Winsor, Kathleen (154 page)

Arlington
gave a scarcely perceptible nod of his head.

"And
I am likewise aware that she was engaged in yours— taking money from both of us
to work against both. There's no objection to that, I'll admit, for it's the
custom of the Court. But now I've learned that her Grace has undertaken to
murder your Lordship."

At
this Arlington's cold austere face showed a faint indication of surprise. But
the surprise was at the audacity of this man who, baulked by nothing, would
somehow turn any circumstance to his own advantage.

"She
intends to murder me, you say?" he inquired mildly.

"Yes,
sir, she does. I can't tell you how I found out, but I can tell you this much:
The plot originated in France, where some persons of high authority are afraid
your Lordship may try to hinder the proposed commercial alliance between our
two countries. Someone has paid her an enormous sum to put you out of the way. I
come in the name of our old friendship to warn you against her and put you on
your guard."

All
through the recital Arlington had continued to stare solemnly at the Duke with
his protruding pale-blue eyes. Something had obviously discouraged his Grace
from his project and now here was the Duke trying to make out that the French
wanted him murdered so that he could not obstruct a commercial alliance. When
already he had sealed and signed a treaty
far more complete and important! The man
was a sort of strange phenomenon, interesting to observe as were the freaks of
Bartholomew Fair.

"That
woman's a damned nuisance," continued Buckingham. "I think she'd
undertake to poison Old Rowley himself for a price. But that fatal weakness of
his for never casting off a woman he's once been in love with may keep her in
power many years longer—unless you and I, sir, put our heads together and get
rid of her!"

Arlington
carefully placed his spread finger-tips against each other. "And how does
your Grace propose to get rid of this menace to my life?" His tone was
faintly, put politely, sarcastic, and there was the suspicion of a sneer about
his mouth.

Buckingham
now put on an air of good-natured frankness. "Your Lordship knows me too
well to believe that I act only in
your interests. I'm heartily sick of
her myself—she's cost me a great deal of money and I've got next to nothing by
it. But we don't dare poison her or have her kidnapped and shipped away. Old
Rowley would never forgive it."

"Your
Grace is a chivalrous man," observed the Baron in mock admiration.

"Chivalry
be damned! I want to get her out of England— and I don't care how it's done so
it doesn't bring reprisals on my head!" He wanted to get her out, in fact,
before she had a chance to tell someone that it was he who had plotted the
Baron's death. In his opinion the island would no longer comfortably hold both
him and the Duchess—and he did not intend to leave.

Arlington
dropped his aloofness and superiority. He knew that the Duke was lying badly
but he was altogether in sympathy with his proposal. For her influence with the
King was just great enough to make her an inconvenience. If she were gone it
would be one woman less for him to deal with. And he had no doubt Buckingham
was now thoroughly frightened out of his intention to murder him.

"I
think I know a way to make her leave England immediately, and be glad to
go," he said.

"How,
for the love of God?"

"Suppose
your Grace leaves the business to me. If I fail— then do your worst on her, and
with my blessing—"

Amber
sat in her coach, nervously tearing to shreds a lace fan she had snatched up as
she ran out of the house. It was still so early in the morning that mist hung
low on the trees along the Strand and the tops of the great houses disappeared
into the thick of it. She felt sick and weak as she waited, and was almost
sorry that she had come, for it terrified her to think of actually coming face
to face with him again.

She
had bribed one of Almsbury's pages several days ago, and not three-quarters of
an hour before he had come to the Palace to tell her that his Lordship was
going down to the wharves. Amber, sound asleep when he arrived, had flung on
her clothes, pulled a comb through her hair and set out. Now as she waited she
tried with shaking hands to powder her face and paint her lips, but her eyes
searched anxiously through the coach window more often than they looked into
the mirror. It seemed to her that she had been sitting there a long long while
and that he must be already gone. Actually, she half hoped that he was, for
desperately as she wanted to see him her fear was perhaps even greater.

Suddenly
she caught her breath, sitting up intense and alert, dropping the mirror and
powder-box into her lap. The great door of Almsbury House had swung open.

Now,
while she watched with passionate anxiety, both Bruce and the Earl appeared,
spoke to someone behind them, and walked down the steps. Neither took any
notice of the hackney
which stood beyond the gates, half lost from view in the yellow fog. For three
or four minutes they stood talking, waiting for their horses, and when the
grooms had brought them they mounted and came toward her at a leisurely pace.

Stiff
and trembling with excitement Amber sat there wretched, sure she would never be
able to summon courage enough to speak to him. Then, just as they came abreast
her coach, she leaned forward through the opened window and called his name.

"Lord
Carlton!"

Both
their heads turned swiftly. A look of surprise crossed Brace's face, and he
reined in his slow-moving horse. Half turned in the saddle, he sat looking down
at her.

