Winsor, Kathleen (33 page)

Bess
glared up at her with sulky defiance, but got slowly to her feet. For a long
moment she stood there without moving.

"Go
on!" repeated Mother Red-Cap. "Get out of here!"

Bess
started to protest and then she gave a sudden furious scream. "Don't say
it again! I'm going! I'm going away from here and I'll never come back! I
wouldn't come back if you got on your knees and begged me! I hate you! I hate
every one of you and I hope you—" Suddenly she whirled about and ran from
the room and they could hear her feet pounding up the stairs.

Black
Jack gave a low whistle and glanced at the knife where it lay on the floor,
knocked out of her hand when he had struck her. "Whew! The crafty little
gypsy. She'd have slit my throat, I think." He gave a shrug and went back
to take up the cluster of grapes, picking them off and tossing them one at a
time into his mouth.

Mother
Red-Cap went to the table, got out her ledger, and sat down to settle Bess's
account. "I'll be glad to be done with her. She's never been much use to
me, and ever since Mrs. Channell came she's been an infernal nuisance. Oh,
well—you can't make a whistle of a pig's tail."

Presently
Black Jack went into the kitchen to tease Pall, who adored him though she blushed
and stammered and scratched nervously at her lice whenever he appeared. The
house was quiet for several minutes and then Amber came in the front door. She
was wearing a thin pale-green silk dress with her hair tumbling about her
shoulders and tied with a ribbon, and she had two of Penelope Hill's choicest
yellow roses stuck into the low-cut neckline.

"Ye
gods! I swear this is the hottest day in an age!" She dropped into a
chair, fanning herself with her lace-trimmed handkerchief, and Mother Red-Cap
went on with her work. After a few moments Amber got up and started for the
doorway that led into the hall where the stairs were.

"I
don't think you'd better go up there, my dear," said Mother Red-Cap,
dipping her pen into a pewter inkwell, but
neither turning nor looking around.
"I just sent Bess to pack her rigging and she's in a tearing rage."

Amber
glanced back, smiling. "Bess is going?" She shrugged. "Well,
much I care if she's in a rage or no. Let her just say something to me and
I'll—"

"Never
mind, my dear. I don't want another brawl in my house. Go into the kitchen with
Black Jack and Pall until she's gone."

Amber
hesitated for a moment but finally turned and went into the other room. After a
few minutes they heard Bess's high-heeled shoes coming down the stairs, Mother
Red-Cap's voice talking to her, though Bess did not answer, and then with a
bang she was gone. Black Jack proposed a toast to the peaceful life, and he and
Amber presently wandered back into the parlour and sat down to play a game of
cards.

They
had spent interminable hours at cards and dice, for they did not go out on
business more than once or twice a week—sometimes even less—and the long days
and nights had to be passed somehow. Black Jack had taught her every trick in a
gambler's repertoire—palming, slurring, knapping, the brief—and in seven months
she had attained to a very creditable proficiency. She felt that she could hold
her own now at a table with any lord or lady in the kingdom.

After
a while Blueskin came in and they started to play at putt, the favourite tavern
game and one which had probably been the undoing of more country-squires' sons
than any other. It was three or four hours before she went upstairs to her own
room, and there she found Bess's final gesture to the rival she despised. Her
smocks and gowns and petticoats littered the room, ripped and slashed to
pieces. There were torn fans, gloves cut in two, cloaks backed by scissors, and
she had dumped the contents of the chamber-pot onto the remnants of Amber's
finest gown.

Black
Jack promised to find Bess and give her the beating she deserved, but she had
disappeared from Sanctuary and left not a trace, and they all knew it would
never be possible to seek her out in the great sprawling city with its
half-million inhabitants. She could lose herself in the warrens of Clerkenwell
or St. Pancras, in the glutted seafaring center of Wapping, or in the alleys
and courts of the Mint across the river in Southwark.

It
was a bad shock to Amber; she decided that her life was cursed and that she
would never get out of Whitefriars. She became gloomy and despondent, trailed
listlessly about the house, and was sullenly bad-tempered with all of them. She
hated Bess and Black Jack and Mother Red-Cap, Pall and Blueskin and the
house-cat, even herself.

No
matter what I do, she thought, no matter how hard I work and how much I save,
there's always
something
happens! I'll never get out! I'll die in this
stinking hole!

Three
days after Bess had gone Mother Red-Cap came into the bedroom and found Amber
lying on her back, stretched out straight with her hands behind her head. She
had been awake for at least two hours, mulling over her troubles, and the
longer she thought about them the more insurmountable they became. She gave
Mother Red-Cap a sulky glare, annoyed at being interrupted, but she did not
speak.

"Well,
my dear," said Mother Red-Cap, as cheerfully as though Amber had greeted
her in good humour. "This is no ordinary day for us, you know."

Every
morning she got up punctually at five, like an apprentice, put on her plain,
neat dress, and began to go about her numberless tasks. From the moment she
woke she was brisk and alert and ready for the day. The sight of such
determined activity was irritating to Amber.

"It's
an ordinary day for me," she said crossly.

"How
now! Surely you've not forgot this is the day you're going to
Knightsbridge."

"It's
not the day
I'm
going to Knightsbridge!"

"But,
my dear child, this is most important. There's a great deal of money
involved."

"It
isn't the first time there's been a great deal of money involved—but
I
never saw much of it!" The subject had been discussed between them before,
always with considerable bitterness for though Amber protested she was being
cheated of her rightful share Mother Red-Cap insisted that she got exactly what
her services warranted, and Black Jack agreed. "Anyway, it'd be like Bess
Columbine to have the constables waiting on us. She knows all our plans."

