Winsor, Kathleen (142 page)

Then
at last, some eight weeks after Lord and Lady Carlton had arrived, Amber went
to call upon her—carefully choosing a day when she knew that Bruce had gone to
hunt with the King. Corinna met her at the entrance to the sitting-room of
their apartments in Almsbury House, and she smiled with genuine pleasure when
she saw who her guest was. The two women curtsied but did not kiss for Corinna
had not yet contracted the London habit and Amber could not have brought
herself to it—though she habitually kissed and was kissed by many women she
liked but little better.

"How
kind of your Grace to call on me!"

Amber
began to pull off her gloves, and in spite of herself her resentment and
jealousy began to rise as her eyes flickered over Corinna. "Not at
all!" she protested, very careless. "I should have called much
sooner. But, Lord! there's always such a deal of business here in London! One
must go here and there—do this and that and the other! It's barbarous!"
She dropped into a chair. "You must find it a mighty great change from
America." Her tone implied that America must be a very dull place where
there was little to do but tend babies and work embroidery.

But
even as she talked her eyes were observing Corinna carefully, noticing every
detail of her coiffure and clothes, the way she walked and held her head and
sat. Lady Carlton was wearing a gown of pearl-grey satin with pink musk-roses
thrust into the bodice and there was a fine strand of sapphires about her
throat; she wore no other jewels except her gold-and-sapphire wedding-ring.

"It
is different," agreed Corinna. "But though it may sound strange I
find there's less to do in London—for me, at least— than in America."

"Oh,
we have a thousand diversions here—one needs only get acquainted with 'em. How
d'you like London? It must seem a great city to you." Try as she would,
Amber found that she
could not speak without sarcastic overtones, belittling suggestions, a hint of
superiority she was by no means secure in feeling.

"Oh,
I love London! I'm only sorry that I couldn't have seen it before the Fire. We
left here before I was quite five, you see, and I couldn't remember anything
about it. I've always wanted to come back, though, for in America we all think
of England as 'home.' "

She
was poised, so quietly yet radiantly happy that Amber longed to say something
which would shatter that serene protected world in which she lived. But she
dared not. She could only murmur: "But isn't it furiously dull—living on a
plantation? I suppose you never see a living soul, save blackamoors and wild
Indians."

Corinna
laughed. "I suppose it might seem dull to one who had always lived in a
city, but it doesn't seem dull to me. It's such a beautiful land. And the
plantations all front on rivers so that we travel easily by boat anywhere we
want to go. We love to give parties—and often they last for days or weeks. The
men are busy, of course, with their work, but they have time aplenty for
hunting and fishing and gambling and dancing, too. Oh, forgive me, your Grace,
I'm boring you with all this nonsense—"

"By
no means. I've always wondered what America was like. Perhaps I'll pay you a
visit someday." She could not imagine what had prompted her to say that.

But
Corinna caught her up eagerly. "Oh, your Grace, if you would! My husband
and I would love to have you! You can't imagine what excitement it would cause!
A duchess and a beauty in America! Why, you'd be feted in every great house in
Virginia—but of course we'd keep you with us most of the time." Her smile
was so genuine, so guileless, that Amber boiled inside with resentful fury.
Lord, but she
must
have lived a retired life! she thought scornfully.

Aloud
she asked her: "When are you going over to France?" She had asked
Bruce several times but had never received a definite answer, and since they
had already been there two months she was afraid that they might be planning to
leave very soon.

"Why—not
for some time, I think." Corinna hesitated a moment, as though uncertain
whether she should say any more. Then quickly, with a kind of pride and the air
of giving a precious confidence, she added: "You see, I've found that I'm
with child and my husband thinks it would be unwise to start until after the
baby has been born."

Amber
said nothing, but for a moment she felt sick with shock, her mind and muscles
seemed paralyzed. "Oh," she heard herself murmur at last. "Isn't
that fine."

Angrily
she told herself that she was being a fool. What did it matter if the woman was
pregnant? What could that mean to her? She should be glad. For now he would be
here longer
than he had intended—much longer, for so far Corinna showed no evidence at all
of pregnancy. She got to her feet then, saying that she must go, and Corinna
pulled a bell-rope to summon a servant.

"Thank
you so much for coming to call, your Grace," she said as they walked
toward the door. "I hope we shall become good friends."

They
paused just in the doorway now and Amber looked at her levelly. "I hope we
shall too, madame." Then, unexpectedly, she said something else. "I
met your son yesterday in the Palace."

A
quick puzzled look crossed Corinna's face, but instantly she laughed. "Oh,
you mean young Bruce! But he isn't my son, your Grace. He's my husband's son by
his first wife—though truly, I love him as if he were my own."

Amber
said nothing but her eyes turned suddenly hard, and the swift fierce jealousy
sprang up again. What do you mean! she thought furiously. You love him as if he
were your own! What right have you to love him at all! What right have you to
even know him! He's mine—

Corinna
was still talking. "Of course I never met the first Lady Carlton—I don't
even know who she was—but I think she must have been a very wonderful woman to
have had such a son."

Amber
forced herself to give a little laugh, but there was no humour in it.
"You're mighty generous, madame. I should think you'd hate her—that first
wife he had."

Corinna
smiled slowly. "Hate her? Why should I? After all —he belongs to me
now." She was speaking, of course, of the father, not the son. "And
she left me her child."

