But that same morning as she was riding from the New Exchange to a rehearsal, her coach stopped at the golden-crowned Maypole, and while Tempest was bellowing abuse at the driver and occupants of the coach that blocked his way, the door was flung open and a girl leaped in. Her hair was dishevelled and her eyes looked wild.
“Please, mam!” she cried. “Tell ’im I’m your maid!” Her pretty face was intense and pleading, her voice passionate. “Oh, Jesus! Here he comes!
Amber stared at her in amazement and then, before she could speak a word, the door was thrown open and a blue-coated constable, carrying his staff of offices, pushed his head in at them. At this Amber gave an involuntary backward start. But, remembering that a constable could mean nothing to her now, she quickly recovered herself.
He made her a half salute, evidently mistaking her for a lady of quality. “Sorry to trouble you, mam, but that wench just stole a loaf of bread. I arrest you,” he shouted, “in the King’s name!” And he lunged across Amber toward the girl, who cowered far into one corner, skirts drawn close about her. Even from where she sat, Amber could feel her tremble.
Suddenly furious, all her memories of Newgate rising like a tide, Amber brought her fan down with a hearty smack on the constable’s wrist. “What are you about, sir? This girl is my serving-woman! Take your hands off her!”
He looked up at her in surprise. “Well, now, mam—I wouldn’t care to be calling a lady a liar—but she just stole a loaf of bread from off that bulk over there. I seen ’er myself.”
He leaned far in now, grabbing hold of the girl’s ankle and dragging her toward him. A curious restless crowd was beginning to gather outside in the street—and as Amber gave him a kick in the chest with the toe of her shoe and a violent shove that sent him staggering, a loud joyous laugh went up. He lurched back; she leaned forward and slammed the door shut.
“Drive on, Tempest!” she shouted, and the coach rolled off, leaving justice to pick itself up from a swimming kennel of rain-washed filth.
For a moment both women were silent, the girl staring at Amber with gratitude, Amber breathing heavily from anger and the nervousness which the sight of a constable still roused in her.
“Oh—mam!” she cried at last. “How can I ever thank you? But for you, he’d have carried me off to Newgate! Lord, I didn’t see ’im till he made a grab for me, and then I ran—I ran as fast as anything but the old fat pricklouse was right on my heels! Oh,
She rattled along in a quick light musical voice, the expressions playing vivaciously over her pretty face. She could have been no more than seventeen, fresh and dainty with clear blue eyes, light lashes and brows, and a golden sprinkle of freckles over her little scooped nose. Amber smiled at her, liking her immediately.
“These damned impertinent constables! The day’s a loss to ’em that they don’t throw half-a-dozen honest citizens into jail!”
The girl lowered her lashes guiltily. “Well—to tell you truly, mam, I did steal that loaf of bread. I’ve got it here.” She tapped her cloak, beneath which it was concealed. “But I couldn’t help it, I swear I couldn’t! I was so hungry—”
“Then go ahead and eat it.”
Without an instant’s hesitation she took out the crusty split-topped loaf, broke a piece off one end and crammed it into her mouth, chewing ravenously. Amber looked at her in surprise.
“How long since you’ve eaten?”
The girl swallowed, took another great bite and answered with her mouth full. “Two days, mam.”
“Ye gods! Here, take this and buy yourself a dinner.”
From a little velvet bag inside her muff she emptied several shillings and dropped them into the girl’s lap. By now they had drawn up before the theatre and the footman came to open the door. Amber gathered her skirts and prepared to get out and the girl leaned forward, staring through the glass windows with great interest.
“Lord, mam, are you goin’ to the play?”
“I’m an actress.”
“You are!” She seemed both pleased and shocked that her benefactress should be engaged in so exciting and disreputable a profession. But immediately she jumped out on her own side and ran around to make her curtsy to Amber. “Thank you, mam. You were mighty kind to me, and if ever I can do a good thing for you, I wish you’d be pleased to call on me. I’ll not forget, you may be sure. Nan Britton’s my name—serving-woman, though without a place just now.”
Amber stopped, looking at her with interest. “You’re a serving-woman? What happened to your last place?”
