Winsor, Kathleen (96 page)

But
he was not able to answer, for by now they had reached the opposite end of the
room where they parted, the gentlemen walking down one side and the ladies down
the other. Each couple met again, executed a few steps which formed a square,
and the dance ended. Buckhurst led her back to Radclyffe, thanked the Earl, and
there left her. Amber knew at once that his Lordship was displeased, that he
did not like to see her enjoying herself and attracting attention, completely
forgetful of him.

"You're
having a pleasant evening, madame?" he asked her coldly.

"Oh,
yes, your Lordship!" She hesitated for an instant and then, doubtfully,
"Are you?"

But
he did not reply, for all at once the King was beside them, smiling. "It
was most considerate of you, my lord," he said, "to marry a beautiful
woman. There isn't a man here tonight who isn't grateful to you."
Radclyffe bowed. "We're all of us tired of looking at the same faces and
gossiping about the same people."

Charles
smiled down at Amber who was looking at him, fascinated, powerfully aware of
his charm, which was so strong it seemed to be an almost physical force. As his
black eyes met hers her head began to spin dizzily. But she was even more aware
that here before her, with the whole world looking on, stood the Monarch of
Great Britain, smiling and complimenting her.

"You're
very kind, Sire," said Radclyffe.

Amber
made a curtsy, but her tongue was maddeningly tied. Her
eyes, however,
had almost too much eloquence—and Charles's face would always betray him in the
presence of a pretty woman. Radclyffe watched them, his own face noncommittal
as a mummy's.

But
it was only for an instant, and then Charles turned back to address Radclyffe.
"I understand, my lord, that you've recently acquired a very rare
Correggio."

Radclyffe's
cold blue eyes lighted, as always at any mention of his paintings. "I
have, your Majesty, but it's not yet arrived. I'm expecting it very soon,
however, and when it comes if you are interested I should be most happy to show
it to you."

"Thank
you, sir. I'd very much like to see it. And now, will you permit me, my
lord?" Already he was extending his arm to Amber, and as Radclyffe gave
his assent, bowing again, they walked out onto the floor.

Amber's
whole being filled with fierce buoyant pride. It was as though she stood in a
blazing light and all the rest of the world in darkness, its eyes focused upon
her. The
King
had sought her out, and flouted convention, had asked her
to dance! Before all these people, and here in his own Court! The dreary weeks
she had spent alone with Radclyffe, his selfish brutal abortive lust, his
unconcealed dislike and contempt— all vanished at once in her violent joy. The
price had been paid and it was not too high.

The
King called for the traditional merry old folk-dance: "Cuckolds All
Awry," and just as they stood facing each other at the head of a long
line, waiting for the music to begin, he said in an undertone: "I hope
your husband won't suspect that choice of music. He doesn't look as though he'd
wear a pair of horns gracefully."

"I
don't know, Sire," she murmured, "whether he would or not."

"What?"
asked Charles, in mock surprise. "Married two months and still a faithful
wife?"

But
the music began then and the dance was too lively to let them talk. He said
nothing more and when it was over led her back to Radclyffe, thanked them both,
bowed and was gone. Amber was too breathless from excitement and the exertion
of the dance to speak. Just as she rose from her curtsy she saw the Duke of
Buckingham approaching them.

God's
my life! she thought, in half-hysterical delight. It's the truth! The men
are
tired of looking at the same faces!

She
glanced hastily around the great room, caught dozens of pairs of eyes upon
her—admiring eyes, amused eyes, hostile eyes. But what did it matter why they
looked, or how they looked—so long as they did look? Why! I'm the White Ewe
tonight—she thought as she recalled an old Alsatian expression.

Everyone
wanted to dance with her. York, Rochester, the popular lazy young fop and
playwright, George Etherege, the Earl of Arran, the Earl of Ossory, Sedley and
Talbot and Henry Jermyn. All the young and gay and handsome men of the Court
flirted with
her, paid her outrageous compliments, and asked her for assignations. The women
exerted themselves to find fault with her gown, her coiffure, her manners—and
reached the comfortable conclusion that, after all, she was new and she was
rich and of course her reputation as an actress smelt so high it would have
caught the attention of any male within the Verge. It was Amber's night of
glorious triumph.

Suddenly
into the midst of this perfect world a meteor fell, shattering everything. In
one brief interval when she was returned to his side Radclyffe said quietly:
"We are going home, madame."

Amber
gave him a look of hurt surprise, for already beside her stood the Duke of
Monmouth and James Hamilton. "Home, my lord?" she said incredulously.

Monmouth
immediately took it up. "You're not thinking of going home, sir? Why, it's
still early. And her Ladyship's the toast of the evening."

Radclyffe
bowed, his thin lips set in a tight ungracious smile. "By your leave, your
Grace. I am not a young man, and to me the hour is already late."

Monmouth
laughed, a happy ingenuous laugh which could have offended no one. "Why,
then, sir—why not let her Ladyship stay with us? I'll see her home myself—with
a band of fiddlers and a score of links to light us."

"Oh,
yes!" cried Amber, turning eagerly to her husband. "Let me do
that!"

Radclyffe
ignored her. "You jest, your Grace," he said stiffly, bowed, and then
turned to Amber. "Come, madame."

Amber's
golden eyes flamed rebelliously and for an instant she thought of refusing, but
she did not quite dare. She curtsied to Monmouth and Colonel Hamilton, but kept
her eyes down. When they stopped to bid his Majesty good-night shame and
disappointment had made her face scarlet and tears stung her eyes. She could
not look at him, though she heard the lazy amusement in his voice as he asked
why they were leaving so early. Smiles and whispers followed them out of the
room— for the impression created was that of a little girl who has misbehaved
at her first party and is being led home by a disgruntled parent.

