Winsor, Kathleen (21 page)

"Oh,
damn you, Luke!" she heard Sally cry. "Your temper will ruin us
all!"

He
ignored her, shouting at Amber: "Next time, you damned slut, I won't let
you off so easy! I'll break your neck, d'ye hear me?" He made a short
vicious kick at her and Amber screamed,
arms covering her belly, eyes shut. He
left the room, slamming the door with a crash.

The
two women rushed immediately to Amber and helped her into the bed. She lay
there for several minutes, still sobbing, trembling violently but more with
rage and hatred and humiliation than from any pain she suffered. Sally sat on
the bed chafing her hands, talking to her in a low soothing tone, while Honour
hung over her with a sort of wide-eyed sympathetic stupefaction.

But
as Amber began to recover her senses she became conscious of sharp little
thrusting movements within her, and putting her hands to her stomach she could
feel the baby stir. "Oh!" she cried furiously. "If I lose this
baby I swear I'll see that son of a whore set up on a gibbet on Tyburn
Hill!" Though a great many times she had half-hoped that some accident
would bring on a miscarriage, now she realized that more than anything else she
wanted to bear this child—for he was all that was left to her of Lord Carlton.

"Lord,
sweetheart! How you talk!" cried Sally.

Nevertheless
she sent Honour to an apothecary to get something which would prevent abortion
and when the girl returned she brewed the packet of herbs into a tea. Amber
drank the stinking decoction, holding her nose and making a face. The day wore
on and as no symptoms of a miscarriage appeared Amber began to feel easier, for
though she was sore and bruised she had now been otherwise seriously hurt. But
she could think of nothing but Luke Channell and how she hated him, and she was
determined that as soon as she got her money back she would leave him—go away
from London to some other town and hide. She lay on the bed for several hours
with her eyes shut, absorbed in making her plans.

Sally
was most solicitous and even when Amber pretended to be asleep she continued to
question her, to bring her something to eat, to suggest that she would feel
better if she sat up for a little while and played some game to amuse herself.
Finally, with a bored sigh, Amber agreed and they started a game of ombre,
playing on a board which rested across their laps.

"Poor
Luke," Sally said after a few minutes. "I fear the dear boy inherited
his father's fits. Sometimes, I swear, I've seen Sir Walter Channell lie
foaming at the mouth and stark rigid for minutes at a time. But when it passes,
he's the pleasantest man alive—just like Luke."

Amber,
giving Sally a skeptical glance, put down her queen and took the trick.
"Just like Luke?" she repeated. "Then I'm mighty sorry for Lady
Channell."

Sally
pursed her lips primly. "Well, my dear—sure, now, you wouldn't expect any
man to be pleased to find his wife with child by another man's offices? And
d'ye know—" She played a card, took the trick, and as she was placing it
slantwise along the board looked across at Amber. "It would
almost seem you
must've known what your condition was when you married 'im."

Amber
smiled maliciously. "Oh, would it?" Suddenly her eyes flashed and she
snapped out, "Why else would I marry that daggle-toothed lout?"

Sally
looked at her, took a deep breath, and then began counting the tricks. She
shuffled the cards, dealt, and they played for a while in silence.

All
at once Amber said: "I'm missing a wallet that had a deal of money in it.
It was on a nail behind that chest and someone stole it."

"Stole
it! Thieves in these rooms! Oh, heaven!"

"I
think the thief was Luke!"

"Luke?
A thief? Lord, child, how you talk! Why, there's never an honester man in
London than my nephew! And anyway, my dear, how could he
steal
money
from you? A wife's money belongs to her husband the moment they leave the
altar. I must say, sweetheart, I'm surprised you'd hide a few paltry pounds
from 'im."

"A
few paltry pounds! That wasn't a few paltry pounds! It was everything I had in
the world!"

Sally
looked at her quickly. "Everything you had? Then what about your
inheritance? What about your five thousand pound?" She was staring at her,
her blue eyes narrowed and hard, all the placid good-humour gone from her face.

"What
about
his
inheritance?"

Sally
refused to let go of her patience. "I explained that to you, my dear. And
now am I to understand that you've swindled my nephew—made him think you were a
person of some fortune when five hundred was all you had?"

Suddenly
Amber slammed her handful of cards across the room and swept the board onto the
floor. "Understand what you damn please! That wretch stole my money and
I'll have 'im before a constable for it!"

Sally
got up, bowed to her with an air of injured dignity, and went into her own room
where she closed the door and remained throughout the rest of the day. Honour
stayed with her mistress. Quietly she went about her usual duties. She served
Amber her supper on a tray, brushed her hair, and when Amber got up to wash her
face and clean her teeth she smoothed out the sheets with a bed-staff. She
listened with sympathy but made no comment upon Amber's grumbling about her
husband and his aunt and seemed not very much surprised by Amber's statement
that she intended to leave him as soon as she could force him to give her money
back.

Though
she did not intend to, Amber fell asleep before Luke came home. Some time in
the middle of the night she wakened to hear voices in the next room—his and
Sally's—and though she waited for some time in cold angry apprehension the door
between their rooms remained closed. And at last the sound of their voices
ceased. She fell asleep again.

When
she awoke the next morning there was a bright fire going and the room had an
almost surprising air of contented domesticity. Sally, humming a tune beneath
her breath, was arranging a bowlful of green leaves. Honour was dusting the
furniture with more enthusiasm than she usually showed for such tasks. And Luke
stood knotting his cravat before a mirror, regarding himself with smug
approval.

The
moment she pulled back the bed-hangings Sally saw her.

