Kathleen Winsor - Forever Amber

Amber’s lip curled and she repeated the words, mimicking her with cruel accuracy. “He’s handsome and he’s fascinating and he’s a gentleman—and you love him! Hoity-toity! And if you’re not mighty careful you’ll find that your maidenhead is missing!”

“I don’t believe you! Lord Carlton isn’t like that at all! Besides, Carter is going along!”

“She’d better! And see that she stays along, too!”

She was now so angry that, in spite of Nan’s frantic nudges and grimaces, she might have gone on to say much more, but the knocker clattered and the footman who answered it admitted Bruce. He swept off his hat to both of them, and his eyes glittered with amusement to find Amber and her step-daughter so obviously engaged in a quarrel.

Damn him! thought Amber. Men always think they’re so superior!

“This is a pleasant surprise, Mrs. Dangerfield,” he said now. “I hadn’t expected to have your company too.”

“Oh, Madame isn’t coming!” said Jemima hastily. “She’s just returned from a drive!”

“Oh,” said Bruce softly. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dangerfield. I’d have enjoyed having you with us.”

Amber’s eyes stared at him, hard and shining and slanting like a cat’s. “Would you, Lord Carlton?”

And she turned and ran up the stairs, but as she heard the door close behind them she stopped abruptly on the balcony above, swirling about to look down. They were gone. Suddenly she raised her arm and threw her fan as hard as she could at the floor below. She had not realized that anyone was about, but at that moment a footman appeared and looked up in some surprise; her eyes met his for an alarmed angry instant and then she rushed off.

She was still somewhat excited when Samuel came up from the office where he had gone to spend an hour or two. But she kissed him affectionately, made him sit down, and then took a stool beside him and put her hand into his. For a few moments they chatted of various small things and then she gave a troubled little frown, and stared off pensively into space.

He stroked the smooth crown of her head, where the hair lay in burnished satin waves. “What is it, my dear? Nothing’s amiss?”

“No, Samuel, nothing. Oh, Samuel—I must tell you! It’s about Jemima! I’m worried about her!”

“You mean about Lord Carlton?”

“Yes. Why, only an hour ago I met her in the hall and she’d asked him to take her driving in Hyde Park!”

He gave a heavy tired sigh. “I can’t understand her. She’s been as carefully brought up as could be possible. Sometimes I think there’s a taint in the air nowadays—the young people fall sick of it. Not all of them, of course,” he added with a smile of fondness. “I don’t think he’s at all interested in her—Jemima isn’t the kind of woman he can be used to associating with—and I think that if she had let him alone he’d never have given her a second thought.”

“Of course he wouldn’t!” agreed Amber, very positively.

“I don’t know what’s to be done—”

“I do, Samuel! You must make her marry Joseph Cuttle—right now! Before something much worse happens!”

THAT WAS THE end of Jemima’s friendship with her step-mother. For by an unerring feminine instinct she knew immediately who was responsible for her father’s sudden determination to marry her to Joseph Cuttle without more delay. It was the one thing Amber had done of which the family approved, for they had been worried too about Jemima’s infatuation for a Cavalier —though they considered that it was Madame’s fault Jemima had ever fallen in love with him. They did not believe it would have occurred to Jemima to admire such a man, but for the bad example of false values Amber had set. But Bruce seemed somewhat shocked when Amber told him that the contract had been signed and the marriage date set for August 30th—forty days from the time of betrothal.

“Good Lord!” he said. “That awkward spindle-shanked boy! Why should a pretty little thing like Jemima have to marry him?”

“What difference does it make to you who she marries!”

“None at all. But don’t you think you’re meddling rather impertinently in the affairs of the Dangerfield family?”

“I am not! Samuel was going to make her marry him anyway. I just got the matter settled—for her own good.”

“Well, if you think I intend seducing her, I don’t. I took her driving because she asked me to and it would have been an affront to her father if I’d refused.” He gave her a long narrow look. “I wonder if you have any idea what a very fine old gentleman Samuel Dangerfield is. Tell me—how the devil did you manage to marry him? The Dangerfields aren’t people who would welcome an actress to the hearth-side.”

She laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know!” But she never told him.