She
did not speak until they were in the coach, jogging along King Street. Then she
could restrain herself no longer. "Why did we have to come away so
soon!" she demanded, and suddenly her voice broke with enraged
disappointment.

"I
am too old, madame, to enjoy many hours of such noise and confusion."

"That
wasn't the reason!" she cried accusingly. "And you know it!"

She
stared at him, though his face was in a shadow, for the streets were dark and
the moon showed only a pale light, like a candle seen through a dirty pane.
"I am not interested in discussing the matter," he retorted coldly.

"I
am! You made me come away because I was enjoying myself! You can't stand seeing
anyone happy!"

"On
the contrary, madame. I do not object at all to happiness. But I do object to
watching my wife make a ridiculous display of myself."

"Ridiculous!
What was ridiculous about it? I was doing nothing but dancing and laughing—is
that so ridiculous? Maybe you even danced and laughed once yourself—if you were
ever young!" She gave him a look of furious loathing, and turned her face
away, muttering, "Which I doubt!"

"You're
not so naive, madame, as you try to pretend. You know as well as I do what was
in the minds of those men tonight."

"Well!"
she cried, clenching her fists. "What of it! Isn't the same thing in the
minds of all men! It's in yours too, even if you—" But there she stopped,
suddenly, for he gave her a look so swift and so venomous, so threatening that
the words caught short in her throat and she remained quiet.

The
next morning, rather early, Amber and Nan came downstairs wrapped in cloaks and
hoods and muffs. She spoke to the footman at the door. "Please send for
his Lordship's great coach. I'm going abroad."

"The
coach is being repaired, madame."

"Then
I'll go in mine."

"I'm
sorry, your Ladyship, but that one is also at the coach-maker's."

Amber
heaved an impatient sigh. "Very well, then! I'll call a hackney. Open the
door, please!"

"I'm
sorry, your Ladyship. The door is bolted and I have no key."

She
looked at him with sudden suspicion. "Who has it then?"

"His
Lordship, madame, I presume."

Without
another word Amber swirled about and rushed from the entrance-hall toward the
library, threw open the door without knocking, and burst in like a gust of
wind. The Earl was seated at a table, writing, with a great sheaf of papers
beside him.

"Would
you mind telling me why I'm made a prisoner?" she cried.

He
looked up as though she were, indeed, a disrupting physical force rather than a
human being. Then his eyes ran over her slowly and he gave a faint smile, as of
a patient man who is somewhat bored.

"Where
did you wish to go?"

She
was on the edge of telling him that where she went was not his business, but
thinking better of it she replied, more quietly: "To the New Exchange. I
have some purchases to make."

"I
can't imagine what they could be. But it seems that no matter how much a woman
may have, she always needs
something more. Well, if you feel you cannot do
without a new pair of gloves or a bottle of essence—send Britton."

Amber
stamped her foot. "I don't
want
to send Britton! I want to go
myself! I will go myself! God's curse, sir! is there any reason why I shouldn't
leave the house? What the devil have I done to be used like this!"

Radclyffe
paused a long moment before he answered her, gazing reflectively at the pen he
turned in his fingers. "This is a strange age. A man is considered a fool
if he allows his wife to cuckold him—and an even greater one if he takes
measures to prevent it."

Amber's
mouth twisted into an ugly triumphant sneer. "So at last we have it!
You're afraid some other man will get your children for you! Well, now—wouldn't
that
be strange?"

"You
may go, madame." As she continued to glare at him, he suddenly spoke with
startling sharpness. "Get out! Go to your rooms!"

Amber's
eyes blazed, as though she could wither him where he sat by the sheer force of
her hatred. All at once she muttered a curse, slammed her fan onto the floor,
and as she went out flung the door wide and banged it with all the force in her
body.

But
Amber soon discovered that shouts and violence would gain her nothing. He had
the legal right to lock her in, and to beat her if he thought that she deserved
it. She had little fear the thin brittle Earl would ever attempt physical
chastisement —since she was certainly more than a match for him—but she
sometimes had a sneaking apprehension of poison or the sudden thrust of a
knife. He wouldn't dare! she told herself. But she was never wholly convinced,
and fear made her cautious.

For
several days she sulked. She thought of starving herself to make him submit,
but realized after she had missed two meals that such a process would be more
uncomfortable for her than for him. Then she ignored him completely. When he
was in the room she turned her back, sang bawdy songs, chattered with Nan. She
never left her apartments but went about all day in her dressing-gown, her hair
undone and no paint on her face. He seemed scarcely to notice, and certainly
did not care.

She
thought of every possible solution, but was compelled to abandon each in turn.
If she left him he would have all her money—and she would have no title. To get
a divorce was almost impossible and would have required an act of Parliament;
not even Castlemaine had obtained a divorce. Annulment was almost as difficult,
for the case must rest upon impotence or sterility, and how was she to prove
herself a virgin or him incompetent? To make matters worse, the courts, she
knew, were not inclined to side with a woman. And so at last she decided that
if it had been possible for her to tolerate him before they were married it
should be possible now. She began to speak civilly to him once more, joined him
at dinner, went into the library to search among the books when he was there.
She
took an extraordinary care of her appearance, in the hope of buying what she
wanted by pandering to his salaciousness.