“Poor Luke,” said Sally after a few minutes. “I fear the dear boy inherited his father’s fits. Sometimes, I swear, I’ve seen Sir Walter Channell lie foaming at the mouth and stark rigid for minutes at a time. But when it passes, he’s the pleasantest man alive—just like Luke.”
Amber, giving Sally a skeptical glance, put down her queen and took the trick. “Just like Luke?” she repeated. “Then I’m mighty sorry for Lady Channell.”
Sally pursed her lips primly. “Well, my dear—sure, now, you wouldn’t expect any man to be pleased to find his wife with child by another man’s offices? And d‘ye know—” She played a card, took the trick, and as she was placing it slantwise along the board looked across at Amber. “It would almost seem you must ’ve known what your condition was when you married ’im.”
Amber smiled maliciously. “Oh, would it?” Suddenly her eyes flashed and she snapped out, “Why else would I marry that daggle-toothed lout?”
Sally looked at her, took a deep breath, and then began counting the tricks. She shuffled the cards, dealt, and they played for a while in silence.
All at once Amber said: “I’m missing a wallet that had a deal of money in it. It was on a nail behind that chest and someone stole it.”
“Stole it! Thieves in these rooms! Oh, heaven!”
“I think the thief was Luke!”
“Luke? A thief? Lord, child, how you talk! Why, there’s never an honester man in London than my nephew! And anyway, my dear, how could he steal money from you? A wife’s money belongs to her husband the moment they leave the altar. I must say, sweetheart, I’m surprised you’d hide a few paltry pounds from ’im.”
“A few paltry pounds! That wasn’t a few paltry pounds! It was everything I had in the world!”
Sally looked at her quickly. “Everything you had? Then what about your inheritance? What about your five thousand pound?” She was staring at her, her blue eyes narrowed and hard, all the placid good-humour gone from her face.
“What about his inheritance?”
Sally refused to let go of her patience. “I explained that to you, my dear. And now am I to understand that you’ve swindled my nephew—made him think you were a person of some fortune when five hundred was all you had?”
Suddenly Amber slammed her handful of cards across the room and swept the board onto the floor. “Understand what you damn please! That wretch stole my money and I’ll have ’im before a constable for it!”
Sally got up, bowed to her with an air of injured dignity, and went into her own room where she closed the door and remained throughout the rest of the day. Honour stayed with her mistress. Quietly she went about her usual duties. She served Amber her supper on a tray, brushed her hair, and when Amber got up to wash her face and clean her teeth she smoothed out the sheets with a bed-staff. She listened with sympathy but made no comment upon Amber’s grumbling about her husband and his aunt and seemed not very much surprised by Amber’s statement that she intended to leave him as soon as she could force him to give her money back.
Though she did not intend to, Amber fell asleep before Luke came home. Some time in the middle of the night she wakened to hear voices in the next room—his and Sally’s—and though she waited for some time in cold angry apprehension the door between their rooms remained closed. And at last the sound of their voices ceased. She fell asleep again.
When she woke the next morning there was a bright fire going and the room had an almost surprising air of contented domesticity. Sally, humming a tune beneath her breath, was arranging a bowlful of green leaves. Honour was dusting the furniture with more enthusiasm than she usually showed for such tasks. And Luke stood knotting his cravat before a mirror, regarding himself with smug approval.
The moment she pulled back the bed-hangings Sally saw her.
“Why!” she cried pleasantly. “Good morning to you, sweetheart!” Briskly she crossed the room and kissed her on the cheek, ignoring the face Amber made. “I hope you’ve slept well! Luke slept on the trundle in my room so as not to disturb you.” She had never been more pleasant and now she turned a beaming smile upon her nephew, like a mother prompting her child in the presence of guests. “Didn’t you, Luke?”
Luke gave her a broad grin, the same one he had used during their courtship. Amber lay propped on one elbow and regarded him sourly. She was determined somehow to get her money back, but the mere sight of him infuriated her so that she lost hold of all her schemes and plans. He started toward her, still grinning, though Amber watched him with sullen distrust.
“What d’ye suppose I’ve got here for you?” He had picked something off the mantel and kept one hand behind his back.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care! Get away from me!” she cried warningly, as he stooped to kiss her, and she flung the covers up over her head.
An ugly look came swiftly to his face but Sally reminded him with a nudge and jerk of her head. He sat down on the bed and reached out a tentative hand to touch her. “Look here, duckling—look what a fine present I’ve brought you. Heavens, sweetheart, you a’nt going to stay mad at poor Luke, now are you?”
She could hear him open a box and jingle something which sounded like jewellery and at last out of curiosity she peeked over the top of the blankets. He was holding toward her, temptingly, a bracelet with several diamonds and a ruby or two winking on it. His voice continued to wheedle, though she was looking not at him but at the bracelet.
“Believe me, sweetheart, I’m sorry for what I did yesterday. But truly at times it seems I’m not master of myself. My poor old father had those fits. Here—let me fasten it on your wrist—”
The bracelet was a handsome one, and finally Amber permitted him to clasp it. She knew that she must make him think she liked him, or she would never get her money back. So she let him kiss her and even pretended to giggle with pleasure. She had such contempt for him it was easy to make herself believe that she could outwit him. Finally she got up and dressed and they drank the morning draught of ale, together with a few anchovies. Luke suggested that Amber ride out to Pancras with him and have dinner at a charming little inn he knew, and thinking that most likely he really was sorry for his behaviour and once more infatuated with her, she agreed. She put on her cloak—though at his suggestion she left the bracelet there because of the danger from highwaymen—and they set out.
Pancras, a tiny village to the northwest, was about two miles from the Rose and Crown, or some three-quarters of an hour by coach. But they had scarcely reached High Holborn when it began to rain—though the winter had been a dry and warm and dusty one—and within fifteen minutes the roads were splashing with mud and there was a strong smell of rotten garbage in the air, made more poignant by the wet. Two or three times the wheels stuck and the coachman and footman had to pry them out, using an iron bar, which all coaches carried for that purpose.
To Amber, lurching and jogging inside the springless carriage, the ride seemed interminable and she wished miserably that she had stayed at home. But Luke was cheerful and talkative as he had not been for weeks, and she tried to pretend that she was enjoying the outing and his company. His hands roamed over her persistently, and he urged her to reciprocate his attentions. Amber laughed and tried to push him off, pretending she was afraid that the coach might overturn and spill them out for everyone to see; the touch of his fingers made her flesh crawl and turn cold with loathing.