"Why!"
she cried pleasantly. "Good morning to you, sweetheart!" Briskly she
crossed the room and kissed her on the cheek, ignoring the face Amber made.
"I hope
you've slept well! Luke slept on the trundle in my room so as not to disturb
you." She had never been more pleasant and now she turned a beaming smile
upon her nephew, like a mother prompting her child in the presence of guests.
"Didn't you, Luke?"

Luke
gave her a broad grin, the same one he had used during their courtship. Amber
lay propped on one elbow and regarded him sourly. She was determined somehow to
get her money back, but the mere sight of him infuriated her so that she lost
hold of all her schemes and plans. He started toward her, still grinning,
though Amber watched him with sullen distrust.

"What
d'ye suppose I've got here for you?" He had picked something off the
mantel and kept one hand behind his back,

"I
don't know, and I don't care! Get away from me!" she cried warningly, as
he stooped to kiss her, and she flung her covers up over her head.

An
ugly look came swiftly to his face but Sally reminded him with a nudge and jerk
of her head. He sat down on the bed and reached out a tentative hand to touch
her. "Look here, duckling—look what a fine present I've brought you.
Heavens, sweetheart, you an't going to stay mad at poor Luke, now are
you?"

She
could hear him open a box and jingle something which sounded like jewellery and
at last out of curiosity she peeked over the top of the blankets. He was
holding toward her, temptingly, a bracelet with several diamonds and a ruby or
two winking on it. His voice continued to wheedle, though she was looking not
at him but at the bracelet.

"Believe
me, sweetheart, I'm sorry for what I did yesterday. But truly at times it seems
I'm not master of myself. My poor old father had those fits. Here—let me fasten
it on your wrist—"

The
bracelet was a handsome one, and finally Amber permitted him to clasp it. She
knew that she must make him think she liked him, or she would never get her
money back. So she let him kiss her and even pretended to giggle with pleasure.
She had such contempt for him it was easy to make herself believe that she
could outwit him. Finally she got up and dressed and they drank the morning
draught of ale, together
with a few anchovies. Luke suggested that Amber ride out to Pancras with him
and have dinner at a charming little inn he knew, and thinking that most likely
he really was sorry for his behaviour and once more infatuated with her, she
agreed. She put on her cloak-—though at his suggestion she left the bracelet
there because of the danger from highwaymen—and they set out.

Pancras,
a tiny village to the northwest, was about two miles from the Rose and Crown,
or some three-quarters of an hour by coach.
But they had scarcely reached High
Holborn when it began to rain—though the winter had been a dry and warm and
dusty one—and within fifteen minutes the roads were splashing with mud and
there was a strong smell of rotten garbage in the air, made more poignant by
the wet. Two or three times the wheels stuck and the coachman and footman had
to pry them out, using an iron bar, which all coaches carried for that purpose.

To
Amber, lurching and jogging inside the springless carriage, the ride seemed
interminable and she wished miserably that she had stayed at home.
But Luke was
cheerful and talkative as he had not been for weeks, and she tried to pretend
that she was enjoying the outing and his company. His hands roamed over her
persistently, and he urged her to reciprocate his attentions. Amber laughed and
tried to push him off, pretending she was afraid that the coach might overturn
and spill them out for everyone to see; the touch of his fingers made her flesh
crawl and turn cold with loathing.

The
inn she found to be a little greasy place and the room to which the host showed
them was cold and unaired. He lighted a fire and then Luke went below with him
to order the dinner while Amber stood at the window, looking out at the pouring
rain and watching the bedraggled red rooster moving majestically across the
courtyard, carefully picking up his claws as he went. She kept her cloak on,
shivering a little, unhappy and listless, a sense of depression dragging at
her.

The
dinner was a bad one, a stringy slightly warmed chunk of boiled beef, boiled
parsnips, and boiled bacon. Amber was disgusted with such fare and could
scarcely force herself to take a bite but Luke, who was never discriminating,
ate with gusto, a trickle of greasy juice running over his chin. He smacked his
lips noisily, picked at his teeth with his fingernails, and spat on the floor
until Amber, queasy with her pregnancy, thought that she would be sick.

He
had scarcely done eating when he set upon her again, mauling her and pulling at
her clothes. A moment later there was a knock and the landlord called his name;
without a word he left her and went out the door.

For
a moment Amber lay, surprised and relieved, half wondering what had happened.
Suddenly she burst into tears of anger and loneliness and revulsion. I won't do
it again! she
thought. I won't if he kills me! She rolled over onto her side, crying
drearily, and waited for him to come back.

She
waited a long time. At last she got up, rinsed her face in cold water and
combed her hair. She wondered where he had gone and what kept him, but she did
not care very much. For when he did return they would only drive back and she
would spend the rest of the afternoon talking to Sally or, if Luke stayed home,
playing ombre or gleek and she would be sure to lose because they cheated and
she did not know how.

Finally
she began to grow uneasy and the suspicion sneaked into her mind that he had
taken the coach and gone off leaving her to get back however she might. It
would be like him to take some such means of repaying her for having slapped
him. And she had not so much as a farthing with her. She snatched up her fan
and muff and mask, flung on her black velvet cloak, and went out of the room
and downstairs. The host was leaning over the counter, talking to some booted
muddy stranger, and both men were smoking pipes and drinking ale.

"Where's
my husband?" she demanded, halfway down the stairs.

They
looked up at her. "Your husband?" repeated the host.

"Of
course! The man I came here with!" she cried impatiently, crossing the
floor toward him now. "Where is he?"

"Why,
he's gone, mem. He said you was a lady wanted to elope with 'im and told me to
call 'im at half-after-one. He went off in the coach soon's he came down—said
you'd pay the reckoning," he added significantly.

Amber
stared at him in astonishment and then she ran to the door to look out. It was
true. Her coach was gone. She turned and faced him, angry and worried.
"I've got to get back to London! How can I do it? Is there a stage-coach
that stops here?"