"Madame?"

His
voice spoke to a stranger. His eyes had never seen her before. Amber's throat
swelled with pain and she wanted to cry: Love me again for just a minute,
darling! Give me something happy to remember.

Very
softly she said: "I hope her Ladyship is recovered?"

"She
is, thank you."

She
searched his eyes with eager tenderness. There must be
something
there,
something left of all the years they had known and loved each other. But they
only stared at her, cool green eyes, watching her without emotion or memories.

"You'll
be sailing soon?"

"Today,
if the wind serves."

Amber
knew that she was going to make a fool of herself. With the most terrible
effort of all her life she murmured quickly, "A good voyage, my
lord," and as her lashes dropped her closed fist came up to press against
her mouth.

"Thank
you, madame. Goodbye."

His
hat went back to his head and both men gave a gentle slap of their reins; the
horses started off. For a long moment Amber sat in frigid stillness, and then
with a bursting sob she flung herself back in the seat. "Drive
away!" she
cried. Slowly the coach circled about and began to move. For several seconds
she fought with herself, but at last she could stand it no longer. She turned,
jumping to her knees, and scrubbed with one moist palm at the tiny dusty pane
above the seat. They were far in the distance now, cantering, but the thick fog
which drifted in shreds obscured them both and she could not tell which one was
Bruce.

At
noon the page came again. He told her that Lord and Lady Carlton had just
sailed on one of the royal yachts which carried persons of quality across the
Channel.

The
next afternoon a letter was brought to her from Lord Buckhurst, who had sailed
on the same vessel. Amber tore it open without much interest. "Your
Grace," she read, "I believe this may be of some concern to you. Lady
Carlton, during the crossing, fell suddenly ill and was dead by the time we
reached Calais. His Lordship, they say, intends to set sail
immediately for
America. Your very humble and obliged servant, madame, Buckhurst."

It
was not easy to book passage just then, for most of the merchant-ships sailed
in great convoys that set out three times a year, but at last she found a
captain who was going to America, in an old vessel he called the
Fortune,
and
she gave him a big enough bribe so that he agreed to load hastily and sail with
the next tide.

"I'll
shut up my house and pretend I'm going into the country," she told Nan.
"I can't take much with me—but I'll send for whatever I want once we're
settled. Oh, Nan! It's—"

"Don't
say it, mam," warned Nan. "It's bad luck to be made happy by
another's death."

Amber
sobered immediately. She was afraid of that herself, afraid to be as happy as
she felt, afraid to be grateful now that the one thing she had wanted had come
to pass. And so she refused to think about it. She was too busy, and too
excited, to think very much anyway. But she told herself it had happened
because God had willed it—had always meant them to be together. It was just as
she had said to Bruce after the Plague—they had been fated for each other from
the beginning of time. Only it had taken him so long to find it out. Perhaps he
didn't realize it even now—but he would, when he saw her again. Even the
unwelcome pregnancy of which she was now convinced, fitted into the pattern.
That had been fated too—their child would help him forget.

Amber
spent the night at Whitehall, pretending that everything was just as usual,
while Nan was at Ravenspur House packing and getting the children and their
nurses ready to go. They would be ten, altogether: Amber, Nan, Big John, Tansy,
Susanna and Charles and their four nurses. And of course Monsieur le Chien. She
did not even try to sleep when she came back at midnight from watching a play
in the Hall Theatre, but instead changed her clothes and spent her time
nervously going through some of her belongings to decide what she would have
sent.

But
she was not able to think coherently or make any real decisions. Just before
five, her footman came to say that the
Fortune
would be ready to weigh
anchor in an hour.

Amber
snatched up her cloak and flung it on, dropped her gloves and picked them up
again, started out the door and ran back for her fan and when she was halfway
down the corridor remembered she had forgotten her mask. Automatically she
turned and started back, then suddenly muttered, "Oh, the devil take
it!" and ran on. Her coach had been kept in readiness all night at the
Palace Gate and Nan and the others would meet her at the wharf.

Entering
the Stone Gallery from the narrow corridor she ran directly into a group of men
just emerging from Lord Arlington's suite of rooms across the way. It was still
half dark
in there and a footman who accompanied them carried a torch. Startled, Amber
stopped still, then abruptly she started on again. She did not notice who they
were and would have passed them without a glance had not a familiar voice
spoken to her.

"Good
morrow, your Grace."

She
looked up into the Baron's face and for a sudden panic-stricken moment she
wondered if the King had found out her plan and sent him to stop her. In
another moment Buckingham, too, had come out of the shadowy group to stand
beside his Lordship. Now she was sure it was some plot! But nothing should
prevent her from leaving—nothing on God's earth. Ignoring the Duke, she raised
her head defiantly and looked at Arlington.

"My
lord?" Her voice was cold, sharp.