Winsor, Kathleen (98 page)

"Whatever
do you mean by that, madame?"

"You
know damned well what I mean!" muttered Barbara, half under her breath.

She
was hot and excited, trying desperately to control her temper for fear of being
made to look a fool. It was bad enough that Charles in his forthright, casual
way had let everyone know he intended laying with this upstart wench from the
theatres. But to make matters even worse that miserable wretch, Buckingham, had
taken it into his maggoty head to sponsor her himself—and if she dared so much
as murmur a protest he reminded her that it was only by his good nature she
remained in England at all.

Oh,
damn those letters! Damn Buckingham! Damn everything! I'd like to claw that
bitch's hair off her scalp! I'll learn her she can't use
me
at this
rate!

"Here!"
she cried. "I'll raffle you for the whole of it!"

Amber
gave a delicate lift of her eyebrows. The more furiously excited Barbara grew,
the cooler she seemed. Now she looked up and exchanged smiles with Charles, a
smile that took him into her camp, and he grinned lazily—a willing prisoner.

She
gave a careless shrug. "Why not? Your throw first, madame."

Barbara
ground her teeth and gave Charles a glare that might once have warned him. Now
he was frankly amused. She swept
three ivory dice Off the table and
flung them into a dice-box, while all around them conversations stopped and the
lords and ladies leaned forward to watch. Barbara gave the box a defiant
vigorous shake and with a dramatic flourish she tossed the dice out onto the
table where they tumbled along the polished surface and slid at last to a stop.
Two sixes and a four.

Someone
gave a low whistle and a murmur ran through the bystanders as Barbara looked up
with a triumphant smile, her eyes glittering. "There, madame! Try if you
can better that!"

And
since the object of the game was to throw three alike— else the highest pair
took the stakes—even Amber was forced to recognize that her chances could not
be very good.

Frantically
she stabbed about for a way to save herself. I've got to do
something
—I
can't
let her beat me in front of all these people! I've got to do
something—something—something—

And
then she felt the pressure of Buckingham's knee and a light movement in her
lap. Suddenly she found herself cold and clear-headed again, no longer
desperate, and with a quick automatic gesture she picked the dice-box up from
the table in one hand and the dice in the other. So quickly that it scarce
seemed to happen she dropped the box into her lap and the one she recovered was
the one just put there by Buckingham. Without looking she knew what it was: a
false box painted inside to look like an honest one—and she tossed the dice in.
The hours of practice she had had in Whitefriars and since now stood her in
good stead—for the dice came forth like loyal soldiers: a five, a five, and
another five. There was a gasp all around the room while Amber pretended
astonishment at her own good fortune. The beet-faced Brouncker leaned down to
whisper in Barbara's ear.

And
suddenly she sprang to her feet. "Very clever, madame!" she cried.
"But I'm not one to be so easily put upon! There's been some scurvy trick
here— I'll pass my word for that!" she added, addressing herself to the
audience in general, and his Majesty in particular.

Amber
was beginning to grow nervous, though already the Duke had reclaimed his box
and the one she held in her hand was the same one Barbara had used. But she was
prepared to run a bluff.

"Can't
anyone be allowed to get the better of your Ladyship but by some trick?"
That drew a general laugh and Amber felt somewhat more comfortable; she
carelessly tossed the box onto the table.

Still
it was a serious matter for one person to accuse another of cheating, though
all of them did—for just as some of the ladies liked to pretend they were
virtuous or unpainted, so they pretended to play on the square. And to be
caught now and labelled a cheat before all the Court, suddenly seemed to Amber
so horrible a fate she would rather have been dead. It
would be
unbearable—to have everyone stand there and witness her defeat at the hands of
Barbara Palmer!

And
Barbara, convinced she had the hare cornered, came baying ruthlessly on the
scent. "Only a false box would have turned 'em up like that! There
wouldn't be a chance in a thousand it could happen honestly!"

Amber
by now was sick and shaking inside, and it took her a few seconds to find her
answer. But when she did she tried to sound brazenly assured, so casually
scornful that they could have no doubt of her honesty. "Come to think of
it, your Ladyship's throw was almost too good to be true—"

"I'll
have you know, madame, I'm not a cheat!" cried Barbara, who often lost
such sums it seemed she must be either honest or clumsy. "There's the box
I used! Examine it, someone—" She snatched it up and suddenly leaned
across the table, extending it to the King. "Now, your Majesty! You saw
everything that happened! How does it look to you? You tell us which one
cheated in this game!"

Charles
took the box and looked it over very carefully, both inside and out, wearing
his most serious and thoughtful expression. "As far as I can see," he
said at last, "there's nothing wrong with this box."

Amber
sat there motionless and stiff, her heart hammering so violently she expected
to faint. This was the end—the end of everything—it would be no use to go on
living after this—

"Aha!"
cried Barbara's voice, in a triumphant brassy tone that Amber felt scrape
mercilessly along her nerves. "Just as I thought! I knew—"

"But,"
interrupted Charles in a lazy drawl, "since both of you used the same box
I can see no reason for all this bustle and stir."

Amber's
relief was so great now that it was all she could do to keep herself from
slumping over and falling face down onto the table-top. But Castlemaine gave a
high little screech of indignation.

"What?
But we didn't! She changed it! She—"

"I
beg your pardon, madame, but—as you said—I saw everything that happened, and
it's my opinion her Ladyship played as much upon the square as you did."

"But—"

"The
hour's growing late," continued Charles imperturbably, and his snapping
black eyes glanced around the table. "Don't you all agree we might better
be in bed?"