"Nonsense,
my dear. I think I know Bess better than you do, and I assure you she's no such
desperate creature as that. She hates the sight of a constable worse than a
fishmonger hates a hard frost. But as for the money—I came up here to tell you
I'll double your earnest this time, to make up for the loss of your
clothes." Considering the matter settled she started toward the door.
"Black Jack is below with Jimmy and Blue-skin. They intend setting out
within the hour."

But
as she went Amber flounced over on her side, scowled and called after her,
"I'm
not
going!"

Mother
Red-Cap did not reply, but within a few minutes Black Jack appeared and after
half-an-hour's coaxing and wheedling and assuring her that they had changed
their plans so that Bess could not catch them if she tried, she got up and
began to dress. Even so she would not leave before she had gone to consult an
astrologer who lived in Mitre Court. Upon his assurance that the day was a
propitious one for her she borrowed a cloak from Mother Red-Cap and, still
sulking, left the Sanctuary with Pall and the three men.

Knightsbridge
was a quiet little village on the West Bourne just two miles and a half out of
the city, and they reached it by taking a barge up the river to Tuthill Fields
and then hiring
a coach to the village. Because of its convenient situation Knightsbridge was
much frequented by highwaymen who attacked travellers leaving or entering the
city. Mother Red-Cap had had a message from the inn-keeper in her employ there
that an old gentleman, Theophilus Bidulph, who came into London twice a year,
was expected on the 8th of September.

Sometimes
they had to wait two or three or more days for a victim to appear, but Amber
heartily hoped that this time it would not be necessary. They went upstairs to
the room assigned to them and Pall immediately took off her shoes, complaining—as
she had ever since leaving home—that they hurt her feet. Having nothing else to
do Amber sat down to arrange her hair all over again, a process which could
easily take half-an-hour, and when that was done she plagued Pall until the
miserable girl finally admitted that she was with child by Black Jack Mallard.
By nightfall she was distractedly bored, pacing uneasily about the room,
hanging out the window and tapping her fingers on the sill, wishing she was
anyone but who she was and anywhere in the world but there.

But
at last she heard the pounding of horses' hoofs, the clatter and bang of a
coach; dogs began to bark and the ostlers ran out into the courtyard to greet
the arriving guest. A few moments later there was a hasty tap at her door and
the host told her Theophilus Bidulph had come and was ordering his supper
downstairs. Amber waited about a quarter of an hour and then she went down
herself.

Mr.
Bidulph was standing beside the fireplace drinking a glass of ale and talking
to the host and he did not see her until she spoke his name. Then he turned
about in some surprise. He was a short merry-faced old gentleman with great
bushy pointed eyebrows and the look of a good-natured imp.

"Why,
Mr. Bidulph!" she cried, giving him a sparkling smile and holding out her
hand.

He
took it and made her a bow. "Your servant, madame." In spite of his
courtesy he was frankly puzzled, though he looked at her with interest.

"I
vow I think you've forgotten me, sir."

"By
the mass, madame, I fear I have."

"I'm
Balthazar St. Michel's eldest daughter, Ann. Last time we met I was no more
than so high." She bent a little, indicating with her flat palm a very
tiny girl. "Surely you remember me now, sir? You used to dandle me on your
knee." She continued to smile at him.

"Why—uh—of
course, madame—my dear, I mean. And how is your father, pray? It's some years
since we've met and —uh—"

Her
face fell a little. "Oh, Mr. Bidulph, he's not well. The old gout again.
Sometimes he's in bed for days." She gave him another quick smile.
"But he speaks so often of you— He'll be so pleased I chanced to see
you."

Mr.
Bidulph drank down his ale. "You must give him my
regards, child.
But what are you doing all alone out here?"

"Oh,
I'm not alone, sir. I'm traveling with my woman. I'm going into town to visit
Aunt Sarah—but one of our horses lost a shoe and we stopped here for the night.
They say the ways are thick with highwaymen nowadays."

"It's
true the wretches are everywhere—much worse than when I was a young fellow, let
me tell you. But then, of course, nothing is as it was. But won't you ride in
with me in the morning? I'll see you get there safe and sound."

"Oh,
thank you, sir! How kind that is! For the truth on it is, those cutthroats
everywhere about have me uneasy as a witch."

While
they talked Amber saw some of his footmen going through the room bearing trunks
and boxes on their backs; evidently the old gentleman did not intend to trust
his belongings to the surveillance of the stable-boys. But at least that would
make it possible for Black Jack to take what he wanted, while she occupied Mr.
Bidulph's attention. And, long before morning, all five of them would be in
Whitefriars again. Amber was eager to have it over and done and to be back in
safety once more—for Bess's jealousy hung above her like an ominous threat. She
thought the girl was mad enough to do anything for her revenge.

At
Mr. Bidulph's invitation Amber sat down to have supper with him, and they
lingered there afterward while she listened to his tales of the Civil Wars. She
heard of numerous instances demonstrating his and everyone else's heroic
valour, of the dead King's nobility and martyrdom, the magnificent leadership
of Prince Rupert. Nothing, he assured her again and again, could have been more
glorious than the way the Royalists had lost the war.

Amber
kept an eye on the clock.

By
ten she was beginning to grow nervous and had to force herself to sit still and
smile and ask questions. They had been there at the table for more than three
hours, and certainly Black Jack should have finished his work by now and made
her a signal to join them. A feeling of panic was rising in her, and her
stomach turned over and over, fluttering like a captive bird.