Amber had an impulse to run after her and grab her by the hair and slap her face, but she restrained herself. It would certainly not be in keeping with the character she had built for herself, a structure put together at too much pain and cost to kick it over carelessly now because of a silly girl who meant nothing to him. Nevertheless, she and Jemima were henceforward somewhat cool when they met and Jemima—who was even now puzzled as to what had caused this change in their friendship—again began to call her “Madame.”
The next afternoon she returned from visiting some of Samuel’s innumerable relatives and found Jemima waiting in the entrance hall with Carter, both of them dressed to go out. Jemima was painted and patched and perfumed, her hair was curled and her buttercup-yellow satin gown cut so low that it seemed her small round breasts might escape at any moment. There were yellow roses in her hair and she wore her yellow-lined black-velvet cloak hung carelessly on her shoulders, to cover as little of her as possible. She looked for all the world like a Court beauty or the town’s reigning harlot.
“Ye gods, Jemima!” said Amber, pausing in shocked amazement to look at her step-daughter. “Wherever are you going dressed like that?”
Jemima’s eyes sparkled and her voice was triumphant, almost defiant. “Lord Carlton is coming to take me for a drive in Hyde Park.”
“I suppose you asked him?”
“Well, maybe I did! You don’t get what you want by sitting and waiting for it!”
Amber had told Jemima something like that once, but now Jemima said it without remembering its source. She thought it was her own idea. And Amber, who had meddled in a spirit of malicious mischief, encouraging Jemima’s rebellion against family traditions, was faced with the prospect of having her own advice turned against her. Three months ago Jemima would never have dared ask a man to take her riding. Amber was not thinking of retributive justice, however, as she stood staring at Jemima with her hatred showing plain in her eyes. Oh! if only I wasn’t married to her father! she thought, furious at her own impotence.
“Jemima, you’re making a fool of yourself! You don’t know the kind of man Lord Carlton is!”
Jemima lifted her chin. “I beg your pardon, Madame, but I know exactly. He’s handsome and he’s fascinating and he’s a gentleman—and I love him.”
Amber’s lip curled and she repeated the words, mimicking her with cruel accuracy. “He’s handsome and he’s fascinating and he’s a gentleman—and you love him! Hoity-toity! And if you’re not mighty careful you’ll find that your maidenhead is missing!”
“I don’t believe you! Lord Carlton isn’t like that at all! Besides, Carter is going along!”
“She’d better! And see that she stays along, too!”
She was now so angry that, in spite of Nan’s frantic nudges and grimaces, she might have gone on to say much more, but the knocker clattered and the footman who answered it admitted Bruce. He swept off his hat to both of them, and his eyes glittered with amusement to find Amber and her step-daughter so obviously engaged in a quarrel.
Damn him! thought Amber. Men always think they’re so superior!
“This is a pleasant surprise, Mrs. Dangerfield,” he said now. “I hadn’t expected to have your company too.”
“Oh, Madame isn’t coming!” said Jemima hastily. “She’s just returned from a drive!”
“Oh,” said Bruce softly. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dangerfield. I’d have enjoyed having you with us.”
Amber’s eyes stared at him, hard and shining and slanting like a cat’s. “
And she turned and ran up the stairs, but as she heard the door close behind them she stopped abruptly on the balcony above, swirling about to look down. They were gone. Suddenly she raised her arm and threw her fan as hard as she could at the floor below. She had not realized that anyone was about, but at that moment a footman appeared and looked up in some surprise; her eyes met his for an alarmed angry instant and then she rushed off.
She was still somewhat excited when Samuel came up from the office where he had gone to spend an hour or two. But she kissed him affectionately, made him sit down, and then took a stool beside him and put her hand into his. For a few moments they chatted of various small things and then she gave a troubled little frown, and stared off pensively into space.
He stroked the smooth crown of her head, where the hair lay in burnished satin waves. “What is it, my dear? Nothing’s amiss?”
“No, Samuel, nothing. Oh, Samuel—I must tell you! It’s about Jemima! I’m worried about her!”
“You mean about Lord Carlton?”
“Yes. Why, only an hour ago I met her in the hall and she’d asked him to take her driving in Hyde Park!”