Amber
turned about swiftly to shield her face. "I must go now, madame—
Good-day—" She walked along the gallery but had gone only a few steps down
the broad staircase when she heard Corinna's voice again.

"Your
Grace—you dropped your fan—"

She
went on, pretending not to hear, unable to bear the thought of facing her
again. But Corinna came hurrying after her, her high golden heels making a
sharp sound as she walked along. "Your Grace," she repeated,
"you dropped your fan."

Amber
turned to take it. Corinna was standing just above her on the steps and now she
smiled again, a friendly almost wistful smile. "Please don't think me
foolish, your Grace— but for a long while I've felt that you disliked me—"

"Of
course I don't—"

"No,
I'm sure you don't. And I shall think of it no more. Good-day, your Grace—and
pray do come visit me again."

One
warm night in early November there was a water-pageant on the Thames. This was
a favourite entertainment of the King's, and a group had gathered in his
apartments to watch from the balconies. The skiffs and barges were decorated
with flower-garlands and banners and a multitude of lanterns and flaring
torches. From the other shore rockets shot up and fell back, hissing, into the
water; streaks of yellow light crossed the sky. Music drifted from the boats
and the King's fiddlers played in a far corner of the room.

Under
cover of the music, the rockets and confused chatter of voices, Lady Southesk
spoke to Amber. "Who d'you think is Castlemaine's newest conquest?"

Amber
was not very much interested for she was concerned in keeping an eye on Bruce
and Corinna where they stood, a few feet away. She shrugged carelessly.
"How should I know? Who is it—Claude du Vall?" Du Vall was a
highwayman of great current notoriety and he bragged that more than one lady of
title had invited him to her bed.

"No.
Guess again. A good friend of yours."

Knowing
Southesk, Amber now gave her a sharp glance.

"Who!"

Southesk
looked over toward Lord Carlton and she lifted her brows significantly, smiling
as she watched Amber's face. Amber glanced swiftly at Bruce, then back at
Southesk. She had turned white.

"That's
a lie!"

Southesk
shrugged and gave a languid wave of her fan. "Believe me or not, it's
true. He was there last night—I have it on the very best—Lord, your
Grace!" she cried now, in mock alarm. "Have a care—you'll break your
laces!"

"You
prattling bitch!" muttered Amber, furious. "You breed scandal like a
cess-pool breeds flies!"

Southesk
gave her a look of hurt indignant innocence, tossed her curls and sailed off.
Only a few moments later she was murmuring in someone else's ear, a secret
smile on her mouth as she nodded, very discreetly, in Amber's direction. Amber,
with as much nonchalance as she could muster, strolled over to link her arm
through Almsbury's, and as he greeted her she tried to give him a gay smile.
But her eyes betrayed her.

"What's
the matter?" he whispered.

"It's
Bruce! I've got to see him! Right now!"

"After
all, sweetheart—"

"Do
you know what he's been doing! He's been laying with Barbara Palmer! Oh, I
could murder him for that—"

"Shh!"
cautioned the Earl, shifting his eyes about, for they were surrounded by a
dozen pairs of alert ears. "What's the difference? He's done it
before."

"But
Southesk is telling everyone! They'll all be laughing at me! Oh,
damn
him!"

"Did
it ever occur to you that they may also be laughing at his wife?"

"What
do I care about her! I hope they are! Anyway, she doesn't know it—and I
do."

When
she next saw Bruce she tried to force him to promise her that he would never
visit Barbara again, and though he refused to make any promises she later convinced
herself that he did not. For she heard no more gossip and was sure that Barbara
would not have been secretive about it. Her own affair with him, however,
gained notoriety in an ever-spreading circle and though it seemed incredible,
Corinna was evidently the only person left in fashionable London who did not
know about them. But Corinna, Amber thought, was such a fool she would not have
guessed that Bruce was her lover if she had found them in bed together.

She
was mistaken.

The
first night that Corinna had seen Amber she had been shocked by her costume
and, later, sorry for her own bad manners in noticing it. The Duchess's cold
hostility she assumed to have been caused by that episode, and she had been
genuinely pleased when she finally paid her a visit, thinking that at last she
had forgotten it. But even before then Corinna had been aware that she was
flirting with her husband.

In
the four years since she had married him Corinna had watched a great many
different kinds of women, from the black wenches on the plantation to the
titled ladies of Port Royal, flirt with Bruce. Perfectly secure in his love for
her, she had never been worried or jealous but, rather, amused and even a
little pleased. She soon realized, however, that the Duchess of Ravenspur was
potential trouble. She was, of, course, extraordinarily lovely with her
provocative eyes, rich honey hair and voluptuous figure—and what was more she
had an attraction for men as powerful and combustible as was Bruce's for women.
She was no one any woman would like to find interested in the man she loved.

For
the first time since her marriage Corinna was frightened.

Before
long the other women began to drop hints. There were sly malicious little
suggestions passed in the supper-table talk or when they came to call in the
afternoons. A nudge and a glance would indicate the way her Grace leant over
Lord Carlton as he sat at the gaming-table, her face almost touching his, one
breast pressing his shoulder. Lady Southesk and Mrs. Middleton invited her to visit
the Duchess with them one morning—and she met Bruce just coming out.