It was not long before Amber refused altogether to heed Bruce’s admonitions—she went to Almsbury House three or four mornings in every week. Samuel left for his office at about seven and returned between eleven and noon; she was there when he left and there when he got back. But even if she had not been it would have occasioned no comment. He trusted her implicitly and when he asked her where she had been it was never from motives of suspicion, but only to make conversation or because he was interested in the little things which occupied her day. Whatever off-hand tale she told him, he believed.

And Jemima, meanwhile, turned sulky and bad-tempered, refused to take an interest in the elaborate preparations for her wedding. Dressmakers and mercers filled her rooms at all hours; she was to be married in cloth-of-gold and her wedding-ring was studded with thirty diamonds. The great ballroom in the south wing of the house where the wedding-feast and masque were to take place would be transformed into a blooming, green-leafed forest, with real grass on the floor. There would be five hundred guests for the ceremony and almost a thousand for the festivities afterward. Fifty of the finest musicians in London were being hired to play for the ball and a noted French chef was coming from Paris to oversee the preparation of the food. Samuel was eager to please his daughter and her persistent sullenness troubled him.

Amber magnanimously took Jemima’s part. “There’s nothing wrong with her, Samuel, but what’s wrong with all girls old enough to be married who aren’t. She’s got the green-sickness, that’s all. Wait till after the wedding, she’ll be herself again then, I warrant you.”

Samuel shook his head. “By heaven, I hope so! I hate to see her unhappy. Sometimes I wonder if we’re not making a mistake to insist that she marry Joseph. After all, there are suitable matches enough for her in London if she—”

“Nonsense, Samuel! Who ever heard of a girl choosing her own husband! She’s too young to know what she wants. And Joseph is a fine young man; he’ll make her mighty happy.” That settled it. And Amber thought that she had managed everything with great cleverness—Jemima was no source of worry to her now. Silly girl! she thought scornfully. She should have known better than to cross swords with me!

Scarcely six weeks had gone by since Bruce’s arrival in London when she told him that she was sure she was pregnant, and explained why she believed the child must be his. “I hope it’ll be a girl,” she said. “Bruce is so handsome—I know she’d be a beauty. What do you think we should name her?”

“I think that’s up to Samuel, don’t you?”

“Pish—why should it be? Anyway, he’ll ask me. So you tell me what name you’d like—please, Bruce, I want to know.”

He seemed to give it a few moments’ serious consideration—but the smile that lurked about his mouth showed what he was thinking. “Susanna’s a pretty name,” he said at last.

“You don’t know anyone named Susanna, do you?”

“No. You asked me for a name that I liked, and I told you one. I had no ulterior motives.”

“But you’ve named your share of bastards, I doubt not,” she said. “What about that wench—Leah, or what d’ye call her? Almsbury said you’d had two brats by her.”

By now Bruce had been back long enough and she had seen him so often that the jealousies and worries that beset her when he was away had begun to encroach upon the pleasure she found in being with him. She had begun to feel more discontented over what she was missing than grateful for what she had.

His voice answered her quietly. “Leah died a year ago, in childbirth.”

She looked up at him swiftly, saw that he was serious and a little angry. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she lied. But she turned to another subject. “I wonder where you’ll be when Susanna’s born?”

“Somewhere giving the Dutch hell, I hope. We’ll declare war on them as soon as Parliament votes the money for it. While we’re waiting I’ll try what I can do to keep the peace the way his Majesty wants it kept.” England and Holland had been at war everywhere but in the home seas for almost a year, and during the past two months the fight had blazed into the open; it needed only to be declared, but Charles had to wait on further preparation and Parliamentary grants.

They were lying on the bed, half-dressed. Bruce had his periwig off and his own hair had been cut short so that now it was no more than two or three inches long, and combed back from his forehead in a wave. Amber rolled over onto her stomach and reached for a bunch of purple Lisbon grapes in a bowl on the table.

“Heigh ho! I suppose it’s a dull day for you when there isn’t a town to burn or a dozen Dutchmen to kill!”

He laughed, pulled a small cluster of grapes from the bunch she held, and began to toss them into his mouth. “Your portrait’s somewhat bloodthirsty.”