There
was a general laugh at that and the crowd, convinced the show was over, began
to break up. "A pretty deal of an odd sort!" muttered Castlemaine
sourly. And then she leaned forward and said tensely to Amber, "I wouldn't
play with you again for crooked pins!" and she swung about and started
off, with Brouncker and Bab May and little Jermyn hurrying in her wake like
tenders.

Amber,
still weak and helpless, finally managed to look up at
the king with a
grateful smile and a soundless whistle. He reached down to put his hand beneath
her elbow and slowly she got to her feet.

"Thank
you, Sire," she said softly, for of course he knew that she had cheated.
"I'd have been disgraced forever."

Charles
laughed. "Disgraced—here at Whitehall? Impossible, my dear. Did you ever
hear of anyone being disgraced in hell?"

Her
energy and confidence were coming back again. She looked at Buckingham, still
there beside them, with an impudent grin. "Thanks, your Grace," she
said, though she knew that he had given her the false box not to help her but
to humiliate his cousin.

Buckingham
made a comical face. "I protest, madame. I assure you I had no hand in
your luck—not I. Why, all the world knows I'm an honest fellow."

As
the three of them laughed at that Amber was conscious of the lords and ladies
moving everywhere about them, glancing in her direction—and she knew what they
were thinking. The King had taken her part tonight, defied and embarrassed
Castlemaine before them all; it could have only one meaning. The Countess of
Radclyffe would soon be the topping mistress at Court. Amber thought so
herself.

As
they stood there looking at each other, the smiles slowly fading from their
faces, Buckingham said good-night and left; they did not notice. Amber knew she
was in love with Charles —as much as she would ever be with any man but Bruce
Carlton. His dark lazy eyes stirred the embers of desire, at which Radclyffe
had rudely raked but never once brought into flame, and she longed with all her
being to lie in his arms again. She had completely forgotten that Radclyffe
must be there nearby, watching them, and her recklessness was now so great she
would not have cared anyway.

"When
can you escape your duenna?" murmured Charles.

"Anytime.
Whenever you say."

"Tomorrow
morning at ten?"

"Yes."

"I'll
post a sentry to admit you at the Holbein Gate—on this side." He glanced
up, over her head, and then smiled faintly. "Here comes your husband—and
he looks horn-mad already."

Amber
had a sharp unpleasant sense of shock.

Your
husband!

She
felt resentful that he should have the effrontery still to be alive, when she
had no longer any use for him and had half imagined he would somehow disappear
from her world like an exorcised demon. But he was there now—beside her, and
Charles was greeting him with a pleasant smile. Then the King was gone and
Radclyffe extended his arm to her. Hesitating for only a moment, she put her
fingers on his arm as they started slowly from the room...

For
a long while Amber struggled to return to consciousness. She
felt as if
there was a heavy pressing weight on her head and her eyeballs throbbed. A
twisting cramp in her neck sent pains shooting out along her shoulders and down
her back as she began to move, moaning softly. She seemed to have been aware
for some interminable time of an uneven rolling and jogging motion that shook
her from side to side and made her sick at her stomach. With a great effort she
forced herself to lift her eyelids and look about, striving to discover where she
was and what had happened to her.

She
saw first a man's small veined hands, clasping a walking-stick which he held
between his legs, and then as her eyes raised slowly she found herself looking
into Radclyffe's impassive expressionless face. She now realized that part of
her discomfort was because her legs were bound together, about the thighs and
below the knees, and her arms tied close to her sides. They were in his coach,
and the window pane showed only a grey sky and green meadows with lonely bare-branched
trees. She wanted to speak, to ask him where they were—but an intolerable
weight on her head pressed down, heavier and heavier, until at last she slid
off again into unconsciousness.

She
was aware of nothing more until she suddenly opened her eyes to find the coach
had stopped and that someone was lifting her out; she felt the cool fresh
evening air in her face and took a deep breath.

"Try
not to wake her," she heard Radclyffe say. "When she's in these
spells she must not be disturbed or it may cause another." It made her
furious that he should dare tell anyone such an insulting lie about her, but
she had no energy to protest.

The
footman carried her, covered with her cloak and a long fur-lined robe, toward
the inn and someone pushed open the door. The room was warm and filled with the
savoury smells of fresh-baked bread and a roasting-joint which turned in the
fireplace. Dogs circled about, wagging their tails and sniffing inquisitively,
several children appeared, ostlers ran to unhitch the horses and a cheerful
landlady came to greet them. At the sight of Amber lying with her head limp
against the footman's chest and her eyes closed, she gave a sympathetic little
cry and hurried forward.

"Oh!
Is the lady sick?"

Radclyffe
brushed her aside. "My wife is indisposed," he said coldly. "But
it's no serious matter. I'll attend to her myself. Show us to a room and send
up supper."

Rebuffed,
the landlady climbed the stairs ahead of them and unlocked a clean
lavender-scented chamber, but whenever she thought that the Earl was not
looking she glanced surreptitiously at Amber. She lighted the candles and soon
had a brisk blaze in the fireplace. Then, just before going, she hesitated
again, looking with real distress at Amber where she lay on the bed, just as
the footman had put her down.

"My
wife does not need your attention!" snapped Radclyffe, so sharply that the
woman gave an embarrassed start and
hurried from the room. He walked to the
closed door, listened for a moment and then, apparently satisfied that she had
gone on, returned to the bedside.

Though
now fully conscious, Amber felt dull and heavy and irritable, her head ached
and her muscles were stiff and sore. She drew a deep sigh. For several moments
both of them remained silent and waiting, but at last she said: "Well, why
don't you untie me? I can't get away from you now!" She looked up at him
sullenly. "How damned clever you must think you are!" She had already
begun to realize that he must have tied her merely to satisfy some brutal whim
of his own, for deeply drugged as she had been it would not have been necessary
in order to move her about.