to thank for keeping England on the seas—his Majesty’s navy won’t do it!”

“You talk like a merchant yourself, Jemima,” said Amber tartly, but brought herself up with another quick warning. “Well—” She contrived a smile. “So you’re in love with a nobleman. Then I hope for your sake he’ll come back to England soon.”

“Oh, I hope so too! I’d give anything to see him again! D‘you know—” she said with sudden confiding shyness, “last Hallowe’ en Anne and Jane and I baked a dumb-cake. Anne dreamed that night about William Twopeny—and now she’s married to him! And I dreamed about Lord Carlton! Oh, Amber, do you think he could ever fall in love with me? Do you think he’d ever marry me?”

“Why not!” snapped Amber. “You should have a big enough dowry!” The instant she heard the words she was furious with herself and quickly added, “That’s what men always think about, you know.”

In less than an hour she broke her promise to Jemima, for Samuel came in and she could not resist the temptation to speak to him of Bruce, though she began by saying innocently, “I heard today in the ’Change that the Dutch have told his Majesty their fleet is only to defend their fishing trade, and that he’s angry they should think he’s stupid enough to believe it.”

Samuel, who was putting off his outer clothes, laughed at that. “What a ridiculous lie! The Dutch fleet is for just one purpose—to run England off the seas. They’ve captured our ships, beaten our men in the East Indies, hung the St. George under their own flag, granted letters-of-marque against us, and done everything but dare us to fight them.”

“But we’ve been granting letters against them too, ever since the King came back, haven’t we?”

“If we have it’s not supposed to be known—the letters were mostly against the Spanish, though I don’t doubt that Dutchmen have been stopped too. Which is no better than they deserve. But how does it happen you know so much of our politics, my dear?” He seemed tenderly amused to hear his wife discussing serious matters.

“I’ve been talking to Jemima.”

“To Jemima? Well, I suppose she has the latest news at her finger-tips.”

“When it concerns privateers she does. She says you do business with ’em.”

“I do, with three or four. But I never knew Jemima to be very much interested in my business affairs.” He smiled as he stood before her, hands in his pockets while his eyes ran over her admiringly.

“It isn’t your business she’s interested in so much as the privateers.”

“Oh, so that’s it, is it? The little minx. Well—I suppose she thinks she’s in love with Lord Carlton.”

“How did you guess?”

“It wasn’t very difficult. He was here for supper once about a year ago. She could hardly eat a bite and talked about nothing else for days. Well, she’d better get him out of her head.”

“She says she’s waiting for him to come back.”

“Nonsense! He doesn’t know she’s on earth! His family’s one of the oldest in England and he’s made himself enormously rich privateering. He’s not interested in marrying some upstart merchant’s daughter.”

Samuel had no illusions about his social relationship to the aristocracy. His family was a new one, just come into power and wealth during the last two generations, and he had no snobbish ambition to buy his way into the peerage—as some men he knew were doing—at the price of his own self-respect.

“I wouldn’t want her to marry Lord Carlton if he’d have her. As a man, I like and admire him, but as a husband for my daughter—I wouldn’t consider it even if he wanted to marry her, which I know he doesn’t. No, Jemima’s going to marry Joseph Cuttle and she may as well get such ridiculous notions out of her head. The Cuttles and I have done business together for years and it’s a suitable marriage for her in every respect. I’ll speak to her directly about such nonsense.”

“Oh, please, Samuel—don’t do that! I promised her I wouldn’t tell you. But of course I thought you should know. Why not let me talk to her?”

“I wish you would, my dear. She has more respect for your opinion than for anyone’s.” He smiled and offered her his arm. “I don’t want to force her, and yet I know that it’s best for her and for all of us. The boy is young, but he’s very fond of her and is a quiet hard-working lad, exactly the kind of man she should marry.”

“Of course she should! But young girls have such silly ideas about men—” They started out of the room and Amber asked casually, “By the way, Samuel, is Lord Carlton coming to London soon?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Oh, I was only thinking that the contract should be signed before she sees him again—or heaven only knows what foolishness she might do.”

“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!