When Samuel Dangerfield arrived Amber met him at the door. Her gown was high-necked but the bodice fitted snugly. She had her hair combed into deep waves and held at each temple by a black velvet bow; and her face was painted so subtly that even a woman could not have been sure the colouring was not natural.
“It was kind of you to invite me to dinner, Mrs. St. Clare.”
“I know it isn’t proper,” she said demurely, “but I sent such a barbarous reply to your note—pray forgive me, sir. It was the sickness made me churlish.”
Amber knew that her invitation was unconventional but hoped she could affect sufficient modesty to fool him. He smiled at her now much as he might have smiled at a pretty little kitten.
They discussed her ague for a few moments, and then took their places at a table which Nan had set in the parlour next the fireplace. The footman had informed Nan that his master had a hearty appetite—though he was now under his physician’s orders to eat sparingly—and the meal Amber had had sent down from the inn was an ample one. She thought it would be more to her interest to please Mr. Dangerfield than his doctor.
Without much difficulty Amber had soon maneuvered the conversation around to Mr. Kifflin and Mr. Wigglesworth. Off-handedly, she told him how they had come to her house last night to ask her to change some money for them. She said that she had only brought fifteen or twenty guineas to Tunbridge, but that she had given them to the young men to pay their gambling debts with, and was now wondering how she would ever pack all those shillings into her trunk.
Mr. Dangerfield, as she had hoped, seemed somewhat alarmed by this innocent tale. “Are you well acquainted with Mr. Kifflin and his friends?”
“Heavens, no! I met them yesterday morning at the well. They introduced themselves. You know how little one goes upon ceremony in places like this.”
“You’re very young, Mrs. St. Clare, and I don’t imagine you understand the ways of the world so well as an old man. If I may I’d like to give you some advice—and that is not to accept too much money from those gentlemen. They may be honest as they pretend, but when you’ve lived as long as I you’ll know it’s best to be cautious with a new acquaintance—particularly if you happen upon him at a public resort.”
“Oh,” said Amber, suddenly crestfallen. “But I thought that Tunbridge Wells was frequented by persons of the best quality! My physician who sent me here told me that her Majesty was here with all her ladies only last summer.”
“Yes, I believe she was. But where there’s quality there are sure to be rooks. And it’s unworldly young persons like yourself of whom they’ll take the greatest advantage.”
While he talked Amber reached up to adjust the bow in her hair, as a signal for Nan who was waiting just outside and peeking in the window. “Oh!” she said, with a troubled frown, “how could I have been so foolish! I hope—”
At that moment Nan came in, out of breath, and stood in the doorway taking off her chopins. “Heavens, mam!” she cried excitedly. “The landlord at the inn refused the money! He says it’s a false coin!”
“A false coin! Why, that was one Mr. Kifflin gave me last night!”
Samuel Dangerfield turned in his chair. “May I see it?” He took it from Nan, rung it upon the table and felt of the edges while both women watched him. “It is a false one,” he said seriously. “So the young coxcombs are counterfeiters. That’s a sorry business—and a dangerous one. I wonder how many others they’ve got to change money with them?”
“Everyone who looked simple enough, I suppose!” said Amber indignantly. “Well, I think we should call the constable and put ’em where they belong!”
Mr. Dangerfield, however, was less inclined to be vindictive. “The laws are too harsh—they’d be hanged, drawn, and quartered.” That would not have troubled Amber but she thought it best not to say so. “I believe we can manage them some other way. Do you think, Mrs. St. Clare, that you could get them to come here on some pretext or other?”
“Why, they should be along any minute—they asked me to walk to the well with them.”
When they arrived, not much later, Nan opened the door. At sight of Mr. Dangerfield their mouths opened into broad grins—and then closed suddenly when he said: “Mrs. St. Clare and I have just been discussing the fact that there seem to be counterfeiters at Tunbridge.”
Kifflin raised his eyebrows. “Counterfeiters? Gad! It’s un thinkable! I swear the wretches grow bolder every day!”
While Wigglesworth exclaimed, as though he could not believe his own ears, “Counterfeiters at Tunbridge!”
“Yes,” said Amber. “I have a shilling that was just refused at the inn and Mr. Dangerfield says it’s not a true coin. Perhaps they’d like to see it, sir.”
He gave it to Wigglesworth and both young men examined it closely, frowning, while Kifflin cleared his throat. Their faces were beginning to shine with sweat.
